I just finished reading Unaccustomed Earth, a collection of short stories by Jhumpa Lahiri, and in light of yesterday's post about depression, I thought I'd share this little bit from the story "Year's End."
In brief, it's about a young man whose father has recently remarried and the awkward and reluctant relationship the young man forms with his two new step-sisters, both of whom are much younger than he is. His mother died a few years ago and their father has died and so they are tied together in the sense of loss and being lost that only losing a parent as a child can engender in you.
Lahiri puts it so beautifully when she describes the young man's realization about the girls:
"The knowledge of death seemed present in both sisters--it was something about the way they carried themselves, something that had been broken too soon and had not mended, marking them in spite of their lightheartedness."
When I read that I had a "wow" shock of recognition. I've never heard it said in exactly that way and it makes all the sense in the world to me. My father died when I was nine and it's affected my entire life since then, resulting in an underlying feeling of having never quite mended. Sigh. I feel like I should attempt to say something meaningful or insightful but I don't know what else to say. It is what it is and I am who I am. I do find some comfort in this story, though. It really feels like she's spoken for me.
Elsiane--"Mend (To Fix, To Repair)" mp3 off Hybrid (buy)
I have a subscription to the New Yorker and I'm WAY behind. I just finished
the last issue of 2007 and it was the Winter Fiction issue and "Year's End"
was (appropriately) the very last story I read. It was such an emotionally
rich and complex story! I wonder how much she changed it from that version
to the version you read...
hmmm, i wonder how much it changed as well. the book was published in 2008,
so maybe by then she didn't change it much?