This is the incredibly sad and moving story of a poet named Thomas, who falls in love with a girl named Linda when they are both 17 years old. Years later when Thomas is much older he will win a prize for a book of poems he has written called 'Magdalene'..."But not before he has known the unforgiving light of the equator, a love that exists only in his imagination, and the enduring struggle to capture in words the infinite possibilities of a life not lived"
I don't think I can put into words yet how sad and full of the loss of love this book has made me feel. The unexpected twist at the end after reading about the life of Thomas and Linda is as shockingly unexpected and quick as the devastating circumstances it describes. In fact it takes only a page for the world to come crashing down and for the realisation to dawn - so much so that as hard as you try you can't understand it at first. It is a strange thing to read a story, to believe in what the writer is leading you to be true; where the actual story being told is of no real relevance to the characters or their circumstances. There is only the sadness of realisation that nothing is real, and that the story being told is simply one possibility imagined by a man who has loved and lost, created using the only tools he has: his words.
I have read a couple of reviews about this book since reading it and none have I found which I feel conveys the message of human frailty that I think Shreve might be trying to demonstrate. They focus on structure, time-line, the 'plot', mechanics, what happens to the characters etc. But for me, the inherent sense of sadness I feel for Thomas, for the life he wanted, the life he could have had but which was denied to him is overwhelming, and remains long after I have turned the final cover, and replaced the story back onto the bookshelf.
For S, x
