Nearly all my favourite books have been presented to me by others – Where i meant to head in my previous post.
Yesterday Terry Pratchett died – giving rise to this note – 66 it seems really rather young. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-31858156 – it came eight years after being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I saw him appear on the news, what seems like not so very long ago, being interviewed on the condition, it seemed a brave thing to do, in pursuit of raising awareness.
I have only read one of Terry Pratchett’s books, tending not to read fiction, he was in fact a co-author and idea that struck as somewhat unusual in itself. The book was lent to be by Oscar and is one off only two fiction books that i have read through and done so with genuine enthusiasm, this might seem like faint praise but considering the underlying disinclination to reading this is quite the thing.
Its not my favorite book, that was book i was given by my closest friend at that time – Harry – that was 1984, a book so great that i experienced for the first and only time that thing other people bandy about, the book they just cant put down. That was a book i never expected to enjoy not merely because it was a book but also, I’d seen snippets of some 70s 1984 movie in Switzerland, on a couple of occasions and while it was in German it was fair to say that it was not the need to translate the lent me to consider that it probably wasn’t all that good. So snippets remained all i had seen.. and as the universal truth goes, anything worth reading will exist in full technicolor visual TV/Movie form..& all the better for it … and if this is what that looked like, well no thank you kindly – so then the book turned up, a present .. presents come with a level of per-requests & really rather glad off and so do enthusiastically offered loans – and that bring me back to Mr Pratchett and my second favorite and totally not 1984 fiction book.
I remember liking this book from start to end, 1984 took some acclimatising too, not Good Omens, for me it held in such great balance the odd and the day to day, the character constructs with the what if, crafting the interwoven character plot lines and bringing them together with balance and humour.
Altering the world, twisting it a phew shades on its axis, imagination laced with humour, valuable skills that make the world a bigger place.
So while everyone looses aspects of themselves to time and there is no value in ranking afflictions, the rapid erosion and distortions of what make you who you are & gives you your connections to the world (my limited understanding of such conditions) seems a most cruel fate.
Aside from enjoying the book, there is something great about being proven wrong, especially when it’s in a negative opinion and something rather nice about friends being able to see your enjoyment in a thing even when you can not. Its a small trivial matter but for this and the enjoyment of the of the book I am rather grateful.