On reading and writing

by Samantha Bacchus McLeod

This desire to pack information into every page without preamble, without an introduction to the subject is disconcerting to say the least. Reading and writing should be fun.

Sometimes I read a page and I feel assaulted, it is like going on a date and before you can say hello, you are grabbed and forced up against a back-alley wall, you know what I am saying?

The art of telling a story is being erased, rubbed out with vigour. There was a time when we picked up a magazine or newspaper to “idly flip through” maybe a story or two would catch our eyes and we would be drawn into a different world for a few sane minutes. Now, to do anything “idly” is a sin. People feel the need to glue their eyes to their devices, scrolling up and down and side to side, barely looking up to cross the street, never making eye contact anymore. The information they are consuming is as meaningless and memorable as the next swipe.

We live in a world where everyone wants to know everything, where google is their instant brain and just like google the information is here for a split second and gone from their minds just as fast. The problem is compounded because of the desire to be proven right, so they seek only the answers that support their opinions, never looking at the parallels, or the other side of anything.

Me? I am a reader, I love it, I love to be taken to faraway places, to ride the waves of another writer’s imagination, or to see the place the way a journalist saw it, the unique details they may have picked up. I love the way information enters my brain, slow and sweet like honey being poured into a cup of tea, the anticipation of wrapping my mind around that cup of knowledge, sipping and digesting delicious swallows of information.

I love to write too, I am a storyteller painting pictures in words, bringing the sizzle and pop of kitchens from around the globe, showing you the seamless life in another person’s’ world, painting the sky the same hue as it appeared to me.

I love the dawning of realization as I write. I miss sinking into murals and landscapes of words, the journey through someone else’s work. I miss storytelling.



Best books last month:

The Inconvenient Indian, a curious account of the Native People in America by the brilliant Thomas King!

Relae, a book of ideas – Christian F. Puglisi.

Nigel Slater, a year of good eating.

Death comes to Pemberley, by PD James.


Related Posts

This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. Agree