Confessions of a Non-Reader

Alright, so I'm more than a non-reader. I hate it. Actually, I more than hate it. I despise it. Does "despise" indicate more than "hate"? It sounds like it does. Maybe if I read more, I'd be better able to tease out the nuances. But I digress... I'm sure the folks at the coffee place where I 'office' think I love to read. Hell, I do it all the time. When I'm not writing, I mean. Or flitting around the Internet. And there I go again... Digression at it's best. I'm stalling. I need to confess and I'm apparently not quite ready.

Bless me Father for I have sinned...

Isn't that how it goes? I did a bit of research on the Catholic Church when I was writing my novel, but I never delved into the confessional. I figured I'd seen enough movies to guess that part.

Ok, ok. Here we go. I'm ashamed to admit this and I'm asking for absolution.

I started reading post-graduate school for research purposes only. And I do mean ONLY. I have novels and stories to write and I needed two things - (1) to get the facts right, meaning the history. and (2) to know what was going on in my genre, ie. I needed to know what lesbians were writing about lesbians, fictionally speaking.

In reality, 2 came before 1. A friend told me to read Affinity by Sarah Waters, said she was the standard, benchmark, apex of lesbian fiction and that Affinity was one of her best. I bought a used copy from Amazon, read it in two days, and remembered that I like historical fiction. At about the same time, I realized that to finish one of my novels, I needed to infuse it with a fact-based historical perspective. Not knowing much lesbian history, I bought a couple books and started reading. In the midst of this research, I read Sarah Water's The Paying Guests. Which led to my latest short story and my first foray into fan fiction, a historical fiction piece called "The Parasol". Then the planets aligned and the idea for my next novel materialized - a prequel to "The Parasol" set during World War 1. Given that I know only slightly more about that time period than most Americans (I recently discovered that many people don't even know WHEN the Great War took place), I was going to need to do some research. Reading. I was going to have to read.

I could curse the day I took my friend's advice and bought Affinity. Ok, I more curse the day I read it... and liked it. Then I more than liked Tipping the Velvet and Fingersmith. And as I stated above, The Paying Guests inspired a story.  I resolved that I would ONLY like reading when reading Sarah Waters. In fact, I've been saving The Night Watch, as my reward for good behavior (Reading as a reward? What?!?). Meaning, I've been saving it for when I feel like I've read enough non-Sarah Waters lesbian fiction and fiction about lesbians to say that I'm familiar with the genre. Thus far I've read Patricia Highsmith, Carol: The Price of Salt; Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness; Anais Nin, Henry and June (I didn't so much read this as suffer through it. I can't do narcissism); Jeanette Winterson, The Daylight Gate. I'm currently slogging through Djuana Barnes, Nightwood. I think when I successfully navigate the un-godly prose of Nightwood, I'll  let myself luxuriate in Night Watch. I will have more than earned it.

And here's where we come to my confession. I don't know whether to thank Djuna Barnes or thrash her when I get to the afterlife. Bogged down after barely ten pages and muttering under my breath, "God bless, I fucking hate to read", over and over, but at the same time knowing I needed to read, I tossed Nightwood aside and picked up The Passion by Jeanette Winterson. Seriously, it couldn't be any worse, could it? After all, I didn't mind The Daylight Gate. Plus I knew a bit of the autobiographical drama that led to The Passion's writing and, as a former lover of married women, I figured what the hell. When I opened up the book and saw who it was dedicated to, I knew I made the right choice.

Fuck me... Time to confess. I'm enjoying it. There I said it. I'm enjoying reading The Passion, a non-Sarah Water's novel. If I have two authors that I like (You'll have to image the cringe that runs from my face to straight through to my soul), does it make me a reader? My grandfather used to say that cooked carrots made him shake. That last statement? The "am I a reader" question... It made me shake.

Now I don't know which book to reward myself with - The Night Watch or Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit (Bought accidentally on Amazon with the 'one click' option. Believe me, there's no way to suck it back. I tried. Turns out what I thought was bad luck was really kismet. Dammit). One I'll read soon. The other I'll save until my vacation in August. Good lord, did those words just come out of my brain?

I need an intervention.

I'm still a non-reader. I'm still a non-reader.

Fuck Sarah Waters and Jeanette Winterson.

Not really. Just kidding. I'm telling you stories. Trust me.