Day before yesterday a very kind dwellar, whose name begins in 'xoxo' and ends in 'uce', gifted me a kindle copy of the book
I was going to start reading it thatnight in bed, but when I stated reading the forward I realised I was too tired and wasn't taking anything in so put it down and went to sleep. So, last night, I wanted an early night, with a view to getting up early this morning. I got to bed by just before eleven o'clock (not bad for a saturday and a bank holiday weekend to boot) very excited to begin the book. I was all set up with a bedtime cuppa and a couple of rounds of buttered toast - Carrot was snoozing at the end of the bed having just enjoyed his nightly dentastix chew. The house was quiet, and the room warm and cozy. I though to myself, 'I'll read for an hour - and that's still a pretty early night for a weekend'. Given I was still pretty tired, I thought I might not make a full hour...
Would anybody like to guess what time I read til? Anybody? No?
Quarter to fucking four I forced myself to put down the kindle and turn off the light. And it was a real effort to make myself do that. I could easily have just kept reading.
Clod, hon, you are one hell of a writer. Several times I had to stop reading for a moment just to marvel at the way you'd phrased something, or the imagery you'd used, or the way you were structuring the narrative - just roll it around my mind a little to savour it, before carrying on. Twice I had to stop for a few minutes to compose myself, because I could just have sat and sobbed - two moments in particular got me bigtime: your realisation at the play park, and when you lay on his bed ready for him to come around from his anaesthetic after having tonsils removed - when you whispered to him. I could have bawled like child at both those points. In fact I'm a little choked up thinking about those moments now.
And you're funny too. Well, not that this is a surprise to any of us, but it so comes through in your writing. You have such a dry wit.
So - I think, Clod, you owe me an apology for wrecking my early to bed early to rise plan for this weekend. How dare you write such a compelling and addictive book.
;p
Seriously though, well done you. I am more than a little bit in awe.
Also - as dwellar there is obviously the added thing of remembering some of the posts you made at the time. Moments of recognition, and seeing how those times fitted into a bigger picture, were their own kind of satisfying. They were also moving in their own way - because they were a reminder that this wasn't just a story of a mother, her son and family, but my friend's story. There were several times I just wanted to give you a massive hug.