(no subject)
I love the deep soul-happy I get from finishing a good book. It's a kind of sad-happy. I feel something similar when I watch a beautiful movie. Sad movies have more of an impact on me, but anything beautiful, really. Finishing a good book fills up these little nooks and crannies in my soul. I am left with this silly contented look on my face.
The book I just finished (just started really, but working as a poll clerk will do that), is Jack London's White Fang. It is perfect. From the first page I was stunned. This is someone who understands. Who understands the Wild and all it's tremendousness. The futility and awe and "puniness" of all in comparison. But also how it lives inside those that come from it. The Wild does not belong to anyone, it is not tamed- it is so beyond all attempts to know it as a whole, yet the sense of it is inescapable.
And love! So much love! The power and strength of love! Ah! The depths of it all.
I am glad I read this after I travelled across Canada and to the Yukon. And if I manage to live up there (as I plan to), I am sure I will read this book again and understand so much more of it.
...I need a dog.
The book I just finished (just started really, but working as a poll clerk will do that), is Jack London's White Fang. It is perfect. From the first page I was stunned. This is someone who understands. Who understands the Wild and all it's tremendousness. The futility and awe and "puniness" of all in comparison. But also how it lives inside those that come from it. The Wild does not belong to anyone, it is not tamed- it is so beyond all attempts to know it as a whole, yet the sense of it is inescapable.
And love! So much love! The power and strength of love! Ah! The depths of it all.
I am glad I read this after I travelled across Canada and to the Yukon. And if I manage to live up there (as I plan to), I am sure I will read this book again and understand so much more of it.
...I need a dog.