Tuesday 2 September 2008

Reality Check by Marie-Louise Jensen




I’ve always used reading as escapism. A good book is one that takes me to a vivid, real world so that I’m turning the pages without being aware of the passage of real time or noticing that I’m cold, hungry or uncomfortable. A bad book is one I’m aware I’m reading and I start to think of other things I could be doing. I find that most really good books (according to those criteria) are children’s books.
I can remember as a child reading The Chronicles of Narnia and Lord of the Rings and experiencing actual pain to be pulled out of the fictional world for things like lights out or school.
What I hadn’t expected and still surprises me, is how much of an escape writing is too. It’s the ultimate escape. Far more than simply reading. As the author, I can play with endless possibilities and decide the outcome. I’m in charge of my own fictional world. And there are days when it becomes so much more real than my real life. I sometimes wonder how easy it would be to tip into insanity from that point or whether I’m actually quite safe…
When my children interrupt me to ask to have their chemistry marked or to be driven to gym, my imaginary world crumbles around me and comes crashing down. They start talking to me and I can feel the pull of reality, tugging me back to where my life is. Not that there’s anything wrong with my life, I hasten to add. It’s the transition that’s difficult.

4 comments:

Lucy Coats said...

I feel a noticeable physical difference in my brain when I'm in the true writing or reading 'zone'. It makes me MAD when it's interrupted by kids/husband/phone/doorbell/mother. I keep threatening to put a notice up saying 'do not disturb--yes, this applies to YOU too!' but I fear it would be ignored anyway. You have my absolute sympathy on this one, M-L!

Marie-Louise Jensen said...

Thanks, Lucy! Yes, notices are usually ignored....

Nick Green said...

There's a spooky bit in Paul Auster's novel 'Oracle Night' where a writer gets really immersed in his writing. Later his wife tells him she looked into his study, but he wasn't there. 'Yes I was,' he insists. 'I was at my desk all evening...'

Lee said...

Nick, you might like to read Cynthia Ozick on Writers, Visible and Invisible:

http://www.standpointmag.co.uk./node/390/full