I’m five pages into this book and the only thing I know is this guy is mesmerized over a book. I don’t know the guy’s name or age. He does live with his mother.
After reading a hundred pages of a book, I don’t know why I am still reading it. I like the sentence, the creative way the author or perhaps in this case, the way the translator puts words together, but the ideas are a bit vague.
I thought that if I perhaps read it slowly from the beginning, I might come up with a reason why I like the book and even understand what it is about.
More of that book with the man and the book.
“The more I turned the pages, the more a world that I could have never imagined, or perceived, pervaded my being and took hold of my soul. All the things I had known or considered previously had now become trivial details, but things I had not been aware of before now emerged from their hiding places and sent me signals. Had I been asked to say what these were, it seemed I couldn’t have given an answer while I still read on; I knew I was slowly making progress on a road that had no return, aware that my former interest in and curiosity for things were now closing behind me, but I was so excited and exhilarated by the new life that opened before me that all creation seemed worthy of my attention.”
What is the book? What were the signals? Strange voices? Morse code? Is the book that I’m reading about the book the book?
“I was shuddering and swinging my legs with the excitement of this insight when the wealth, the multiplicity, and the complexity of possibilities turned into a kind of terror.”
What does it mean by multiplicity? I first heard that word in graduate school and thought that there’s no point using five dollar words when ten cent words work better. Multiplicity is a good way to describe complex possibilities. There are more possibilities than we can ever imagine. Terrifying? Perhaps. Could also be exciting.
“In the light that surged from the book into my face, I was terrified to see shabby rooms, frenetic buses, bedraggled people, faint letters, lost towns, lost lives, phantoms.”
Were the shabby rooms in the book? In his life? If so, he’s not describe much of the house he lives in with his mother. How did the brightness of the book cause the reader to think of lost lives and phantoms. The story plot line got bleak in a hurry.