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I was reading the latest issue of the Times Literary Supplement, one of my favorite periodicals -- right up there with Downbeat, The Ring, The Cricketer and American Poetry Review -- and in the course of the lead essay by Bharat Tendon, reviewing new books by Patricia Meyer Spacks and Jonathan Yardley, there was a wonderful passage from Spacks's new book, On Rereading, that seemed to capture for me the pleasure of what I do as a film critic. Spacks, of course, is talking about literature, but if you make a few alterations to her words, it encapsulates perfectly the joy of this job.
When I write about my own experience of books, though, I write necessarily as
a reader of a certain kind. I am one who “takes a book apart” – a phrase
often used by those who think of this activity as the antithesis of “just
enjoying.” I think – I feel – I know that taking a book apart, making myself
conscious of how the elements of its construction work with one another to
generate emotional, moral, and intellectual effects, is itself a powerful
mode of pleasure. The more I understand, the more I enjoy. The more
questions I ask of myself and of the book, the more I can see; the more I
see, the more I feel.
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One film-related item: my review of two new documentaries about aspects of Israeli society is up at Jewish Week. They're both quite interesting and worth a trip to the Village.
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