I've never been so quickly hooked. Since the intro bade me consider the preconceptions and even physicality involved with embarking on a read, my consciousness re: the act of reading has exploded. Now I can’t help but adjourn from the commotion of the bus and give everything of myself to the tomes toted in my lap. Or perhaps the substance of the stuff is made in those moments where my gaze wanders?…sometimes both or neither
Anyway, this is mildly philosophical but so playful. How could I call its narratives a gimmick when Calvino is often anticipating and eluding my exact attitudes?
Nearly perfect but for hard and unfocused male gaze (unless you’re among those readers privately seeking this, too). I expect anyone who reads any fiction for any reason would find some resonance here
I've never been so quickly hooked. Since the intro bade me consider the preconceptions and even physicality involved with embarking on a read, my consciousness re: the act of reading has exploded. Now I can’t help but adjourn from the commotion of the bus and give everything of myself to the tomes toted in my lap. Or perhaps the substance of the stuff is made in those moments where my gaze wanders?…sometimes both or neither
Anyway, this is mildly philosophical but so playful. How could I call its narratives a gimmick when Calvino is often anticipating and eluding my exact attitudes?
Nearly perfect but for hard and unfocused male gaze (unless you’re among those readers privately seeking this, too). I expect anyone who reads any fiction for any reason would find some resonance here