Literary “Awakenings.”

February 25, 2010

When I first lifted The Awakening and Selected Stories of Kate Chopin from its dusty repose on my bookshelf, I recalled a glimpse from a discussion a fellow student at college was having about feminist literary works. In the midst of describing the extent of her background in this context, she mentioned something to the effect of: “… and of course I’ve read The Awakening…”

Since then, an inward attack always descends upon me whenever I look in its direction, and I am plagued by worthlessness. This book, clearly, is a very basic and necessary ingredient in western feminist literature, and I have no business even considering myself cognizant of a term such as “feminist fiction” without swallowing the classic whole. Read the rest of this entry »


The simple act of picking up a book and reading again feels as rudimentary and simultaneously dramatic as learning one’s letters for the first time.

For me, reading is an exercise that has always been a ceremony. It’s an activity around which time dances and bends itself, rather than a walking-stick for one to lean one’s free time upon. It’s not a side-dish, but a demanding, chewy, robust main, to be relished and contemplated upon with every new flavour and nuance. Read the rest of this entry »