I'm feeling guilty about not writing anything. I actually have stuff to write about, just couldn't bring myself to sit down and do it. Sorry.
Anyway, I finished Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything is Illuminated (an incredible book despite the fact that it won a prize from Guardian and Susan Sonntag said nice things about it) and started on a book I got from the ?off Secret Santa event. It's by some guy called Wil Wheaton, who apparently used to be on Star Trek. I've never watched Star Trek with any conviction - I don't think I have seen a single episode from start to finish - so I am taking it at face value; and I'm afraid I am singularly unimpressed. Wheaton's primary accomplishment seems to be quitting the show, hoping for a career outside it, and seeing that it simply isn't there. I'm around half way through the book right now, and all he seems to be doing is wallowing in self-pity.
This is beyond my understanding. Everyone has made important decisions, second-guessed themselves and felt anxious about the result. I'm no exception. But I haven't made a life out of it. The book was written at a point when half of Wheaton's life had gone by since he quit Star Trek; why he didn't just get over it is unclear. He writes about his constant disappointments as an actor, about not getting jobs he was best for, about being unable to support his family...
So why's he not driving a cab?
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
Post a Comment