There are things that don't even make sense, sometimes, that I read for the sound of the language.
For no good reason *, I just reread most of Mr. and Mrs. Bo Jo Jones (which, if you haven't read it, do, immediately), which is a book I've loved since I was a kid.
- Actually part of the reason is probably getting out and sorting through all our books in the move, which involved discovering ones that had been packed away due to lack of shelf space.
Her writing isn't "literary" or especially poetic, really, it's just very, very real. Her voice is so right on, even today, and yet it was written in 1967. The narrator's voice is so believeable, so immediate, and the way she describes some things just kills me.
Actually, here's a passage that is just flat out lovely, I think, as well as incredibly moving, without ever being graphic. She's watching her husband sleep after they've argued. (This is a story of two teenagers who get married.)
"...He looked, I thought, terribly young and defenseless and sweet.
As I leaned above him the baby lurched inside me and for a moment the baby inside me and the youth on the bed seemed one and the same and I somehow responsible for them both.
I lay down beside Bo Jo and whispered to him that I was sorry. I'm not sure he heard the words, but something got through to him for slowly his eyes opened. He looked at me, dazed and guileless with sleep, and this time when he put his arms around me I was there. I was with it and he knew it."
(She's mentioned earlier that sometimes when they make love, he seems to "go away" somewhere, leaving her behind.)
There are spots like this throughout the book. Just perfect, dead-on little gems that capture a feeling or a moment so perfectly. Despite occasional references to hippies and Harry Belafonte (and coffee for a dime) the book doesn't feel dated at all to me. Well, to qualify that, it doesn't if you imagine that lots more pregnant teens today would choose marriage over other options.