My Under the Whispering Door Story
I've only watched the movie About Time once. Michael and I sat down one night to snuggle up for a cute romantic comedy with a time-travel twist. What could go wrong? For us... literally every part of the movie. If you haven't watched it, here's my warning: we sobbed uncontrollably for at least half the movie. It wasn't a nice healing cry, it was a torturous reminder of mortality. Under the Whispering Door is the About Time of books, for me.
This book fucked me up.
For someone with my brand of anxiety, it's not beneficial for my mental health to be reminded that we all die. This is the undeniable truth of being a human. Sometimes I wish I believed in the things that religious folks hitch to their proverbial postulations: heaven, any kind of afterlife, peace. But I don't think I do. This book reminded me of that with every passing chapter (and those chapters are long).
I loved Klune's The House in the Cerulean Sea. It was charming, precious, and says something important. It is full of hope, love, and acceptance. This book is grief. Klune acknowledges this at each end of the story. I was naïve to think that his book about grief wouldn't knock me off my feet. his approach to such a tender topic is incredible. If it wasn't well executed, I wouldn't have found myself uncontrollably sobbing for hours after I finished it.
I'm writing this the next day. My eyes are puffy, and I'm exhausted. Yes, your mileage may vary, but I don't know if I would've read this one if I'd been warned. I don't feel comfortable rating or recommending this one. Everyone deals with grief and death differently.
Yes, this book is a romance. Yes, this book has some delightful characters. Yes, this book has a dog and a dedication to tea that rivals A Psalm for the Wild-Built. And yes, this book has a "happy ending".
But it's going to stick with me forever, and I'm still not sure if I'm happy about that.
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