My fascination with London has grown after Tipping the Velvet. Like always, Sarah Waters has left me craving for London – the city, its streets, its history, its bridges and its theaters. I cannot bring myself to write about visiting London last year, something seems miserably amiss every time I attempt a description of its big red buses and big red post boxes.
When I was done, I looked up and smiled like I always smile after finishing a book. I can imagine most people doing this. But moments after I had finished reading this, I leapt at Musharraf Ali Farooqi’s The story of a Widow.
I don’t know if it was Sarah Waters’ doing or Farooqi’s but between these two, I find that I have become very susceptible to words. The Story of a Widow has me by my balls. It’s a simple story told even more simply. So much so that I can imagine how writing it must have been annoyingly difficult. The portrait of the dead husband is funny, yes but told so unmarquez-ly that it is refreshing. I am halfway through the book and very often, I don’t even notice the page I am at.
In the middle of this, I have rediscovered what a little delight You’ve Got Mail is. Meg Ryan is my dream woman. Everything she says or does in the movie, I want to say and do. My London madness lent its energy to salivating at New York. I loved everything about the movie, from its little coffee shops to how unbelievable Tom Hanks looks and Meg Ryan’s hair and sweaters and home and books and the little walk she takes every morning to work.
Somewhere in my head, many Meg Ryans are living my life for me in London. The coffee shop scene where Ryan and her boyfriend break up in the most convenient yet totally believable way had me smile endlessly.
I liked how the movie teased us, teased Meg Ryan till the very end–. After falling in love with her all over again, it felt as though I deserved to see her watch Tom Hanks striding towards her in the garden to finally reveal himself. I just checked to recall if I am sober as I have had to check very many times this week, and it turns out, yes – I am sober. You’ve Got Mail is stunning.