Because everyone has asked what I thought of this book, I really loved The Art of Fielding.
While it’s baseball-themed, the fact that I don’t love baseball (or sports books) didn’t at all interfere with my enjoyment of this book.
It’s a coming-of-age novel that centers on people in late college — and on the president of the college also coming of age. Acknowledging that people are continually evolving made me love this book even more.
I’ve written about 45 different sentences further than this but I don’t want to spoil any plot points. It’s brilliant, different, and exciting.
(Side note: first time authors that write books this good scare me. I have a theory that there are two types of authors: ones that have a story to tell and can write a singular fantastic book, and ones that are insane writers and can write book after book that are brilliant and well written. I’m excited for another book from Chad Harbach but I’m also scared that it will be crap because he’ll be given a huge advance and has to produce something.)
Anyway, unlike some books I’ve read, the critics are right. Read this. It’s practically perfect.
Obviously I try to present my best self on this blog.
That’s what a blog is for.
I have issues.
I’m sad, I refuse to clean, I am lazy, I would rather spend more time in my bed than anywhere else, I yell at my dog, my husband, my friends. I am simultaneously super vain about my body and find it to be an incredible disaster that I could never love. I’m selfish, I don’t live up to my potential, and I don’t follow through with plans. I’m judgmental and cavalier. I lie and I can never keep a secret. I dress inappropriately for the weather.
Everyone has issues. Every perfect person is troubled. And everyone is worthy.
Demanding an engagement ring from your boyfriend because you “deserve” it is disgusting. Marriage isn’t something you deserve for putting up with a man for a certain amount of time. It’s something that two people agree upon after discussion and consideration. Ultimatums and tantrums never lead to happily ever after.
“Until a man is twenty-five, he still thinks, every so often, that under the right circumstances he could be the baddest motherfucker in the world. If I moved to a martialarts monastery in China and studied real hard for ten years. If my family was wiped out by Colombian drug dealers and I swore myself to revenge. If I got a fatal disease, had one year to live, devoted it to wiping out street crime. If I just dropped out and devoted my life to being bad.”—Neal Stephenson, Snow Crash