While not the best book I have ever read, this was a book that I enjoyed. My usual page threshold is around 400 pages so at 590 pages this book was a major (but worthwhile) investment for me. I think that I was able to finish it with the help that Chris was in the UK this week AND our sound system in the living went kapput on Tuesday morning.
I enjoyed the plot, but I also enjoyed the story of the older man/younger woman relationship. While the sex aspect sort of ruined it for me, I appreciated that Lisbeth was searching and in need of a strong “father figure” in her life that just accepted her for what she is. Growing up with a father in the law profession, I think that alot of people assumed that I would follow suit. It took alot of courage to finally tell my Dad that (insert word “boring”) law and law school was not going to be my cup of tea. Rather than being disappointed, he encouraged me to figure out what was in my cup and pursue it. This actually led to my internship at F&M in which I helped the Director of Fundraising at the Lancaster American Heart Association office. This gave me a taste of promotion, meeting alot of people, begging for money…oh sorry, I don’t really do this now (well, sometimes), and getting out of the office shell and into the lives of people. People have often found my close relationship with my Dad a bit odd, but then when people are around us and feel the energy of how we play off of each other and help each other…it makes sense. Reading this book made me think about how my father would react to certain events and instances. Blomkvist supported Lisbeth and gave her a sense of ownership and responsibility which no one else had ever done. Good for both of them!
Another part of my love for reading is that I inevitably hit that one paragraph or sentence that makes me pause, re-read, and ear mark that page to go back to it. It is usually in relation to something that I have been through over these 39 years or makes me think of someone - my brother, Chris, my Mom, Dad, a past relationship, etc. Here is a passage from this book that I want to share:
“She took a deep breath and thought about her mother, whom she had consigned to ashes that very morning. She would never be able to mend things. Her mother’s death meant that the wound would never heal, since she would never now get an answer to the questions she had wanted to ask.”
I’ve thought alot about my mother this week. I attended a funeral viewing for a work colleague’s son this week and this understandably got me thinking about loss and those things that are never said or mended…and I had alot of those with Mom. But life goes on and the wounds do eventually try to heal. Though they are never forgotten, it gets easier with time. I pray often that she sees her grandchildren playing on their playset and takes comfort in the little things that never made her happy here with me…
