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definegodliness · 3 months

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Contrary to what might be expected, I am not an avid book reader. Regrettably, I have an incredibly hard time finding stories that captivate me, and am far easier annoyed with writing styles and far sooner bored with subject choices than, I'm sure, would better me. Herein, I'd like to add, not to sound too pedantic, it is mostly the weirdness of my own brain that hinders me. In constant world-dissecting contemplation, therein all too prone to jadedness and world weariness. A rather unruly mind that not only is weird, but also craves weirdness: surprises, sparks of curiosity, and above all confusion; logic in chaos, magic in reality.

Magical realism.

Two days ago I learned about this style of writing, and I'm excited. We had guests over, old friends of my mom and dad; a married couple with whose family we used to spend holidays together. Occasionally they drop by, or my mom and I go to theirs. After catching up, I had to go walk the dog, so I missed out on a lot of fun, and often inspiring, conversations, and when I came back we went from series and movie recommendations --- for which I am also rather useless --- to reading tips.

Now, I have reading tips, but I always add the disclaimer that my mind is weird and my tastes are based on vagueness and obscurity, definitely not for everybody. But as I was, I suppose apologetically, enthusing about Süskind's Perfume and Hesse's Steppenwolf, adding them to 'the borrow pile', the husband had been nodding and finally hummed:

"Magical realism."

Immediately intruiged, I asked him what it was, and he explained it was a certain writing style. He couldn't quite reproduce the exact mannerisms of the style, as it was part of his high school material, but when I spoke about my reading preferences one of his Dutch classes had randomly popped into his mind. And(!) there was a book. He grabbed his phone and searched both Google and his memory simultaneously, until his much anticipated: "A-ha!"

Hubert Lampo

The Coming Of Joachim Stiller

I ordered the book immediately. Today, it arrived, and this evening I started reading. 80 feverishly read pages in I can already say this is EXACTLY what my weird, food-for-thought malnourished brain had been literarily craving. Not only subject wise, but the Flemish Lampo, like our southern neighbours tend to do, writes attentive, therein striving for perfection. Then, Lampo himself treats the Dutch language as an artform. I have to reread bits because I get distracted admiring his craft.

There are so many mind sparkling sentences, and he strings them together without fearing any extra comma or conjunction. Some take up over half a page and I love it. I'll gladly admit it took me some pages to get used to reading such writing again, having solely read poetry and (news) articles for a year or two, but it is such a blessing to not be underestimated as a reader in both vocabulary and attention span.

I put down the book to write down this feeling of joy, and share it, but also to be able to relive the feeling when I head to my mom and dad's friends' place, as a guest, to properly express my thanks for the recommendation.

Don't you adore it when a great book just randomly comes into your life like this? When it finds you as if fated, because it is at a time in your life when you, in hindsight, direly seek its contents.

For obvious reasons, I do. It's one of the little magics I still have left. All my favourite books have come to me randomly, as such. However, two, maybe three years of waiting for such a moment is a long time. That's why I'm also glad that two days ago I got to know about the style. Magical Realism. I'll dive into that as soon as I finish reading, or, better said, consuming The Coming Of Joachim Stiller.

#life of mark #lo he reads #I'd recommend it #but disclaimer as mentioned

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