"She kept all of her pens in the drawer, off the desktop. It was a little like quitting smoking."

A return to school and I wore my most capable looking outfit. The program is designed to aid one’s attempt to apply for MFA programs, or provide a light shove so that they may run screaming. I haven’t yet identified which path I’ll travel.

It’s helpful, the rigor of coursework. The readings and the projects and the deadlines with their consequent, "Once I’m done with this I am never doing it again". I miss my neuroses. So I’m loving this lap pool of academic possibilities.
In my harried attempt to make something of my life I’ve re-prioritized ( I don’t know if that word can be claimed) and in so doing, have been reading in mass quantity again.

I should then abide by the purpose of this blog (and stop wading in the shallow pool of ‘listen to me wallow’) and rant and rave over these current gems of a book:

To begin, and I’ll surely do this an injustice (the book at home, and read so long ago): "The God of Small Things" by Arundhati Roy.
You can skip the analysis and focus on the meat of this reviewers opinion. An immediate, no-holes-barred, knock me off my seat for an automatic re-read 4 out of 4 Hula hoops.

In fact, if I could speed up the rotations I’d hip flex as many times as humanly possible to pay homage to this book. It is really that wonderful.
Roy’s style is indicative of Barbara Kingsolver. From the opening passage to the dense body and complicated characterization, to the harrowing conclusion, Roy’s words don’t just read – they direct. She plays with convention in the sense that her words are so fluid and descriptive you don’t even realize that they’re convoluted in a thick jungle of assonance, consonance, and a hybrid of poetic/literary devices. Her words are so lovely that they move the text and the reader can seemingly feel the temperature the story relays, feel the characters clothing, taste the bitter berries of the Indian farm fields.

Now, for many, this would be a deterrent. Roy definitely tips her hat within the first few passages to forewarn the reader that this particular read will be trying, and complicated. The characters themselves are so multi-faceted and she is one of very few authors who really convinces the reader of the character and their associative wants/needs/dreams/devices. One can tell that Roy loves her characters as we consequently love them. She never fails to follow through on even the most mundane aspects of the characters life and upon finishing the novel this reader did not want to let them go (hence the immediate re-read).
Something that strikes me regarding Roy’s prose is her ability to peak and lull.

To explain: There are moments in which the subject seems so intense, so noteworthy that the reader can not remove the image from their minds. These moments, which didn’t seem so much a ploy to develop and increase climatic plot lines, but rather memorible moments of characterization, are complimented by the preceding and following storyline. What begins and what follows is a paced plot. Roy seems so in charge of her words and the characters and events move fluidly before these so-called peaks. In my mind this writing style resembles the heart monitor of a suddenly excited someone. Rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall, and a sudden alarm, only to fall into pace with the rise and fall…

The work is a masterpiece and I will supply more analysis when I consult my notes.

Until then, read and re-read and find beauty in the small things.