The art of not reading. Or, selective attention as a means for intellectual survival by @AliyaMughal1

Cross-posted from: ALIYA MUGHAL
Originally published: 01.01.18

Reading is a serious business. It takes precious, irrecoverable, finite time to devote yourself to a book. In doing so, you make an active decision to press pause on your ordinary life so as to step into another world, another place, another time.

WHY THEN, WOULD YOU CHOOSE TO CONTINUE READING SOMETHING THAT IS NOT ONLY UNINSPIRING BUT FRUSTRATINGLY DISAPPOINTING?

I often have this debate with my partner, who has as ferocious a reading habit as me, but who methodically ploughs his way through his wish list, even when he complains about the plot holes, inconsistencies and poor dialogue.

I admire his commitment to finishing everything he starts, it’s a noble demonstration of his respect for the writer who’s spent their time and energy creating the book he reluctantly holds and a mark of his stubborn dedication.


Read more The art of not reading. Or, selective attention as a means for intellectual survival by @AliyaMughal1

A book a loved (and one I didn’t) by @AtHomeActivist

Cross-posted from: The Agoraphobic Feminist
Originally published: 14.12.15

A book I loved…

I don’t really have all-time favourites, so I picked a book I just finished reading, my current favourite – Girl on the Net: My Not-So-Shameful Sex Secrets.

Aside from being a steamy romp (yeah I just said that) through the sex life of said Girl, it deals with a load of stuff including joyful sluthood, BDSM and consent and teen girl sexuality (I still have a lot of left-over weird guilt over stuff that happened in my teen years, so this helped a lot). 
Read more A book a loved (and one I didn’t) by @AtHomeActivist

Where does non-fiction end and fiction begin?

Cross-posted from: Adventures in Biography
Originally published: 27.06.15

Back in April I drew your attention to a marvelous review by Janet Malcolm of the non-fiction work of Joseph Mitchell.  In the course of the review Malcolm makes the startling revelation that his non-fiction is substantially enhanced by the (recently discovered) fictional additions.

Mitchell’s travels across the line that separates fiction and nonfiction are his singular feat. His impatience with the annoying, boring bits of actuality, his slashings through the underbrush of unreadable facticity, give his pieces their electric force, are why they’re so much more exciting to read than the work of other nonfiction writers of ambition.

Malcolm’s point also caught the attention of Catherine K Buni, a writer whose articles and essays have been published or anthologized by The Atlantic online, The New York Times, The Rumpus, Soul of the Sky, and The Writer, among others.  Buni’s fascinating essay, ‘Pants on Fire: The Genre That Cannot Be Named‘, has been published on The Millions.
Read more Where does non-fiction end and fiction begin?