Reading for Reasons: On Toni Morrison's Tar Baby

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So I felt a little discontent today after seeing the faces of my peers as they found out that I was amongst another two in a class of about thirty who had read the entirety of Toni Morrison's Tar Baby. I laughed this fact off calling myself a 'geek' and so did they.

Is it fair that I call myself such a name? I mean, sure the term 'geek' is kind of cool but it has, attached to it, a stigma associated with the negative shade of the word itself. I think the fact that I stayed up until four in the morning and that I still did not manage to finish reading the book but read the rest of it on the toilet therefore leading me to rush to uni, just so I can assist my torturous teacher in discussing this set class text so as to not leave her floored, per se, like she is in every other class due to the fact that hardly anybody reads the set texts, is rather sacrificial of me than 'geeky' yet to appeal to conformity I applied the latter.

It bothers me how crucial I am to myself in every aspect. I do not see myself the way I wish others would see me and I think that is a big problem, due to the fact of being falsely read by all those who I have come across thus far. Though I do label myself these derogatory terms, I still see the good in myself and unfortunately the bad in others, which is diminished by my humanly needs to communicate and to feel. In my communicative endeavours though I have found that I am lacking. I do not say all that I feel needs to be said due to my fear of denial, my fear of rejection, of having to find and to fall all over again and that is what stops me.

Yes, to risk is to live but to risk only to fall and break constantly shatters one's psyche. Mine is shattered to the point where I wish for others to come in yet I cannot bear closeness in fear of having their absence like the absence of everyone else from my life. In reading alone I have found stigmas tainting my entirety and it is frightening. I only hope that one day my mind is number enough so as to not feel these stigmas anymore, so as to see these stigmas as something unique, something of a utopian layer meshed into myself. I sacrificed my sleeping pattern which I had, the previous night, worked so hard to rebuild. And all this for a discussion with myself, really, for I do not deem my teacher adequate enough to converse with me.

The imagery I bring up from set texts astounds my teacher and leads her to ask other people who had previously confessed that they have not read the book as of yet even though the class presently required them to have at least done so before attending. She would rather watch someone else conjure up meanings that they are unaware of just to hide her unawareness of what I say, and like the 'geek' that I label myself I stutter and I cut off what I am saying so as to not further complicate things for her, apparently it is too difficult to think at my rate - and to think that nobody had picked up the fact that there was a mango on the front cover which indicated class distinction further discontented me. It is things like these which lead me to believe that my entire life has a stigma behind it. That like my teacher for this class, nobody else truly will be able to understand the complexity that is me.

I have developed my way of speaking now so that I sound more academic, more like I mean something important only to be ignored or in some cases mocked. And that is saddening, to see future scholars like myself being disregarded in this daily rat race. People would rather inquire into the lives of faux celebrities than real life inspiring role models. Nobody asks for my opinions anymore, and I am pretty sure it is because they have reached the level of complexity that rarely anyone wishes to encounter.


Though this is a sad truth, this is my reality. Now, I carry on onto the next novel, three times the size of Tar Baby and I will again have to face the stigma behind the word 'geek' and watch people's reactions as I perform to their alleged expectations, only to baffle them entirely. As for the text, I would like to publicly apologize on behalf of the twenty or so students in my class who enrolled to read and do not - forgive them for they cannot strain their thinking of clubbing and whatnot. Tar Baby is a superb read, one that I recommend.

A book a day...

... Is utterly chaotic! Right now I am reading the final fifty or so pages of Toni Morrison's Tar Baby after having struggled to have read it in the vicinity of three or so weeks due to me not being able to focus too much. 

It is quite a thick read at the beginning. Though I appreciate her work, I think Morrison should not jump into complex metaphors too early on in her novel, because it throws busy people like myself way out further into the thinking sphere than normal. This is the type of novel that I need to be with for just over a month so that I can consume every word of it without struggling. And just like drawing, when I am forced to read I am heavily turned off. Art making and meaning making are quite alike in that sense. 

I remember when I was around thirteen, my best friend at the time who later in my life turned around in the duration of a three-way call, the third person being me, which she did not expect nor did she expect a call to more than another person, and decided to name me the derogatory term used to describe a female dog, but that is another story for another essay. Anyway, this certain friend at the time had read her Harry Potter books the day she had bought them and finished them then. I could not understand how she did it and I do not understand how she conjured up meanings from them but having not yet read from this series I do not think I myself would understand lest I begin. I will, though, and I am certain that it will take me longer than one day to read each book despite the avid reader that I am. 

I despise skim reading unless one is reading an excerpt or an academic essay in which case they need to hunt down key terms and worry not about the rest. However, I do not understand how people skim read novels unless they are critics - because critics never seem to have a decent grasp on any storyline - or editors. Editors need to read a whole lot more than my friend who got through a novel a day, and in that case skim reading is entirely acceptable. Even reading Tar Baby rapidly now, I cannot imagine skim reading because if I did then I would miss out on key ideas. Perhaps it is because I am obliged to look further into this novel because of my Fiction class that I feel this way. 

Nevertheless, like a good wine, a book is meant to be savoured. Every page is like a sip, and with each sip comes a desired effect. I cringe when I think of readers treating the text otherwise. Not that I have or ever will inquire about it, but I am assuming that due to her skim reading of the Harry Potter series, that once friend of mine does not remember any aspect of textual evidence. I bet she remembers the films more. I am not though demeaning the value in any form of reading, though. If one wishes to read they may simply read without my consent for I have no say in the manner, though I appreciate those who read to savour rather than those who read to crave another flavour faster. 

By all means, if binge reading is what Wonder Woman is to Super Man then please, do not refrain from doing so. All I am saying is that each novel has a meaning and I am for the retaining of that meaning for the sake of the writer.