Choosing Nothing Over All

Just finished reading The Kiss by Kathryn Harrison, a memoir of the author's affair with the father with whom she didn't grow up. It was exhausting. Don't get me wrong: it was eloquent and captivating. But it was also emotionally draining for me. It stirred something inside me so deep i cannot articulate.

Harrison's storytelling skills are solid. The dynamics among the 3 main characters are fascinating. There's pain on every page, and yet not for one moment does she dramatize. I'm able to relate and commiserate on a visceral level. It is a tale of the loss of volition, power struggle and possessiveness. But most of all it is a tale of sadness and what it can do to a person.

For the first 30 pages or so, i kept getting the feeling of déjà vu i could not shake. By the time i was half way through it was obvious that i had read this book before. Never had i read a book with almost no recollection of it. That alarmed me. I kept reading because i needed to know what happens next, how it ends. When i reached the end, i sighed. And now that i'm finally done, i feel a little heartbroken and empowered all at once, and i don't think i'll ever want to revisit.

There are many lines in the book that resonate with me that i could quote, but i refrained. Kinda don't see the point. However i will state my favorite scene: when Kathryn (oddly i observe her name is hardly mentioned in the storytelling. Obliteration or absence of one's sense of identity well played!) finally speaks with a therapist, the latter betrays no surprise. When pressed, he even displays boredom, as if uttering, "Is that all?" That's a joke i have made pertinent to myself. It just goes to show that a lot of us suffer unspeakable pain of sorts and even when we tend to feel alone in our suffering, we are never.

Today AC turns 6. I find it curious I should finish the book on this day.