It was my destiny to read this book. Somehow I kept coming across it: a friend of mine, my ultimate book-buddy wrote me a couple of weeks ago, and said that this book was “perfection itself” (or something like that); I visited my old dorm, where the library had just acquired it; a book-blogger I met back in April at a book launch sang odes about it on Facebook; I found my best friend reading it last week. So, yeah – I simply had to read it.
It’s hard for me to talk about this book – have you ever read something you just opened, and it got you under its spell instantly? Got a grip on you that wouldn’t release? This book was just like that for me. For those about twenty-four hours that took me to read it, I was under this… this dome of melancholy, completely in sync with the narrator of the novel, who, even when appears semi-happy, is in fact in some kind of blues.
Charlie is broken. We don’t get to see where the cracks exactly are, but it’s still true. He’s alone, he’s an out stander, an onlooker, somebody who puts his own wants and desires aside to please people, to be, to some extent, loved – he’s a wallflower. When he loves, he loves with his whole heart – there’s nothing to stop him, but when he’s hurt, he’s hurt badly. He wants to be accepted, understood. A kiss on the cheek, an ‘I love you’ from his sister or mother makes his day. He’s this simple – and yet, he’s much more complicated.
See what I am getting at?
Another thing about this book is that it doesn’t sugarcoat things – there are sex, booze, drugs and Rocky Horror Picture Show. Amongst other things. Not that it’s a problem, I am only warning the potential, more sensitive future readers.
And thinking about it, the reason it got me so much might be that it’s addressed to me – and to you, and anybody who reads it. In fact, it’s an epistolary novel, meaning that it is composed entirely of letters, all addressed to Charlie’s ‘Dear friend’, who’s never named. We have to assume that this friend is us. Through these letters we can see not only how his life, but how his style unfolds: in the beginning, the letters are rather unfocused, leaning towards stream of consciousness, but as we read on, they become more focused, which is another nice touch to the novel.
I don’t want to go on and on about it, so I’ll just say one more thing: read it. Really, I am not joking. Go to the closest bookstore, library, friend who has it, and read it. It’ll worth your time.
And one more question: do you participate in life?
P.S.: Funny thing that the book’s author also wrote the screenplay for one of my favorite movies ever: RENT. You should watch that, too. Not joking.
Summer Reading Project Progress: 899/10000
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