Saturday, January 30, 2010

Thanks for the memories by Cecelia Ahern

I finished reading "Thanks for the memories" by Cecelia Ahern some 2 weeks odd ago along with my weekly Time magazine and I just haven't had time to update at all.

Anyway, this book is about a woman age 34 who has been married for some time, finally gets pregnant, rushes to answer a telephone call (from the video rental shop reminding her to return the dvd she borrowed) falls down the stairs and receives a blood transfusion in the hospital. She lost her baby in the fall, and she decides to separate from her husband because the love has long gone out of the marriage. Moves back in with her elderly dad (her mother died sometime back) and starts dreaming again and again of a little girl and a red-haired woman. She also starts learning how to speak in a language she has never learnt and to find out she knows stuff now that she never knew before. Her path starts crossing with a divorced gentleman from the States but somehow or other, they keep missing the chance to really know each other. Turns out that this gentleman had donated blood and she was the receipient of his blood.

The Slog Reviews: 7.5/10. Plot was simple and makes for a light entertaining read.

Some parts of the book worth remembering:

1. Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim (Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you)

2. It occurs to me how happiness and sadness are so closely knitted together. Such a thin line, a threadlike divide. In the midst of emotions, it trembles, blurring the territory of exact opposites. The movement is minute, like the thin string of a spider's web that quivers under a raindrop....at your weakest, you end up showing more strength; at your lowest, you are suddenly lifted higher than you've ever been. They all border one another, these opposites, and show how quickly we can be altered. Despair can be altered by one simple smile offered by a stranger...everything is on the verge, always brimming the surface, with only a slight shake or tremble to send things toppling.

3. A veil hangs between the two opposites, a mere slip of a thing too transparent to warn us or comfort us. You hate now, but look through this veil and see the possibility of love; you're said, but look through to the other side and see happiness. Absolute composure shifting to a complete mess - it happens so quickly, all in the blink of an eye.

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