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fiction, blogs and blogging about blogs

I think one’s perspective of books tends to change with the time spent after reading it, what mood one was in at the time of reading it, and with one’s present mood. And with what one has done since reading it. Right now I’m thinking Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell wasn’t all that great a book, although I was enthralled by it for 3 days and a day. Mostly I wanted to find out what happened to Arabella Strange and whether he got back together with his wife, but I was also generally awed by the idea and execution of it. I’m now thinking it isn’t that good because sometimes there are footnotes for the sake of embellishing details rather than to move the plot along – just a chance to set down the author’s canon. And there wasn’t as much description of the performance and philosophy of magic to explain its decline before Mr Norrell and Jonathan Strange’s appearance – the fact that it became esoteric and largely academic doesn’t seem all that convincing without further support.

But maybe my impatience is part of a larger, growing disenchantment that I’m suffering towards all fiction novels. While interning in a firm and reading and hearing about the earthquake in China and cyclone disaster in Myanmar, which no amount of artistic endeavours can remedy (but then again maybe they do have a part to play), I’ve acquired a slightly more realistic view of things. Putting ideas into words is an important and valuable skill, a skill which novelists must have. This is arguably the instrumental value of writing and reading novels (writing more so than reading I suppose). But general usefulness isn’t the ultimate purpose of fiction. The real reason why authors write books is to send a substantive message, or to induce enjoyment. Or it could be for the self-fulfillment of the author herself, which I think is appropriate in the case of Jonathan Strange. The author’s motive could even be to make money (which could explain the low quality of some manga series).

What’s my point? I don’t really know, but it could have something to do with why I’m writing this post. After all, blogs are online books, without the element of formal publishing or monetary consideration. And blogs are largely or wholly self-edited, or not edited at all. Blogs and books serve similar purposes, which, of course, are numerous. I’m writing for a selfish purpose – because if I don’t, these darn thoughts will continue bugging me and distracting me from other work that I’m supposed to be doing. It’s like talking to someone, without the someone. (How eloquent.) Without expecting a reply. The fact that other people may read a blog is comforting only because some form of interaction (or the opportunity for it) must exist; since the probability that anyone who comments knows the author personally is minute, there is little possibility of relationships forming. So that is the main reason for my writing, but it’s also for a sense of self-fulfillment. Another selfish reason.

Well. Humans are selfish people. I'm tired of writing and whoever reads this must be tired of reading it. I'll stop for now.