Macy Andres is a writer and stylist based in Wellington, New Zealand. A linguist by training, her practice plays with fashion and written form, with a passion for erudite, original storytelling.
This month I've been reading Olga Tokarczuck's Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead. The routine has differed from my usual, because now I read aloud to my partner. It's undeniably the slower and more laboursome option, and if I had stuck to my guns I could have finished it in a week.
On our nightly call, I would read fifteen pages before lights out. On our last road trip, I dictated seventy pages on the way up, and fifty back. Now, in our new home, I spit out five pages each night before we're both sent to sleep. I couldn't tell you when we'll finish it. It's more of a crawl than a march; sometimes I feel trapped narrating lengthy passages that I would have otherwise skimmed. But that's the point of reading aloud, about deciding to share: part of your interior is forced inside out. Things you'd have happily left unfinished must now be seen through.
Repeating myself stokes less rage, his chair in the corner doesn't irk me, I'm unbothered by his clothes in my closet.
The shortcut-less path ahead doesn't seem so bothersome.
By Macy Andres.
Image credits:
I - Jean-Luc Godard, 'La Chinoise' (1967)
II - Valerie Samofal
