Tuesday, November 06, 2007


Jeff is convinced that I am attracted to the dark side. If there's a depressing book or movie, he feels, I just naturally gravitate toward it.

This reputation was solidified in his mind when I voiced delight over opening The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression by Andrew Solomon one Christmas morning.

Another example? I loved the movie version of The Hours (also one of my favorite books), which he dismissed as so overwhelmingly depressing as to lack any merit.

But even I have my limits.

Last night, Jeff asked me if I had any interest in watching Blood Diamond with him. "No way," I replied. "Too depressing."

Allow a moment to visualize Jeff's incredulity over that statement.

"Too depressing for you? With all those books you read?" (Unsaid: Like The Hours?!)

"Yeah, but I can handle the personally sad. Anything about Africa just sends me into the suicidal abyss."

So there you have it. Despair and hopelessness apparently are all well and good on a small scale; ratchet it up to the level of children forced into rebel-led gangs (thanks, Imperatrix, for the clarification!) in Africa and I just want to bury my head.

What about you? Do any types of movies or books turn you into an ostrich?