Jodi Picoult made me cry snot bubbles ….

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.

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