Thursday, September 16, 2004

Love's morbidity
I have just had the guilty pleasure of reading Nick Hornby's About a Boy. I've heard some friends talk about it before, but it was only on Thursday that I took it up and, surprisingly, I found it quite funny. The story is about how Will, a man with disturbingly antisocial tendencies who was determined to stay unattached for life, was weaned out of his solitude and found someone he could marry and fall in love with. It is all a little bit corny, I know, but some people may identify with Will, in which case the book is recommended.

Will had never wanted to fall in love. When it had happened to friends it had always struck him as a peculiarly unpleasant-seeming experience, what with all the loss of sleep and weight, and the unhappiness when it was unreciprocated, and the suspect, dippy happiness when it was working out. These were people who could not control themselves, or protect themselves, people who, if only temporarily, were no longer content to occupy their own space, people who could no longer rely on a new jacket, a bag of grass and an afternoon rerun of The Rockford Files to make them complete.Will had never wanted to fall in love. When it had happened to friends it had always struck him as a peculiarly unpleasant-seeming experience, what with all the loss of sleep and weight, and the unhappiness when it was unreciprocated, and the suspect, dippy happiness when it was working.


I must admit I sometimes think along the same lines. And why not? Friends who used to have impeccable taste in music suddenly start humming Brian McKnight and noticing David Pomeranz on the record stores. And you, being the hapless friend of someone in love, had, of course, to endure it. And just when you think you had enough of the mawkish amorousness, then came the oh-so-inevitable break-up: shitty things being said about the other party, recriminations left and right. And you begin to wonder,How could two people fall out of love so fast if their love was in any way genuine? Is it really better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all ? A valid question methinks.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Cf Laura Kipnis in her book Against Love:"You slowly become aware of a muffled but not completely unfamiliar feeling stirring deep within, a distant rumbling getting louder and louder, like a herd of elephants massing on the bushveld. . . . Oh, God, it’s your libido, once a well-known freedom fighter, now a sorry, shriveled thing, from swaggering outlaw to model citizen, Janis Joplin to Barry Manilow in just a few short decades."

Maribel