An Impossible Love: The Time Traveler’s Wife

 
I read a lot, and I mean a lot! The only times that I didn’t were when I felt the most disconnected from who I am. Books have been my companions through homesickness, then later through farsickness. Whether I am grounded or 30,000 feet in the air, rare is the moment when I am not accompanied by one of my trusty friends. There are many books that have touched my heart, leaving me broken at the end, sobbing like I’d lost my love, and ones that left me wistful (because it was over) but happy and glowing. I don’t usually talk too much about books I’ve read or ask for suggestions because tastes vary wildly. 

This is an exception though. Maybe because it was that much of a blind path I set down with this one, The Time Traveler’s Wife. I hadn’t heard much of this book, and didn’t personally know anyone who had read it. While flipping channels many months ago, I did feel intrigued by the title of this book (as a movie) among a string of others. I never watched the movie though, and got the book as a back-up read for my recent trip to Bali. I wanted to start December with ‘After You’, but then I knew I’d race through it and want need another one to keep the sadness of not having another Jojo Moyes offering for a while at bay. The Time Traveler’s Wife was my pick, I didn’t even glance at the author’s name, just hit ‘Buy’ on my Kindle.

It might seem weird to many of you, but one of the things I most like about getting a book by an author I’m not familiar with on Kindle is that I don’t check whether they’re male or female. It makes reading the story more interesting for me, guessing who penned those words. So, diligently not skipping the author’s note (no name mentioned there), I started the book. It took just a few pages to know I’d care deeply about this book, that I would be left devastated at the end. After I finished, I did find out that it was written by a woman, and I wasn’t expecting that for some reason, which made me love it even more. 

As is my usual style, I galloped through the story. And then forced myself to slow down, only taking small bites of the book at a time; a feeble attempt to eke it out for as long as possible. Then towards the last quarter, knowing the inevitability of imminent heartbreak, I tried to get it over with sooner rather than later. Like yanking off a Band-Aid.

Oh, this book touched me, it moved me. I haven’t read any others based around the theme of time travel before, so I don’t have anything to compare it to. But why should it be compared? This is only my opinion and my experience of it, after all. Relatable human emotions, flaws and stupidity woven together with the eternal feeling that haunts us all in one way or the other: love.  It made me laugh, cry, and cringe. It made me angry sometimes and it also made me believe. I’m not talking about the concept of time travel and chrono-impairement though. I will keep this book close to my heart. And when I have a house of my own that has more bookshelves than any other type of furniture, this one will be up there with the favourites. Oh, and I wish Audrey Niffeneger would finish writing Alba’s story soon!

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