Bad Side (Part 1)

Views are entirely my own. You might not like me after reading this, then so be it. But I won’t apologize for expressing my opinion, nor would I change them to please people.

 

I absolutely have no idea whether I am nice or evil. If asked to categorize myself between those two, I wouldn’t be able to answer immediately. No, perhaps I wouldn’t be able to respond to that question at all. I remember a childhood friend of mine who unhesitatingly admitted that she considered herself more on the “bad side.” Up to now, I admire her courage. Of what? I can’t honestly say. But in a way, she seemed so bold and courageous then, that as her friend I wasn’t even able to tell her she was not bad, but nice. 

All right, then. Of course, it still depends on the person, on the circumstances, and several other factors. But let us freeze a certain reality and choose a particular moment. It is when I will be judgmental, selfish and, yes, quite mean.

Ironically, it concerns one of my addictions: books.

How will I be judgmental?

Well, it’s when a person would say these things: “I’m so excited to watch [movie]!” “I am an avid fan of [movie/ series]!”

Let’s consider Les Miserables. I read it three years ago, while I was still a fourteen-year-old. While my classmates were wasting their time chattering with one another during lunch breaks and after classes, I would always steal a few minutes in the library and seek new books to borrow. Being a classics lover, Les Miserables was an obvious pick. When we weren’t doing anything in classes, I would go read a few pages of my newly borrowed book.

And that was the first time I ever cried because of a book.

And that was also the first time that, after finishing it, I spent the next days with the novel still stuck in my head. I would replay the scenes, the events, and wonder how Victor Hugo was able to successfully write a masterpiece. I would wonder, too, how he was able to make me feel such intense emotions. I wondered how he made me cry. 

I still remember that time when I was nearing the end of the book, and I started crying while I was flipping through the pages. My youngest brother surveyed me with his wide, curious eyes. He might have been sympathetic with me, or probably he was on the verge of laughing. I wouldn’t know the exact reason, because I hastily dashed to my room and continued reading there. I wept and sobbed, especially as I reached the last page.

Yes, I’ve read hundreds of books, and numerous beautiful series. But at the end of the day, when ask of my favorite book, I would always say Les Miserables. Not Harry Potter. Not The Hunger Games. Not a work of Dickens, Michael Crichton, or Shakespeare. But Les Miserables, because it was the book that opened a different dimension to me. It was a book that changed me, that affected me tremendously. It was a book worth reading and worth repeating.

Three or so years later, it would be shown in the big screen. All of a sudden it became famous again. I can faintly recall the look on the faces of some people after I told them that Les Mis is my favorite book. What was it . . . surprise? It was a look that seemed to say: Are you nuts? Why would you like that ancient, uninteresting book when there are many modern ones out there?

They wouldn’t understand, of course.

Now, people are making such a fuss of Les Miserables. People were proclaiming that they were very much enthralled to see this film, when in fact they weren’t even able to read the book. They were just riding with the flow, posting Les Mis related stuff and all that. When clearly, they don’t even have any idea about it at all.

That’s me being judgmental. When people say that they are excited to see a certain  movie without having read the book, I judge their credibility as a true “fan.” No, I don’t judge the person. I judge the motive, the love for it, and so on.

There’s another instance, too.

It’s when someone would claim to be a fan of, let’s say, Harry Potter without having even read the books. 

But before I go on, I will first admit this: I have read the series only after the Deathly Hallows Part 2 was shown in theaters. During the period in between, I’ve watched only The Sorcerer’s Stone, The Prisoner of Azkaban and The Half-blood Prince. And yes, all those while, I never understood the flow of the story. I wanted to be a fan too, but I couldn’t call myself one without even reading the book. Because even then, I knew that it was the only way where I could have the feel of its world, where I could truly be an authentic fan.

Even if a person has watched all of the films and proclaim he or she is a fan, I don’t think it’s enough. Read the books first, and that is when you start calling yourself that title.

Yes, this is my bad side. Part one.