I’ve become a sad excuse for a reader as of late. Most books that I check out from the library don’t make it past 30-50 pages of my fingerprints. I’ll get bored or distracted easily and never touch them again. My last cover-to-cover success was Alice Walker’s Now is the Time to Open Your Heart, which was an absolutely gorgeous read. Her poetic prose draws me in almost instantly. She’s one of my writing role models. The way she expresses her opinions and musings through nonfiction (as well as fiction) moves my heart. I still haven’t read The Color Purple (yes I know, but I have seen the movie, which is still not a good enough excuse), but I’m definitely putting it on my book list.
After my indecisiveness over where to go next on this beautiful don’t-let-it-go-to-waste day, I decided to revisit the library in search of a thrilling read. I already knew that I wanted to revisit Edith Hamilton’s Mythology, which I read in high school. After picking up another Alice Walker book, another image of my high school English journey was presented before me: Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. This book was on my summer reading list for my junior year AP English course, which also came with assignments based on the books. I still have my assignment on this novel, and from skimming it I already knew I had probably waited until August to read it and got overwhelmed by the other projects I had to conquer. I believe this was the only book on the list that I had read from cover to cover. I did a fairly decent job on the assignment, for that point in time, but that’s beside the point.
Fast forward to about six years later…
Reading the first few pages captivated me. I literally read certain paragraphs and paused in awe. The metaphors…the diction…the beauty…it was all overwhelming and amazing. My English-major nerves were firing off in my head over mere paragraphs, which spoke volumes to me. I could only imagine my feelings when I read this the first time (obviously not as passionate), but I am somewhat of a seasoned reader and writer now. I’ve recently realized that I have such a sensitive spot to meditative Romanticism literature. When I say Romantic, I don’t just mean the types of feelings I have constantly written about in my past blog entries. Walker and Dillard both have these connections to their surroundings that put reflective writers like me to shame. I can only hope that my style evolves into something so diverse and award-winning.
I already know I’m going to be committed to Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. That much emotional overload is going to result in my fingerprints on each page corner. If my weekend is slow, I should be more than halfway through by Monday.