Slow, slow, slow

One of the most interesting books I've read lately is In Praise of Slowness by Carl Honore. It's a look at the many aspects of the Slow movement from Slow food to Slow cities to Slow sex. I particularly loved this book because I cracked the cover at the airport right after I'd tried and failed to get more than five pages into Citizen Girl.

I had thought that CG would be perfect for me--the review from powells.com had been good and made it seem like chick-lit with a brain. This relates to that poem I posted the other day. Though I am surprised that someone with my scholarly training prefers her fiction light, this tends to be the case. Now that I no longer analyse fiction for a profession, I find myself getting bored or annoyed with fiction that makes me work to read it. (One could argue that this fiction to which I'm referring could not be that good if it makes me work, but these are novels of wide repute. I am ready to admit that the fault lies not with the books but with me). Or, and this is the worst confession, perhaps, if the fiction does not make me work, it does make me unbearably sad. There are enough troubles in this world that I try to educate myself about and take action to remedy in the small ways that I can: putting myself through emotional torture for a novel or a movie is just not life-giving to me. (An interesting exception is theatre, where I actually can feel catharsis). I feel that many intellectuals would insist that tragedy is more worthy, but the fact is, I like a happy ending.

Back to Citizen Girl. I had thought that this might be a step up from some of the books I read--better written, more clever, more satisfying somehow. Ha! Even in the few pages I read, I sensed neither a brain nor a soul (or a heart or courage, to put it in Wizard of Oz terms). Oh, it was snide, this book. Now, I've been told that I have a Dorothy Parker-esque quality from time to time, but I hope I am not snide like this. Admittedly, my distaste may have been first inspired by the photo of the authors on the back inside jacket. It may be frightfully bourgeois of me to believe that photos should be flattering, but believe it I do. I suppose what is more alarming is that these women felt that this photo did, indeed, flatter them. What vacant, superior faces!

After the aforementioned five pages, I shoved the book deep into my carry-on, never to be opened again. So much for light fiction setting a nice, relaxed tone for the flight; I was thankful I hadn't actually bought it--the library was welcome to it. I turned to my potentially more-weighty non-fiction choice, In Praise of Slowness and felt cleansed by its preface alone. I had heard of Slow food, of course, but I hadn't known of all of the other ways that people were seeking slowness. I loved the honesty of Honore's tone throughout the book. He clearly had a sense of irony and approached situations with a similar skepticism that I might feel (his description of the Tantra workshop was a particular gem). This made it all the more delightful to read about how these experiences mostly did not conform to his expectations and were, in fact, meaningful and profound. It was also thrilling to read about yet more groups of people that seemed to feel about the world the way I do and who had the courage to pursue those ideals. And, much as what I have discovered about the simple living movement, slow livers do not propose that we all live in huts in the wilderness; they embrace technology for its benefits, but explore ways to say no to the demand to be always in reach. What a concept, the idea of slowness as a political act! It reminds me of my friend who suggested that I and my fiance are engaging in a political act (as it were) by creating a wedding that is a true expression of the two of us rather than some wedding industry bullshit designed to make us feel like failures if the day isn't perfect, perfection being defined by the massive amount of money we've spent on everything.

In Praise of Slowness is going on my list of books that I'd like to have in my own library, a reference I will turn to many times, and something to share with interested friends. Another great thing about this book was its extensive bibliography. As a result of reading it, I've ordered at least three other books from the library and there may be more to come. I'll be talking about those books in future posts.