The Song of Solomon

Today, I guess my prudishness rose to the surface, or my "good Catholic boy" background, because I did not especially enjoy my reading of Morrison's book today. The pages contained very strange and eccentric behavior by some strange, eccentric characters, and I actually came close to putting the book down and being done with it. I guess what came back is my life-long love of reading books that somehow lift me up, inspire me, teach me how to be a better person. I have only so much time to read, and so I want to carefully choose the greatest books, the ones that show insights into the inner meaning of life. Today, this book didn't seem to be one of those. I'm hoping tomorrow's reading will be less repellant and more inspiring. 

The Song of Solomon

I started "Song of Solomon" the other day, and I realized pretty quickly that reading it will be a serious adventure. Morrison writes like a poet, streaming her sentences along like streams and rivers, and the reader has to huff and puff and keep his mind wide open. Her style does remind me, very much, of  Gabriel Marcia Marquez's work, he of the rambling, wide-open, free-for-all style of writing. Morrison's book will require severe work in my part, so I'm getting my reader's work gloves on to tackle the big challenge.