Oh happy day

This is one of the occasions when I have so much to write about that I don't know what to say. But I know I must start somewhere, so let's just do it.
The last book I finished was The Color Purple by Alice Walker, on Monday I think. I do this one-book-per-week stuff a bit strangely, I start a book at the second half of the week and finish it at the beginning of next week. Right now I'm reading The Beach by Alex Garland. It might just be my ignorance but I didn't know there was a book. I hurried to the library on Tuesday and find it at the last minute. Or it found me. It's a bit strange because I'm not the kind of person that the protagonist is. Also, this book is quite different from Walker's.

Back to The Color Purple. Once we had to give a presentation on the film based on the book with a friend of mine. We watched the film at her place and spent about half a day working on the presentation, describing characters, motifs, etc. The presentation was on the last day of the semester. The main topic of the lesson was Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye, which everyone had to read but only a few did. The professor led the discussion with much enthusiasm (actually, she was really keen on Afro-feminist literature), so much so, that we didn't have much time to give our presentation. Or did we start the class? Anyway, all I remember is that we prepared so conscientiously and at the end hardly anybody was interested and the professor just stopped our presentation in the middle. There goes your diligence, baby.

Actually, I hardly ever read anything for American literature and I did that on purpose. I quite simply thought the class requirements were ridiculously demanding, plus I wasn't too keen on the lecturers, either. Not to mention my other major were I really read a lot. Oh, and I forgot to mention that our teachers used the following criteria in selecting the authors: 1) minority, 2) woman, 3) lesbian (or gay). Preferably all three had to fit. What do you call this if not biased? The only Afro thing I did read was Uncle Tom's Cabin (written by a White, but at least a woman). I read this one after due date, anyway. It's so much merrier to read after (or without) due dates.
So this time The Color Purple was my choice. No presentation, no essay, no whatever. Not even linguistic analysis. I could read it with ease and I liked it. Although I wondered why the heroine had to turn out to be lesbian, but probably to make a point that men are evil. Or because Walker herself is lesbian, but that would be poor reasoning. Anyway, I liked both Celie and Shug. I'm really into this sung-in-smoky-bars-in-a-silk-gown kind of music. Probably I'd like to be Shug if I had to choose. Or probably not. I'd do better as Celie. I could be the one who adores Shug yet maintains a different lifestyle, yet finds herself at the end. When I finished the book I was truly filled with happiness. I even started to sing. And I felt sorry that I couldn't read more of it. Celie's last letter is simply beautiful. That's how life should be. That's how we should feel about it. With this admiring look and this peace and contentment surrounding us.