Saying Goodbye

“It’s hard to know where to begin,” (Page 194)

I don’t know where to begin myself, in describing this last section of the book. I don’t know which points I should touch upon, which scenes I should express my interest in. Because it’s all different this time. I’ve finally reached an ending, and now that I’m here, I honestly don’t know what to say.

So, I’ll admit that I feel kind of cheated. Itaranta strung us along the entire time, making us believe that Noria and Sanja were going to embark on this wild adventure, finding water for everyone, and possibly changing the entire composition of life for these people. The plans were made. “Everything was ready.” They were prepared to go out into the world, and make a difference. And I was looking forward to that. But lo and behold, Itaranta decides to cut these strings of our emotional investment, because our main character, Noria, dies.

That’s it. She just dies.

I don’t know why Itaranta chose to end the story like this. I don’t think the audience can ever assume the true purpose for an artist’s work. I think what’s more important is understanding how the piece of art changed and affected you, as the viewer, and finding your own interpretation of its worth and relevance.

And, as for me, this book was still pretty amazing. I almost saw it as a series of dominoes, set up close to each other, each event solely dependent upon the firing of the last. And I couldn’t say where the first domino was pushed, what begot this entire experience of excitement and anticipation. But here I am, each one, fallen, paralyzed, and lifeless. The game is over. There’s nothing more to see.

“Outside clouds were covering the sky, and behind them the sky was the color of deep summer, even if we did not see it. Grass grew, people breathed, the world turned. But inside, in this workshop, in these words everything changed: changed what we knew, changed how we felt, changed like a sea that rises and swallows all streets and houses, will not withdraw, will not give back what is has claimed.” (pages 194-195)

And there it is, the purpose of this book, reflected within a series of sentences. Because to me, this book was not about a young woman dying, but about the passionate way in which she chose to live. This was not about the plan that never was, but about the plans that have yet to be made. And outside, the world may be turning around us, seemingly unchanged and consistent in its patterns. But it’s what’s happening inside the little workshops of our hearts, that makes a difference. It’s the fear and inspiration, that justified sorrow, and that unbearable curiosity, that keeps us waiting for the promise of tomorrow. It’s what’s changed within ourselves, as we read this book, that will drive us to stop this turning world, and make it wait a bit, and listen; Listen to our determined pleas of hope, spilling out over the edges, refusing to return the spaces, that it has claimed.

Here I am, looking at a table of scattered dominoes, flat on their backs- without life, without reason. So, what other choice do I have, but to pick each one up, set them against each other, and start again?