March 16, 2020 – April 9, 2020

This is a long one.

Yesterday, while I was finishing this book, I was laying in bed with my five-year-old daughter trying to help her to fall asleep for her quickly disappearing nap. She was “reading” this book as well, pointing out the words “and” and “I”, when I said to her that I hoped that when she was in high school she would read this book as well – that it would help her to understand how to be a good person. She of course agreed, and I hope that she actually does.

For book club I voted for this book because it sounded interesting, but like everything I’ve been reading lately it still took me forever to actually finish. But now that I’m done, I’m looking back at what I experienced and wanting it not only for my family and friends but am going to put this book on my “for-the-betterment-of-humanity” shelf.

Unlike most of my responses, instead of just blabbing, I’m going to shove in quotes before I blab, because while I was reading I would just be floating along with the story, and then would be punched in the gut when I got to these words.

“‘Literature should be loved.'” (p. 90)

When I read this sentence I was suddenly filled with excitement. I wanted to jump up and find someone, anyone, to shove this page in their face and say “Yes! This is what it is all about!” I actually tried to share with a friend or family member – probably my poor husband – but they didn’t just get it. Probably because they aren’t crazy like me.

Sometimes, and she mentioned this later on, we put literature on the operation table, and like sadistic mad scientist cut it apart piece by piece, thinking that if we treat it like an object that is only of use to us dead on a slab then we will understand what it all means.

But literature isn’t like that. The pieces are important, but more in the way, an understanding of anatomy can help us connect to another human being. To understand literature, to get the full experience of it, you sit with it, you talk to it, you have a cup of tea, you argue and yell back a forth, and sometimes even cry together. You treat it like a friend, like a stranger you meet at the bus stop, your worse enemy – but you treat it like it is something that is alive. And because it’s alive, it is to be loved, for no other reason than because it’s alive and has come for a moment into your life.

But what about the ones that hurt us so deeply that they deserve what I have designated as one-star books because “I wish I had never heard of this book. I read it and it will be a black hole of death and pain I will carry with me for the rest of my life.”

I’m writing this slowly, pounding out each word like it is a knife twisted into my side with each letter typed.

Those books are to be loved as well, in the same way that all negative experiences are to be loved. They are important and instrumental in creating who I am today – if I am to love myself, I must love all of myself.

Including these books and words.

I’m not sure if I fully accept this, it is again the ideal – but I think I can someday.

“‘The story we have just read,’ she says, ‘can be found in hundreds of versions all over the world, in every country, continent, and culture.'” (p. 124)

First of all, I LOVED the story of Sarann, and not just because I’m a sucker for happy endings and cute love stories, but because of a hobby of mine that not that people know about. I collect fairy tales from all over the world. I have an entire shelf in my room dedicated to fairytale books that I’ve bought or others have bought for me from different nations. They don’t always make me happy because a lot of them don’t have happy endings (looking at you Ireland), but they fascinate me by showing not only what they say about the culture of each country, but about what they say about human nature.

So when I got to this quote about Cinderella, I laughed out loud, because when we were getting ready for our daughter to be born I sat my husband down to watch three different versions of Cinderella. I flat out told him “If you are going to have a daughter, you need to understand this story. Every culture in the world throughout time has created this story. It is important.” So I kind of felt like giving myself a high five when she said the same thing. Actually – I think I will. *high-fives self*

“‘It’s his way of saying that dreams are more important than we can ever imagine – we just need to listen.’” (p. 142)

When I read this I had to stop and look out my window, because I was reminded of a dream I had had a few years ago. It was so vivid that the next morning I couldn’t do anything else until I had written it down, word for word, what had happened, including all the dialogue. I loved it so much I started writing a book – until someone pointed out that I could never share it. Because you see, it was about a young man who had been part of a religious extremist nation in the middle east, not Islam or any real country, just ones that my imagination had created. He had defected and was now attending college, where he meets this girl. There were details that made this story extremely interesting, but I was told that this was not my story to share as I have nothing in common with him. I’m not from the middle east, nor have I ever met anyone who has been part of an extremist group. I’m the girl, she matches my demographic of pasty white nobody from nowhere with no heritage or culture – but I would be eaten alive if I ever thought about trying to get it published someday.

It depressed me enough that I put it away. But then I read this – and this dream and this story came back to me, and it made me wonder if there really was something more to it. I pulled it out and reread it, and it made me smile and planted a seed that maybe I should start working on it again. Not for anyone else. Just because it sounds like a story that I want to hear.

“‘’We can’t claim heaven as our own if we are just going to sit under it.’’” (p. 189)

I have been experiencing a trial lately that I was told several times to just accept and stop fighting because “if God wants it to happen then it will.” These admonitions drove me insane. I’ve always lived by the “pray like it’s all up to God – work like it’s all up to you” mentality, that if I didn’t actually do everything I could do then why would I expect a miracle. I am accepting now that I probably had a healthy dose of stubbornness and control-freak tendencies contributing to my need not to let this situation go, but in my heart of hearts, it really was because I honestly felt like we’re expected to do all that we can do. Anyways, I felt vindicated in my persistence because if Grandfather said it obviously it must be true.

“There is a Cambodian proverb Grandfather loved that says, For news of the heart, watch the face. At this moment, I think it would be more apt to say, For news of a mother’s heart, watch her child’s face.” (p. 197)

If I was to take any quote, any one moment from this book, that I will carry with me the rest of my life and find it coming back to me again and again this would be it. Because you see, the trail I mentioned above has to do with my daughter. I forgot and missed a deadline that has to do with her schooling, and for the last month and a half I have been destroyed by what my mistake will cost her. It isn’t a mistake that will destroy her life, it isn’t like she won’t be able to go to school and I KNOW everything will be fine and she can still be happy and fulfilled, but I can’t stop my heart dying every time I think of this. But now that I’ve done everything I can do I can leave it up to God and beg for Heaven like in the quote before this one. She’s five years old and all she wants out of life is to pretend to be a hyena and watch cake decorating videos while snuggling in bed with her mother. Reading this book at this time, these words, while I was going through this, it’s an alignment that has bound the two events together. These words will come to me every time I see my children suffer for the rest of my life, not because it has caused a new feeling within me but because it has put into pure words the anguish of what it means to be a mother.

“Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out.” (p. 256)

When I picked up this book from a friend to borrow, I asked the most important questions for my emotional safety: does the main couple make it and does the baby die. My friend told me that they stay together and the baby gets better, so I was all set to go, but then she told me that she doesn’t cry at the ending of books very often but that she did with this one.

I kept this in mind the whole time I was reading. You figure out pretty quickly that Sopeap is going to die, and though the thought made me sad it didn’t make me want to cry.

Until I got there.

I was anxious during the whole search, and frankly frustrated/board that it was being drawn out so long.

Until they found her.

Until Sopeap looked at the mother.

Until each of the housekeeper’s siblings and family members came forward to share how Sopeap had blessed them.

Until Sang Ly began reading the story.

“Breath in, breath out, breath in… breath out.” (p. 259)

I was sobbing.

Then that last sentence of the entire book – anything that was still holding me together came rivaling apart.

“Now I’m going to teach a young boy how to write his name.” (p. 264)

I have a lot of friends and acquaintances that don’t have kids and hence have quite a bit of free time. For each one I’m spoken I have recommended this book. And as for my children, I think I’m going to make a new shelf, one called “A Mother’s Wish” where I will list all the books I hope my children will have the chance to read someday. This book will be the first one to go on it.

If there is one lesson I have taken away from this book and that I hope my children will take away as well when they are old enough to read this is that our lives are not our own. Our lives belong to each other. Other books have shared this truth, A Man Called Ove just to think of one, but not like this. I have always had a dark fantasy of my family dying and being left alone and how I would dedicate and live my life serving others, but in this book that is exactly what happened – and it was ultimately what brought a broken old woman back to the part of herself that was her soul. Christ said that if you want to find your life you must first lose it in the service of others. I’ve heard this admonition and seen examples of it so many times in my life, but I can honestly say that now because of this book I am converted.

And that is the point and gift of literature.