One of the biggest arguments I‘ve gotten myself into lately is the one about literature. As I confessed on my german blog earlier this week, I love books. I love them a lot. Sometimes I don‘t even particularly care about what is inside them, I just enjoy their smell and the way a simple letter looks and how letters transform into words and each word transforms into a sentence, and I like to think that somebody had once carried all these words and sentences in their mind.
I have my own personal hiding spot underneath my roof, and this week has been tough workwise because I have been spending all night every night in that place, trying to find out whether or not Jane Eyre will end up with Mr. Rochester.
As you can guess, I will read anything. I love Jane Eyre, it‘s a great classic, but to be perfectly honest, I enjoyed The City Of Bones series just as much. Just recently my friend asked me if I actually thought it was good to which I had to answer, „no.“ And it‘s not. Not really. At that she exclaimed, „Why would you read it then?!“ It‘s fun, that‘s why. I love a bit of cheesyness. Jace is hot, okay? I have had people telling me that I probably love these books so much because I have no boyfriend and that maybe there‘s just something missing inside of me that leaves a hole for me to fill.
I‘ve been thinking about that now, and I don‘t think I‘m missing something. I feel very content with who I am and I‘m very happy with my love life the way it is. Granted, if Benedict Cumberbatch turns up on my front door step I‘ll let him in, but… well, still, there rings a bell of truth, right?
I get affected very easily by world events, even more so now that I spent time living in Honduras. I get frustrated when I hear about children dying of cancer and planes that get shot down for no reason at all. I like reading books about good versus evil, because good will always win. It makes me happy to know that there are people who believe in a world that can be fine again and true love that is so strong it conquers hell.
Who are we to decide what is good and what is bad literature? In fact, I doubt there can ever be enough of so called bad literature. Because, frankly, anything that makes people believe in love and something good can not be too crappy.
So, I guess my message for today is, read whatever makes you feel good, even if that means you want to read 50 Shades Of Grey on the bus (yeah, admittedly, I wish we could turn those pages back into trees. *sigh*). Just, you know, be happy!