I used to be in a book club.
The book club members tended to dash into Exclusive Books/Wordsworth at 4pm on the day of the book club meet, with the result that we often ended up with Douglas Kennedy and Jodi Picoult books – what ever was popular and available, and recommended by the person at the help desk of Exclusive Books/Wordsworth.
I felt peer pressure and even bought a Jodi Picoult book – My Sister’s Keeper – for the book club to read.
I never read it. I had read three Jodi Picoult’s and sensed a trend/writing formula, and unfortunately was able to easily gauge the story by chapter 3 in each case. This made the stories interesting in concept, but highly forgettable in execution.
The result was that I built up a fair loathing for Jodi Picoult and her work. I cannot argue that she has many fans and I am in no way saying she is not a great wordsmith, but her books have zero appeal to me.
On Friday I was doing some work, and flicked the television on – I saw My Sister’s Keeper was the movie and it was starting.
I thought, well that is fine I have work to do, so I will leave it playing in the background. You know, glance up at it from time to time.
Great plan – again, great in idea, not so much in the execution.
To say I cried would not be doing it justice. I did ugly-mouth-agape-in-gulping-crying whilst large pools of tears ran down my face. I stopped working and just sat there engrossed and wiping snot up my shirt sleeve.
My water-resistant mascara and eyeliner proved once again it was water-resistant and not water proof. I did panda-bear eyes.
I missed the end as I had to dash to a meeting, but I cried for about 45 minutes after I had turned the movie off.
Today I flicked the television on, and caught the last 20 minutes of it.
I had snot bubbles coming out of my nose within minutes. I think the last time I cried so hard was when I lost a tampon and knew the only way to retrieve it was to visit my GP. Who was a male!
It really was an epic cry! It was a totally get caught up in this family sort of movie. I cried for all of them, I cried all the time.
How do people cope when a child of theirs is dying, and they are powerless to change it?
I say a quiet prayer in hope that I will never be faced with this experience. I have no idea where parents (and siblings) find the strength.
PS: Jodi Picoult if you had anything to do with this screen play or the writing of this movie, I apologise for thinking your books were crap. I seriously misjudged you.
