Today is my little sister’s birthday.
I am seven years older than her. Despite this, we are great friends. She is mature and wise for her years, I am not. When my parents used to go away and leave us to look after ourselves (sometimes for whole days at a time), they used to leave her the money to mind and dole out as appropriate.
She hasn’t lived in Ireland since she was 22 (10 years ago, since you ask) and for a lot of that time, I’ve lived abroad as well. She has lived in England, Germany, China, India and the US. I have lived in Ireland and Belgium. She’s a bit of an overachiever my sister. So we haven’t seen much of each other though she has made Trojan efforts to visit us, even travelling from India for long weekends (if the words carbon footprint escape your lips, may you spontaneously combust). And we are always on the phone.
On Monday, my sister moved home to Ireland. I am so glad that she is back that I am surprised. I had no idea that I was so sorry she was away.
I hope that she has the happiest of happy birthdays and wish to extend a fond welcome home to the returning yank.
NaBloPoMo – I is for Ishiguro and also for Irving
Yesterday, I forgot George Hagen. H is such a marvellous letter. I was a bit disappointed with “Tom Bedlam” but I really enjoyed “The Laments” which was a bit like John Irving only better. Which brings me on to John Irving. I read “The World According to Garp” in my early 20s and moved on speedily to everything else I could lay my hands on but by the time I got to “The Hotel New Hampshire” I was tired of it all and washed my hands of him. Not entirely sure that I am keen to go back in the bear filled waters, particularly when I see that his latest offering, “Until I find you” got dreadful reviews.
I have read “The Remains of the Day” a couple of times, it is cringe making and sad but very real in an odd kind of way. Ishiguro’s “Never Let Me Go” is completely unreal but in a spooky mysterious, science fiction kind of way and I absolutely loved it. I am willing to try others on the strength of it. I should say that I have a weakness for science fiction having spent my youth reading the box of it my mother had brought to her marriage and kept in the attic for her own obscure reasons. I think I read “Childhood’s End” by Arthur C. Clarke a dozen times, lots of Asimov, Poul Anderson and so on;I was bred to appreciate science fiction, it’s possible that you were not. Just a friendly warning on the Ishiguro offering.
Any suggestions?
