“What you end up remembering isn’t always the same as what you have witnessed.”
My Rating: *5 Stars*
It was only when I finished reading the last few pages, I started recollecting all that I read…
Pretty chaotic, huh?(Ya, I’m just reminding myself.)
There was so much between those lines and this book touched me on so many different levels that I don’t know where to start. I have so many things to say.
No, I’m not gonna tell you anything about the plot, seriously no.
But again what a wonderful book it is, I’m impressed.
When I started reading this book, I was not very much into it but after reading 13 pages, I found myself glued to the pages.
You know how they say, when you remember a past event, you’re actually remembering the last time you remembered it.
We can never really forget memories, sometimes they are hidden beneath other memories, sometimes we don’t even know we have those memories until someone makes us remember them. Then there are memories which don’t hold any importance in our lives, but sometimes they uncover themselves and help us make sense out of thing.
Sometimes small things make us remember something from our past. It can be a voice, smell, some sound, a place, or even a touch, sometimes they bring back all the memories which we never knew we know, and sometimes these things make us remember important event of our lives– About someone we met years ago, or a place we traveled long back, it can be anything.
“How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life. Told to others, but—mainly—to ourselves.”
In this book, we have an unreliable narrator, Tony. Now you may ask, “why am I calling him unreliable?”, because this person is telling us about the events that happened in his past, he is remembering his past. But the thing is sometimes people tend to mold things, they mold their life stories according to what suits them, yes they do. And sometimes time affects our memories, sometimes they fade away and sometimes we don’t remember the accurate account of an event. And here in this story memory is the hero.
“It strikes me that this may be one of the differences between youth and age: when we are young, we invent different futures for ourselves; when we are old, we invent different pasts for others.”
Tony is a pretentious, self-indulgent male, who always wanted things to turn the way he wanted them to be. But, as it always happen, they didn’t. His life didn’t turn out the way he wanted.
“This was another of our fears: that Life wouldn’t turn out to be like Literature.”
The ending gave few details which were disturbing, now that I think of them. Sometimes, the book was depressing, sometimes I found the narrator annoying because he is self-centered and self-righteous.
I liked how events unfolded, I really liked looking back at time and how the writer tried to connect all the dots in the last passage, every word in his book counts. This book made me think forward and backward, just to make the sense out of the ending.
I totally recommend this book to everyone.