Looking for a quick and interesting read complete with murder, incest, and Paris? Look no further than Invisible.
This is a good, if not great, book. Told by three different narrators, and spanning three countries and four decades, you'll be hooked right away. Basically, we have the life of Adam Walker, apparently super cute, smart and interesting. He's a student at Columbia when he meets a visiting professor, Rudolf, and his French hottie GF, Margot. They hang out, get to know each a bit. One night something super shocking and super crazy goes down, and the course of Adam's life is altered forever.
Definitely shocking, thought-provoking, and page-turning. There's sex, there's violence, there's jealousy, there's anger, there's death. What more could you want in a light 300 page read?
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Monday, November 23, 2009
On Loss
Someone I know died today. I saw him on Friday. I just saw him on Friday. It’s not like we were close friends. We were work colleagues, acquaintances really. Well, no, we were friendly. Facebook-friend-friendly. He was thinking about getting a dog. He felt like he had settled down enough that he could finally take care of a dog. I knew that he was thinking about getting a dog.
It was sudden. It happened suddenly, and I heard about it suddenly. And it was sudden. Unforseen. Unanticipated. Facebook reacts quickly – even to the unexpected. Posts that were leading, but not quite confirming. Good-bye, and I’ll miss you, and how can this be. It was confirmed without confirming. And then it was confirmed.
He was young. My age, maybe a year older. And I saw him on Friday.
This isn’t about our closeness or lack thereof. It’s about the loss of life. The loss of a huge heart. The sudden storm. The reminder of other tragedies. The sudden punch to the gut. The why and the how and the he-was-so-young. The air is knocked out of all of us when this kind of unexpected hits. And the old hurts, those we thought had healed, come rushing back. And the old pain is new again. Only now, there’s more.
When I first heard the news this morning, I thought to myself, “But Thursday is Thanksgiving.” And then I yelled it to myself, “Thanksgiving is on Thursday!” As if volume might change what had happened. Change this loss. Change the shape of today. Undo what’s been done.
Thanksgiving is still on Thursday, and I just saw him on Friday.
It was sudden. It happened suddenly, and I heard about it suddenly. And it was sudden. Unforseen. Unanticipated. Facebook reacts quickly – even to the unexpected. Posts that were leading, but not quite confirming. Good-bye, and I’ll miss you, and how can this be. It was confirmed without confirming. And then it was confirmed.
He was young. My age, maybe a year older. And I saw him on Friday.
This isn’t about our closeness or lack thereof. It’s about the loss of life. The loss of a huge heart. The sudden storm. The reminder of other tragedies. The sudden punch to the gut. The why and the how and the he-was-so-young. The air is knocked out of all of us when this kind of unexpected hits. And the old hurts, those we thought had healed, come rushing back. And the old pain is new again. Only now, there’s more.
When I first heard the news this morning, I thought to myself, “But Thursday is Thanksgiving.” And then I yelled it to myself, “Thanksgiving is on Thursday!” As if volume might change what had happened. Change this loss. Change the shape of today. Undo what’s been done.
Thanksgiving is still on Thursday, and I just saw him on Friday.
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