It’s a brilliant book. It’s amongst the best written books I’ve ever read. It’s got the magic that made me smile, nod my head in agreement, screech inside, and be sad. Be very sad.
It’s probably the best book I’ll read this year.
That’s not good. Because it’s over. I didn’t want it to be over. I finished it in three sittings, but I want it to go on for ever.
It also means that anything I read for the next while will feel like it’s taking something precious away. Like eating a dessert after having a steak at Le relais de venise. When I want to savour the taste of that steak in my mouth, anything I eat next will spoil it. And yet, I can’t go without eating forever. Or without reading. Like she says: “nowhere to go but down”.
For another, I’m already in a rump. I’m not happy. I’m not working. I’m not working out. I’m still injured. I’m gaining weight at pound-a-day. And all my relationships are already on that slope that has nowhere to go but down. I didn’t need another source of sadness. And such a beautifully written source, at it.
No one wanted to think about the gangs of no-hope teenagers who already took over the nearby park all day, drinking lager and waiting for something to happen to them, trapped in a forgotten village in no-man’s land between a ten-shop town and an amorphous industrial sprawl.
Started a new book. And abandoned it within 10 pages. It was a business book with too much ‘values & beliefs’ and barely any nitty gritty of ops and customer service (the reason I picked it).
Lost my phone. And found it within 5 minutes thanks to the new watch. Had kept the phone on a shelf in Tesco while picking something, and forgotten it there. As I moved out of bluetooth range of the phone, the watch lost its connection and buzzed with the notification – reminding me that I’d left the phone behind.
Without being a smart watch, my watch is smarter than me!
“We’ve known for a long time that it was no longer possible to overturn this world, nor reshape it, nor head off its dangerous headlong rush,” says Ramon, another character. “There’s been only one possible resistance: to not take it seriously.”
One thing I’ll always be upset with my parents about, is not letting me have a pet while growing up. Specifically, a dog. But there weren’t any other pets either.
The bonds of love, trust, the non verbal communication, the companionship – all the things that I missed growing up (bar love).
I always thought I wanted another sibling, or a close friend – a partner with whom I could live, explore and share. Sister was too different a person for us to ever share much. And cousins were, well cousins – distant, competitive, or both. And I never really made close friends – wonder if it was my trust issues, my commitment issues, or just hard to find someone within the norms of class, caste, and location.
If only I would’ve had a dog. Not a family dog, not a neighbourhood dog, but my dog. A dog I would’ve grown up with – a brother. Like the son I have now, sleeping snuggled up against my back. Maybe I’d have been a different person. A better person. A stronger, emotionally, person.