Another month, another reading list. The summer is coming to a close, so I’ve been rushing to get through the last of my leisure reading before classes start next week. As much as I love the challenge of reading philosophy, I will certainly miss being able to dedicate a large portion of my waking hours to immersing myself in fiction and poetry. This month, I’ve been obsessed with a few writers in particular.
Men in the Off Hours
A Wild Sheep Chase
Written on the Body
Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit
I will continue to read these three authors religiously, Winterson for the intensity of emotion that comes through in her writing and for her wonderfully queer characters, Murakami for his strangeness and disregard for the boundary between fantasy and reality, and Carson for her ability to mix academic scholarship with poetry in genre-defying ways. I know that I will have Carson to turn to when I am challenged to do work in philosophy while continuing to be a poet, and I am glad to have her words as a guide in my future writing endeavors.
If it’s pure, raw feeling you want, though, look no further than Winterson’s writing:
“This is where the story starts. Here, in these long lines of laptop DNA. Here we take your chromosomes, twenty-three pairs, and alter your height, eyes, teeth, sex. This is an invented world. You can be free just for one night.
Take off you clothes. Take off your body. Hang them up behind the door. Tonight we can go deeper than disguise.
It’s only a story, you say. So it is, and the rest of life with it – creation story, love story, horror, crime, the strange story of you and I.
The alphabet of my DNA shapes certain words, but the story is not told. I have to tell it myself.
What is it that I have to tell myself again and again?
That there is always a new beginning, a different end.
I can change the story. I am the story.”
(from The PowerBook)