Books abandoned are sad vestiges of misplaced trust. This occurred to me today, or perhaps I only remembered something I had already read: how deeply a reader-author relationship is based upon trust. There have been a number of books which I have read and while reading, have only elicited a lukewarm response in me. I soldier on, hoping and trusting that this author will not let me down. That somewhere between this part and the end is the thing that will make worthy the hours I've spent immersed in this person's brain. So, too, does the author trust the reader to go on, to finish, to try to understand the vision that put ink to paper and began a new world within these covers. Without this trust, this daring of both parties, there can be no exploration. For it IS daring to open a book, to dive into another's mind, not knowing what will be discovered, shared, imparted, impressed, distorted, illuminated... And it IS courageous to scribe the wheelings and turnings of one's own mind down for others to scamper about in. Where were will we go? What will we think and feel on the other side? Through what madness might we travel, caves might we spelunk, fears might we learn anew?
Dare! Risk! Explore!