For the remembrance of my father's death.

I have basically finished my 53rd book from Time's list of 100 All Time Novels, The Recognitions by William Gaddis.  Well, actually I have finished it, all 956 pages, but I'm so unsure of what was going on, I'm not ready to write a review just yet.  I'll need to do some secondary reading and see if I can piece some of the story together before commenting.

But before I do that, I thought I would write this post about some of the difficulties I had reading this book.  Yes, it was a long, difficult read, but there also were some issues of a personal nature, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to share them on a blog like this.  But then I thought about why I write this blog; to chronicle my experience reading through these 100 books, and things that happen in my life, are part of that experience.  I didn't set out just to review or summarize each novel, but also to speak to the effort and commitment of reading through so many novels over a four or five year period.

Last week, my father passed away.  While he had been in poor health for a couple of years, death was unexpected, and it took me and my family a bit by surprise.  I mention this for a few different reasons, as it relates to my reading.  First off, for the rest of my life, I'll always associate The Recognitions with my father's death, just as I associate other books with vacations I may have been on while reading them.  In previous posts I mused that I might someday give this book anther shot, but I know now, that I never will.  Not only was it a book I didn't really enjoy, it will also always bring back the memories of this past week, something I probably won't be that interested in doing.

I also mention it, because it made a book I was struggling to finish already, nearly impossible to read.  Shortly after his death, I tried to read in an effort to take my mind off things, but this only resulted in my eyes scanning over the words, without absorbing anything.  Despite my best efforts, I have to admit I probably missed several pages, nay, dozens of pages, because my mind was thinking of more important things.

I thought of putting the book away for a bit and picking up something a little more interesting and a little less intense, to help me deal with what has been one of the most difficult weeks of my life.  But I knew the book would become even less interesting if I didn't read it for a few weeks, and that whenever I did finally pick it up, I'd find myself right back to where I am now.  In the end, I'm glad I struggled through it, not only as a way of closing it, but also closing this chapter of my life.  Of course the grieving process will be a little more complicated than finishing a book, but I look at it as one of the first steps.