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Sometimes, while reading a good book I hear a buzzing, needling little voice floating around in the back of the mind. Every time I try to capture it, it quickly dissolves away. But it’s persistent and it generally ruins what would otherwise be a great reading experience.
I’ve spent the past two days completely riveted by this poignant and vivid story of a young Jewish girl and her brother. Newly christened Hansel and Gretel, they are abandoned by their stepmother and father in the woods of Poland. Their journey toward survival is so heartbreaking and so real that I found myself wrapped in a blanket in my warm armchair, still shivering along with these two cold children hidden under leaves and snow.
Just in case any of you were wondering if I had crushes on female authors. . .
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My science training tends to color my thought processes in strange and funny ways. Science is all about theories and the “facts” to support them (See Roberts Hooke and Boyle 1650-1703). It oftentimes seems to be at odds with my love of fiction, which requires a conscious suspension of disbelief (see also dramatic convention). Somehow though, my brain has learned to reconcile the two (see right vs. left brained funderstanding.com, 2007).
I love a well formatted document (Publication Manual, APA 2001) or a heavy tome about something interesting (see Selfish Gene, Dawkins, 2004). I also love an unabashed classic of literature (see Penguin Classics) but when a great novel comes along that tickles that sciency part of my brain, it’s a uniquely pleasurable experience (October, 2001).
