Not A Book Review: The Marble Collector by Cecelia Ahern
it's twelve past forty minutes or so, I have just finished the 'The Marble Collector' by Cecelia Ahern. the winter here in Gujarat is not similar to Delhi's or Calcutta's or like anywhere I have ever been to; it's cooler these days, but not chilling in any way. i have rarely put any heavy warmer in this whole season so far, not seeing any need to do so anyway. the day is hotter than the early mornings and the nights, obviously, but the weather is noway like those i encountered in Delhi in recent years. the large playing ground, the government maintained one lying behind our apartment, is brightly sunlit. a young man is collecting the residual corpses of the kites, mowed down on earth by gory fights up in the sky on the day of Uttarayan, classic kite flying day in this region. the red, blue, green, yellow...colors are scattered everywhere on the ground; the man, the young man is collecting the corpses of the defeated kites. an elderly lady is loitering here 'n there on the same field, holding a large vessel filled with cement, i cannot see her face but in the light of her waggling movements, i feel she's sad and gloomy. the young man is rolling the entangled threads of the kites, the defeated kites. it is a bright sunny midday.
there are books which give us pleasure, books we just finish for the sake of reading and to reach our reading goal (seriously?), there are books we never finish, we hang in the page number 23, 34, maybe 57. and there are books those pace up your emotional intercourse and you really pine for reaching the last page and just after reaching there, you feel jolted, hollowed, restless and calm at the same time, or simply numb. 'the marble collector' has made me a bit so. or is it an attack of mixed emotions? the subject matter apparently is not complicated; a young woman accidentally comes across the fact that her daddy, throughout his whole life lived as a completely different man from the one he actually is. he played and collected marbles; a fascination that outlived his entire identity was suddenly discovered by his only child who also, unknowingly inherited the secretive nature of her father. the man had an extremely earnest and rooted relationship with his eldest brother which eventually led both the men to exchange their identities. the story is about discovering a person's missing identities, which was not only hidden from his estranged wife and daughter but himself. the story is to peek through the multilayered lives we all lead, sometimes or all the time. the twisted human relationships and the primary nature of human beings, that is secrecy, which are two main motives of this book are so complex and yet, well-knitted, that it starts haunting.
what are we? do we know ourselves the best? do we dare to know ourselves in our naked forms? isn't it easier to see yourself in the mirror and find faults, the pimples, acne scars, premature double chins, receding hairlines, blackheads, chapped lips, flaky-wrinkled skin, dark-circles, yellow tooth and so on! excuse me, but do we, standing in front of a mirror, really appreciate ourselves in anyway? for the mirror, they actually showcase us, in the exact form we wish to see ourselves. and the deception starts here.
how much do we need others to know about ourselves? we, carefully choose the amount of our identities to be exposed to specific persons. it's as natural as the fact that we never show others the person we are in our bathrooms! and with time, our seemingly divulged identities get intertwined with numbers of different personalities and become an altogether habitual delusion. the story line gets mingled with various aspects of bonding, be it with persons, or with objects we like, even dislike. 'the marble collector' not only stretches us to the corner of our most uncomfortable self revelations but also gathers the morsels of our fragmented individuality which, without or with our knowledge were sprinkled all over the path of our journeys. and in the end, we remain the ones we would always like us to be, grasping the near ones as closely as possible.
which was started at the Delhi international airport's cozy corner of a book-store with a sudden discovery of this marvel, 'the marble collector' will remain a beautiful reading experience for me for a long run. it is, therefore, a must read for people searching something at some or any point of life!
'The Marble Collector' by Cecelia Ahern, book buying links:
Amazon.in
Flipkart
Disclaimer: this blog has nothing to do with any commercial franchises or anything for any brand/publishing house/authors etc.
there are books which give us pleasure, books we just finish for the sake of reading and to reach our reading goal (seriously?), there are books we never finish, we hang in the page number 23, 34, maybe 57. and there are books those pace up your emotional intercourse and you really pine for reaching the last page and just after reaching there, you feel jolted, hollowed, restless and calm at the same time, or simply numb. 'the marble collector' has made me a bit so. or is it an attack of mixed emotions? the subject matter apparently is not complicated; a young woman accidentally comes across the fact that her daddy, throughout his whole life lived as a completely different man from the one he actually is. he played and collected marbles; a fascination that outlived his entire identity was suddenly discovered by his only child who also, unknowingly inherited the secretive nature of her father. the man had an extremely earnest and rooted relationship with his eldest brother which eventually led both the men to exchange their identities. the story is about discovering a person's missing identities, which was not only hidden from his estranged wife and daughter but himself. the story is to peek through the multilayered lives we all lead, sometimes or all the time. the twisted human relationships and the primary nature of human beings, that is secrecy, which are two main motives of this book are so complex and yet, well-knitted, that it starts haunting.
what are we? do we know ourselves the best? do we dare to know ourselves in our naked forms? isn't it easier to see yourself in the mirror and find faults, the pimples, acne scars, premature double chins, receding hairlines, blackheads, chapped lips, flaky-wrinkled skin, dark-circles, yellow tooth and so on! excuse me, but do we, standing in front of a mirror, really appreciate ourselves in anyway? for the mirror, they actually showcase us, in the exact form we wish to see ourselves. and the deception starts here.
how much do we need others to know about ourselves? we, carefully choose the amount of our identities to be exposed to specific persons. it's as natural as the fact that we never show others the person we are in our bathrooms! and with time, our seemingly divulged identities get intertwined with numbers of different personalities and become an altogether habitual delusion. the story line gets mingled with various aspects of bonding, be it with persons, or with objects we like, even dislike. 'the marble collector' not only stretches us to the corner of our most uncomfortable self revelations but also gathers the morsels of our fragmented individuality which, without or with our knowledge were sprinkled all over the path of our journeys. and in the end, we remain the ones we would always like us to be, grasping the near ones as closely as possible.
which was started at the Delhi international airport's cozy corner of a book-store with a sudden discovery of this marvel, 'the marble collector' will remain a beautiful reading experience for me for a long run. it is, therefore, a must read for people searching something at some or any point of life!
'The Marble Collector' by Cecelia Ahern, book buying links:
Amazon.in
Flipkart
Disclaimer: this blog has nothing to do with any commercial franchises or anything for any brand/publishing house/authors etc.
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