I just finished reading The Time Traveler’s Wife and realised that books could still make me feel emotional.
I have been reading a lot lately – other than the TTW, I read Water for Elephants, The Night Circus, The Help, The Fourth Queen (reread), the whole HP series again, as well as the whole Narnia Chronicles, again.
Other than those which I reread, none of them seem to be happy stories. I just finished flipping the last page of The Time Traveler’s Wife and my heart feels so heavy. Why are these best-sellers bittersweet… more bitter than sweet…? Is it because only sad stories would provoke strong feelings and thoughts?
Clare spent most of her life waiting. Henry spent all of his life trying to stay.
Looking at Clare’s bravery, suddenly my problems seem trivial, miniscule. If she could try seven times before she finally has Alba, then… Then surely I still have time… Yes, all in good time. No point rushing along life just because of how other people think you should live it.
I just unwrapped my next book – Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. I love the Beatles song from which the title was derived, I sang it with a choir in Sydney, it brings back nice memories. I have a feeling that this book would be a sad one as well, but if Clare can face a lonely life waiting, surely I can survive a book?! But not tonight, I’ll start it tomorrow, maybe.
I cannot help feeling so deeply for the characters. When I open a page, I go into their world. I live as them, I smell what they smell, see what they see, eat what they eat. Just like The Night Circus, for a fortnight I lived in the circus , I travelled with it. I could taste the caramel popcorn. I could see Marco’s notebook in a messy office. I could feel the candles on the Wishing Tree. I saw the fantastical and mysterious clock at work. Even for some moments I was Celia.
Finishing the book was like stepping out from a lucid dream that I have lived my whole life. Finishing a story feels like finishing a life. It is melancholic yet sometimes brilliantly exhilarating, but it is exactly why I love reading, I would just love to read and read and read and read and read and read and read and read and read… Let my emotions be challenged, be provoked.
I am a big girl now.
Like the only thought that made Henry and Clare keep calm and carry on, I have to remember – Always again.
If -contrary to your hopes- something did not happen now, there’s always again.
Always again. Always.