It's striking how many people (nearly all adults) I see on the subway reading the final installment of the Harry Potter series. This is no ordinary book. At 750-odd pages and a distinctive yellow hard-back cover, it definitely earns the title of "Tome".
Perhaps even more interesting are some quotations I read this morning on CNN.com:
When I closed the book I was overjoyed and devastated -- overjoyed at the story, and the way it had played out, but devastated that the tale was complete," she said. "It did feel like a bereavement, like it was saying farewell to a long-trusted friend."
"J.K. Rowling does not disappoint; I thought she did brilliantly. It was terrifying; sometimes I was scared to keep reading on. I cried buckets," said Todd, 20, who lamented that "never again will I stay up all night reading a new Harry Potter book, or go to its midnight release party, or invent wild theories about Harry being the Heir of Gryffindor."
"That's it," she said. "It's all over. I feel like I just said goodbye forever to my oldest, dearest friend. All I can do is re-read, and in the future when I have children, I'll get to share these books with them. I look forward to that day."
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The part that intrigues me is the literary-character-as-friend phenomenon. Perhaps it's not a defining mark of great literature (not all character-friends find themselves in great works, and not all great works have a character-friend), but I think it says something about the way people approach literature. For instance, my quick-reading/guilty-pleasure Mary Higgins Clark suspense novels end with my feeling little invested into the characters, but satisfied with numerous loose ends tied up in a clever way. As I mentioned in last year's post on Pride & Prejudice, however, Elizabeth became one of my early friends in New York City.
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To my readers: any character-friends come to mind, other than the ones already mentioned in this post?
8 comments:
Pardon me. I did not mean to suggest that there are 750 odd pages, bringing the total (odd AND even pages) to 1500. I can see how it might be taken that way literally, but it's unclear why I would think it useful to describe the number of a book's odd pages. I used the term to mean "approximate".
preface: it looks like this will have to be posted in several comments as it is too long...
I have now pondered this entry for two and a half days - thinking about the question of "character-friends" from books I may have read.
I've racked my brain. I've recalled classics that I've read throughout school. I've examined the books that are placed with love on my hallway bookshelf.
I do have to admit that several books I have read have brought intense emotions. Yes, I cried while reading "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants." Yet when I closed each of the books (it was a 3 part series), I smiled with contentment - not feeling a pain as though losing a friend.
I pondered this. Wondered if I have not read enough. Wondered if I have simply read the wrong books. Wondered if I just did not have the capacity to empathize.
Then last night as I knelt in my closet to straighten my shoes - I picked up a pair of brown, high-heeled sandals. As I neatly placed them side by side, I felt what can only be described as a pain as I realized that their end was coming. I squinted my eyes and examined the heels - wondering if a cobbler could do something about the leather that had peeled in spots.
And then it hit me.
Although this may reveal my shallow side, especially in the midst of such a literary sophisticated blog, my shoes have acted as friends to me.
Why do i say this?
I can recall in the spring of 2000 purchasing these shoes. They were from Payless Shoe Stores and cost < $20. (Now keep in mind that I am a shoe-string budget type of gal – I don’t have a closet full of Manolo Blahniks.) I remember while purchasing them thinking that if they lasted through the summer then I'll have gotten my money's worth out of them. I never would have dreamed that I would still have them 7 years later.
Now why are these shoes something special? They have thin leather straps in a "thong" style but also have a delicate heel - giving me much needed height and 'lengthening my leg' as Stacy from What Not to Wear would say. They go with everything from a cute sundress to my favorite tan seer-sucker knee length shorts. And I have many fond memories while wearing them.
These shoes and memories reminded me of my beloved copper, ruffled Steve Madden peep-toe wedges. I've worn them to weddings and on nights out on the town. I wore them to the hospital to see my friend Audrey's new baby. And I wore them as a sense of comfort when I went to the hospital to sit by a friend on his death bed. I remember looking down through a haze of tears and thinking "Bair lived his life to the fullest. And he would be proud of me wearing a special pair of shoes to the hospital to say my good-byes."
And so the Ruffle Shoes - as I affectionate call them - are dear old 'souls' (corny pun intended) to me.
And one day when I'm forced to retire them into their shoebox one final time - I will have a sense of sadness as though losing a friend. They've been with me for many highs and have made the lows easier. And they will have served their time well (aside from the blister that they gave me the first time that I wore them but I will choose to forget that incident).
And I will be forced to find a new favorite pair of shoes to walk with me throughout the next chapter of my life.
Thank you for your touching comments, although they were not what I was expecting when I summoned calls for "character-friends." Skeptical at first when I began reading about strappy leather shoes and ruffled Steve Madden peep-toe wedges, I read with interest your moving account, and even laughed at the end (the part about the blister). Thanks, sis.
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