A third into reading its 440 pages, I have admitted that this is one of the best books I have read. Even if parts of the epilogue were agonizing to read, I was almost sorry to reach the final page. By this time I already cared too much for the characters, like old friends, which makes parting with them (and the book) such a sweet sorrow.
For once, I cannot bring myself to write a synopsis. So many things have happened, both glorious and shameful that to squeeze it in a few words will be offensive. And the fact that the beauty of this book lies, first and foremost, in its string of words. The book is a masterpiece in a lot of ways – the plot embraces you from the first paragraph, the suspense is laid thick and smothers and the poignant parts are cruel in its emotive intensity.
Carlos Ruiz Zafon now belongs to the stratosphere of writers I look up to. His greatest talent is the way he transverses the spectrum of love and tragedy, of human spirit and weakness. He marries heaven and hell and he is adept at romanticizing despair and desensitizing pleasure so that the reader is left in a highly taunt limbo.
His prose and command of words is enviable. Like a painter who nitpicks his pantone of colors, he carefully weaves his words to create a literary pattern that is inimitable and stirring. Even the arrival of day or night becomes an occasion when subjected to his enchanting style.
My mind is numb from the thousand thoughts and emotions that this book has awakened. I’ve said before that this book hits too close to home. And I am drunk with the realization and inspiration.
Zafon said that each book has the soul of the writer and the souls of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. I submitted my soul blindingly to this book and came out enriched in the process.
I dream that one day I will be able to write a book this hauntingly unforgettable. I have come to realize that this is my only shot at immortality. I will pray to hell, if that’s what it takes.
My sincerest thanks to MB. You are the Senor Sempere to my David, and showing me this book is reminiscent of how David was shown the Lux Aeterna in the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. His life was never the same again. And so is mine.
***
I smiled bitterly, a defeated man pitifully begging a God in whom he had never trusted. I looked around at the holy site filled with nothing but ruins and ashes, emptiness and loneliness, and knew that I would go back and fetch her every night, with no more miracle or blessing than my own determination to tear her away from that infatuated doctor. I would set fire to the sanatorium rather than allow anyone to touch her again. I would take her home and die by her side. Hatred and anger would light my way.
- An excerpt from The Angel’s Game
***
The Angels’ Game is actually the sequel to The Shadow Of The Wind. I already bought the first book but somehow I cannot bring myself to read it just yet. Because the last book is still holding me in a tight embrace.
No comments:
Post a Comment