photo

Welcome to my Monday morning book blog. Every Monday morning I will talk about a book I've read during the previous week, sometimes from a literary viewpoint or a writer's perspective, sometimes simply what excites me about the book. I read all kinds of things — nonfiction, literary fiction, genre fiction, poetry, backs of cereal boxes-so you never know what may show up here. Feedback is welcome; email bmorrison@bmorrison.com. I may publish some responses in future blog entries, so if you don't want your comments published, please note that in your email. Join me as we start off the week thinking about books.


Recently
Inspecting Carol, by Daniel Sullivan
One Good Turn, by Kate Atkinson
Close to Home, by Peter Robinson
Killing Floor, by Lee Child
The Space Between Us, by Thrity Umrigar
The Gathering, by Anne Enright

All past articles

Children of Men, by P.D. James · Jan 8, 01:00 AM by B. Morrison

Now a motion picture, I first read this book when it came out and reread it recently. I’ve always enjoyed mysteries by P.D. James, their texture and intelligence. This book was equally well-written and I certainly found the premise interesting. However, by the end, I was disappointed to find the symbolism a bit heavy-handed.

The details of what a world without children might be like seemed completely believable, particularly the women who pretended dolls were their babies. What is this need to reproduce? I had both my children before I was twenty-five and—if circumstances had been different—could easily have gone on to have or adopt a half dozen more. It wasn’t that I wanted someone to love. Just the opposite, in fact; I was horrified to find that I would have to pay attention to another being every single minute of the day and night. Nor was it the reason some of my pregnant eighth-graders cited: “I want someone who will always love me.” Hoo-wee, I thought, are you in for a surprise!

My reason for having children was that the picture I had of my life—what I wanted my life to be like—included them. Of course, it also included a farm in the mountains, which I don’t have, but there you go. I expected to like my kids. What I didn’t expect was that I would adore them, each of them a miracle.

There are also all kinds of side benefits. Children gave me a great excuse to haul out my favorite picture books, play duck-duck-goose, and ride merry-go-rounds. Of course, the kids also took me on the roller coaster at Hershey Park, which scared the socks off me, but you get the bad with the good. Reliving childhood, a childhood that I could create, delighted me. Luckily for me, my kids not only went along with my crazy games but also were smart enough to ask me questions I couldn’t answer. As grown-ups, they’re pretty great to have around too.

If I hadn’t had children, I probably would be a morose and self-centered drama queen. Kudos to James for being able to imagine a world without children. It chills my bones just to think about it.

|