The Chore of Reading

I had finally finished the last page- including even the acknowledgements of that stupid fucking book. Okay, I'm doing it injustice, True History of the Kelly Gang is literature in its own right--- but it has tortured me immensely these past two days. Given my deadline to finish reading by... well, technically, today, I have labored from wake til sleep, picking up the novel when I regain the first sliver of consciousness and burying my face in it when I collapse from exhaustion. I never knew reading could be so tiring.

The 470 something pages were thin, but they stacked up to an immense volume. It wasn't that heavy, but I was always dismayed when I flicked yet another page, as I realised I had not even read that many, and there seemed an infinite sum of pages left. Even during the climax of the story--- the robbing of Euroa bank, the siege at Glenrowan---- I know these were separate events but given the way I read them they might as well have been the same thing. The story is tangled in my head like unwound balls of wool, and I am afraid I will not remember much- if any of it, when I wake in the morning.

I would say the novel sympathizes greatly with Ned Kelly, but if the contents related in the novel is to be believed, then sympathy is well deserved. On my part, I cannot say that I liked Kelly's character- or any character within the novel. That made the task of reading all the more dreadful. The police were portrayed as a mass of corruption and greed, yet the supposedly heroic outlaws had no real character. I felt as if character development had only occurred in the second half of the novel- and by then I was far too bored to take any of it in.

Though it may be rude to speak so plainly... I do despise the entire Australian setting. I would much prefer Robin Hood over Ned Kelly, though they are rather similar. I was so sick of the mention of cattle, or how the tea were boiled in a billy can, or how a kangaroo/wallaby was skinned and roasted. Oh- and the horses- the detailed description of the appearance, movement and even temper of the horses in the novel... They might as well have been central characters. I know there is some significance to this--- the horses most likely represent freedom or the dreams of Kelly (something along those lines) but goddamn I was so fed up. Perhaps I just lack natural appreciation for good literature--- but I can tell this is good literature. It just wasn't very much to my tastes, and when it forces me to be awake at 1am, I guess I have an even greater inclination to dislike it.

I can only be thankful that this is my last session of English, and this is, hopefully, the last book I will be forced to read for the rest of college. I cannot bear to suffer another work of literature. I dread to think of university--- where I may have to experience this misery once again.

"Such is life."