At the end of Beatrice & Virgil, Martel's character talks about the loss of them, the monkey and the donkey, when their author dies. How it hurts, physically, to be apart from them. I understand what he means by that; when I love a book and love its protagonists I feel genuine and perhaps disproportionate sadness when the story ends. When a writer kills off a character I love I feel angry. Surely I am meant to feel that way.
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You know when you meet someone and you just click? This afternoon Shawn and I went to a hair salon with J. She wanted her hair done the way teenage girls do, and Shawn decided that since we were there anyway he might as well get his hair cut too. The woman who cut his hair was fantastic. I don't know what it was about her, exactly, but both of us loved her immediately and as we went to pay the bill I was wondering if it would be weird to invite her and her husband to go out with us some time. Whatever, obviously that's weird. And I didn't do it. But we took her card so we can go back for more haircuts.
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4 comments:
Sometimes I can't even finish books because I don't want them to end. I often then visit them again when I am somewhat detached. That's a bit odd, I suppose. Maybe it is the Cancerian in me. Maybe I am just barking.
Hm.
xx P
As a wonderful book gets nearer to its inevitable end I feel sad and annoyed with it for shrinking. But I can't stop reading because I want to know how it ends, even as I don't want it to end.
I went to the bookstore today and bought three new books. This will help soothe the sadness, I expect. xx
I just got three at the library, so I'm very excited about it.
Which three? I'm excited for you. Maybe we should form a book club.
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