I've been sitting in front of my computer for an eternity, after spending Monday catching up on NaNoWriMo, and Tuesday writing college application essays. [Speaking of which, isn't "Are we alone?" the best personal statement prompt ever?] I was finally waning at eleven last night, and instead of falling directly into bed, I made a stop at my book shelf first.
Understand, I have stacks of books to read. My lit class is working through The Great Gatsby and I'm wrapping up my gender studies exploration with The Feminine Mystique. Mr. Rehmke's sent me a stack of books that I'm supposed to get back to him about, and I have some other classics beside that I need to read to make my book quota for the year. The stack of books next to my bed that have yet to be read is shameful.
And yet, I stopped at my book shelf and grabbed my sad paperback copy of Anne of the Island. The book really is a mess, obnoxious dog-ears, split spine, broken binding and all -- Maggie got her hands on it and destroyed it like she destroys all my books, not that I'm bitter or anything. I don't normally like to read a book more than twice, but I pick up Anne of the Island when I can't be enticed to read anything else and am in desperate need of some literary therapy.
I'm reading it with new eyes, it feels like, thanks to Dr. Thomas C. Foster and NaNoWriMo. The book must be about fifty-thousand words, and I'm wondering if there's anything I can steal from Lucy Montgomery to make my plot less structurally pathetic. [I'm thirty-thousand words in and only twenty-four hours have passed in the story. There's been too much drama for one day. Not to mention excessively stale narration.] Also, Montgomery was a veritable master at tone and imagery.
I'm not sure what I like best about Anne of the Island. Or any of the Anne books. I don't find much kinship in Anne's personality or circumstances, although we do share an INFP connection. There's just something winning about the characters and their stories and the overly flowery [yet somehow not pretentious] prose. That feels silly and excessively girly. Oh well.