Grieving is a lot like dealing with acne.
There’s a lot of advice floating around on treating acne, not much of it works. You can use make-up to hide the miserable little zits, but they still show. No two people are hit by the same kind of acne, nor even at the same age. And then, just as suddenly as it hits you, it withdraws.
(None of this is to belittle the grieving process, just give it some perspective. Tell myself, this too shall pass. It may not be as harmless as acne, but it too shall pass. Promise.)
Down the years, I’ve lost relatives and friends to the grim reaper, as is only natural. Each time, I’ve taken shelter in books. Books are always the best. They don’t fumble about with ‘the-right-thing-to-say-under-the-circumstances’, they neither court nor avoid you. They usually take your mind off things, and you can put one down and pick another if it doesn’t do its job. As easy as you please.
These last weeks, I’ve read “The Reluctant Fundamentalist” by Mohsin Hamid, “Gone Girl” by Gillian Flynn, and am now into “In One Person” by John Irving. All very different books, with very different themes, but very strong, unsettling voices, which have kept me from thinking how unsettled I personally am.
What books have you been reading lately? Any suggestions for some out-and-out funny, laugh-out-loud books? I think I need to get me one of those next.