He Wouldn't Like It Anyway

Backstory:

A year or so ago, my boyfriend became angry at me. When he was talking to online friends, they asked if I was a good writer. He said yes. Then they asked what I wrote about, and he said that he didn't know. He then realized that he'd never read anything I wrote. The two poems I'd shown him didn't count because I was a fiction writer.

He then confronted me. He told me that he was angry and a bit hurt that I hadn't showed him anything. The whole thing caught me off guard. I was astounded that anyone would actively seek to read what I wrote. Throughout high school, I'd hand people new revisions of the same stories, just because things had changed that they might want to know about--no matter how subtle. I thought I'd spare him from that. Just because he's my boyfriend, that doesn't mean he's my editor, too. Especially because he's not a writer or an avid reader. But here he was, demanding to see what I wrote.

So I read him a draft of a chapter. It was half of a chapter, actually. In fact, it had won a small monetary award during an international honor society's convention that previous year. When I finished, he was quiet. He didn't want me to read him anything else that night because he was still registering that chapter. He said it made him feel sad, which is a fantastic compliment because that meant I did something right.

But he hasn't read anything since, except for book reviews. He doesn't read much fiction. Most of his audiobooks are nonfiction. And he's not a fan of fantasy or sci-fi. So my book reviews grab his attention, but nothing else. That story I got published? He skimmed it. My thesis? The most work I'd done in one legitimate story at the time? The story I used as a personal challenge and succeeded? The story that was good enough to permit my graduation, and that other friends and mentors love and demand that I write more in?

He read up to chapter two and stopped. (Similarly, my mother read the boring but mandatory introduction, became half-jokingly hurt that I hadn't thanked her on my acknowledgments page, and put it down, too. It would have been the first fiction story she'd read of mine since.... grade school.)

He said the voice was hard to follow, despite knowing that it shifts into better coherence throughout the third and fourth chapters (the main character is recovering from shock). And then he said that the character's choices angered him, despite the fact that he helped me figure out what the guy should do.

He said he'd pick it up again.

He said he'd give it another shot, knowing that the voice changes.

He hasn't touched it since June.

Current Events:

There is an expectation that because he's my boyfriend, he should read works that I'm proud about. It's minor, though, because I've heard that same argument about friendship and I still wasn't able to read a friend's attempt at a novel. It actually helped to break that friendship a few years ago. But... my expectations with him stem from his previous actions. Re: Him yelling at me.

So every day that I know it's on his To Do list, and he doesn't do it, it chips away at me.

Every day that he's bored and wonders what to do to fill his evening, I suggest that he read, in general. He doesn't. He decides to play Halo 4 instead. Typical guy. And every night he spends staring at his back-lit devices before bed (and can't sleep because of them), I suggest that he read instead. He doesn't. He said that if I gave him a .pdf of the story, he'd read it easier on his iPad. He doesn't. He says that if he gets a Kindle, he'll read more. I don't believe him because he's unlikely to read a print book. It does happen, gradually, but most of the time he's playing a game or searching the Internet. He hasn't proven to me that he'd use the Kindle to read. And he hasn't proven to me that he'll ever return to my thesis. And when I used to ask if he'd ever read the story, he got mad at me for suggesting that he wasn't going to. He still hasn't done it, though, because he said he forgets and I should remind him.

But I shouldn't have to remind him to do something that meant so much to me. I shouldn't have to badger him like that, especially if there's a chance that he won't like the story. And I don't want to force him to read it, either.

What happened to the guy who wanted to read my stuff?

He found out that I write magical realism, and wasn't interested anymore.

Enough of me has been chipped away that it started to affect our relationship. He knows I've been feeling down lately, but doesn't know all of the causes. The thesis is only a small portion of that. So the other night it was bad enough that I was crying when I came to bed. I don't know if he knew.

But as I laid there, I had one line going through my head: He wouldn't like it anyway.

Why make him read something if he wouldn't like it anyway? Why put up with a smile and a hug and a statement that "it was good," when he wouldn't like it anyway? I'd rather he not read it than have him save face like that.

And oddly, the mantra has worked so far. That was the mental trick I needed to glue myself back together. I'll just go back to the way things were before he yelled at me. And it'll be fine. In time. I just wanted to get this out because I'm still fixing myself. This post isn't meant as some sort of passive-aggressive attempt to get him to read my stories. It's just something long overdue to get off my chest.

Warning: Passive-Aggressive Facebook Rants May Result in Opportunity Returns

"The Sheltering Sky" by Paul Bowels is an agonizing 10.5-hours-long piece of existentialist fiction. The audiobook was narrated by Jennifer Connelly, so I figured that it had to be good if an actress of her caliber liked it enough to read it aloud. According to the summary, she even said of it: "Paul Bowles's writing is so extraordinary, so special. The landscapes are magical, the characters are questioning so much--it's haunting in a very beautiful way." Okay, that got my attention.

Its summary also claims that the book is "a landmark of 20th century literature, a novel of existential despair that examines the limits of humanity when it touches the unfathomable emptiness of the desert." Well, okay then. It caught my interest. And with the main characters "finding themselves adrift in the cities and deserts of North Africa after WWII," it just adds to the intrigue. For all intents and purposes, this should have been an interesting read, especially because I took an Existentialism and Phenomenology course while I was still an undergrad, and went on to minor in Philosophy (among other subjects). I thought it would be nice to slip back into the subject through fiction. A well-known philosophic writer, Milan Kundera, is always fascinating (once you get past the obsession with promiscuous women, virile men, sex, and cheating), so I figured that Paul Bowles might add a touch more plot to a story and use the philosophy as a subtle foundation. 

I settled into my car, turned on the audiobook, and fully expected to be drawn into a haunting world that would ease me into the depths of myself and leave me there, pondering.

But the book pissed me off and I cheered when I finally finished it. So what did I do afterward? I took it to Facebook, of course! 

Ok, I'm not one to rant about a book on here. Usually, one or two sentences if something is really striking. But I can't help myself this time. Paul Bowles, I hate your story of "The Sheltering Sky." Every character is deplorable and despicable. You don't understand women at all. Your novel is existential, sure, but wow... Your main female character is weak, a slut, accepts rape without much defense, and is so bipolar that she gives women everywhere a bad reputation.

Admittedly, what I did is considered to be a passive-aggressive "mini-rant." What good could possibly come from the post? At the most, I could dissuade any friends from reading it. I would even consider that to be a job well done, if it worked (turns out, a co-worker wants to read it specifically because of my rant). 

And yet! Something entirely unexpected happened. 

I should backtrack.

In any business, you often hear the phrase: "It's all about who you know." People will obtain promising opportunities based almost entirely on who they know--who can make something happen for them. In my case, it's not so much that as it is building supports for a bridge that I'd already crossed. 

I write book reviews for an online literary magazine. The site mostly posts about reviews and blogs, but it also holds poetry chapbook contests. My reviews are occasional, but they're still legitimate online publications. And it's a lot of fun to contact publishing companies, request a copy of a novel for a review, and receive it in the mail for free. Who knew? It's a bibliophile's dream.

I obtained the position of fantasy/sci-fi reviewer because I had interned for the site's umbrella company, an independent publishing house. I had already written a couple reviews for a separate, local online literary magazine, told my boss about it, and he offered to give me a shot at writing for his online review. It worked, and here I am. And we've managed to maintain a stable, professional relationship through Facebook. 

When I wrote that Facebook mini-rant, I figured that people would either agree, disagree, or not post comments at all. And when I saw that my boss liked the rant, I smirked and then thought nothing more of it. But a moment later, he messaged me. 

And here's where things really get interesting. 

His words were so wonderful, so inflating, that I almost couldn't believe they were happening. He said he loved my rant and asked if I would write a blog about it (NOT this one, of course) for the online review. He wanted me to "disembowel" Bowels. He wanted me to use the same flip, irreverent tone. He wanted me to make a "hatchetjob" of it. He said that not every book should get a positive review, that some "classics" deserve to be ripped apart. He then complimented my writing and the work that I've submitted to him, and said that he's looking forward to the blog. He also gave me until March to write it because I already have a review due to him by February 1.

And after the conversation finished, I sat back and realized how odd and unexpected it was. I mean... you post an angry rant on Facebook and you expect people to be like, "Oh... another passive-aggressive rant that does nothing." Not this time! This time, it enhanced my career. And this time, I can't just drop a hated story and be done with it. I have to mull over it and keep notes for a 1,000-word officially-published blog entry. I have to stay angry in order to maintain the right tone. This should be interesting. 

Although this event is not an indication that passive-aggressiveness is good, it is an indication that a well-written, passive-aggressive post from a book reviewer might catch the attention of an editor with whom she's friends. So, I guess it is about who I know. And it's also about making informed opinions, and taking presented opportunities.