If you know me, chances are you've heard me saying indisputably that Silver Linings Playbook was one of the few stories which movie version is way better than the original book. Something about Matthew Quick's way of telling the story of a mentally disturbed adult in Silver Linings Playbook just doesn't fit my liking, though I did feel like the narrator of the story was not a normal person. I mean, Pat does sound like a lunatic at times, but Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock is a whole different matter. Quick's voice as Leonard and the first-person narrator of the story is as troubled and insane as a suicidal teenager could be. I found myself cringed and winced a lot of the time, and my heart pounded like crazy when Leonard was about to do his mission. Long story short, I really like this book better than Silver Linings Playbook.
So, Leonard Peacock is suicidal. He's mature beyond his years, and is probably a genius. He likes to think that he's different--and he is. He's obsessed with Humphrey Bogart to the point that he conversed to his old neighbour, Walt, in Bogie's quotes from his B&W movies. He's obsessed with Shakespeare's Hamlet, as most suicidal people do. He questions God and religions in general, finding it hard to believe why God is so vain and all that questions you sure would encounter once or twice in your life (believe me, I have). He looks up to his holocaust teacher, Herr Silverman, who's easily predicted is the hero of the story, and he loathes his mother for being so oblivious and absent from his life.
It can be very depressing reading this book, truthfully speaking. But it can also give you a peek of the benevolence that even someone who carries a gun with him to blow someone's head off shares with all of us. There are moments when they still dare to hope that someone is going to make them change their mind, no matter how firm they are on the plan. So the next time you see the news about school shooting, mass murder or suicidal people/celebrities, you'd know; that they have tried their best to stay and not check out on us, but our world was not welcoming enough; not tolerating enough, and certainly not accommodating enough, for them to see their hope grow.
If you know me well, you'd probably know that I'm a hopeless romantic, and a dreamer, but mostly a cynic, when it comes to marriage. I didn't grow up as a girl who dreams of a wedding and spending the rest of my life with my prince charming, no. Cinderella is not something my mother read to me as bedtime stories, but rather a fairy tale I discovered in the children's book section. I wasn't raised to be a romantic girl, but rather someone with a perspective, and it was up to the universe what to make of me.
At 21, a lot of my friends and co-workers are already talking about marriage, which is understandably a natural thing. But I am still a cynic--here I am, someone who believes in love, but doesn't believe that it's the very foundation of a marriage because, let's face it: we're too old to believe in fairy tales. Rainbow Rowell's Landline and Taylor Jenkins Reid's After I Do came to the rescue, to help me being less of a cynic that I am. They both have the same premise: a couple who have spent so many years together, ended up questioning their feelings toward each other and whether or not what they have is enough to keep their marriage alive. Because falling in love is the easy part. It's the sugar and icing of a cake that is not probably as good underneath. Because it's the thing after we say "I do" or witnessed as "Sah!" that people called as marriage.
You can go to google for what the books are about, so I'm not gonna waste your time here reading the same stuff they have. What I feel the need to write is this: This book is necessary, nay, mandatory, for the cynics alike me out there, who wants to see what marriage means for a couple who's been together so long that they can't remember how beautiful things used to be, and when it all went wrong. If there's anything that I learned from both of these books, it's this: Marriage is a full-time work. It's not romance. It's not all of those lovey-dovey stories about boy meets girl and fall in love. No. It's a whole different story, and it's hard. It requires your entire being to keep it alive. Sure, love and romance are parts of it; they're good for a start, but they fade, and when they do, marriage is just another job that you go home to after a long day of work.
Tiring, huh?
Well, yes. But guess what? When marriage is for you, you'd rather having this job to come home to than not having it all. It shouldn't be a shame for people who don't think it's not for them--the truth is, it's a thing, the way vegetarian lifestyle is a thing, but it's not for everybody, alright. And it shouldn't be a shame too, if someone was born dreaming of his/her wedding day, surrounded by people and things they love, because it's a thing.
So, you probably wonder, are you still a cynic? My answer is: well, yes. Less of a cynic that I used to be, but still more cynical than people my age and gender in general. I believe that marriage is a tripartite commitment a couple makes with God. It's something sacred, something that's worth fighting for. When you think about it this way, it's a lot less romantic, but it's a lot more worth the energy--unless if you don't believe in God, in which case, I cannot speak for you.
