I am serious, people. The History of Love might be my new favorite novel. I am clearly inching through it, though not for lack of interest. I've been busy!
Busy doing things like baking chocolate cakes in heart-shaped molds that I found in my Grandmother's 'give-away' pile when we moved her to an apartment last year; busy sharing homemade gnocchi and triple-cream goat cheese dipped in truffled honey with my parents; busy expanding my heart a full size during the St. Olaf Choir's power rendition of Persian folk tunes (and of course Beautiful Savior, although I did not cry); busy with dance classes and happy hours, friend visits and movie marathons.
The point is-- I've been busy. I'm only halfway through this book, reading in whatever 10 min train ride I have to myself or reading 2 pages before my eyes blink heavily shut after another whirlwind February day. Meanwhile-- Will has finished an entire other book (although I'm not envious of his finishing this one. I surely don't wish it to end.)
That said-- I will give you another taste. Another taste before the grand finale of my actual review of the book upon its completion (perhaps on February 14th? A day celebrating no other than the very HISTORY that is love?). Some background on the story itself-- The History of Love tells the story of a book called The History of Love and those affected by it. Confused? Me too. The piece below is from the fictional book The History of Love within the novel The History of Love. It tells, quite literally, the history of... thats right... love. Never mind. Just enjoy---
The Age of Silence
from The History of Love in The History of Love by Nicole Krauss
"If at large gatherings or parties, or around people with whom you feel distant, your hands sometimes hang awkwardly at the ends of your arms-- if you find yourself at a loss for what do with them, overcome with sadness that comes when you recognize the foreignness of your own body-- it's because your hands remember a time when the division between mind and body, brain and heart, what's inside and what's outside, was so much less. It's not that we've forgotten the language of gestures entirely. The habit of moving our hands while we speak is left over from it. Clapping, pointing, giving the thumbs-up: all artifacts of ancient gestures. Holding hands, for example, is a way to remember how it feels to say nothing together."
Happy early Valentines, my loves.
ps. The valentines above are in honor of some of the great men in my life. (Both of them are fictional. Clearly.)