So I’m already a day late on this blog-venture, and also read NO PAGES of Moby Dick this week.

sigh-parks-and-recreation-frustrated-nbc-ron-swansonNot great, Lorentz. Not great at all.

But let’s try to stay positive. I did blog about the release of No Dawn on Tuesday, so there’s been blogging. And I did finish one friend’s book (Cecil Castellucci’s Space-station-based, awesome-alien-rich mystery Tin Star) and start another friend’s book (Susan Scarf Merrell’s Shirley, which I am totally hooked on), so there has also been reading.

If I’m honest with myself, I haven’t picked up Moby Dick, but rather these other books, not just because I love my friends and am excited about their new books, but also because I have done exactly what I complained of in my last blog. Last week, I wondered whether a book’s designation as a Classic or as part of the Canon makes a reader less apt to read it for fun, or to even approach it as something other than a burden to slog through for some class. And I seem to have done just that to Moby Dick in setting up this Big Bad Books project for myself.

I have made the reading of Moby Dick into more than just a pleasurable activity I do when the need to read strikes. When reading Moby Dick, I feel I must tweet! I have to take notes for the week’s blog. I’ve turned reading Moby Dick into work.

While running this week, I listened to an awesome podcast interview with Ellen Langer, who’s research has shown that just changing the word used to describe something—say from work to play—can change our physical and mental response to the activity. So I think now that I must turn this Big Bad Books project on its head. I’m going to read first, then tweet and blog. The fun of the reading process must be first and foremost.

That said, I end with a picture my daughter drew—totally unprompted—of a whale. Evie drawing of Whale

 

 

Moby Dick, he tasks me.

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