Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Book Trauma

A woman at my office, Brooke, who I have referred to before, loaned me a book last week. "A Prayer for Owen Meany." I have complained about Brooke. How she is annoying and talks too loud and doesn't actually work. But the truth is I think she is a very nice person. A very nice person to loan me a book since she knows that I read a lot and can never have too many. She was sure that I would LOVE this book. I was too, since it is rare that I don't like a book. I can always find something that I like about books.

I hated this book.

I know that John Irving is a well respected author and that this book is very popular with critics. I loathed it. I thought the story was dull and over-enamored with itself. It was supposed to be suspensful but that only works if you care what will happen. I didn't like many of the main characters. And the use of all upper case letters for one characters words was not dramatic--in this age of the internet it was more irritating than anything else. And, worst of all, I found the religious portions of the book--which is most of it--condenscending, irritating and insulting.

This is Brooke's last week so this shouldn't bother me but I know she is going to ask me what I thought when I return it. I am trying to think of something that I liked because I am a terrible liar.

What is even more disturbing to me is trying to figure out why Brooke thinks that I would love this book. I think that Brooke thinks that I am a smart person. I also think that she really wants to seem smart. And this is a book that is supposed to be intellectual. It isn't. I am sure the New York Times gave it a great review and it is popular with book clubs but this is not an intelligent book. It is pretentious. And annoying.

Is it acceptable to tell her I really liked the cover? CHRIST.


Was up very late last night. I was so anxious. I tried to explain it to J, that I could just FEEL that something is going to happen this week. Something big. It could be good, it could be bad. It could be at work or at home. I really don't know. But I am so nervous just thinking about it that it is kicking my ass.

I had, as Holly Golightly says, the mean reds. For those of you who have neither read the story or seen the movie (SHAME) she uses that phrase to describe that feeling you have when you are afraid and you don't know what you are afraid of. I had that so badly last night I could barely sit still.

J had a migraine which he was killing with large doses of legal narcotics. He kept trying to calm me down but I just could relax. I had lost my wedding rings sometime last week and for some reason I felt like I would not be able to sleep until we found them. Fortunately, his best talent is being able to find things that I have put down in obvious places. I mean, this talent will never make him money but it does keep me from really losing it sometimes.

We talked and tried to calm each other down. J only gets migraines when he grinds his teeth and he only grinds his teeth when he is stressed out. I hate money. It makes us act like this. He is only worried about it because of me though. That is the thing about marrying some one who was brought up in poverty when your family is very middle class. He will always worry that you are disappointed in him.

The other thing is that you will always feel guilty about your upbringing. Every time you come back from the grocery store and he is excited that you bought name-brand cereal and undented canned goods you will feel incredibly guilty and spoiled. Every time he tells a story about not getting birthday presents when he was a child you will want to cry. And when he admits that he once ran drugs with his mother in junior high school you will vomit into a trash can.

It is important to know this.

I think that we will be ok. I really do. We are both just too worried about things that don't matter.

Maybe if I keep telling myself that I will sleep tonight. It is what worked at one this morning.

6:46 a.m. :: comment ::
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