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the danger of audiobooks
Feb. 8th, 2004 08:22 pmI'm reasonably good at reading a book while doing other things. (I've been working on the technique for almost 30 years, after all.) So I can hold the book open and read while I walk down the street, or stand by the stove and stir soup, or eat dinner. But it's easy enough to put the book down, or at least tear my eyes away from the text when something demands my attention for a moment.
Listening to a book on tape is nice because it leaves my hands free. I can do it in darkness, or in freezing rain. The problem is that it doesn't leave as much attention free as it seems to. I was listening to "The Goats," while I made dinner this evening. (It's a rather fraught YA novel by Brock Cole.) The beginning grabbed me with terrifying power, but then it calmed down and I thought it was safe. I was trimming chicken and all of a sudden the story slammed me against the figurative wall and I started crying and stuck the literal knife in my thumb. There was no warning before the distressing bit, to pause the recorder or even put down the knife.
I actually should have known this book might be too much for me. After listening to the first scene (while walking to lunch), it occured to me that this is a book I'd rather have a friend read to me. Not an actor reading on tape. So, before I came home, I acquired it in paperback. (Everyone I might conceivably have lunch with [well, everyone who is old enough to read], responds with enthusiasm when I suggest a detour to a used book shop. The only bit of luck was finding this book on the little YA shelf of this little shop.) But I still have the library's audiobook for another week.
Listening to a book on tape is nice because it leaves my hands free. I can do it in darkness, or in freezing rain. The problem is that it doesn't leave as much attention free as it seems to. I was listening to "The Goats," while I made dinner this evening. (It's a rather fraught YA novel by Brock Cole.) The beginning grabbed me with terrifying power, but then it calmed down and I thought it was safe. I was trimming chicken and all of a sudden the story slammed me against the figurative wall and I started crying and stuck the literal knife in my thumb. There was no warning before the distressing bit, to pause the recorder or even put down the knife.
I actually should have known this book might be too much for me. After listening to the first scene (while walking to lunch), it occured to me that this is a book I'd rather have a friend read to me. Not an actor reading on tape. So, before I came home, I acquired it in paperback. (Everyone I might conceivably have lunch with [well, everyone who is old enough to read], responds with enthusiasm when I suggest a detour to a used book shop. The only bit of luck was finding this book on the little YA shelf of this little shop.) But I still have the library's audiobook for another week.
