On Reading Ali Smith's Autumn (2016) III
Incidental book assemblage with vase and charcoal still life by me. Dear Void, In yesterday's post I was consolidating my very first response to this text as I encountered it. First paragraphs are important to me. I stayed with Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things simply because, in its first contained paragraph, the air was fruity and stunned bluebottles died 'fatly baffled in the sun'. Fatly baffled in the sun. Fatly in the sun. Baffled bluebottles. Fatly. So, Autumn 's 'the worst of times, the worst of times' gave me pause. Something I've become aware of is that I automatically look for the structure of a paragraph before I commit to meaning-making from what is found on the page, and before I 'hear' any voice speaking the text. I'm a reluctant reader. I don't enter the reading contract very willingly. In the same way I don't give over my imaginative capacities very easily either. I'm a dreamer and enjoy my own thoughts. A
