And I don’t mean because of the heat outside. Well, it is hot outside as well, but I mean I’m hot in that I am FINALLY reading! I stayed true to my word, I didn’t read all weekend, but Monday I picked up a book I’ve already read before and fell headlong back into the story. And I finished knitting a scarf for my hubby, but more on that later.
Haroun and the Sea of Stories by Salman Rushdie was one of my most favorite reads a couple years ago. It’s one of those books I think any story lover would adore and one destined, in my opinion, to be a classic.
My humble words will not do it justice, so I’m going to quote from the back of the book:
In his most humorous novel, Salman Rushdie gives us an imaginative work of extraordinary intensity and power that is, at its heart, an illumination of the necessity of storytelling in our lives.
And the most gut-wrenching part of all? He wrote this book for his son while he was in exile and couldn’t see him. The dedication:
Z embla, Zenda, Xanadu
A ll our dream-worlds may come true.
F airy lands are fearsome, too
A s I wander far from view
R ead, and bring me home to you.
I admit it, I cried last night when I read that. This reminds me of the quote in my sidebar. The power of words to bring back to us those we have lost and miss. I bought my grandmother a journal for Christmas year before last, one of those kind with questions already in it, about your life and other things. She did not finish it before she died, but she did finish about half of it and I am so so so thankful for it. Because there she is, in her handwriting, telling me (and more importantly her great-granddaughter) about her life and now it’s not lost forever. Luckily I know most of the answers to the rest of the questions and can fill it out for Ellie to have when she’s older and curious about her Granny.
Makes me wish I had kept a better journal for Ellie in the past and even now. I think I will resolve to do better.