Tonight on Bill Moyers he was interviewing the ever eloquent Maxine Hong Kingston about writing and peace. To be honest, I was sort of listening with it in the background while I tried to catch up on email in my inbox (still haven't succeeded yet). However at one point Ms. Kingston was talking about a tragedy she suffered in the early 90s when her father died and after burying him she came home to find her house burned to the ground and the one manuscript she had of the book she had just finished writing in ashes. "I quit writing...I even quit reading," she said. The trauma was so great that this person who is so gifted at articulating tragedy was not only silenced but couldn't even read.
It made me pause from my email for a moment to wonder if trauma is part of why I haven't been able to read books the last year or so.
I know some of it has been a physical problem. Holding a book is hard. So I bought a book holder. But that hasn't changed my reading habits much (though I have been able to use it for my chronically overheating laptop). I have started to suspect that I might be very sensitive to mold as the books I have managed to finish in the last few years have all been brand new while I can't make it more than a few pages into a Kinky Friedman novel that's a county-library reject. Other used books sit on my shelves only partially read.
I don't seem to have as difficult a time reading online, probably because most material online is short -- the equivalent of only a few pages. It's a good fit for my psychometrically-tested concentration problems. And I'd imagine mold doesn't like laptops as much as paper.
Reading online feels far more like a communal act than reading a book. Blogs and articles frequently include comments, even if I only lurk. Reading a book is a lonely act, especially if you're too tired to talk or write about it afterwards. And God knows I'm already isolated enough.
But in regards to the trauma question, I know my emotions play a part. I still have a lingering anger that I can't simply get lost in a book for hours and hours like I used to. I'm used to sitting down and reading a book in one sitting, or perhaps a few sittings. I hate that I can only manage a half hour here or an hour there. It's too much of a commitment. Too much disjointedness. Too much reality intruding into whatever fictional world I'm trying to join. A reality that reminds me my brain just doesn't work like it used to.
One of Talal's research areas has been trauma theory and he's explained to me that trauma occurs when an event questions one's identity. Picking up a book I suppose is a reminder of my old identity that I miss very much.
What's funny though is that while A. has suggested that we move the books into storage to see if that might help me feel better if the problem really is that I'm sensitive to mold, I've been very reluctant. Not just because practically I don't think it's really going to be worth the effort in the long run as we're still going to be left with plenty of mold spores in the apartment. But it would also be like taking away the only friends that remain with my in my loneliness. It's comforting somehow to look up and see Anna Karenina there or the Cairo Trilogy there or A Theology of Liberation there. As well as hopeful since the first and last of those I haven't yet read but hope desperately that some day I will.
Right. This has been a bit of downer. And in some ways it has been a hard couple of weeks being so lethargic from the medication. What's been weird is that on the one hand, I'll find myself getting disoriented so easily. Yet the last few nights I've also been having moments of clarity that I haven't had in a long time. Like, I've thought of my thesis for the first time in months.
And there has been one bit of good news: my case worker has increased the number of hours my caregiver is here from 4 to 10 per month. When my case worker came on Monday to do his yearly evaluation he greeted me with "you look like you feel awful!" (I did.) That means clean laundry every week! Yay!
6 comments:
That's too bad about the books. Musty books sometimes give me warm fuzzy feelings about Mexico, where all my family's books got wet from a hurricane. (Yes, they were inside; the wind blew out the windows and the rain was horizontal. Speaking of trauma...)
I agree--reading is hard work when you're sick and can definitely feel lonely. I didn't read nearly as much before I started blogging. Being able to share my reading makes it worthwhile to sacrifice the energy it takes to read. I don't know if I would do it as much otherwise.
Are you able to get library books delivered? They are usually mold-free, at least the newer ones. We have a delivery service where I live but I haven't had to use it yet.
Congrats on the increased home care! That's excellent news. Sometimes it's a good thing to look the way we feel!
Sometimes it's a good thing to look the way we feel!
LOL - isn't it just?!
I made the comment to my caregiver that I was glad I looked sick that day and she was all "but you are sick." But, of course, she sees me on a regular basis and knows how much time I spend in bed. My case worker sees me for about 45 minutes once a year. On a good day I can look pretty damn healthy for 45 minutes. ;)
Oh and regarding the library -- they do have a delivery service. I was about to sign up for right before that really bad spell in Feb/March when it so got bumped to the bottom of the priority list.
However, Talal and I were talking tonight about trying out a test in which I'll read Pride and Prejudice in book form and electronically at Project Gutenburg. If neither of those work, then I can also listen to it there too. :)
Whaaa?! Project Gutenberg has audio books? Cool! My library system just started offering audiobook downloads. Very handy for distracting me through chores like cooking and cleaning.
Oh, and whenever I have a doctor's appointment, I, uh, don't make too much of an effort to get a good night's sleep the night before... Not that there's too much danger of me looking fresh as a daisy on any particular day, I just like to make sure I show up in my usual bedraggled condition. It's especially important with my doctor because she always makes me feel good! I don't know how she does it, but friends who see her remark on it as well.
I can understand an inability to read, and the sadness that goes along with that. When my fibro is bad, I can't be in a position that allows reading, or hold a book long enough to get through one, or coordinate my eyes to read. But my fibro isn't that bad most of the time, fortunately. And there are times when I'm able to cling to books as a way of taking a break from reality, and I need those times.
What's interesting is, I had never considered the idea that reading a book wasn't communal. Maybe in part it's because my initial experience with reading books was via libraries, and I would talk with the librarians about the books I read. Or perhaps it's because of joining fan clubs when I was in high school... I tend to think of books as less immediate than the internet, but longer-lasting. They can help me connect across generations (especially because I read a lot of older children's books, so I can talk with both older and younger people about the books).
If you can process ear-to-head, audiobooks are definitely a good thing. Sadly, I can't seem to do that, so at points when I can't read, I am rather bereft (it's why we shell out the money for cable and a DVR, so at least I have *something* to occupy my brain when I'm stuck in bed).
Oh, and it's really great that your caregiver can now go to you for ten hours a week!!
P.S. Thanks for again for the tip on Project Gutenberg. I've been telling my bookish friends about it and they're delighted. :)
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