Do you ever fall so head-over-heels in love with a book that you just don't want it to end? The characters are now like your very closest friends and the thought of closing the book on them is so very sad. It's terrible having to acknowledge the reality that they really aren't living next door and ready to pop over for a cup of tea at a moment's notice.
Part of the intrigue for me is that this particular book is set in Wales and everything Brit just seems so much more wonderful. When the characters meet up in the local "pub" I just know it is that much more picturesque and cozy and everything-wonderful compared to say, a bunch of my friends hanging out at the local Tim Hortons! And the characters are just so incredibly endearing with their British accents - okay, so I totally have to imagine that since this isn't a book on tape but still, I just KNOW they sound incredibly witty and brilliant even when they're just asking for the loo!
Which has made me really stop and think - what is the matter with my own friends? They are a terrific lot - loyal, funny, kind, thoughtful. But something appears to be lacking since I am drawn over and over again to fictional characters as if they are the answer to my soul's need. If only my friends could stir their stumps and learn to speak with a British accent, or throw themselves madcap into some wild adventure. Perhaps if they could go back in time and create a little intrigue with a dirty weekend that produces an illegitimate child or two. Really, my friends are quite boring now that I think about it. Where is their sense of adventure???? Can they not see the need to sacrifice for the sake of our friendship??? Really!! :)
All this makes me consider, however, how I would feel in real life if "Fran March" (heroine of the above pictured novel) really were my best friend and it occurs to me that the character I am drawn to in the pages of a book would probably irritate me to no end in real life. I mean the whole time I was reading the book, as much as I loved her character, I was given to sudden overwhelming urges to slap her upside the head and say "WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE - your husband is an ass!" And in real life, I'm pretty sure I would not be able to control that urge which I suspect might lead to the end of any budding friendship between good old Fran and I (not to mention an end to any cozy little pub meetings!). And then there's the whole - "I had a one-night stand and have no idea who the father of my child is" blip in the plot line. Oh, it makes for riveting reading (and hours of fodder for horrible day time TV) but in real life I just might be looking askance at any of my friends who actually found themselves in this unenviable position.
So I'm going back to finish the book now that I've given myself a little pep talk about not getting too emotionally involved with fictional characters. But just for the record, I still think at least one of my friends should consider adopting a British accent for the sake of the cause. :)
