About Writing.

I’m writing some pretty tedious stuff on this blog lately, aren’t I? The fact is that I feel the need to write something – whatever it might be and irrespective of how it might be received – because it’s the only link I have to my human side. The problem is that I’m in the doldrums most of the time now, so there isn’t much about which to wax eloquent or even enthusiastic. At the same time, it wouldn’t do to make every other blog post a matter of ‘woe is me; I’m so depressed’ because, if I did, I’d start to sound like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and who would want to?

So anyway…

I’m currently reading my second Kazuo Ishiguro novel: Never Let Me Go. It’s all written in the first person by the main protagonist, Kathy, who writes as a person might speak, and so the prose style has an unusually vernacular feel about it. I find that a little discomfiting because I generally like a prose style that is rich, lyrical and emotionally evocative. So far, this isn’t any of those. There’s also an awful lot of seemingly trivial detail being recounted, which can be a bit yawn-inducing at times. And yet it keeps me turning the page, as did Klara and the Sun about which similar things could be said.

What’s also a problem is that the film version (starring the utterly glorious Cary Mulligan) happens to be one of my very favourite films, and when you know what’s coming you naturally want more than just plot to give you a reason to read it. But I am still reading it, and I will continue to the end because that’s what I do.

So there you have it for what it’s worth, and sorry if it induced a yawn.