I know I deserve to get kicked for reading instead of doing my work. But today, I decided I just needed a break and wrap myself up in this book I've neglected for a while and I finished it. (So at least now I can concentrate properly on my work, yah right.)
The Time Traveler's Wife I have to say
Audrey Niffenegger is just brilliant to be able to come up with this. I just can't describe what I'm feeling at all after reading this story.
A bitter sweet love story. And if it were not for my mum sitting beside me while I was finishing the book I know I would have just bawled my eyes out at the sofa. So far the 2nd book that has managed to make me feel like this and love and hate the story at the same time. This is definitely one of the best books I've read by far.
Here are some of my favourite parts from the book..
------------------------------ "What is it? My dear?"
"Ah, how can we bear it?"
"Bear what?"
"This. For so short a time. How can we sleep this time away?"
"We can be quiet together, and pretend - since it is only the
beginning - that we have all the time in the world."
"And every day we shall have less. And then none."
"Would you rather, therefore have had nothing at all?"
"No. This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time
began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to
which everything ran, before, and
from which everything will run.
But now, my love, we are here, we are
now, and those other times are running elsewhere."
- A.S. Byatt,
Possession(pg 272)
------------------------------CLARE: This is a secret: sometimes I am glad when Henry is gone.
Sometimes I enjoy being alone. Sometimes I walk through the house
late at night and I shiver with the pleasure of not talking, not
touching, just walking, or sitting, or taking a bath. Sometimes
I lie on the living room floor and listen to Fleetwood Mac, the
Bangles, the B-52's, the Eagles, bands Henry can't stand. Sometimes
I go for long walks with Alba and I don't leave a note saying where
I am. Sometimes I meet Celia for coffee, and we talk about Henry,
and Ingrid, and whoever Celia's seeing that week. Sometimes I hang
out with Charisse and Gomez, and we don't talk about Henry, and we
manage to enjoy ourselves. Once I went to Michigan and when I came
back Henry was still gone and I never told him I had been anywhere.
Sometimes I get a baby-sitter and I go to the movies or I ride my
bicycle after dark along the bike path by Montrose beach with no
lights; it's like flying.
Sometimes I amd glad when Henry's gone, but I'm always glad when
he comes back.
(pg 395)
------------------------------ "Oh, whey can't we
do something!" I whisper into Henry's neck.
"Clare-" Henry's arms are wrapped around me. I close my eyes.
"Stop it. Refuse to let it happen.
Change it."
"Oh, Clare." Henry's voice is soft and I look up at him, and his eyes
shine with tears in the light reflected by the snow. I lay my cheek
against Henry's shoulder. He strokes my hair. We stay like this for a long
time. Henry is sweating. I put my hand on his face and he's burning up
with fever.
"What time is it?"
"Almost midnight."
"I'm scared." I twine my arms through his, wrap my legs around his.
It's impossible to believe that Henry, so solid, my lover, this real
body, which I am holding pressed to mine with all my strangth, could
ever disappear:
"Kiss me!"
(pg 494)
------------------------------ Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been
the thread though the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker,
the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever
trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you had more density in this
world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and
surround you, keep you, hold you.
......
It's dark, now, and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.
(pg 503 & 504)
------------------------------And now something beautiful she ended the book with..
Now from his breast into his eyes the ache
of longing mounted, and he wept at last,
his dear wife, clear and faithful, in his arms,
longed for as the sunwarmed earth is longed for by a swimmer
spent in rough water where his ship went down
under Poseidon's blows, gale winds and tons of sea.
Dew men can keep alive through a big surf
to crawl, clotted with brine, on kindly beaches
in joy, in joy, knowing the abyss behind:
and so she too rejoiced, her gaze upon her husband,
her white arms round him pressed as though forever.
- from, The Odyssey
Homer
translated by Robert Fitzgerald
