I don't want to read Mr.Darcy takes a wife. I never thought of myself as a purist of any kind. I came across this book title in an AWAD mail (Compeletely irrelevent topic:The word omphaloskepsis means "contemplation of one's navel". Huh.), and I thought "Hey, here's a P and P sequel, I'd love to read that." Then I came across an excerpt. I read it and came to the conclusion that I don't want to know about Elizabeth's and Darcy's marital life. No,thank you.

It was not just the sex scenes that drove me away, though they were one of the main reasons. Imagine Lizzy and Darc-no,actually,don't imagine anything. No, it was, I don't know, a strange resolve to keep that beautiful, innocent relationship that was portrayed at the end of P and P right there, forever. Its like wanting to know no more than till "happily ever after". I know its childish and not really the way it goes, but hey, there it is.

Come to think of it, this is the first time I've refused to read a book. Even Hamlet,which I hated, I read half of. Well, first times for everything.

Its weird but this reminds me of an incident three years ago when a friend of mine blasted me for having recommended "The god of small things" to her. I hadn't even recommended it to her, she had asked me "Have you read it? How is it? Isn't it the Booker winner? Is it good?" and all that, and I had just tilted my head, squinted my eyes and said "Good". This is what I usually do when I can't catch hold of any adjectives or when I don't have any opinion (This is another crazy thing. If you don't have an opinion on everything nowadays, you're considered dumb. Whats up with that?). So, this friend took my "recommendation", read the book, and was horrifed. Expexted, if you jump to an Arundhati Roy right after an Enid Blyton, without even going through a Sidney Sheldon to protect you. She came up to me and said "How could you enjoy this book! With all the incest!" She whispered the last word, as though someone might overhear and take her to task for uttering such balsphemous words. My astunded reply was "You mean the only thing that struck you in the book was the incest? What about the beautiful story? The complex characters? The chapter on Kathakali?" She turned her heel and huffed away, leaving me thinking "Man, reading is so lost on some people".

I think I'm that person now. I'm a purist. Not a good thought when I think that I've always considered myself as a liberal individual. I mean I don't hang banners for homosexulaity or something, but I am not against it either. To each his own, I say. I've always believed there are all kinds of people in this world and all kinds of books as well. I'm at crossroads now. Maybe I'm thinking about it too much. I mean its just one book, right?

Labels: Books