For the first fifteen years of my reading career, I dedicated myself almost exclusively to one genre: fantasy. What is reading if not a way to completely leave your own, completely factual life behind? Occasionally, I would meander into the realistic fiction section of the library, but even that was rare.
Fantasy was life. I read it. I wrote it. That was all I needed.
But lately, I’ve been trying to branch out. In the beginning, I’m sure it was mostly to fit in with the other, intellectual readers I was becoming acquainted with. Everyone seemed so much more well-read than I was. It was time to broaden the scope of my reading loyalties!
I’ve been in two book clubs since that resolution. In the first, I learned that not every classic is everyone’s favorite. In the second, I’ve learned a few new lessons, not the least of which is that just because a book was chosen for the rotation six months ago, that does not mean it should be read when the time comes. There is a time and a season for every book. Surprisingly, I believe this is one of the most important lessons I’ve learned about literature to date. To illustrate my point, I would like to tell you about the struggle I have undergone since I dove into the book, The Ghost Map, during a worldwide pandemic.
The Ghost Map, by Steven Johnson, is an excellently written book about the cholera epidemic that hit London in the 1850s. You can already see the problem arising: cholera…Coronavirus… it’s basically the same word. They both start with “C,” anyway. And if you look up these ailments, their symptoms are basically the same. With my body subconsciously scanning itself every half hour for any new changes or symptoms, it was easy to get the GI symptoms of cholera confused with the respiratory symptoms of COVID-19. Best to assume I probably had them all. Everyone in the book did.
Who recommends a book like this? One of those intelligent, well-read people I talked about earlier. Maybe they’ve reached the end of all the beach reads and that’s all that was left. But in truth, it really is a fascinating read. I’m starting to realize entertainment can come in many forms, including reading about the horrific existence of a time before adequate sewage systems. I was so captivated, in fact, that I blew through four hours (I mean, uh, 200 pages?) in two days. That may be another reason for the sudden onset of my symptoms.
By the end of the 48 hour period in which I consumed such large quantities of this book, I started to show signs of light headedness, incoherent thoughts, and nausea. Just as the poor Londoners succumbed to illness from consumption of polluted water, I could feel myself withering away. I was relatively certain I didn’t have cholera, but I was less convinced I wasn’t being victimized by some other infectious villain. Yes, I would soon die of one plague or another.
At first I was convinced that this was all a result of reading in exhaustive detail about the devastating and grotesque circumstances surrounding cholera, from how it was contracted, to what it did to its victims. You see, that is the kind of thought that populated a mind during the day. But at night, thoughts present themselves a little differently.
Does anyone else out there listen to audio books to fall asleep? If so, please choose a different book. The night I contracted the word-induced psychosomatic plague, I was up half the night with painful nothingness that amounted to nothing but exhaustion the following day. And that was after only a ten minute dose. Needless to say, I’ll turn to something more lighthearted for my nighttime reading from now on. Maybe Hollow City by Ransom Riggs, or Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
To summarize: I highly recommend The Ghost Map. Just maybe wait a few months until current circumstances calm down and you are less likely to believe you have the plague simply because your toddler pooped on you again. Oh, and hydrate thoroughly before you read it. Don’t ask why. Just do it.
To all my fellow book club members: see you in June…if the plague doesn’t get us all before then.