Around fifteen years ago, one of my old schoolfriends found himself in the unfortunate position of having to vacate the family home when his father died. To help him and his sister have less to shift when they moved, I accepted his offer to see if there was anything I might want to buy from their unwanted baggage. I gave him £100 for a few relatively worthless odds 'n' ends (books, ornaments, etc.) so that he didn't think he was the recipient of charity, and hoped it would be of use in some small way. (He'd already given me a couple of ornaments for free, so I wanted to help him in return.)
Amongst the items I purchased from him was the above book. I bought it for my father who was in hospital at the time, so that he could read it when he got out. He never did. He died not long after without ever seeing it (unless he glimpsed the cover on what turned out to be a brief visit home) and it's languished in a cupboard since the day it came into my possession. Having fought abroad during the Second World War these type of stories were right up his street, but I've never been even remotely interested in military matters.
However, whenever I lay eyes on the book, it brings with it a sense of 'unfinished business' - as if it's waiting to fulfill the purpose for which it was bought, but has been denied ever since. As I said, the subject isn't really my 'cup of tea', but, more and more these days, I'm left with a strange sense that maybe I should read it on my father's behalf - and thus end its years of neglect and abandonment. I know it sounds daft, but the feeling is beginning to haunt me.
Unfinished business, eh? One day soon perhaps.
2 comments:
I know just what you mean, Kid. I've got an old, hardback edition of Jack London's The Sea Wolf which belonged to my dad that I've been meaning to read for the past 16 years. Again, it's not the kind of genre I'm too fussed about ( although I have read a couple of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey novels ) but I feel I ought to read it because it was his and I'm not sure if he did ever read it. As you said, unfinished business...
BTW Those old "St. Michael" ( M&S ) hardbacks were great value. I've got two of them: 65 Great Tales Of The Supernatural and 65 Great Spine Chillers. Both close to 700 pages of classic short stories from the greatest writers of horror and suspense. They really don't make 'em like that any more...
I think there might be a similar St. Michael detective book lying around the house somewhere, but that was one my father got for himself. Reader's Digest did the same sort of thing, but very often abridged the stories, which is not a practice I approve of. Thanks for your comment, cerebus, and for confirming that I'm not alone in having such 'odd' notions.
Post a Comment