I’ll be the first to admit it: I consume a lot of entertainment. It’s more than just a way to wile away the hours for me; experiencing the magic of story through books, television and movies is my oldest and most passionate hobby. I love delving into narratives and immersing myself in their waters, surfacing afterward to ponder and discuss and marvel. It’s the primary reason I was an English major in college, and I’m never happier than when I’m extolling the virtues of a story I’ve just experienced to a dear friend. (If you’re interested, you can check out my running list of what I’ve consumed so far in 2013 here, and see for yourself just how many things I read and watch.)
I bring this up mainly because I’ve found myself battling a question lately, one that has done more mental damage than I’m willing to admit: with so many other things I could (and arguably should) be doing, why do I spend such so much time “lost” in other worlds? Shouldn’t I be out experiencing this life to the fullest right here and now instead of coming home from work, making dinner and reading a book or watching a movie?
This week, as part of the coursework for a free online literature class I’m taking with Dut and my fellow blog warrior Erin, I read Bram Stoker’s classic Gothic vampire novel Dracula for the first time. Given my penchant for horror, it is no surprise that I loved it completely. So, with a tip of the hat to Mr. Stoker and without any further ado, I give you my foray into vampire fiction; just don’t expect any glittering or romance here.
Wowzers, it’s been a while! I know, I know: I’m a bad blog-father. I won’t bother trying to defend myself. Rather, I submit here to you, Internet, a review of Michel Faber’s Under The Skin, an excellent novel I just finished reading, published first on my Goodreads account. This novel blew me away.