painful stories
Nov. 18th, 2004 07:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lotesseI don't know that I've ever read a book that hurts as much as Douglas Adams' Mostly Harmless. The pain of that book is like the deep ache you get in your chest when you're beyond crying and it just makes me want to scream and throw things and somehow find a way to make it all better.
I'm an Arthur Dent girl, and to watch him through this final volume is agonizing. He's lost Fenchurch, he's alone, he's stranded, he's crippled, he really really wants to be able to work things out with Random, and he's still so cheerful. So hopeless, but willing to just sort of blunder on, alone and limping, finding his simple joys where he can. The sandwiches alone are enough to make me break down and weep.
There's something amazingly awful about the disappearance of Fenchurch. Fish is my favorite book, largely because of her. Beyond the fact that she's just generally wonderful, there's something essentail hopeful about her romance with Arthur. The idea that no matter how utterly bewildered you are by life, how out-of-place you feel in the universe, there's someone for you. Someone who belongs with you, who loves you, who understands you in an instant better than you've ever understood yourself. Someone who makes everything else okay because you have them and that's all that matters. For Arthur to have that is wonderful, because he would never think that he would.
And for her to just vanish like that, to just be gone and never come back, completely dashes that hope, denies that it exists. There may be someone for you, but it'll never work out. Not everybody gets to be happy. And people will just leave you and not come back.
And when you crash and burn nobody will come for you, and you'll have to deal with crippling injuries by youself, because no one cares and love doesn't last.
It just bloody breaks my heart.
I'm an Arthur Dent girl, and to watch him through this final volume is agonizing. He's lost Fenchurch, he's alone, he's stranded, he's crippled, he really really wants to be able to work things out with Random, and he's still so cheerful. So hopeless, but willing to just sort of blunder on, alone and limping, finding his simple joys where he can. The sandwiches alone are enough to make me break down and weep.
There's something amazingly awful about the disappearance of Fenchurch. Fish is my favorite book, largely because of her. Beyond the fact that she's just generally wonderful, there's something essentail hopeful about her romance with Arthur. The idea that no matter how utterly bewildered you are by life, how out-of-place you feel in the universe, there's someone for you. Someone who belongs with you, who loves you, who understands you in an instant better than you've ever understood yourself. Someone who makes everything else okay because you have them and that's all that matters. For Arthur to have that is wonderful, because he would never think that he would.
And for her to just vanish like that, to just be gone and never come back, completely dashes that hope, denies that it exists. There may be someone for you, but it'll never work out. Not everybody gets to be happy. And people will just leave you and not come back.
And when you crash and burn nobody will come for you, and you'll have to deal with crippling injuries by youself, because no one cares and love doesn't last.
It just bloody breaks my heart.
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Date: 2004-11-19 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-19 04:39 am (UTC)