Reading through my son’s summary of a top-selling book, my brain began to hurt, my eyes fogged over and my attention span came to a screeching hault.
Charlie’s interpretation was a jumble of words, complex phases and disjointed thinking which had to come from the author. I could only stop dead in my state of confusion and breath slowly.
There are authors and writers. There are thick books which contain amoung their pages, the work of several people, each with their own agenda. They are the people who “eat dictionaries and anthologies” for breakfast, then spit out long words and sentances that tend to defy comprehension by mere mortals.
A very large book (size, weight and content) sits on my work table challenging me to read it, sneering at the very thought that I will understand it.
Hundreds of years ago when I was in 4th grade, I had a fabulous English teacher, Nellie Wi bbing. She was and remains one of my mentors opening literary doors to me, and helping me to win “The Book Award” for reading and writing the most book reports. I gobbled up glorious words, savored them and stashed them away for future use. My favorite word was “philoprogenitiveness” which meant love of your children (I couldn’t find it in my dictionary). I never use it…
Now, I am confused and wonder why stories, reports and perspectives can’t be written in a more simple and direct manner? Are the writers just filling pages? Do they covet their words to a point of no return leaving the reader suspended from the pages barely hanging on only to crash into confusion as they fall?