After spending so much time and effort pursuing Mr. Zampanó, I decided to take a break from my sleuthing. I have an eternity to have adventures, so a little downtime shouldn’t hurt. I get up early in the morning, pack a lunch, and go for a long walk. I stroll slowly down the sidewalk, sprigs of grass pushing their way up through cracks in the concrete. Small trees line my path down the street as I head away from downtown, away from the hustle of the city. Remember, this is the afterlife, so I pretty much have my pick of lovely destinations to visit. Over time, the sidewalk fades and I find myself strolling through a serene forest. The sunshine reaches through the branches and leaves, scattering light and seemingly suspending time. A cardinal and a mockingbird compete for center stage as they both whistle for their lives, and a tender fawn nibbles on the leaves of a crate myrtle. This must have been how Guy Montag felt, the first time he made it out of town. Peace and reality altering silence.

After a while of strolling through the forest, I finally made it to the clearing, the sound of roaring water overbearing the birdsongs behind me. It was there I set up my picnic lunch: pb&j, an apple, and a big sugar cookie. Why do we lock ourselves in concrete cells and hold ourselves hostage in manmade dungeons? Nature is brilliant. –Clarisse McClellan

So I finished reading the physical book. You know, the copy of Dances on Draxghr? It took a while, but today, I turned the page–turned the page!–to the final lines and finished the entire thing.

One of the biggest things I noticed while reading was how bare the text was. I think a lot of us take this for granted, but the incorporated sounds, images, and videos in books on our tablets are not at all present in a printed copy of a book. I mean, you can put pictures in, but how would you even print a sound? I found that a lot of times where things were easy to picture while reading on my tablet, they weren’t easy to picture when reading a physical book. I’m wondering now if we’ve started relying too much on sound and image embedding, as both readers and writers. Don’t get me wrong! Donetta Behar is still the best writer out there, past present and future. But sometimes it felt like descriptions in the book were vague, or sounds, or feelings, because they knew they’d have something else to make the reader picture them…I don’t know.

This is an idea I need to think more on.

Signed,

IT

So I decided today would be the day I tried my gentle and easy approach on Mr. Zampanó. Since he used to be a writer, I figured writing him a note would be the most appealing method of contact. My letter reads as follows

“Dear Mr. Zampanó, my name is Clarisse McClellan, I was 17 years old when I passed away and choose to spend my afterlife hearing the stories of others who lived colorful, adventurous lives. Where I came from, we weren’t allowed to have books, so we always told oral stories to entertain ourselves. My uncle told the best stories of all. His secret? He has a brilliant mind and committed his favorite books to memory. Anyways, I heard you were a writer once, and since you found the inspiration to put pen to paper you must have had an interesting topic to write about. If at all possible, I was wondering if we could meet up sometime in the near future and talk about your work? The courtyard works fine as a meeting place for me. Sincerely, Clarisse McClellan.”

-I stuck the note on the door using a single piece of scotch tape, took a step back to admire my work, and went on my way towards the diner for breakfast. Now all we do is wait… -Clarisse McClellan

Last evening right before dusk I made my first attempt at approaching Mr. Zampanó, who was still pensively pacing around the courtyard, mumbling in hushed tones. I tried to be direct, calling out his name and waving, but I was met with a less than pleasant response. He appeared startled, glaring at me with distrust and quickly scurrying back into his apartment before I made my way over. He slammed the door behind him. Must be a little shy. Today, I watched him from far away, trying to decide the best approach to engaging Mr. Zampanó in a discussion. While watching him this morning, I noticed some neighborhood cats began appearing from every direction, coming towards the mysterious man and rubbing his legs. He softly smiled at the felines, patting them gently in response. My uncle used to say that animals were a better judge of character than people, so there must be more to his story. I think the cats are my clue: my approach needs to be subtle and gentle. I need to show him I mean no harm.           –Clarisse McClellan

I was out for a brisk morning walk the other day (let’s face it, air in the afterlife is always crisp and refreshing) when I spotted an interesting old man in the distance, pacing around a courtyard behind an apartment building. I crept around the corner to get a better look, and witnessed a tall man with ashy grey hair, a handlebar mustache and round spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose. He was hunched as he paced the perimeter of the grassy square, head bobbing as he walked and hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back. Word in town is that his name is “Zampanó” and he is very antisocial. But I like a good challenge. Just like Guy Montag, I think this gentleman has a story to tell, and he just needs the right audience to listen. Besides, I’ve got nothing but time.–Clarisse McClellan

Today was magical to say the least. With everything going on in my life, it is rare for me to be able to sit down and relax while reading a book that I actually CHOSE to read myself. I went to the library down the street (without my father finally) and picked a book out that really caught my eye.  It’s about Radical Acceptance and how to love yourself for who you really are. With all my assignments and book suggestions piling up, it felt great to relax and get into a book about accepting myself and caring less about what others think of me. I’ve been reading House of Leaves as well, and although the size of it intimidated me, I’m very into the novel and excited to read more and hear what others have to say about it. It’s nice to be around people who enjoy similar things… like reading!

After reading more of my physical copy of Dances on Draxghr, I have to say…I don’t think I feel particularly different. The story is the same, the characters are the same, they’re just being presented in a different format. I think the only difference is that I’m attached to the book the same way I’m attached to my tablet, which contains basically everything important to me. I’m trying to imagine owning a lot of books, a room full of books. Being this attached to so many different objects seems overwhelming.

Either way, I will continue reading, and see if the book will give me any more insight.

I spoke more with my new acquaintance (the one with the reconstructed printing press). He talked a lot about an ancient occupation called a ‘librarian’, which I think is pretty similar our archivists who keep watch over the rarer files, or the files you have to pay money to see. Only, on Earth a long time ago, none of the book the librarians kept watch over cost money to read. You could spend all day in a library (as they were called), just reading and reading. Isn’t that amazing?

Signed,

IT

After seeing the kinds of works the students from the class made with their destroyed copies of books, I must say I’m impressed. Their ideas were very creative, and I was pleased to see more methods of destruction than simply burning. Their resistance to the superficial beauty of the flame fills me with great hope for the members of their society, and I think I can faithfully trust they will never suffer the same apocalypse as the people from my city. I am inspired by their creativity, thoughtfulness, and severity with the subject. My only request, however, is that they each vow to never destroy another book again. Unless its one of those “Wreck this Journal” books, which I hear is quite ironic…–Clarisse McClellan