I gave up on The Golden Bowl after 100 pages. I don’t often give up on a book in the middle, but the pace was maddeningly slow, even for Henry James, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
I finished Joan Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem and The White Album, both wonderful.
Now I’m reading an intro to philosophy textbook, since I somehow got through college and grad school without taking a philosophy course. It’s already blowing my mind. I just read the first section, on the meaning of life or lack thereof. Most of the selections hold the view that life is generally meaningless.
I tend to agree, but I think it can be quite liberating to view life as absurd—if it truly is absurd, there’s no reason to worry about anything, and you can focus on doing things that are truly worthwhile, like easing the suffering of others, for instance, and being creative, which one of the authors suggested was the only true way to live a life of any meaning. I feel stuck in regard to the former, since I live in the suburbs, work at home and am not currently doing any volunteer work, so I’m not doing much to help my fellow humans or other living creatures right now. But I’m thinking a lot about what will be the best way for me to change that.
I’m looking forward to the next section of the book, on the existence of God. Should be interesting.
