The Neverending Story
My relationship with Michel Ende’s novel published in 1979 is a story of self-improvement. The genetic and psychological need to be as cool and intelligent as my brother David, two years and three days older than me, and an unconscious act of paternal imitation, made me learn how to read long before I went to school.
With less than 6 years, I had already tried to read the Neverending Story on several times and, I can assure you, it seemed like an impossible task, it literally seemed to me a neverending story. At 10 minutes per page, it seemed that the nearly 800 pages of the Spanish translation we had at home was going to cost me a lifetime. Shortly after turning six, I managed to finish the novel and it was for me as sweet as the Carthaginian victory at Cannae was for Hannibal.
Although I could dovote this section to criticize literary novels, since it’s another of my secret passions, I don’t think it should be the place since as Michael Ende said "that is another story and should not be told here."
On the contrary, my idea is to devote this part of the blog to one of the darkest monsters that we have to face now. I mean the merciless bureaucracy. My intention is not to criticize the system, although I suppose that, like most of you, it has given me more than one annoyance, several attacks of insomnia and some occasional anxiety ones. On the contrary, following my usual pragmatism, I will assume that things are like that and I will devote the posts to offer suggestions and tricks learned from my life experience to face the stone giants, the depressing marshes and the desperate Nothing. I mean, of course, scholarship/fellowship applications, transfers to other cities, reports and other exciting questions like that.
Climb with me to the loft, since our own Neverending Story is about to begin.
With less than 6 years, I had already tried to read the Neverending Story on several times and, I can assure you, it seemed like an impossible task, it literally seemed to me a neverending story. At 10 minutes per page, it seemed that the nearly 800 pages of the Spanish translation we had at home was going to cost me a lifetime. Shortly after turning six, I managed to finish the novel and it was for me as sweet as the Carthaginian victory at Cannae was for Hannibal.
Although I could dovote this section to criticize literary novels, since it’s another of my secret passions, I don’t think it should be the place since as Michael Ende said "that is another story and should not be told here."
On the contrary, my idea is to devote this part of the blog to one of the darkest monsters that we have to face now. I mean the merciless bureaucracy. My intention is not to criticize the system, although I suppose that, like most of you, it has given me more than one annoyance, several attacks of insomnia and some occasional anxiety ones. On the contrary, following my usual pragmatism, I will assume that things are like that and I will devote the posts to offer suggestions and tricks learned from my life experience to face the stone giants, the depressing marshes and the desperate Nothing. I mean, of course, scholarship/fellowship applications, transfers to other cities, reports and other exciting questions like that.
Climb with me to the loft, since our own Neverending Story is about to begin.
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