Complete Waste of Time

I just finished reading another book--Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson. It was given to me while I was in the hospital on bed rest with Henry and since I didn't have the strength or mental acuity to read while upside down, I finally decided to dig into the stack of books brought to me by visitors. I had high hopes for this book. Being the literary snob that I am, I was intrigued by the smoky cover and the fact that it won the Pen/Hemingway award. However, about 20 pages into this book, I was grabbing an US weekly. The book haunted me from my bedside table, making me doubt my intelligence and self-righteous reading indignation. The most interesting character moved out halfway through the book and I wanted to go with her. Sloan kept asking me why I continued to read this book that I kept complaining about, not understand that I'm too OCD to not finish a book I begin and also there is my respect for the writer. Any writer. This is what makes selecting books so difficult for me. It is a commitment, not unlike a marriage. I am in it til the end whether it is a delight or a drudge. Finishing a book is like ending a relationship. After all, I was a Creative Writing major in college and I know what sort of blood, sweat, and tears went into birthing the book. And there is no epidural for the writer. Well, I suppose there is wine. Am I crazy for not liking this book? What does it say about me that I preferred to catch up on J. Lo's pregnancy than what some orphans were doing in a dilapidated house? I think I will reread some David Sedaris just to cleanse my pallet of the slowness.

Another waste of my time was the movie Eragon. My nephews have read all of the books and I wanted to be able to connect to them. Apparently, this book was written by a 14 year old. You can tell. Take Lord of the Rings, subtract the Christian allegory, then add a dash of Star Wars, and even a bit of Dances with Wolves (why do these warriors wear feathers in their hair?!) and there you go. The dialogue was horrible and predictable. The only reason I can figure that the producers were able to get big name talents like Jeremy Irons, John Malkovich, and Robert Carlyle is that they must all have sons who love the books. Those actors must've kept asking, "But what is my motivation?" It's only redeeming quality was that the kid who plays Eragon is easy on the eyes. I'm sure it plays well among gay circles. I'm sure there were some people in South Beach who went as Eragon and Braun for Halloween. I will have to find out from my nephews if the book is any better.