My Own Musings...

Why do we read? This is a very broad, and quite possibly loaded question, but I feel the need to ask it. I'm currently in a clinical placement in which I'm teaching 2nd grade students that it's cool to read, that reading is fun, that you really need to use this someday. This is a message that I will continue to spout as I pursue my teaching career, but I fear that I don't have a firm purpose for reading myself.

This isn't to say that I don't love reading, that I don't treasure each moment that I get to myself in a book. However, when books like Beasts of No Nation come up, I find myself a little nauseated, a lot angry, and a wee bit unsure of why I continue to flip the pages. And why, one may ask? Because this book is gruesome in it's content and child-like in its delivery. I don't want to think of children splitting another human's head open with a machette...I'd rather see them orderly in my classroom, eagerly (or, at least compliantly) opening up their next treasure to read.

Yet, I continue to flip the pages. Why? Not because it's assigned, because I have been in the boat of BS-ing my way through reading assignments successfully before. With this book, I could just resort to the generic "wow, look how violent he is!" ploy. Not because I'm enjoying it. The only setting I can deal with blood in is donating it and I am scared of both weapons and the people who wield them. I'm drawn to this book, to almost every book, even if the content makes me uncomfortable.

Due to the recent personal happenings that are occurring in my life as of late, there is nothing I desire more than to have a REAL conversation with someone and make that kind of connection. However, everyone around me seems to be stuck in "life's good" mode and unwilling to leave that to deal with my need. My books, Beasts of No Nation included, at least allow me to have a conversation, a complex interaction between me and the author with the characters as middle men. While the conversation I"m looking for would probably be best had in person, people don't want to have it. So, I am forced to be content to participate in the thought experiments of authors like Iweala about death, dying, responsiblity, and youth.

Will people ever be able to have a conversation anymore? Though idealist I am, I am starting to lose hope in this. Even now, I who want the conversation have so many distractions at my disposal – music on , computer and AIM ready, cell phone at attention, and a movie waiting for me after this blog (another text I can interact with). So, though my 2nd graders won’t understand my reasoning and even middle and high school students would struggle with the idea, this is why I read. To interact on a deeper level that the world seems afraid to share in.

So, after my movie, I’ll curl up in bed, open up Beasts of No Nation, and find out what Iweala wants to say in response to my confused thoughts next.

Happy Reading…