Reverberating Afterthoughts
I tried reading Malcolm Gladwell's "Outliers". I skipped some parts here and there because I was getting bored and picked those chapters which titles captivated me. Looks like books with narration are those that keep me glued to them. Anyway, it is an insightful book and raises many things that leave you pondering. On the other hand, I love "For One More Day" by Mitch Albom. You know you are enthralled when you talk to yourself when reading or when your emotions are stirred. Characters and events are described so vividly. The book reflects so many realistic happenings in our everyday lives, so we can totally relate and connect to it. Below are some parts that made me nod my head in deep agreement, admiration, or enlightenment. Parts that made me re-read. Parts that made me think, "How I wish I can write like this."
An account of an accident
Suddenly, two huge lights blinded me, like two giant suns. Then a truck horn blasted, then a jolting smash, then my car flew over an embankment and landed hard, thumping downhill. There was glass everywhere and beer cans bouncing around and I grabbed wildly at the steering wheel and the car jerked backward, flipping me onto my stomach. I somehow found the door handle and yanked it hard, and I remember flashes of black sky and green weeds and a sound like thunder and something high and solid crashing down.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying in wet grass. My car was half-buried under a now destroyed billboard for a local Chevrolet dealership, into which it had apparently plowed. In one of those freak moments of physics, I must have been thrown from the vehicle before its final impact. I can't explain it. When you want to die, you are spared. Who can explain this?
I slowly, painfully, got to my feet. My back was soaked. I ached all over. It was still raining lightly, but it was quiet, save for the sound of crickets. Normally, at this point, you'd say, "I was happy to be alive," but I can't say that, because I wasn't. I looked up at the highway. In the mist, I could make out the truck, like a big, hulking shipwreck, the front cab bent as if its neck had been snapped. Steam rose from the hood. One headlamp was still working, casting a lonely beam down the muddy hill that made twinkling diamonds out of the shattered glass.
An account of a visit to the library
I am nine years old. I am at the local library. The woman behind the desk looks over her glasses. I have chosen 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne. I like the drawings on the cover and I like the idea of people living under the ocean. I haven't looked at how big the words are, or how narrow the print. The librarian studies me. My shirt is untucked and one shoe is untied.
"This is too hard for you," she says.
I watch her put it on a shelf behind her. It might as well be locked in a vault. I go back to the children's section and choose a picture book about a monkey. I return to the desk. She stamps this one without comment.
Quotes that struck me (I did not simply lift from the net, believe it or not!)
"Parents slot into postures in a child's mind."
"Of course, when you're that young, you nest in your parents' plans, not yours."
"Since my father wasn't participating, laughter felt like a betrayal."
"Lowering our heads to the obligatory level for penance."
"Scream the absurdity of the situation."
"When death takes your mother, it steals that word (Mom) forever."
"Small towns are like metronomes; with the slightest flick, the beat changes."
"They (children) think of themselves as a burden instead of a wish granted."
"Getting back to something is harder than you think."
"The more you defend a lie, the angrier you get."
"I drove with my shock and grief in the backseat, and my guilt in the front."
Mitch Albom, nice one.
An account of an accident
Suddenly, two huge lights blinded me, like two giant suns. Then a truck horn blasted, then a jolting smash, then my car flew over an embankment and landed hard, thumping downhill. There was glass everywhere and beer cans bouncing around and I grabbed wildly at the steering wheel and the car jerked backward, flipping me onto my stomach. I somehow found the door handle and yanked it hard, and I remember flashes of black sky and green weeds and a sound like thunder and something high and solid crashing down.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying in wet grass. My car was half-buried under a now destroyed billboard for a local Chevrolet dealership, into which it had apparently plowed. In one of those freak moments of physics, I must have been thrown from the vehicle before its final impact. I can't explain it. When you want to die, you are spared. Who can explain this?
I slowly, painfully, got to my feet. My back was soaked. I ached all over. It was still raining lightly, but it was quiet, save for the sound of crickets. Normally, at this point, you'd say, "I was happy to be alive," but I can't say that, because I wasn't. I looked up at the highway. In the mist, I could make out the truck, like a big, hulking shipwreck, the front cab bent as if its neck had been snapped. Steam rose from the hood. One headlamp was still working, casting a lonely beam down the muddy hill that made twinkling diamonds out of the shattered glass.
An account of a visit to the library
I am nine years old. I am at the local library. The woman behind the desk looks over her glasses. I have chosen 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne. I like the drawings on the cover and I like the idea of people living under the ocean. I haven't looked at how big the words are, or how narrow the print. The librarian studies me. My shirt is untucked and one shoe is untied.
"This is too hard for you," she says.
I watch her put it on a shelf behind her. It might as well be locked in a vault. I go back to the children's section and choose a picture book about a monkey. I return to the desk. She stamps this one without comment.
Quotes that struck me (I did not simply lift from the net, believe it or not!)
"Parents slot into postures in a child's mind."
"Of course, when you're that young, you nest in your parents' plans, not yours."
"Since my father wasn't participating, laughter felt like a betrayal."
"Lowering our heads to the obligatory level for penance."
"Scream the absurdity of the situation."
"When death takes your mother, it steals that word (Mom) forever."
"Small towns are like metronomes; with the slightest flick, the beat changes."
"They (children) think of themselves as a burden instead of a wish granted."
"Getting back to something is harder than you think."
"The more you defend a lie, the angrier you get."
"I drove with my shock and grief in the backseat, and my guilt in the front."
Mitch Albom, nice one.
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