(no subject)
For the first time in what seems like years, I put down a nonfiction book in favor of something fiction. Not only that, but the subject matter - vampires, teen angst, and twisted romance - could not have been any father from the subject matter of my recent reading explorations; topics such as Iran-USA historical relations, capitalism, macroeconomics, political theory, historical works - mainly centered around WWII - and environmental studies. In retrospect, it was a complete one-eighty.
But there I was, Friday night, just after cashing my check, wandering around Newbury Comics. I actually had planned to pick up a new DVD (which I did), but naturally, I was drawn to the New Release section, which sits adjacent to the "Weekly Specials" display. My eyes wandered over all of the musical selections; oftentimes, Newbury Comics will put the entire works of an artist on sale for a week, and it's always a great bargain (that's how I got most of my REM, Pink Floyd, and David Bowie.) Of course, it was only a matter of time before I wandered even further to the right, to the display adjacent to that, where the books that were on sale were being toted.
Looking for nothing in particular, but very much interested in books lately, I came across Twilight, by Stephanie Meyer. I stopped for a second, considering my options.
I knew vaguely what the book was about. I'm typically well out of touch with the newest teen fads, and I'm hardly paying attention to what's considered to be the 'Hottest New Thing', but I do vaguely remember seeing the book around, and hearing a bit of hype; nothing particular, I was just aware, on the periphery of my mind, that there was hype. (Not to mention the fact that I'm standing in Newbury Comics, where life-sized cardboard silhouettes of the characters in the movie - the kind you saw of Obama and Palin, and often see of professional wrestlers and the like - were hanging around everywhere.) The other thing I was sure of, if only vaguely, was that it was about vampires, and the rest I presumed. I was pretty certain that whatever the book was about, if it involved pop culture and vampires, I probably wasn't going to like it. The scenes on the walls and the limited exposure I had to the movie trailer suggested some romance theme, and I was pretty certain that pop-culture + vampires + romance was going to be pretty terrible, or at the very least, not my thing.
But I was compelled to read it, namely because Will is a huge fan and incessantly recommends that I read the books (he owns all of them) and insists that I'd like them if I gave them half a chance. I'd resisted thusfar, pulling out the admittedly lame "They're not really my thing" card, which even I knew was not going to fly with Will. He'd just stare at me skeptically, as though holding back some sarcastic retort. "Anita Blake?" he would question half-mockingly, and I would look away, intent to distract myself with something that was surely not very interesting, but nowhere in his line of vision. I had borrowed the Anita Blake vampire novels from him (all seven of he ones he owned, in chronological order) and read every one of them. I had admitted that I'd enjoyed them (how else was I going to explain wanting to borrow the next in the series?) but did not admit that truly, I had loved them. The author's style was witty, cynical, and totally unrealistic when taking into account exactly what she was writing about, but it didn't matter. I had been enthralled. Why I dismissed this series so quickly even I didn't know. Maybe it was my natural aversion to anything that's hugely popular, knowing that if the masses loved it, it must be a watered-down excuse for a novel that played to angst-ridden high schoolers with too much disposable income.
Just the same, I picked up the book and flipped it over. $10.99. Fuck, I thought to myself as the realization hit that even my logical and reasonable conscious mind wasn't going to be able to stop my subconscious from convincing me to buy it, despite my reservations. At the very least, if it were expensive, my reasoning would hold some water, but at that price, I was going down, and I knew it. And even as I thought this, my sub-conscious slipped into my conscious, reasoning that if I read it, I could tell Will in confidence that I hadn't enjoyed it, knowing that he would no longer to use his, "If you haven't read it, you don't know if you're going to like it" line that he had come accustomed to throwing my way whenever it seemed we were at an impassè.
I carried the book to the counter, groaning mostly because I knew I had lost the battle before it even began. I knew the girl at the counter, whom checked me out almost every time I was here (which was every week.) She smiled, looking down at my selection.
"Oh, so you're finally giving in to the pressure?" The question was a statement, no doubt about it. My purchase had already confirmed it; there was little reason to ask save for politeness.
Great, I thought to myself. "Well, it keeps being recommended to me," I said faintly, reaching into my bag for a twenty, purposely avoiding eye contact.
I could almost sense her eyes rolling, though I still wasn't looking at her looking at her. "Who hasn't had it recommended to them? You can't escape it."
Not when you work here, I thought to myself, half-bitterly, but knowing my reaction would have been the same if I had been in her position. By this time she was holding out my change, which I took, stuffing it haphazardly in my pocket and giving a polite thanks, still trying to avoid eye contact while remaining friendly; a challenging task. I quickly left the store.
But there I was, Friday night, just after cashing my check, wandering around Newbury Comics. I actually had planned to pick up a new DVD (which I did), but naturally, I was drawn to the New Release section, which sits adjacent to the "Weekly Specials" display. My eyes wandered over all of the musical selections; oftentimes, Newbury Comics will put the entire works of an artist on sale for a week, and it's always a great bargain (that's how I got most of my REM, Pink Floyd, and David Bowie.) Of course, it was only a matter of time before I wandered even further to the right, to the display adjacent to that, where the books that were on sale were being toted.
Looking for nothing in particular, but very much interested in books lately, I came across Twilight, by Stephanie Meyer. I stopped for a second, considering my options.
I knew vaguely what the book was about. I'm typically well out of touch with the newest teen fads, and I'm hardly paying attention to what's considered to be the 'Hottest New Thing', but I do vaguely remember seeing the book around, and hearing a bit of hype; nothing particular, I was just aware, on the periphery of my mind, that there was hype. (Not to mention the fact that I'm standing in Newbury Comics, where life-sized cardboard silhouettes of the characters in the movie - the kind you saw of Obama and Palin, and often see of professional wrestlers and the like - were hanging around everywhere.) The other thing I was sure of, if only vaguely, was that it was about vampires, and the rest I presumed. I was pretty certain that whatever the book was about, if it involved pop culture and vampires, I probably wasn't going to like it. The scenes on the walls and the limited exposure I had to the movie trailer suggested some romance theme, and I was pretty certain that pop-culture + vampires + romance was going to be pretty terrible, or at the very least, not my thing.
But I was compelled to read it, namely because Will is a huge fan and incessantly recommends that I read the books (he owns all of them) and insists that I'd like them if I gave them half a chance. I'd resisted thusfar, pulling out the admittedly lame "They're not really my thing" card, which even I knew was not going to fly with Will. He'd just stare at me skeptically, as though holding back some sarcastic retort. "Anita Blake?" he would question half-mockingly, and I would look away, intent to distract myself with something that was surely not very interesting, but nowhere in his line of vision. I had borrowed the Anita Blake vampire novels from him (all seven of he ones he owned, in chronological order) and read every one of them. I had admitted that I'd enjoyed them (how else was I going to explain wanting to borrow the next in the series?) but did not admit that truly, I had loved them. The author's style was witty, cynical, and totally unrealistic when taking into account exactly what she was writing about, but it didn't matter. I had been enthralled. Why I dismissed this series so quickly even I didn't know. Maybe it was my natural aversion to anything that's hugely popular, knowing that if the masses loved it, it must be a watered-down excuse for a novel that played to angst-ridden high schoolers with too much disposable income.
Just the same, I picked up the book and flipped it over. $10.99. Fuck, I thought to myself as the realization hit that even my logical and reasonable conscious mind wasn't going to be able to stop my subconscious from convincing me to buy it, despite my reservations. At the very least, if it were expensive, my reasoning would hold some water, but at that price, I was going down, and I knew it. And even as I thought this, my sub-conscious slipped into my conscious, reasoning that if I read it, I could tell Will in confidence that I hadn't enjoyed it, knowing that he would no longer to use his, "If you haven't read it, you don't know if you're going to like it" line that he had come accustomed to throwing my way whenever it seemed we were at an impassè.
I carried the book to the counter, groaning mostly because I knew I had lost the battle before it even began. I knew the girl at the counter, whom checked me out almost every time I was here (which was every week.) She smiled, looking down at my selection.
"Oh, so you're finally giving in to the pressure?" The question was a statement, no doubt about it. My purchase had already confirmed it; there was little reason to ask save for politeness.
Great, I thought to myself. "Well, it keeps being recommended to me," I said faintly, reaching into my bag for a twenty, purposely avoiding eye contact.
I could almost sense her eyes rolling, though I still wasn't looking at her looking at her. "Who hasn't had it recommended to them? You can't escape it."
Not when you work here, I thought to myself, half-bitterly, but knowing my reaction would have been the same if I had been in her position. By this time she was holding out my change, which I took, stuffing it haphazardly in my pocket and giving a polite thanks, still trying to avoid eye contact while remaining friendly; a challenging task. I quickly left the store.