Saturday, 6 December 2014
I stopped reading Birdsong on Thursday morning. I realised that I was in the end game. Usually what I do at this point in a book, in the best books, is race on to the climax; knowing that I will regret the haste but needing to know. For the first time in my reading life I stopped. I did text Prince Charming to tell him what I feared was about to happen, but he was obviously too deep in the present world to care for my drowning in the past! In the end I took a great big breath and read on. Slowly.
The only other book whose sub-title I remember is Life of Pi's "A book to make you believe in God". I still smile at that. I could see that it might have been. My edition of Birdsong states below the title that this is "The novel of The First World War". I see that it is.
If it weren't for this song, I would be struggling to emerge from the mud of France. It played in the background to most of my reading, as Prince Charming practised it for coming days. It helped me find a road home from the things we scarred.