November 7, 1997. Friday. The first week of the second semester of my freshman year in college ended quietly. I went home from school a bit tired and not yet completely out of sem-break mode. But I don't really remember what happened that night. I supposed I watched TV, overslept, and woke up mid-morning on Saturday like I always do, even now.
At the other side of the world, in England, a group of people convened in their humble book club's weekly meeting. The topic: a little known novelist JK Rowling and her debut novel.
At yet another
other side of the world, Emily Gold, 17, killed herself, and nobody saw it coming: not her parents, nor teachers, nor friends. She was beautiful, intelligent, and gifted in the arts. Her Arts teacher said a student like Emily shows up once every ten years or so. Yes, nobody saw it coming, except for her boyfriend, Chris Harte, 18, next-door neighbor and life-long friends (practically since birth). Their parents and their small community all but expected the two to end up with each other for the rest of their lives. Now Emily is dead, and Chris badly wounded after an apparent botched suicide pact. Nobody saw it coming. Later, evidence surfaced that it was Chris who killed Emily. What a tragic end to an almost fairy tale story. Not even both set of parents saw this coming.
That's the book posing for a picture in front of our porch back in Cagayan de Oro.
This was the only book that I finished reading in 2009, not because all other books sucked, but because I haven't really been reading
a lot last year. I always found an excuse to put off reading. I bought this mainly in part because I liked "My Sister's Keeper", a movie adapted from one of Jodi Picoult's novel of the same title. I could have chosen to buy any of Picoult's work and I probably would enjoy all of them. But for some reason I chose this as the first of her novels that I would read. And I wasn't disappointed. I read this in two sittings during my Christmas vacation. Picoult told the story in an alternate past and present format throughout the book and I found it hard to put down with every chapter egging me to read the next one without delay till the end to find out what really happened to the botched double suicide pact or if it was indeed murder. Picoult doesn't seem to have trouble taking a what could be described as a fairytale premise and turning it into a horrible tragedy and leaving me satisfied in the end despite the big revelation.
"The Pact" and his friends in my bookshelf back in Cagayan de Oro.
