My grandmother has been trying to get me to read this book for years, but I kept putting it off. There were several reasons. The main one being that I (wrongly) thought we had very little in common and because we've had some rough patches. Also, The Swan House is a real place. It is a mansion. I have zero desire to look at, read about, and think about mansions. They are useless and tasteless, in my opinion.
A couple weeks ago I visited my grandparents. My grandmother was about to have surgery on her knees, and we were all hoping for a quick recovery. We talked a lot, and we had a really good time. She told me stories from her past (as did my grandfather) and there were many I had not heard. It changed me, and my feelings shifted dramatically. I went from keeping this book at a distance to having an overwhelming desire to sit down and read it all in one day. I wanted to understand her through reading it. I am not sure if that is possible, but I did enjoy the book in spite of myself.
It was a multi-genre novel set in historic Atlanta. I enjoyed learning about my city while reading it, and the mysteries kept me going. There was something wonderful about it that I cannot put my finger on. There was something about the wealthy boarding school girls that drew me in even as my resentment surfaced. I saw the trite descriptions of class and race at every turn. I left this book with a mixing of feelings. I can mostly only think about all the things I didn’t like, and yet I did not dislike the book. I know everything was overly simplified, and the story verged on “white man’s burden” material. I had to skim through some of the more lengthy religious proclamations without fully reading them. They were so frustrating and totally took me out of the story when I was completely sucked in. And yet and yet and yet…
What does it all mean in the context of my grandmother?
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Curiouser and Curiouser
The Swan House by Elizabeth Musser x 2 2001
Weight: 1 lb
Method of Disposal: return to my grandmother and donate http://www.atlantahistorycenter.com/virtualTour2/swanhouse_front.html
My grandmother has been trying to get me to read this book for years, but I kept putting it off. There were several reasons. The main one being that I (wrongly) thought we had very little in common and because we've had some rough patches. Also, The Swan House is a real place. It is a mansion. I have zero desire to look at, read about, and think about mansions. They are useless and tasteless, in my opinion.
A couple weeks ago I visited my grandparents. My grandmother was about to have surgery on her knees, and we were all hoping for a quick recovery. We talked a lot, and we had a really good time. She told me stories from her past (as did my grandfather) and there were many I had not heard. It changed me, and my feelings shifted dramatically. I went from keeping this book at a distance to having an overwhelming desire to sit down and read it all in one day. I wanted to understand her through reading it. I am not sure if that is possible, but I did enjoy the book in spite of myself.
It was a multi-genre novel set in historic Atlanta. I enjoyed learning about my city while reading it, and the mysteries kept me going. There was something wonderful about it that I cannot put my finger on. There was something about the wealthy boarding school girls that drew me in even as my resentment surfaced. I saw the trite descriptions of class and race at every turn. I left this book with a mixing of feelings. I can mostly only think about all the things I didn’t like, and yet I did not dislike the book. I know everything was overly simplified, and the story verged on “white man’s burden” material. I had to skim through some of the more lengthy religious proclamations without fully reading them. They were so frustrating and totally took me out of the story when I was completely sucked in. And yet and yet and yet…
What does it all mean in the context of my grandmother?
My grandmother has been trying to get me to read this book for years, but I kept putting it off. There were several reasons. The main one being that I (wrongly) thought we had very little in common and because we've had some rough patches. Also, The Swan House is a real place. It is a mansion. I have zero desire to look at, read about, and think about mansions. They are useless and tasteless, in my opinion.
A couple weeks ago I visited my grandparents. My grandmother was about to have surgery on her knees, and we were all hoping for a quick recovery. We talked a lot, and we had a really good time. She told me stories from her past (as did my grandfather) and there were many I had not heard. It changed me, and my feelings shifted dramatically. I went from keeping this book at a distance to having an overwhelming desire to sit down and read it all in one day. I wanted to understand her through reading it. I am not sure if that is possible, but I did enjoy the book in spite of myself.
It was a multi-genre novel set in historic Atlanta. I enjoyed learning about my city while reading it, and the mysteries kept me going. There was something wonderful about it that I cannot put my finger on. There was something about the wealthy boarding school girls that drew me in even as my resentment surfaced. I saw the trite descriptions of class and race at every turn. I left this book with a mixing of feelings. I can mostly only think about all the things I didn’t like, and yet I did not dislike the book. I know everything was overly simplified, and the story verged on “white man’s burden” material. I had to skim through some of the more lengthy religious proclamations without fully reading them. They were so frustrating and totally took me out of the story when I was completely sucked in. And yet and yet and yet…
What does it all mean in the context of my grandmother?
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