Literary Rebounds

As I turned the last page of my book and came to the end of Pi Patel’s story, I was slightly disheartened to realise that it had taken me seven weeks to finish the novel. At 348 pages, Life of Pi’s length does not rival War and Peace – imagine how long that would take me! As much as I’d love to spend every morning in bed, sipping an endless supply of coffee whilst devouring a wonderful novel, life gets in the way and such simple pleasures become Sunday’s prerogative instead.

In truth though, I’m no speed reader when it comes to fiction. I like to take my time, to re-read passages if necessary to understand and slightly overanalyse every detail that may conceal hidden emotions or motives. I suspect it’s due in part to a literature degree hangover. Having to read up to four plays and novels a week, there is something so delightful about reading at a leisurely pace with no time constraints.

Still, seven weeks is a long time to follow a character’s story. It wouldn’t have mattered if it had taken me seven days or seven weeks to finish Life of Pi, however, because I had spent a far more extensive period of time with Pi and his sole companion, a 450 pound Bengal tiger named Richard Parker.

In total I had spent an agonising 227 days following the unlikely pair as, stranded at sea, they made their way across the Pacific Ocean in a small lifeboat. I had been on their journey; a safe bystander, but a witness nonetheless. That’s what great writing does: it transports us, geographically and temporally.

It’s a sentiment that my friend Rachel described brilliantly: “When you remember any book you've read, you don't remember being sat looking at words on a page. You remember scenes, you remember images; characters, locations, bright and vibrant as though you actually experienced them.”

It’s this immersive experience that I believe lends to the literary rebound effect, in which I just can’t seem to start a book the day I finish my previous one. It’s the equivalent of breaking up with a boyfriend at breakfast and finding a rebound by dinner. Hyperbolic, yes, but what can I say – I bloody love books.

The perfect Sunday, no?

I’m not equating the heartbreak of a relationship suddenly ending to the experience of finishing a book. But there are some undeniable similarities there: investing time getting to know someone and their world, and then not being part of it or following their journey anymore. Much like a breakup, I need time to process the closing of a chapter, before starting one in a new novel.

A great book is one that you simultaneously want to finish to learn the fate of the protagonists, yet don’t want to leave the characters and their quirks behind. The most poignant personal example that I can recall is finishing Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower quite a few years ago on holiday. It’s a beautiful, emotional story that I believe goes way beyond the confines of the ‘young adult’ genre.

As I read the epilogue, I wept on the beach, – my tears disguised by sunglasses, of course – deeply sad to close the book on the narrator Charlie’s life but also ecstatic to have reached the cathartic finale. As I dried my salty tears and stared out towards the sea’s rolling waves I did consider reaching for another book that was tucked away in my bag but thought better of it. Jumping into another world that same day oddly felt like I was being unfaithful to Chbosky’s characters. And so, instead, I laid down for a nap in the warm afternoon breeze, the book in my bag laid untouched for another day. 

NG <3

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