Neu gelesen (als E-Book)

Jodi Picoult, The Storyteller

Die Autorin wurde mir von der gleichen Chatfreundin empfohlen, die mir "Jeder stirbt für sich allein" ans Herz gelegt hatte, und jetzt sieht es so aus, als hätte ich eine vielversprechende neue Autorin für mich entdeckt (wenn bloß 'My Sister's Keeper' nicht so teuer wäre ...) Ich konnte mich kaum von der Story losreißen, wenngleich ich im Nachhinein gerne noch etwas mehr von Sage gelesen hätte. Und der Trauergruppe, die nur im ersten Teil erwähnt wird.

There are all sorts of losses people suffer - from the small to the large. You can lose your keys, your glasses, your virginity. You can lose your head, you can lose your heart, you can lose your mind. You can relinquish your home to move into assisted living, or have a child move overseas, or see a spouse vanish into dementia. Loss is more than just death, and grief is the gray shape-shifter of emotion.
.
Marge lets his silence stand; an offering on a pedestal. I know this is because some people come here to talk, while others come to just listen. But the lack of sound pounds like a heartbeat. It's deafening.
That's the paradox of loss: How can something that's gone weigh us down so much?
.
In one leather satchel, slipped into a torn silk lining, was a fountain pen.
My hand closed around it with an ache. Holding a pen felt so normal that my past, which I had surgically separated from the current state of my existence, came rushing back. I could see myself curled in the window of my father's bakery, writing my book. I could remember chewing on the tip of a pen as I heard the dialogue of Ania and Aleksander in my head. The story flowed like blood from my hand; sometimes it seemed that I was simply channeling a film that was already playing, that I was only the projector instead of the creator. When I wrote I felt untethered, impossibly free. And right now, I barely remembered what that was like.
.
Fiction comes in all shapes and sizes. Secrets, lies, stories. We all tell them. Sometimes, because we hope to entertain. Sometimes, because we need to distract.
And sometimes, because we have to.
.
(Jodi Picoult, The Storyteller, 2013)