Saturday, April 23, 2011

The Slum of Ignorance

Is reading becoming a lost art? I will let you know, I devote very lesser time to this blog than I would like. Yet, deciding between literature and typing, literature gains victory without question. What would my life be without the written word?  The Miserly Hollows, indeed. I don't read because the experts say it is healthy. I read because it nourishes me and enlightens me in mind and spirit. Pleasure and knowledge are birthed to me. I voyage to lands that my feet have not yet traversed. My ancestors, for an era, were denied the right to read. It would be sacrilege to deny myself of invaluable gift of reading. Reading is becoming a lost art yet many faddish creatures want to carve a new face for it. Kindles, e-readers and the like are grotesque masks for the contribution of Johannes Gutenberg. For me, the printing press stands as the only source of distributing literature.


In my library system, there is not a copy of The Slum by AluĂ­sio Azevedo. The Slum, a naturalistic novel, details the daily events of poor urban dwellers in 19th century Rio de Janeiro. Fortunately, my library system allows interlibrary loans, which means that another library district will be contacted to allow me to read the preferred book. A note of intrigue is that I have to reserve three dollars to complete my transaction, which could take weeks. No protest here, many people don't know how to read. Therefore, I will hand my three dollars with grace.

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