Once more it is June. Again. And again I embark upon that epic effort of daily blogging, take three, wherein I call upon myself for a kind of rambling focus, picking from a list of daily topics, and with neither planning nor advance writing, strive to pepper this blog with the free-thought, free-writing wonder that is another one of Those 30 Posts in June. Today, that post just happens to be:
June 3rd // Something You Have Read
I might gush a little bit here, but if I’ve never recommended the Neal Stephenson book Anathem to you prior to today, then here you go: duly recommended.
It’s been nearly five years since the release of that mind-bending, spec-fiction epic, a book I first “read” as an audio-book download a few months after it came out, and in the span of time since I personally have gone back to the novel now… I’m gonna say… six times, in various forms. I own at least three copies of the massive tome, legally — Kindle, Audible, and hard-cover — and as such it has become my “go to” book, my having it hanging around novel that I can pick up and read from when I just need something to listen to or read from.
I’ve read it, re-read it, re-read it again, then read it some more in bits-and-pieces, and despite a tip-of-the-tongue feeling that I should be able to better explain why that is, I find myself stuck for a clear and precise explanation of what got me hooked.
It’s a dense novel, for a start. I find new things in every time I read it. New ideas pop from the narrative and new things to think about tumble out of the pages (or headphones, whatever) with each passing consumption of the story. It is one part philosophical thinker, one part speculation on quantum physics, one part coming-of-age-novel, and it is peppered generously with dystopian-tinted sidelong glances at a circus fun-mirror kinda of reflection of ourselves. And if I told you anything else, I’d just be ruining the fun.
It is odd, though, that we find books like this to latch ourselves onto. I don’t know that everyone does that, but I assume that somewhere, everywhere, people find themselves with stories or bits of modern media that become touch-points, comfort-reads, or fall-backs for with we find ourselves relaxing and just slumping into a zone. Or maybe it’s just that I’m getting older and this is what happens to my generation, a generation that’s been raised on seemingly unlimited fiction and boundless abundance of mass media; We roll ourselves into a metaphorical ball and narrow that consumption into a mediated, controlled, and predictable influx.
Or maybe I just really like the book.