Speed reading
Topic: Reading
I read fast. Usually, I consider this a good thing, since the faster I finish a book, the faster I can go on to the next one. Sometimes, however, it leads me to believe that I can do things like academic research in a completely unrealistic timeframe because hey, I can read fast, it'll be fine. Which it would be, maybe, if more academic authors wrote to be readable. It amazes me how many people who are required to produce regular publications as part of their job description seem to have absolutely no interest in writing for clarity and comprehension. And it makes me fear becoming absorbed into the featureless masses. Not that I really expect to be doing publishable work any time soon, but I wonder what sort of insidious influence the surfeit of polysyllabic words and convoluted sentences in the work I've been reading might be having.

After all the academic writing I've been subjecting myself to recently, reading Remake, by Connie Willis, which is what I devoted Tuesday evening to after handing in the most-wretched-of-all-the-wretched-essays-I've-ever-written, was like a bath for my brain. Although, less like a standard hot-water-and-bubbles sort of bath and more like a bath with one of these, which fizz madly and turn the water vivid colors and explode with yummy smells (and which, if its not already obvious, are highly recommended by me). Willis envisions Hollywood in a high-tech future where live actors are obsolete, iconic movie stars' likeness are copyrighted, and digital technology can erase everything from unhappy endings to cigarettes and alcohol. Willis creates a sense of a world of alienating sensory overload, in part by innundating the reader with unfamiliar slang without explanation in the early pages of the book. The language is familiar enough that the story isn't obscured, but foreign enough that you feel a little bit lost. The terms that need explaining get clarified before confusion bogs down the story, but the initial sense of displacement never entirely goes away. When it's done well, I really enjoy it when authors use shock immersion into the world of the novel and allow understanding to evolve through context.

Like most good noir, the science fiction element of the story is a MacGuffin. The strength of the book lies in atmosphere and characterization. Classic film references fly thick and fast - the novel was clearly the result of an immersion in popular cinema. The story draws on the classic tropes of the emotionally distant, cynical sell-out with a chemical dependency and the starry-eyed dreamer who cracks his shell, but there are subtle variations on the dynamic that keep the relationship from cliché. Remake is, at its heart, a story about passion, and how it can be redemptive and destructive and most of all, incomprehensible. It's a short, compelling read - fast-paced, witty, and slyly critical of American media and celebrity culture. If you're only going to read one Connie Willis novel, I think I'd recommend Bellwether, rather than Remake, but Remake is well worth reading.