I've written about my love of narrative before, and I am sure I will again. My love of reading is genuinely no surprise.
My current 'favorite' book/series is Catherynne Valente's Fairyland series (I have written about them before). And they are wonderful. And I love them. They follow September through Fairyland. (Except for one book, which September eventually shows up in. And the prequel novella, which, chronologically, predates her.) And I shan't ruin them for you. Because I assume you will all go here to read the prequel, if I've not already forced you to.
There are some books that one can finish and move merrily along one's way. Then, there are books one finishes and must redirect one's course slightly. Then, there are books that make one stop and contemplate all of life and what one thought about it. And then, my friends, there are books that not only make one reevaluate life and what it means, but also force one to physically and mentally stop and come to terms with life After.
This doesn't just happen with books, but I find that it happens most often with them.
As you may have guessed, Fairyland is the last of those options. Prior to finishing the last book, Fairyland was in the third category. I wrote a term paper on the first book. And will recommend them to any one who will listen. As I am now doing. But, upon finishing the series, I had to sit almost completely still and my only reaction was "what. how. now what."
There is a Jamie Craig quote that I like: "That moment when you finish a book, look around, and realize that everyone is just carrying on with their lives as though you didn't just experience emotional trauma at the hands of a paperback." I've never read any of Craig's work and the book I finished was hardcover, but that phrase is apt.
The narrator tells us, near the end, that we all know is coming, after all, books run out of pages, that "Endings are rubbish. No such thing. Never has been, never will be. There is only the place where you choose to stop talking. Everything else goes on forever." Which, to be fair, is not a new concept. But it is so eloquently, achingly put that it is almost painful. And so, September's story is not over, I just won't hear the rest. There is always more, and none of us get to know every story.
