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rosefox at 02:11am on 17/02/2019 under experiences.books, experiences.reading, stuff.books
rosefox at 02:11am on 17/02/2019 under experiences.books, experiences.reading, stuff.booksTonight a book on my shelf caught my eye, so I read it.
The book was Double Trouble by Carol Morse, a 1964 teen comedy that I inherited from my mother—though she was in her 20s when it came out, so I'm not sure how she ended up owning it or passing it along to me. At some point I misplaced her copy or gave it away, thinking I wouldn't miss it, and then I missed it; after years of searching—do you know how many books are called Double Trouble?—I finally found it on AbeBooks a couple of months ago and gladly snatched it up. It's about boy-crazy twin girls learning how to be their own people and have their own feelings and interests instead of doing everything together. They live in a generic small American town that out-Pleasantvilles Pleasantville, and their lives are wholly unlike anything I have ever known. I first read it with absolute fascination in the 1980s, feeling as though I were doing research on a foreign country. It seems even more alien now. (Though this time around I spotted the lesbian, English teacher Miss Winifred Lawrence, who never felt like herself until she went to an all-girls school where people started calling her Larry. She's also tough as a teacher but nice once you get to know her, and the narrative goes out of its way to establish her as an outdoorsy, sturdy world traveler. Mm-hmm. She felt familiar, an un-strange person in their strange self-contained land.)
There was no purpose to me reading it, except that I was glad to own it again and wanted to see whether it still gave me that feeling of fascinated curiosity, which it does.
I hadn't realized how much the notion of a to-read pile/shelf/list was pinning me down. I feel free.
The book was Double Trouble by Carol Morse, a 1964 teen comedy that I inherited from my mother—though she was in her 20s when it came out, so I'm not sure how she ended up owning it or passing it along to me. At some point I misplaced her copy or gave it away, thinking I wouldn't miss it, and then I missed it; after years of searching—do you know how many books are called Double Trouble?—I finally found it on AbeBooks a couple of months ago and gladly snatched it up. It's about boy-crazy twin girls learning how to be their own people and have their own feelings and interests instead of doing everything together. They live in a generic small American town that out-Pleasantvilles Pleasantville, and their lives are wholly unlike anything I have ever known. I first read it with absolute fascination in the 1980s, feeling as though I were doing research on a foreign country. It seems even more alien now. (Though this time around I spotted the lesbian, English teacher Miss Winifred Lawrence, who never felt like herself until she went to an all-girls school where people started calling her Larry. She's also tough as a teacher but nice once you get to know her, and the narrative goes out of its way to establish her as an outdoorsy, sturdy world traveler. Mm-hmm. She felt familiar, an un-strange person in their strange self-contained land.)
There was no purpose to me reading it, except that I was glad to own it again and wanted to see whether it still gave me that feeling of fascinated curiosity, which it does.
I hadn't realized how much the notion of a to-read pile/shelf/list was pinning me down. I feel free.
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okay