What What-the-Dickens said…

Confession – the sidebar labelled “What Chandra is reading” is rarely accurate. I simply don’t remember to update it most of the time. Just now it sort of is – actually I’m done with the Trenga text, almost through the Danticat autobiography – but there are others, too. It’s an odd compulsion but I hate being stuck somewhere with time to kill and nothing to read. So I usually have a  book upstairs, downstairs, in the purse, in the office, and sometimes in the car. Sooooo… my “in the purse” book this week was What the Dickens by Gregory Maguire.

I’m not even sure why I picked this one up. Maguire and I have a spotty history. I was rather intrigued by Mirror, Mirror, and impressed by his writing style and his truly twisted imagination, but it hardly made my favorites list. I’m not even sure it’s on my “will read again” list. The only other attempt I’ve made with him was the much touted Wicked, and I stopped halfway through. Just couldn’t make myself care about the characters. But there I was, in the pathetically understocked book section of a Target. Having found the fedora and patterned tights I came for, I had no business in the book section, but I can rarely resist. I picked up another Maguire on a whim. Hate to write an obviously talented author off without a fair shot and all. And it worked. I am really enjoying this. I started it this morning and am almost done and I’ve just found the bit I was reading it for.

Who would ever believe me if I tell them I’ve talked to a tiger?

“And what task or privilege does that put on me, if I did?”

Fair question, that.

We have these strengths and weaknesses, talents and lacks thereof, each of us. Some of us are fabulous salespeople (not me! worst week of my life I worked for a car dealership for three days. Quelle nightmare!) Some can sing (again with the not me!) Some have great fashion sense or other artistic talents, some know the exact right kind thing to say when someone is hurt. Some people have a talent for making money, or making things from wood or metal. Some people are very organized, some are very random. Every single one of us has a specific and particular (and peculiar) pile of talents, experiences, and predilictions just as unique as fingerprints on snowflakes.

What task or privilege does that put on us?

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