Re-visiting. Rekindling uncomfortable thoughts. Reminders. Resolutions.
I am reading Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates. The book on which the movie was based.
Remember the movie and my thoughts?
I couldn't quite shake the movie from my head. The characters haunted me. As did their actions. Their choices. Their roles. Their marriages. Their lives.
The book has a similar effect. Some poignant, almost pregnant, phrases. A line or two, a description, some dialogue, that causes me to hold my breath with its truth. Its pertinence and relevance.
Do others feel the same as I?
How does the author know me and my thoughts?
As in ~
But she needed no more advice and no more instruction. She was calm and quiet now with knowing what she had always known, what neither her parents nor Aunt Clara nor Frank nor anyone else had ever had to teach her: that if you wanted to do something absolutely honest, something true, it always turned out to be a thing that had to be done.
And isn't that hard sometimes? Doing the thing that has to be done. Regardless.
Then there is also this quote ~
The whole point of crying was to quit before you cornied it up. The whole point of grief itself was to cut it out while it was still honest, while it still meant something. Because the thing was so easily corrupted...
Cut it out. While still honest. Cut. Carve.
Haven't you been at that point in grieving, in sadness, that point where you just need to stop? Put it away. Go ahead. Move on. Pretend. Give it up?
The novel opens thoughts and wounds. Cathartic, one could say.
A good book is something to be savoured, especially this book, for me, during Lent and a time of self examination. Of prayer and penance.