I've just finished reading A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon, who wrote The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. This, his next book, is very different from A Dog, but entertaining in a curious way. It's a family tale about George, who is recently retired when he discovers a lesion on his hip. The doctor says it is eczema; George is convinced it is cancer and slowly has a breakdown, not helped by seeing his wife in their bed with her lover who is an old work colleague of his.
Their daughter, Katie, has decided to marry - although she's not sure if she loves him - a man they don't think is good enough. Their son, Jamie, is heartbroken because his lover has left him because he didn't want him to be invited to Katie's wedding.
And things generally get worse from there. Which all sounds a bit dreary but is very good. The characters grew on me as the book progressed - except for Jean, the wife, who is a bit of a blank character. And if you've ever planned your funeral having convinced yourself that the spot on your leg is cancer, then you'll understand George. And who hasn't?
Before I started reading A Spot, I began on an Anita Shreve book. I read about a chapter a night. the first chapter, I wasn't too impressed; the second was better; the third I didn't like at all. The following day, making the bed, I glanced at the book, and groaned. Then suddenly I thought, 'Why don't I stop reading it?'
That may seem an obvious thing to do but I rarely give up on books. I even ploughed through Midnight's Children, which, apart from the last 10 pages or so, I really didn't enjoy, but which had been given to me by a friend as it was his favourite book and he said I must read it. Oh, but it was an effort and I couldn't tell you anything about it now.
But on this particular day I had a Damascus Road moment. I realised I don't have long to live (I'm not dying - well, I am but not any faster than any of us - but I just mean that I have less time left than I've already had) and my pile of to-read books gets bigger and bigger. Why waste valuable time reading something I'm not enjoying?
It was a very freeing moment.
However Anita Shreve is still sitting on my bedside table looking at me reproachfully. I suppose the answer is to take her back from whence she came i.e. the secondhand book stall at the community cafe. When I can do that, I shall truly be free.
And talking of being free, I wonder where George is.
xx
