I was sitting outside of the cafe this afternoon, reading 'The Life of Pi' (highly recommended by my daughter, and now, by myself) and I thought about a few religious friends of mine and how they might react to it. I decided I would approach them with the idea, telling them it's a book to read without forming opinions or making judgments, just read, enjoy the flow of the language, smile every once in awhile. When you're done, okay say something to yourself about it.
That's the way I approach all literature, prose or poetry, wait for the gestalt to form and then feel it. As I was formulating this thought, I had visions of the one pointing to heaven and shouting blasphemy or another pointing to hell and shouting something easier to spell and I chuckled. Good fiction should bring you into the world of the characters, lifting you out of your physical location and setting you down in theirs. It should be lived, loved, and most of all, enjoyed for what it is: language, the only magic left in the world.
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