During this season, I like discovering new books but also often immerse myself in old readings, a bit like the “old” movies that we watch again and again each year at the same time of the year. Here are my few readings of the moment.
John Keats is unquestionably one of my favorite poets, the one to whom I always go to. The one whose work touches me intensely, the one whose poems reassure and comfort me. I have read many times his poems so much so that I come to know them by heart. His short life has been punctuated by disease and precariousness, but also by love with Fanny Brawne, with whom he had a love relationship as sincere as brief. In their letters, I feel genuine affection. Their exchanges are generous, deeply human, sometimes tinged with regret and jealousy, but always authentic. Sometimes I get a little embarrassed, I must admit, to the idea of investing their privacy. But soon, I forget this feeling, and I let myself be carried away by their love and by their marvelous history.
Among my most memorable readings, there is a small book written by Stefan Zweig, which counts about a hundred pages. I found it in a drawer while I was preparing some moving boxes. And, I must say, if I opened it in the first place, it was to distract me from my moving duties. The surprise was total, and I read this book in one go. It deals with a love story, a letter, therefore, that an unknown woman addresses to a famous writer. She explains to him her feelings, the love she felt for him, the suffering it was to experience this devouring and not reciprocal passion. And she tells him (and us) about the absence, the pain, the mourning. And also the suffering, the disappointment, and the anger, too. This letter is not happy, and there is no place for hope or a happy ending. It’s a rude letter about the violence of passionate love. And its beauty.
If I had to pick only one takeaway book with me, I think Dracula would be at the top of the list. It is, to this day, the only reading with which I felt stress and anxiety. And also a multitude of other emotions, by the way. Death, mourning, anger, love, envy, fear are as many themes treated brilliantly in this novel that is no longer to be presented. I love reading this book, actually I do not count the times I read it, yet I never got bored. It’s a bit like some songs. Even if you forget them for a while, you always end up coming back to listen to them.
This a book I first discovered through an article written by Elodie on her blog Being a Spoon, and in which she gives her view on this reading. As she explains so well, the subject of women’s rights concerns us all (or should), and this reading is ideal if we want to start a reflection about it. I have not yet been able to start reading, too busy that I am getting lost in Transylvania. So I can not say more about this book at this moment, except that I look forward to immersing myself in the world of Margaret Atwood.
Lily Collins is an actress and writer for whom I have high esteem. I see in her a gorgeous woman, a talented actress, and a beautiful, caring, and sensitive person. If I like her career and acting, I must admit that lately, I also hooked a lot with her writing skills. This autobiography is a more a statement about the life of a young woman that an autobiography, strictly speaking. It’s an honest conversation, open-hearted I would say, on such important topics as the relationship to the body, self-confidence or even family. I have not finished this book yet, but I can still say that this is a lovely reading (which I intend to finish quickly).
That’s all for this blog post. My fall readings are very eclectic, aren’t they? Tell me everything, what are your recent readings?