The Book That Took Me 17 YEARS To Read

I finished a book last week that I started more than 17 years ago. No, it wasn't "War and Peace." But I did wage my own war with this book off and on for those 17 years. I originally bought the book as a beach read for a trip to Sarasota Florida. I have a brochure form St. Armand's Circle as a bookmark from that trip. The date on the brochure? 1992.

I may have purchased the book even before then. The author is one who I had enjoyed from a previous work and I probably bought it in a bargain bin somewhere since I was a penny-less college student. And yet, while I loved his previous works, this one couldn't grab my attention past a certain point. Yup. I thought it was a pretty boring read much to the chagrin of my many friends who absolutely loved it.

Over the years I've picked it up several times determined to finish is only to give up in the same place. I just couldn't get in to the story. Some people have been critical of a certain device that the author used with the subject of the story. I found it a little distracting, but that wasn't the reason I couldn't go on. Simply enough, I just didn't care. Nothing really grabbed me and made me want to continue with the story. Meh.

So, about a month ago I picked up the "bane of my existence" and gave it another shot. I took it with me to read at lunch so that I wouldn't have any distractions this time. (Beaches, I've decided, are not the best places to read something of this nature.) Before I realized it, I was past the point that I usually gave up. Oh, I still didn't care about the characters or the story at this point, but I didn't hate it either. Besides, what else is there to do when you eat lunch by yourself. I'm not a snob, but I just need a break from people during my day.

The further into the book I got, the more I became intrigued and found myself taking a few extra minutes each day just to read a little bit further into the novel. And once I realized where the tale was going, I was completely in awe of how the author had built everything up to reach the inevitable climax of the story. Not one thing was superfluous to the story. That, my friends, is some mighty fine writing.

And once I finished that fine piece of craft, I was left with two thoughts. One: I was genuinely sorry that I had finished it. I loved it that much. Two: I couldn't have finished it before now. It took me to get to a certain state of spirituality and comfort with my beliefs in God to be able to be receptive to what the central theme is. I think what the book tells us is that there is a purpose for everyone - some greater than others - but all of us are still a very important part of that design, and that there really and truly no random happenings in our lives.

So are you going crazy yet to find out what I read? I'm sure that some of you probably have guessed by now and are saying "See! We told you that you'd love it!" OK smarty pants. You were right. The novel that took me over 17 years to finish was none other than "A Prayer for Owen Meany" by John Irving. If you've read it, then you know why I love it now. If you haven't, pick it up some time. Take your time. I promise (as so many promised me) that you'll like it.