I read these two books around one and a half weeks ago, and it made me realize how much I’ve been missing out. Not reading during the semesters stopped me from exploring stories which television or movies can ever tell. The details which books can delve into about the characters is simply amazing. What he wants to do, how he interacts, and how he feels. These are things which are explored in a deeper context in prose.
For A Spool of Blue Thread, it really has no plot. The whole book is a flowing family saga about the Whitshank family and their house, about their lives and their fears. Somehow, it entranced me to keep on reading. It made me realize again how intricate the stories must be for me to be here; how my great-grandparents met and fell in love, how they dealt with tragedy and happiness.
It also made me wish I have a better memory of stories. I don’t recall much at all of my early life, as trading stories have never been my thing. Maybe I’ll write them down from now on.
As for the Invention of Wings, I finished the book in the span of two days. That should be enough praise for any book.