Finished: Ender's Game

Wow. Merry Christmas to me—I just finished Ender’s Game, a signed copy of which was Andy’s Christmas present to me. Andy says that science fiction and mainstream literature are not quite so far apart as my classical education has drilled into me. Science fiction, he claims, is capable of providing the same depth of contemplative thought as any of the more widely-acclaimed “literature” that I read, without some of the mind-wrenching difficulty so often encountered in classical literature.Do I agree with him? While I will say that I do not disagree, I also cannot say that I wholly agree, either. I have long looked to authors such as Hemingway and Faulkner for proof that plainly-written, lean, ascetic prose can be as powerful, thought-provoking, and worth reading as any of the most delicately wrought pieces of Joyce or James. But I suspect that says more about my capabilities of literary analysis than their capabilities in writing.

Is it that I do not have the intellectual capability to truly appreciate the multiple complexities of some works? Or is it that I hold a valid preference for a particular style and mode of writing—which happens to favor the more direct and narrative style selected by most authors of science fiction?

I am unsure—both of my abilities and of my fledgling conclusions—but it is difficult to deny that I put this book down with a great measure of surprise at its depth, meaning, and literary worth.

Meanwhile, it is midnight; far past my bedtime. I must sleep now, but I had to share.

• ‹ previous
• 158 of 1673
• next ›