This is a low, Franny

Getting the momentum to write on a regular basis has been far more challenging than I imagined. The self censoring that occurs on the page is nothing to the mental redacting that is such a habit. That said, I am going for the plunge school of “just fucking do it” attitude.

Lately I have been re-reading books and stories instead of digging into new ones. It started with Harry Potter this summer, and that is another post unto itself. A few weeks ago I read “Raise High The Roofbeams, Carpenters” for the first time in I don’t know how many years, and was immediately struck by how new it felt to me. This morning, in hopes of a similar reaction, I opened “Franny and Zooey” for the first time since I left a fair amount of angst by the side of the road.

The “Franny” portion started as I remembered, the amazing note to the editor in the frontspiece (the term “cool lima bean”never gets old,), and later, there were the same disparaging references to Bennington girls. Somewhere in the middle though, I was reading a totally new story. I recognize Franny’s sense of being unmoored, her search for something beautiful and meaningful in a world that seems to offer little of either. Unlike other times I have visited her though, I was more interested in the quiet that she found, the retreat that she creates for herself, than in the clever arguments that she and Lane hash out. Quite simply and wonderfully, I am no longer my own Franny Glass. I have thus decided that this winter will be an exercise in revisiting books, and as always, music that are well worn favorites, but that haven’t been touched literally or metaphorically in eons. We’ll see how this goes.

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Published in: on November 4, 2009 at 2:30 pm  Leave a Comment  

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