Memorable Reads: Flavors of Love and Romance

Some thoughts on recent memorable books on love and romance. 

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Who doesn't remember their first crush or infatuation? Is that heady, confusing feeling really love? Could such a feeling sustain itself as people grow, mature, and turn into different versions of themselves in their adulthood? I'm ever optimistic that some bonds last in one way or the other because of the impact they had on our lives, if only for a few moments in the swiftly changing sands of time. 

One the one hand is Rowell's beautiful illustration of an innocent wholesome version of first love tempered by friendship and understanding. Each person finds acceptance in the other, and despite the uncertainties of growing up and facing the future, there is recognition of something deep and lasting, even if it's only a kernel. The pangs of this first "love" will echo throughout one's life as a fond memory of what-ifs. With succinct writing, Rowell brings so much to this simple story.

And on the other hand is Murakami's take on the turbulence of grief, loneliness, lust, and friendship on a young person's coming of age journey. Love seems too elusive when there is a gaping void seeking comfort and numbness. The attachments and relationships are clouded by insecurities and vulnerabilities, and everything is slippery to hold onto, because too many things have happened too fast to someone too young.  This is the sort of first "love" that is confusing and angsty - the kind that sets people on the impossible hunt for the "perfect" feeling that both encompasses and surpasses the tangle from their past. The memories turn into haunting ghosts that are difficult to let go, and burying them seems inadequate. 

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And then, as we enter adulthood and wade through the complexities and realities of life and relationships, we start to know ourselves better. Unlikely bonds blossom unbeknownst to us, maturing from grief, disappointments, and self-awareness. Jojo Moyes is excellent at writing such stories of messy lives and "flawed" people. Nothing is straightforward, there always seems too much baggage (who doesn't have them?), but people still come together out of a shared journey, and a recongition of how they complement and complete each other despite (or because of) their imperfections. There are no happily-ever-afters but always a possibility for making the best of your circumstances, if you are willing to give it a chance. 

After You is the sequel to Me Before You, a tragic love story. In the sequel, the protagonist deals with her crippling grief and guilt. She gradually learns how to move on, and recognizes that love comes and lives in so many different forms. There even could be multiple soul mates, if we choose to believe. And then is her other book, One Plus One, where the unlikeliest of people are thrown together by circumstances. We often don't even realize how much we need something, even if it is a crazy teenager, until we are open to the experience of receiving. Moyes's characters are unique and complex, her writing funny and insightful. I enjoyed both books, but particularly After You.

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Ah, then there is the idealized love - of lightning and passion; the purity of feeling and simplicity of the intense feeling; the happily-ever-after. This kind transcends social barriers, the pettiness of practicality and probability, and triumphs. It's the kind meant for a book or a movie. And so is Flowers from the Storm. It's one of the best written books I have ever read. Laura Kinsale is a brilliant writer, and a treasured find. One thing that I am always fascinated is the process, the trajectory of falling in love with someone. Kinsale excels at chasing and capturing this elusive shift in feeling. In this case, it is all the more fascinating to me as I see the protagonist shift from codependence to something more deeper, more abiding because of the nature of acceptance, the essence of the woman who gives without wanting. I am also biased by the affliction faced by the protagonist - a stroke leaves a brilliant man void of speech and conventional ways to communicate. He gets cruelly labeled as mentally ill and insane, and is understood by only one woman. Kinsale's portrayal of this is brilliant and nuanced. It tore my heart. I will come back to this book many times. 

Unheard Melodies

The past weekend, we watched the movie The Bridges of Madison County. For the very first time.

Yeah, I do have the distinct feeling of having spent the majority of my life under a rock. And as expected, the husband censured and lamented over Francesca’s “shocking” promiscuity and resignedly resorted to playing Angry Birds. I also surprised him by not entering into my usual "righteous" discussions on morality. Instead, I was weeping.

I wept for many reasons, but none of them has anything to do with the film resembling my life in any way. A cautious disclaimer ;). For seeing my tears, the husband was rattled and was rethinking his decision to leave me all by myself during his upcoming official trip. So, yeah, I cry because the world’s sorrow is my collective sorrow and all that.

I wept in appreciation of Meryl Streep’s performance - tears of awe and respect. Next, I wept that I was grown up enough to understand infidelity; to not judge or scorn it. I shocked myself by even empathizing. Anna Karenina did that to me. And now, this movie. Finally, I wept because the notion of romantic love is indeed fickle. The only sure way of preserving the fire of passion is to leave it stranded, and unattainable. Just the memory of not being able to attain it, elevates the romanticism and sustains the longing. As Keats said, “Heard Melodies Are Sweet, but Those Unheard Are Sweeter”.

As much as I long for peace and harmony, I see that our lives are indeed more interesting and fully lived when the horizon is always colored by some challenge, or smudged with some imminent uncertainty. Life in general, becomes more worth living because we then cling to a “purpose”- an idealistic one. We try to savor the best of what the present offers, focus on bigger elements, realize with clarity the most fundamental things that truly matter, and those million and one extraneous things which were previously picked on, but that don’t count in the harsh light of impermanence.

That said, I still strive for Happily-Ever-Afters. The more the challenge, the more tenuous the certainty, the more the idealism.

Reflections: Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet

Henry Lee is a second generation Chinese living in Seattle. The story starts with Henry reminiscing about his life during the early 1940s - the “war years”. It was the dreadful time during the Second World War when the catastrophe at Pearl Harbor capped the hostility between Japan and the US, and Japan was actively at war with China. At such a time, there was a China town and a Japan town within Seattle, with each neighborhood rivaling against each other, and the Americans ostracizing both. One can imagine how much more exceedingly difficult and frustrating it would have been for a second generation Chinese to live in a time and place that was so prejudiced, hostile (and ignorant) about Asians in general that Henry’s dad made him wear an embarrassing button that said “I am Chinese”. Bullied by the white kids, pressured and addled by his parents’ stance that he should adopt just the right amounts of Americanism to fit in, but should remain a Chinese at his core, Henry grows up as a lonely, misfit. But when he meets Keiko, an elegant Japanese girl at school, they come together out of the deep understanding of their shunned states, and strike a bond beyond friendship. But it didn’t help that Henry’s father, a radical Chinese, hated the Japanese, and the US Government rounded up all the Japanese into concentration camps. As an old man, Henry looks back at his bitter-sweet memories of his first love and the pangs of hurt and separation as he comes across the ancient belongings left behind by the numerous Japanese families that were hounded and taken to concentration camps.

The heart of the book dwells on the tender romance between Henry and Keiko. Similar to many other stories that have reached a greater height of poignancy because of the History surrounding it,  the tragedy of war makes the story more special. Jamie Ford has very realistically brought out Henry’s personality. As American as he is in terms of his progressive attitudes, he is a devout Chinese when it comes to his conventional grounding on duties and moral responsibilities. It is a spitting portrayal of most second generation immigrants, especially of Asians.

Although I found some parts of the story to be a bit saccharine, I appreciated the overall pragmatism of the story. That’s how life is. But the pragmatism was balanced with the right amounts of sentimentality. And it always warms my heart to read about bonds that last despite the ravages of time and memories. Ford also depicts how distant most civilians are from wars and political turmoil. People are often put into buckets because of their race, and not for who they really are. It was stirring to read about the perplexed Japanese who were legal Americans with no ties to their country of origin, being forced to pay a hefty price for their ancestry.

Digested Thoughts: This is a very quiet, reflective read - reflective in terms of the History, and quiet in terms of the pace of the book, and the gentle romance. This is the kind of romance I like - old-fashioned and deep. Almost reminiscent of Pearl Buck’s The Hidden Flower, in terms of the feel of the book. The dewy and misty backdrop of Seattle adds to the tranquil, poignant feel!