In the last couple of months, I’ve lived through at least three separate lives. “Gone Girl” takes me to a man in his thirties, somewhere in recent time Midwestern U.S. on a scrutiny of his loved ones, neighbours, media, and authority because of his wife’s disappearance. It sucked me in, as I lived through his eyes, his sorrow, and finally his many feelings as the truth of the matter is finally revealed. Awesome thriller, going to be filmed with David Fincher on the helm and word is, Gillian Flynn, the author of the book is rewriting an entire third act for the film. Can’t wait.
The second one, takes me through a physical training of a Navy seal, getting a rough, albeit simplified version of it, but enough to understand the severity of it, the unmistaken sense of pride and loyalty that came with it, and ultimately, the understanding that at the worst of times, it was this tempered and nurtured pride that keep Marcus Lutrelli alive during the fateful days of Operation Red Wing in the heights of Mountain Hindu Kush, Afghanistan. That, and the pashtunwali. As the film version, however, “Lone Survivor” only works on a surface level. The book, give me the depths that I would never have had from the film even if it were ran for six hours.
The last one, “Pushing Ice,” which I had just finished today, I get to live a life of a woman, Bella Lind. A revered captain of what used to be a commercial spaceship, she was tasked with the journey that would first take her 260 light-years away from Earth. From here out, it gets nasty as relativity theory takes a centre stage, a human scale is no longer applicable, and my understanding of time was distorted severely I had to force my imagination to imagine something just a little bit out of reach. A stimulating read would be an understatement. On the personal level, I also get to experience how it is like to lead (or at least what the author through Bella Lind perceived about leading). How it is like to alienate someone, to make a hard decision, to sacrifice, to quell your emotion for the sake of larger needs of the community. Although one could argue that such experience is not exactly the same with the experience of actually leading in a real life, it would still better than nothing.
To read or not to read is of each choosing. Maybe there are some values I couldn’t understand that could be obtained of doing something else rather than reading. But for me, reading is not just a hobby. It has become a necessity. One book is different from other, it opens a different door, it may not going further than my quick span of interest and thus, extinguished in a matter of seconds, but some, would led to yet another door, or perhaps, of another world.
In the end, looking through my thick glasses, I pity those who don’t read.