What is the What is technically considered a fictional novel. How do you feel about this classification? Do you think it affects you while you read it? Do you think it affected Achak when he told his story, knowing it may be perceived as 'fictitious'?
4 comments:
Yes, I thought that was interesting too. The contrast of a true story protecting its characters yet losing it's 'validity' due to its categorization as fiction. To me it is still real. But I have trouble dealing with reality as it is.
i think it unintentionally reflects the way im coping with the truth of this story in general. there is genocide going on RIGHT NOW. people are murdered and raped and enslaved based on...on something - hate i suppose. and this is a FACT of our lives....
...and i dont feel its truth, its reality, because if i can make it less real, my soul is at peace enough to go to work in my nice car, buy my $4 latte, worry about my pimple, complain about my 'fat' thighs, and try to catch the attention of a boy.
Achak's true life is safely stowed away on my shelf of near-truth. like a really good movie that changes me, but only for the night. tomorrow morning i will wake up safe in my cushy house and repeat my routine over and over again.
that is so true. its a copying mechanism. like genocide in rwanda being mentioned for 2 sec before switching over to the local traffic report. we don't want to accept that the drama in our lives is insignificant and petty in comparison
So true. I have told a few before but it was like the first night in my new apartment and I wanted to have a bed to sleep in. I had many offers from people to help out-but I just kept saying I could do it myself. So at 11 pm I decided to start building my bed. 3 hours later of yelling and cursing at wooden planks (blast that ikea) the bed was done and I collapsed.
When i woke up in the morning with blood shot eyes, i wanted pity from the universe. I thought how horrible my life is that I had to build a bed by myself and I was up all night doing it. So as I am walking into my local starbucks there is a bag of coffee from Burundi. As soon as I saw it I thought of Betsy Hall (who is doing work on the budget for that country (!))
Thinking about past stories that she told me about that country and how it was a luxury to have a cup of coffee and about how I had a bed, and a starbucks(!), and friends who helped me move, and a great place to work...the list goes on i felt guilty. but i dont think thats how i should have felt...i should have felt something more empowering but instead it was a frothy cup of guilt.
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