A Masterpiece

Boris: I know how you think, or how you like to think, but maybe this is one instance where you can’t boil down to pure ‘good’ or pure ‘bad’ like you always want to do–? Like, your two different piles? Bad over here, good over here? Maybe not quite so simple. — Because, what I am trying to say, good doesn’t always follow from good deeds, nor bad deeds result from bad, does it? Even the wise and good cannot see the end of all actions

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt 

I finished reading The Goldfinch today by Donna Tartt — The Times called the novel ‘a masterpiece’ and let me tell you it was not without reason! It is one of the best books I’ve read, and quite possibly one of the best books ever written (but on the latter statement I am not the right person to judge because I haven’t read any of the greats and thus I can’t pass such a judgement with any merits to my word). She won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 2014 for this novel, which I now understand why, it’s just so well executed from beginning to end. If you haven’t heard about the book before here’s a brief explanatin of what it’s about:

“Aged thirteen, Theo Decker, son of a devoted mother and an absent father, miraculously survives a catastrophe that otherwise tears his life apart. Alone and rudderless in New York, he is taken in by the family of a wealthy friend. Theo is tormented by longing for his mother and down the years he clings to the thing that most reminds him of her: a small, captivating painting that ultimately draws him into the criminal underworld.”

We go on a journey with Theo and it is a very well executed one as well as captivating. I am one of those people who don’t necessarily form a bond with a book even if the writing is superb and everyone is gushing about it, the writing has to strike a cord with me in order for me to become mesmerized; The Goldfinch mesmerized me. Donna Tartt is a bonafied genius for writing The Goldfinch; and so it has planted itself alongside other books I love, books that have struck a (sometimes neglected) cord in me, A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness, Gameboard of the Gods by Richelle Mead, The Horse Dancer by Jojo Moyes and  Just One Day by Gayle Forman to name a few (as you can probably see my taste has absolutely no rhyme or reason) are to be found on that list. 

I recommend this book with my entire, at times erratic, but always loving, heart. 

It’s been good to still be able to read despite the turmoil of the last forty-eight hours, my head has remained blissfully untouched by it all (aside from a headache, which I’ll take over brain fog any day!), but I just tried to put a freshly washed pot in the fridge instead of the cupboard so what do I know?  The pains in my bones and joints subsided and then left somewhere around early morning, finally allowing me to sleep for a few blissful hours, and I’ve just eaten noodles with chopsticks because that’s just what I do and my wrists are still very much intact, hooray! I’m still very much down for the count, but I’ll take whatever babystep I can get and hope that it continues to progress tomorrow. As for the noodles, it was my first piece of food since Sunday dinner alongside a glass of orange juice and I’ve instantly regretted it because as taunting as the thought of noodles was, it tasted vile after the first two mouthfulls. Maybe Wednesday is the day my appetite will return? Because I know this no-food thing is definitely not helping my body recover, but I can’t for the life of me bring myself to eat anything aside from fresh pineapple and some cocoa (dairy-free) chocolate… So here’s to hoping that Wednesday’s the day for food!

– Martie xx

Ps: pick up The Goldfinch, wink-wink nudge-nudge.

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