A Good Book Is a Bad Thing

I've alluded to this before.

Last night I finished One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest.  I've read it before, but when a copy of it landed in my husband's hands (see Book Crossing for how that happened) I decided to read it again, since all I could remember from my high school reading of it was the ending.

But a good book is a bad thing.  Like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest's main character, Randle McMurphy, a good book cajoles you into abandoning your sensible routine, keeping you awake way past the prudent hour you normally go to sleep, and incites you to shirk your responsibilities until your formerly well oiled machine barely functions.

When I read fiction, I prefer not to know much about the story before I read it, so I'll try not to ruin it for you, except to summarize what you could work out from the back cover: The story, told by a patient in a mental institution, is about the power struggle between the Big Nurse and the new patient on the ward.  The nurse is what I would call a Hook Operator (a term I picked up from the totally unheard of Operators and things: The inner life of a schizophrenic, a book I read 15 years ago, have never seen another copy of, and highly recommend to anyone for it's insights on office life alone, but also to follow the very interesting journey of the schizophrenic author).  The nurse keeps everything under her control, not by using force, but by abusing power.  McMurphy, the new patient, is boastful and cunning, and also trying to work the system in his own way.

This story is about so many different things: the abuse of power, the importance of fun, friendship, sacrifice, and redemption.  I normally try to avoid "the classics" but I highly recommend this book.  As Douglas Eadie says on the cover of my copy, "If you haven't already read this book, do so.  If you have, read it again."