The Reader

Last night I read the book The Reader by Bernhard Schlink. I read the whole thing. Well, close. I had started it before the movie came out, probably a year ago and read some of the juicy stuff and put it back down. That is how I read, not fast, not all at one time. I knew this was a deep book about Nazi concentration camps and forbidden love, and I didn't have the room in my life for more drama. So, when I couldn't sleep last night and I didn't have a fun fantasy, kick some dragon ass book to read I picked this back up. I read the whole thing. It was an easy read and that disappointed me. Why wasn't I crying and laughing and living with these characters? The book cover still looks new. What the hell, what a waste, he could have expanded these metaphors and gone deep into his feelings for her. Why didn't he explain the trail and her inner thoughts?

Then I fell asleep thinking about it and then I dreamed about it, then I woke up thinking about it. Then I took a shower and stood in the water thinking about it. Then, just like Micheal's revelation, I rode my own literary bicycle through the hills in the story and discovered for myself; She loved him. This was written in the same numb gray style that clouded the persecutors of the Jews. Wow! This was a different angle at a story in history that we have seen over and over and expect to see piles of dead bodies and we do not cringe like we did the first time we saw it. It brought out questions of morals and guilt and links it to our own relationships in today's world. It made me think about my own marriage and the things you hold back from loved ones.

Now, do I see the movie? Will it change the way I discovered things in the book? Was that book really short, because as I play it out in my mind I see more and more to each scene?