I, The Reader

 I surprised myself the other day when, while reading, I found myself secretly editing. The revelation began when I found one mistaken use of a word by a well-known writer. It was relatively minor and perhaps a typo, nevertheless, it revealed to me what kind of reader I was. I read critically. And while that is probably not an entirely bad thing, it was a surprise to me. I have an ambition to write a book and have it published not by me but by some grand company. That will never happen.  In Grade Seven, Miss L gave me a ten out of ten for a composition about my grandmother. The two pages of handwriting with the 10 in red at the top of the foolscap paper, made me think I would become a writer. Somehow, between that time and over the next ten or so years, I segued into becoming a librarian which was the closest I got doing my own book rather than handling hundreds of them written by others. Teaching English also made me aware of what the elements of writing are and which ones cause a reader to pick up a book and want to read it. While the Book Club era is waning, they continue to be experienced by all those who find reading a great pleasure. Using a plastic book with its vast collection of books inside or a single paper book that holds the attention of its partaker for concentrated hours, all readers are of various types. During one of my book club sessions after each of us described our current books to recommend, I came away thinking about the variety of books we discussed. And the people who discussed them. The conclusion was. that each of us was a kind of reader. It made me wonder what kind of reader I am. At the next session, I am going to ask my fellow members that very question of what kind of reader they are. For fun, I made up a list of types of readers. There are the Gossip Hounds who read biography or autobiography to search out little or large bits of knowledge about people, facts that surprise and delight.  Amateur Critics read to catch  flaws or find beautiful elements in books and to assess whole books regularly. The Book Addicts are ones who read nothing but certain genres only or one particular author solely. Then you have Social Elitists  who read only what the media critics recommend as The book to read that goes well with the canapes in cocktail party conversation. The Media Author Interviewer reads because it is too embarrassing to be caught in error having read only the first and last pages and blurbs and not the entire book. The Wannabee Writers read for inspiration and perhaps scribble some unintended innocent plagiarism later on. And then there are the Library Locusts who descend upon the professional shelves just to stroll around stroking book spines and chatting up the librarians for what's most popular to read. Books will never die or cease to be written. We avid readers, like seekers of buried treasure, continue endlessly, to search and often find, the perfect book. 

Finding "A good book"

 What with spelling, grammar and limited usage programs for computers, the world is seeing far too many "writers". Finding a good book is like finding a needle in a haystack. If you do, you feel enormously privileged. Part of the trouble, is that almost anyone can self-publish a book and stick it on line to sell. They go to the cost of developing a cover and type and so on.  Most of these books are not edited for what filters writing art from hack plonk. Oftentimes, people read a book and say to themselves, hey I can do that. It's a bit like those who view paintings in a modern art gallery of The Greats and tell themselves the same thing. They go home, buy a mess of paints, slap it on canvas, and often, to the ignorant, sell it. And that's okay. Why? It's okay because only those who know how long it takes to become a true artist are too busy making real art, to criticize or care. True critics of art know the difference. With the overnight writer who "reads a lot" and attends the odd author speaking event or workshop to become his/her own personal success, he or she doesn't know the difference. You know what "bliss" is. Once this amateur writer gets past the housekeeping of manuscript, they know not of the wiles of language in developing a style that is true art. Some writers are born with it; others have to work very hard at it. Learning to toss out one's bad language habits is not a job that can be done alone. None see their own faces and certainly do not see their bad language habits. Night school teachers of Creative Writing can be both dangerous or a boon. It works either way. Some CTs teach cute little tricks of writing seemingly to make it more palatable to the reader. These "tricks" are soon found out.  Others might  advise buying books on how to write: crime, detective, genealogy, travelogues. In short, Formula Writing.  I had a friend who made a very good living selling four romance novels a year until she and her fellows got together to write a  book on their genre and hold large conferences on romance writing.  Now, she is into sci fi. I have not yet been able to get beyond the first chapter of any her "books". Sorry. She has the ideas but her style is dull and trite and there is nothing about  her books that stimulate the imagination or tickle the curiosity or feed the brain.  The language is that of a sixth grade kid and the plots plod mercilessly on to The End.  But they sell like hot cakes. I have  read of the worlds very best authors and taken the usual university classics courses that some hated that others as well as I, loved. You become kind of fussy about what you read and it isn't always Balzac. For example, I am reading a book by a brand new author and the writing style would shame the best. It is art as well as tale. The bottom line is, a "good book" is the solely one you enjoy reading most. Nothing more.

Civilized Liberties

 Listened today with shock when a rep of an organization that works hard to ensure that all citizens are protected from injustices spoke to an interviewer. The individual was protesting that police should publish the names and pictures of well-known criminal gang members, She called that an injustice. It was also pointed out by this evidently misguided person, that the gang members known by police have families and businesses and are no longer members so why are they being picked on. What? With almost daily brazen, irresponsible gang war shootings that kill their members but also hurt innocent citizens in public places, how can I believe, or any other citizen, that gang members should receive support from a civil liberties group? In the first place, that these criminals have businesses, I would ask where do you think their big homes and  tapped up cars, parties and businesses came from? They are built from drug sales and all the filth that goes with it. Deaths of the young are occurring in record numbers from the drugs these guys sell. And once a gang member, always a gang member. The effects linger and very few really can quit.  What about the family of the 14 year old "gang member" who was shot and all the other children trafficked and enlisted and preyed upon by these unscrupulous gang creeps? Who with decency could overlook that? Are we to think that criminals past or present have "paid" for their crimes even if they have quit the gangs or done  miniscule time for "good behaviour"?  Of course not. I could quote here an old phrase about the evil  men do, that lives after them. The way this civil liberties speaker went on about "everyone" should be protected from public scrutiny as the police are doing by publishing their photographs, was ridiculous.  I would ask the person speaking, what about the rampant deaths from overdosing by unfortunates who were and are decent people and whose very lives lost, paid to pad up the gang members lives. I have no sympathy for the gang members cited and who have their pictures published. Let's do more of it. They do not belong in society. They gave up their rights to being called "civil" when they rose to the top of the heap of the agony that they built on other fellow warped humans. They enslave young people who are blind to the dark future they are sure to build as they speed around in their boss cars thinking they are kings.  The nice schools for their kids and clothes for their ladies and large homes for themselves, the parties and gambling and all the evil junk are temporary. Sometimes very temporary.  Criminals give up their rights when they hurt society and those who defend them are worse and abet them. That includes their families even though innocent.  And sure they may get through the courts because they use the same black dollars to pay for the best legal forces. Are too often they think they get away with it. Think. It's easy to criticize the police.  Seems everyone does it. They think uniform and not people. Police  have families and friends and lives to live apart from their work and it is the dirtiest work there is. Every day they say good-bye to their families, they know they may not come back. Their lives can be lost doing that good work and their families suffer.  No other tactics have worked with these gangs and if their mug shots must be hung out there for the public to see, it's time. These are not civil people. Civil liberties are for injustices and gang members are about as unjust as you can get.

Patient As A Tree

 If we're looking for an example of perfect patience, a tree works very well. In fact a tree is the ideal symbol of patience. It doesn't complain or blame. It doesn't fight back when it's attacked. You can hammer nails into it for signage. You can strip its bark until it dies. You can chop holes in it and hack most of it off and yet it tries to keep on growing. That is all a tree does on its own. It grows. Or tries to. A tree is either planted or starts from a seed or a root. From then on, it either makes it or doesn't. Some of the ones who "make it", are cut down for various reasons, most of which are its uses to mankind. Trees are trimmed and can be eaten in different ways by different creatures. They hurt no one deliberately. Anyone struck down by a tree, should blame the wind or another accidental source because trees don't move on their own. Trees, as we all know, provide shelter and oxygen to their surroundings. They also offer entertainment. You can climb them, make bon fires, put ropes on them to swing, build little houses inside them or simply climb them for fun. Some feed us fruit and nuts and leaves and sap. They give us everything they have without an argument. Trees work. Logging companies hitch their gear to them and drag other dead trees to trucks to be hauled away for lumber, paper and fuel. Some trees are pretty and are fostered for their blossoms or shape or ability to festoon gardens. Trees are an ideal building material for their memory. Yes, they have memory. But they don't talk about it. They swell when it's wettish, shrink and dry out when it isn't and they bend when coaxed with steam. Trees are used in shipping for masts and hulls and they become factories, fences, barns and bistros. Even art. They float in the ocean and give sea birds a place to dry out; in lakes they offer turtles a place to sun. They line beaches and are good to sit and loll against. They  give shelter to countless creatures. They become fodder for young trees that are just starting out. They are objects of adoration and dislike and beauty and ugliness and profit, depending upon who is regarding them. They can be abused and sold and worked with never an objection heard.  They are often seen as close to holy things and in a form, are worshipped by some. They are honoured and preserved well beyond their actual lifetime by others. They have timed lives just as all living things. They can be hugged for a time until, if lucky, they will grow much too big for even groups to hug. When it's their turn to die, if they get that far, their rings can be counted while we reminisce on what those years show. When you see a tree, think tree and be.