I finished the book last night (Dearest Anne: A Tale of Impossible Love by Judith Katzir). That sure was a fast, engaging, mind-blowing yet tender (Kindle-)read.
It wasn't impossible love. Maybe transitional love? Or, like every other kind of love, momentary love?
The love was possible. The love was made. The love was executed. The love faded or remained or evolved and changed...can you see me talking through my confliction, as though I am sitting in a counselor's office (for the fourth or fifth time).
The initial hopes and dreams were not even impossible; if both parties were committed to the desire to be together in the future, I believe it could have worked. But it didn't work out because of time and proximity and personal growth.
I really enjoyed the critical essays in the Afterward. It IS frustrating to me that Rivi transitioned into a traditional lifestyle whereas Michaela continued to be driven by some lesbianish need for the worship of inquisitive female students and ended up in a marriage of lies, with an autistic son and a deadly form of cancer. Why could Michaela not have risen above her past mistakes (that is: marrying a man and having a child with him) in order to be her true self?
Oh wait, I know: because Michaela is not Jessica's puppet/invention. She's someone else's - the lovely and talented Judith Katzir's. Funny how I want Rivi and Michaela to be just as I want them to be and do just as I want them to do. I guess that's why I was frustrated and annoyed as I read the story: because I really wanted to be reading another story - the story of the Hecate and Aphrodite. When Rivi scolds Michaela in the end for what she did, I was just annoyed with her. What a hypocrite. I would never scold my crone for what she did. Only for what she did not do. In either case, in either story: It was not an impossible love, but rather an imperfect love. And what other kind of love is there...
I don't get the whole need to see what it is like being with a man. Rivi bought into the idea that every teenage girl needs to try a certain appendage once. BLAH! I guess she was more like "Every Teenage Girl" than she thought...or than I thought at the start of the book. I never felt a desire or need to try it out with a penis. I guess that's why I'm happy to call myself a LESBIAN!!! I'm not sure there was ever a person so in love with one measly and meaningless label as I am with LESBIAN. TA DA!
Aside from the plot-line, there were certainly many, many other clever and honorable merits to Katzir's lovely work of art. And that's not even mentioning her poetic, romantic, beautiful writing and character development. I tend to focus on the plot and the writing, but other devices deserve mentioning...
It wasn't impossible love. Maybe transitional love? Or, like every other kind of love, momentary love?
The love was possible. The love was made. The love was executed. The love faded or remained or evolved and changed...can you see me talking through my confliction, as though I am sitting in a counselor's office (for the fourth or fifth time).
The initial hopes and dreams were not even impossible; if both parties were committed to the desire to be together in the future, I believe it could have worked. But it didn't work out because of time and proximity and personal growth.
I really enjoyed the critical essays in the Afterward. It IS frustrating to me that Rivi transitioned into a traditional lifestyle whereas Michaela continued to be driven by some lesbianish need for the worship of inquisitive female students and ended up in a marriage of lies, with an autistic son and a deadly form of cancer. Why could Michaela not have risen above her past mistakes (that is: marrying a man and having a child with him) in order to be her true self?
Oh wait, I know: because Michaela is not Jessica's puppet/invention. She's someone else's - the lovely and talented Judith Katzir's. Funny how I want Rivi and Michaela to be just as I want them to be and do just as I want them to do. I guess that's why I was frustrated and annoyed as I read the story: because I really wanted to be reading another story - the story of the Hecate and Aphrodite. When Rivi scolds Michaela in the end for what she did, I was just annoyed with her. What a hypocrite. I would never scold my crone for what she did. Only for what she did not do. In either case, in either story: It was not an impossible love, but rather an imperfect love. And what other kind of love is there...
I don't get the whole need to see what it is like being with a man. Rivi bought into the idea that every teenage girl needs to try a certain appendage once. BLAH! I guess she was more like "Every Teenage Girl" than she thought...or than I thought at the start of the book. I never felt a desire or need to try it out with a penis. I guess that's why I'm happy to call myself a LESBIAN!!! I'm not sure there was ever a person so in love with one measly and meaningless label as I am with LESBIAN. TA DA!
Aside from the plot-line, there were certainly many, many other clever and honorable merits to Katzir's lovely work of art. And that's not even mentioning her poetic, romantic, beautiful writing and character development. I tend to focus on the plot and the writing, but other devices deserve mentioning...
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