A final word
I shall be taking a tiny hiatus from my serious reading. I am currently working on something that demands all my reading abilities and am only allowed to read romance novels...yes I know but I am slightly enjoying it. Just finished beloved Nora's 'Key of Light' and will start something new in a minute, but I wanted to write this down here so I forgive myself the break...but I promise to return soon and will constantly shift my to read pile in anticipation!!!
Never Let Me Go
So once I had finished with true crime I went back to something a little lovely and well it was more then I expected. It was wonderful, I spent the first part thinking 'these kids never seem to get a holiday' until I realised these 'kids' were not ordinary kids. With the all the new developments in science (be they amazing and fantastic), I can understand the horror this advancement could have on the world, but the whole way through the novel I felt more sorrow then fear.
These children were still children, but they were children with their lives already done. Their experiences were on borrowed time, their lives had already been bought and the only way of avoiding the inevitable fourth donation was to be a carer. But really you are then only circling the drain from a bit of a distance (or is that an awful way of trying to describe it?) they know that eventually they will become donors, donors who are created so people (real people...or so they believe themselves to be) can live on, survive cancer and any other life threatening disease. Throughout the novel I felt these people were stalking the main characters, that any brief bit of joy they had was somehow shadowed by the inevitable. But it never took away the simple way I began to love them.
Kathy, Tommy and Ruth were so real, so perfect that knowing they would not live forever, marry, have children, and enjoy all life's potentials filled me with sadness. However, I also laughed, felt myself bursting with glee when Kathy found her tape and when...well I suppose I won't tell you any more of my favourite moments as that would spoil it...but trust me this book is full of hope.
Hope that is something that you can just about touch, but seems always to pull away at the last moment and all of a sudden you realise the importance of such simple moments. The way a sunset looks, the tune of a favourite song, the moment with people you love when everything is calm and still. The true meaning of friendship and forgiveness.
If you couldn't tell I am a bit in love with this book. I'm eager to see the film, but of course, like all book lovers wary of what it will do to my perfect experience of reading it.
Like Remains of the Day this book will be constantly haunting me in the best way possible. Read it, I beg you.
These children were still children, but they were children with their lives already done. Their experiences were on borrowed time, their lives had already been bought and the only way of avoiding the inevitable fourth donation was to be a carer. But really you are then only circling the drain from a bit of a distance (or is that an awful way of trying to describe it?) they know that eventually they will become donors, donors who are created so people (real people...or so they believe themselves to be) can live on, survive cancer and any other life threatening disease. Throughout the novel I felt these people were stalking the main characters, that any brief bit of joy they had was somehow shadowed by the inevitable. But it never took away the simple way I began to love them.
Kathy, Tommy and Ruth were so real, so perfect that knowing they would not live forever, marry, have children, and enjoy all life's potentials filled me with sadness. However, I also laughed, felt myself bursting with glee when Kathy found her tape and when...well I suppose I won't tell you any more of my favourite moments as that would spoil it...but trust me this book is full of hope.
Hope that is something that you can just about touch, but seems always to pull away at the last moment and all of a sudden you realise the importance of such simple moments. The way a sunset looks, the tune of a favourite song, the moment with people you love when everything is calm and still. The true meaning of friendship and forgiveness.
If you couldn't tell I am a bit in love with this book. I'm eager to see the film, but of course, like all book lovers wary of what it will do to my perfect experience of reading it.
Like Remains of the Day this book will be constantly haunting me in the best way possible. Read it, I beg you.
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
Now, I must admit to being slightly lazy over the Christmas holidays, I spent too much time watching marginally good Christmas films, eating too much good food and reading a few fantastic books. But I didn't update my blog. I feel quite terrible about it and hope that two posts on one night will make it up to myself.
John Berendt's book is a fascinating compilation of rich characters, nail biting stories and hilarious dialogue. His thoughtful approach and stunning prose kept me exhilarated to the very last page. I read the whole book cover to cover, I mean all of it, the pages without page numbers, the bit at the end about the author and all the characters. I had to read it all, because this book is so brilliant putting it down was not an option.
Part of me still wonders about this sleepy little place, the place that resists change in all forms, lives on with drunken drivers represented on the trees lining the beautiful squares they are so proud of. The graveyard that is a place for quiet reflection, black magic games and trysts. This is a place of all things so lost within itself it is unaware of the rest of the world. Its own gossip is more then enough to keep all inhabitants happy and at some points riveted. The cafe with the man who may eat or not, but always orders his food; the drag queen who is so spunky and powerful while always being true to herself (and yes honey she is a she!!!); the man who opens his house to all and sundry relying on his charm and dumb luck to keep him out of financial trouble and the woman travelling around in her car from one end to the other playing the piano for everyone and enjoying every minute of it. I would love to meet these characters and completely understand why Berendt had to write a foreword explaining that they really were real people, this book is not fiction though it reads like one. I suppose we only tell ourselves its fiction because it is one of the best books I've ever read and how could it possibly have really happened...but it did! And I love it all the more for that.
If I could only get my hands on his other book, its a travel book, but seeing as true crime was not a disastrous foray, I was thinking reading a nice little travel book might be perfect...if only I could find a bookshop with it in stock.
My verdict: read it, even if you think true crime is bogus or awful. It really is a complete and utter gem!!!!
John Berendt's book is a fascinating compilation of rich characters, nail biting stories and hilarious dialogue. His thoughtful approach and stunning prose kept me exhilarated to the very last page. I read the whole book cover to cover, I mean all of it, the pages without page numbers, the bit at the end about the author and all the characters. I had to read it all, because this book is so brilliant putting it down was not an option.
Part of me still wonders about this sleepy little place, the place that resists change in all forms, lives on with drunken drivers represented on the trees lining the beautiful squares they are so proud of. The graveyard that is a place for quiet reflection, black magic games and trysts. This is a place of all things so lost within itself it is unaware of the rest of the world. Its own gossip is more then enough to keep all inhabitants happy and at some points riveted. The cafe with the man who may eat or not, but always orders his food; the drag queen who is so spunky and powerful while always being true to herself (and yes honey she is a she!!!); the man who opens his house to all and sundry relying on his charm and dumb luck to keep him out of financial trouble and the woman travelling around in her car from one end to the other playing the piano for everyone and enjoying every minute of it. I would love to meet these characters and completely understand why Berendt had to write a foreword explaining that they really were real people, this book is not fiction though it reads like one. I suppose we only tell ourselves its fiction because it is one of the best books I've ever read and how could it possibly have really happened...but it did! And I love it all the more for that.
If I could only get my hands on his other book, its a travel book, but seeing as true crime was not a disastrous foray, I was thinking reading a nice little travel book might be perfect...if only I could find a bookshop with it in stock.
My verdict: read it, even if you think true crime is bogus or awful. It really is a complete and utter gem!!!!
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