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When I was fourteen or so, I read Who Has Seen The Wind, by W. O. Mitchell (incidentally, the only reason I even picked it up was because it was shelved near Gone With the Wind). I read it--it was quite an agonizing read--and kind of wondered why my grade 9 teacher told me it was a good book. It was dry, because I liked books that had the definite adventure-line: setting, initial incident, rising action, climax, denouement. Who Has Seen the Wind had none of those, really, and had a whole lot of descriptive passages that I simply didn't understand. The characters, especially Brian (the protagonist) were unintelligible to me, and so I only plowed through the book because I hate to leave them unfinished.
Then yesterday I was waiting at the library, and I picked it up again. And as soon as I started reading, I realized that approximately 99% of all the content had gone straight over my head. Of course Brian would be jealous of his younger brother's special treatment--he was two! When I'd first read it, I had only felt irritated that Brian wasn't sad over his younger brother's illness. I understood the motivations behind most of the characters far more clearly.
But what I really realized was the careful descriptions of the prairies. I live near the prairies--not in the thick of them in a small town, mind, but near enough that the passages in Who Has Seen The Wind were perfect. I could see the blue, blue sky, as though I was wading through the grass; the writing style made me think of The Great Gatsby (with some of its dreariness, too) and the puzzle-piece precision of The Mayor of Casterbridge.
What all of this makes me think, though, is that I ought to reread Tolstoy again. I read War and Peace at 14 as well, and left the book feeling irritated about his preachy tone. Maybe this time?
Then yesterday I was waiting at the library, and I picked it up again. And as soon as I started reading, I realized that approximately 99% of all the content had gone straight over my head. Of course Brian would be jealous of his younger brother's special treatment--he was two! When I'd first read it, I had only felt irritated that Brian wasn't sad over his younger brother's illness. I understood the motivations behind most of the characters far more clearly.
But what I really realized was the careful descriptions of the prairies. I live near the prairies--not in the thick of them in a small town, mind, but near enough that the passages in Who Has Seen The Wind were perfect. I could see the blue, blue sky, as though I was wading through the grass; the writing style made me think of The Great Gatsby (with some of its dreariness, too) and the puzzle-piece precision of The Mayor of Casterbridge.
What all of this makes me think, though, is that I ought to reread Tolstoy again. I read War and Peace at 14 as well, and left the book feeling irritated about his preachy tone. Maybe this time?
