#1 One Day by David Nicholls
It is the 8th of January and the first book is behind me. Almost on schedule of one-book-per-one-week-plan.
To be honest, I made two mistakes when it comes to reading this book.
First of all I watched the movie before I've read the book. I knew it would be a bad idea, it always is. But who could blame me: it was a grey, lonely evening and I was in great need of watching a movie that would make me think of others' people problems rather than my own. And there I was crying like a baby, elevated by the genuineness of the story and disappointed by the ending.
The main problem in this case was the scriptwriters' surprising fidelity to the book (which normally I would approve of). Therefore reading the book felt like reading the script of the movie. But again, I have only myself to blame (and maybe the bad weather).
Then comes the issue of the translation - I read the book in Polish. As long as book is written in English I tend to read it in original language, since a lot of metaphors and meanings get lost in translation. However I have received the book as a gift so I made the exception. Apparently I shouldn't have, since I spent half the time wondering "Was it really written in this style or is it a matter of translation?" Because the main feeling I got from reading the book was an instant deja vu of reading my high school journal. Which from my perspective is neither insult nor praise. It just indicates a certain amount of infantilism in the style of writing. But then again, I won't know whether is was intentional unless I read the original. Which certainly I would not bring myself to do in the near future.
"I had a bit of a crush on you. Not a bit of a crush, a massive crush actually. For ages. Wrote dopey poems and everything"
What I like about the book the most was the realness of main characters. Rarely you can find yourself not wanting to be like the heroin but truly finding her features in you. And not the wanna-be-you, but the true, insecure you, which I think anyone has in themselves somewhere, no matter how confident they are. I simply adored all of those young Emma Morley's thoughts of "How should I behave so that he woudn't see I care but still be interested in me" or "How to do that so that it would look like the things they do in great movies". Not to mention all those juvenile love poems. Is it me or everyone thought they would be great poets at the age of 15?
"I love you so much. So, so much, and I probably always will. I just don‘t like you anymore."
And what I not simply liked but loved about the whole story was the bitter sweet picture of Emma and Dexter's relationship. Because honestly, in how many of the big love stories you can read the main hero admitting "My problem is I fancy pretty much everybody!" right after he declares romantic feelings for the main heroin. Priceless.
And I think that the true beauty of this book. It is not the big love story. It is a love story, so similar to many real stories of real people. The story of how two people can need each other, yet not see it. How they can crave each others intimacy yet not be able to be with each other. How loving someone may not necessarily mean liking them.
"- Dex and Em, Em and Dex, the two of us. I had thought that‘s what you wanted too.‘
- It is. It was. Back in the late Eighties.‘
- So why not now?‘
- Because. It‘s too late. We‘re too late. I‘m too tired."
And yet another story about the importance of timing. I am telling you, it all about the freaking timing.
You love me now, I loved you then, can we stay friends? Story of my life.
"Live each day as if it‘s your last‘, that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that?"
Not to mention a great portrait of growing up, changing, resigning from childhood ideals of improving the world or dreams of being rich and famous in the name of finding your own way to live your life without regrets. But that is a material for yet another long entry.
However, as I mentioned at the beginning the ending disappointed me. Not because Emma died. I didn't really expected the happy ending. I expected the true picture of what happens after the "they lived happily ever after". Therefore imagine my surprise when such a true and realistic story went for such a cliche as death of the main heroin and the "you-have-to-live-as-if-she-was-still-here-scenario"
But as they say - you can't satisfy everyone, right?
To be honest, I made two mistakes when it comes to reading this book.
First of all I watched the movie before I've read the book. I knew it would be a bad idea, it always is. But who could blame me: it was a grey, lonely evening and I was in great need of watching a movie that would make me think of others' people problems rather than my own. And there I was crying like a baby, elevated by the genuineness of the story and disappointed by the ending.
The main problem in this case was the scriptwriters' surprising fidelity to the book (which normally I would approve of). Therefore reading the book felt like reading the script of the movie. But again, I have only myself to blame (and maybe the bad weather).
Then comes the issue of the translation - I read the book in Polish. As long as book is written in English I tend to read it in original language, since a lot of metaphors and meanings get lost in translation. However I have received the book as a gift so I made the exception. Apparently I shouldn't have, since I spent half the time wondering "Was it really written in this style or is it a matter of translation?" Because the main feeling I got from reading the book was an instant deja vu of reading my high school journal. Which from my perspective is neither insult nor praise. It just indicates a certain amount of infantilism in the style of writing. But then again, I won't know whether is was intentional unless I read the original. Which certainly I would not bring myself to do in the near future.
"I had a bit of a crush on you. Not a bit of a crush, a massive crush actually. For ages. Wrote dopey poems and everything"
What I like about the book the most was the realness of main characters. Rarely you can find yourself not wanting to be like the heroin but truly finding her features in you. And not the wanna-be-you, but the true, insecure you, which I think anyone has in themselves somewhere, no matter how confident they are. I simply adored all of those young Emma Morley's thoughts of "How should I behave so that he woudn't see I care but still be interested in me" or "How to do that so that it would look like the things they do in great movies". Not to mention all those juvenile love poems. Is it me or everyone thought they would be great poets at the age of 15?
"I love you so much. So, so much, and I probably always will. I just don‘t like you anymore."
And what I not simply liked but loved about the whole story was the bitter sweet picture of Emma and Dexter's relationship. Because honestly, in how many of the big love stories you can read the main hero admitting "My problem is I fancy pretty much everybody!" right after he declares romantic feelings for the main heroin. Priceless.
And I think that the true beauty of this book. It is not the big love story. It is a love story, so similar to many real stories of real people. The story of how two people can need each other, yet not see it. How they can crave each others intimacy yet not be able to be with each other. How loving someone may not necessarily mean liking them.
"- Dex and Em, Em and Dex, the two of us. I had thought that‘s what you wanted too.‘
- It is. It was. Back in the late Eighties.‘
- So why not now?‘
- Because. It‘s too late. We‘re too late. I‘m too tired."
And yet another story about the importance of timing. I am telling you, it all about the freaking timing.
You love me now, I loved you then, can we stay friends? Story of my life.
"Live each day as if it‘s your last‘, that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that?"
Not to mention a great portrait of growing up, changing, resigning from childhood ideals of improving the world or dreams of being rich and famous in the name of finding your own way to live your life without regrets. But that is a material for yet another long entry.
However, as I mentioned at the beginning the ending disappointed me. Not because Emma died. I didn't really expected the happy ending. I expected the true picture of what happens after the "they lived happily ever after". Therefore imagine my surprise when such a true and realistic story went for such a cliche as death of the main heroin and the "you-have-to-live-as-if-she-was-still-here-scenario"
But as they say - you can't satisfy everyone, right?