I have been riding my scooter; I didn’t lie, but really a good deal of my time the past couple of days spending the Kindle edition of Life After Life. The book review in the New York Times, which I read after finishing the book is HERE and, no, I did not spend anywhere near the price asked for the hardback.

I finished around midnight and then had a bit of trouble getting to sleep as I went over parts of the book in my mind.  I did sleep, however, only to have versions of the same stressful dream over and over again. I believe several times I became groggy and was aware of the real night in the room and then, not making all the way out of the hole of sleep, tumbled back into the depths of the dream.

Of course, for me, these two short paragraphs carry far more emotional force than the length implies.  I spent the time reading intently, probably experiencing and appreciating the book far more than I do  one of my quick, little straight plot stories. I spent the night tossing and turning and at moments, in that basic instinct of reality that hides behind dreams, yearning to wake up, only to fail.

So, is there a point to this post? I suppose not. But, then, I truly doubt there is any point to most of my posts – especially those that hop off into a whimsical world or red yarn haired cohorts and cows. I must state, though, that the AmeliaJake Can’t Stand Joe Biden posts do have a point. I think it is clear.

The NY Times Book Review revealed far more of the plot than I had intended to do in my mention of the book. I got the alternate life idea right off the bat; I did not know how far it would go. Now, if you read the review, you do. I don’t know which is better. It does feel nice to be validated in my evaluation of the writing level of the book, although I don’t need it. After all, I take my Faulkner in small doses with no apology.

I think there is one question not addressed at the end and I think it is an important one. While book club members may discuss it, I have reached a point in my reading experience when I simply accept the fact that perhaps the author reached the decision that the point was the story and if you were left wondering, well, do you really understand how  your TV or atomic fission work anyway? Just let it go; it’s a story, for Pete’s sake.

Now it is time to embrace that ritual which I am certain would show up in any version of my life – the peanut butter foldover.