why untitled, unwritten?

I once labeled everything before it was written, until I found it kept too many words away. Now I am leaving the unwritten untitled, until it grows into a name.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Book Hangover

This is the story of my book hangover (or, re-reading childhood favorites and suddenly loving them all that much more).

It was Anne of Green Gables, a story I know well--I read the abridged version a long time ago and watched the movies more times than I can count as a girl (and teen and, okay, adult).  You'd think that since I know the plot by heart, since I could list off the main events, I wouldn't be moved to tears by a pivotal moment or grin or imagine in solidarity with the ever-dreamy Anne.  But oh, goodness, it got me again.  I felt like a little girl, rejoicing for my kindred spirit and imagining my days away like Anne does.

And so when I finished re-reading this afternoon, I couldn't seem to start another book.

Yet I only have one more to-read book of my choice to meet goal 17 of my 24 before 25, so I guess I'll try something tomorrow, when this clouded mind clears enough for some new fiction.

[image: snapshot (from Dory Kornfeld on Flickr) of the June 11 & 18 New Yorker cover, illustrated by Adrian Tomine, of a girl who looks eerily like me]

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