Pages
on Colm in Kenya (Kenya), 08/Jun/2009 18:07, 34 days ago
My first finger rests on the page I've reached and the index finger on the book cover, holding the small slice completed. The block between my first finger and my thumb rests on the thunderous 5pages of the unread. The dauntingly vast story yet to be told.The early pages were marked by the typical excitement which a much-anticipated book offers. Familiarising yourself with all the original, the exotic and the compelling events, characters and stories.A few chapters in and the book settles in to the slow‘setting the scene’ pace. Building the foundations – signposting the reader. It becomes a little slower, at times empty andsparselysprinkled with the enthusiasm so rich in the early chapters.Some words no longer flow from the page. They stick and cling. Some pages now start to become a little difficult to finish, become a little heavier to turn, a little more challenging to piece altogether.My eyes fix on the intimidating mass of pages; the sum and the substance.So many stories untold, dramas to unfold, plots to uncover. So many pages to read.There are books that are written in a way to communicate the essence of the story. Perhaps this plodding approach too.Infact, it said so on the cover– I was told to expect this. Thatdoesn’t make it any easier to read, nor to be fair more difficult.It still holds considerable appeal, some chapters still captivate, fueling the burning desire to finish, to understand and to absorb.But it burns slower. More deliberate. More conserved. More routine.Do I want to skip pages? Do I regret picking the book up? Do I want to start something else more familiar?No. No. No way.It’s time to batten down for there are so many pages yet to read. Some great, some tired, some bored and some bad. But each and every one will be read. Not waking up until I finish this obstinate dream.