Ratings9
Average rating4.1
"Energetically brilliant, warmly humane, incisively funny, it whips the tablecloth from under the setting of contemporary reading, politics and intellectual culture in a literary act of daring.” —Andrew Sean Greer, Pulitzer Prize winning author of Less An exploration and polemic that redefines the power and potential for reading by a novelist whose “prose is as good as it gets” (NPR) and who has “a real voice: vernacular and fluid, with a take-no-prisoners edge” (Kirkus) How many times have we heard that reading builds empathy? That we can travel through books? How often have we were heard about the importance of diversifying our bookshelves? Or claimed that books saved our lives? These familiar words—beautiful, aspirational—are sometimes even true. But award-winning novelist Elaine Castillo has more ambitious hopes for our reading culture, and in this collection of linked essays, “she moves to wrest reading away from the cotton-candy aspirations of uniting people in empathetic harmony and reposition it as thornier, ultimately more rewarding work.” (Vulture) How to Read Now explores the politics and ethics of reading, and insists that we are capable of something better: a more engaged relationship not just with our fiction and our art, but with our buried and entangled histories. Smart, funny, galvanizing, and sometimes profane, Castillo attacks the stale questions and less-than-critical proclamations that masquerade as vital discussion: reimagining the cartography of the classics, building a moral case against the settler colonialism of lauded writers like Joan Didion, taking aim at Nobel Prize winners and toppling indie filmmakers, and celebrating glorious moments in everything from popular TV like The Watchmen to the films of Wong Kar-wai and the work of contemporary poets like Tommy Pico. At once a deeply personal and searching history of one woman’s reading life, and a wide-ranging and urgent intervention into our globalized conversations about why reading matters today, How to Read Now empowers us to embrace a more complicated, embodied form of reading, inviting us to acknowledge complicated truths, ignite surprising connections, imagine a more daring solidarity, and create space for a riskier intimacy—within ourselves, and with each other.
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Castillo is a self-professed “bossy Virgo bitch ...irritatingly sure of myself and my convictions” and it shows.
I had to read this twice because I felt my initial knee-jerk recoiling against the book needed further examination. It's a pop culture smorgasbord as Castillo invokes everything from the X-men, HBO's Watchmen, J.K. Rowling and Jane Austen and should hit me where I live.
I'm here for her assessment that writers of color are often served up as some kind of “ethical protein shake”. That too often they are called upon to provide “the gooey heart-porn of the ethnographic: to learn about forgotten history, harrowing tragedy, community-destroying political upheaval, genocide, trauma; that we expect those writers to provide those intellectual commodities the way their ancestors once provided spices, minerals, precious stones, and unprecious bodies.” I'm nodding along wholeheartedly, I like what I'm hearing, but it's also a lot. Castillo lives in the strident, purple prose of the confidently righteous. And then I think, is my objection gender biased, have I internalized the dominant white supremacist status quo and resorted to tone policing?
I feel that way throughout the book. I've never read Joan Didion and don't care to defend her either. It feels too much of “not like other readers” but perhaps Castillo could have just as easily come for my fav DFW. I've never watched a Wong Kar-wai movie so don't share that spark of recognition. The second time around I was able to better piece it together and realize I like what she's saying but just didn't connect with the florid seething, unevenly mixed with far too hip asides. It probably just means I'm old, complacent, and doddering towards irrelevance.