How to Justly Grieve An Extraordinary Read
Great words never die but stories must end eventually
I turned the final page, absorbed its ending, and then continued to reach for, think of and dream of this book for days after. Realizing after how much the story grabbed my soul and littered it through the world.
This 1300+ page novel I’d slowly inhaled since mid-July, the novel I carried with me read in waiting rooms, took to job interviews, stowed in the car, and over moving house. Lugged it around like an extension of me, feeling it would always be there. This story held a special place in time for me and I can no longer deny its absence.
I feel like an addict writing this, an addict of bizarre and well-written prose.
“I’m kind of a print junkie, I always need to have something
to read with me — a room-service menu, you name it.” — Haruki Murakami
The funny thing is while reading it I didn’t even know how much I liked it or needed it. The old saying I didn’t know what I had till it was gone.
The strangeness kept me curious and the characters lured me deeper. I would say, “this book is weird af!,” and “why is this and this even happening!,” “I truly was not expecting that” or even “what the actual f*ck just happened” often exclaimed after closing the chapter.
That tangent brings me to… How to appropriately grieve a great book. If I feel this strongly for the end of a story…obviously others need to know how to grieve too!
This grieving process runs by the traditional grieving process (so often montaged on TV). But for those heavy reading feels. Or death of story feels should I say.
Now if you think the process of grieving a finished book is a special kind of batshit bananas, please, kindly exit this post as you clearly aren’t suited for it, or haven’t yet experienced this much grief over a story.
To refresh your memory the stages of grief are said to be:
- Shock and denial
- Pain and guilt
- Anger and bargaining
- Depression
- The upward turn
- Reconstruction and working through
- Acceptance and hope
My reader-afied experience.
1. Shock/Denial
Pretending it wasn’t the end, I would refer to the story in conversation and slowly made my way through the quotes I’d marked to write out. I couldn’t face the reality it was over (This sounds so bizarre out of my head).
I know, uber dramatic right?
I still carried this book with me and read through sections I’d read some time ago. Denial of the end. The shock of the story not continuing. I can see this only in retrospect how drastically attached I was.
The disbelief of your seemingly minor loss can be overwhelming. The shock can be painful even…
2. Pain and guilt
Guilt for reading it too fast or too slow or for not reading it – not experiencing it sooner. Pain for it leaving your hands and mind.
Never having anything more on these characters. Bringing up characters in every conversation for the fear and guilt you feel when you start to forget them. Or can’t check in with them. You think of the story in your dreams, and consistently throughout the day. The pain can be light yet everpresent or heavy. Leading to confusion and even anger at this odd guilty loss.
3. Anger and bargaining
Really, I can’t say bargaining applied here (for me) If you experienced it with books, let me know. I guess you could make a deal with Lucifer on how you desire more of the story? *shrug* But otherwise let’s move on to ANGER…
Anger on the other hand we can explore. I was furious at being consumed by this world, furious that I couldn’t know more. Angry it was on my mind so much it was hard to read other things. Angry I compared this story to any other. The loss of a great read is hard trust me, I know. But if you feel anger, know that the story must’ve struck a chord.
A chord of greatness to get you so attached to their world, bravo to the writer, seriously it’s not easy to love every book.
The anger was short-lived but crossed over with …
4. Depression
I refused to read in bed or on the couch for several days.
Why? that’s where I used to read the book in question. It’s silly, trust me I know, I wasn’t ready to hold a new story. The thought of replacing its crazy greatness so soon to quote Holden Caulfield well that, that Depressed the hell out of me.
This phase is inevitable. I hadn’t even woken up to the fact I was grieving this book until this phase. Then all of the phases became clear. I was depressed. I couldn’t sit in bed and soak up the madness anymore. Miserable that I wouldn’t follow along in the characters' lives or watch them contemplate the world.
Miserable it was all over I tried picking up the a-next read, unable to focus. I didn’t read at all the book had quaked my world.
Since I have a tendency to get attached I possibly wallowed here a bit too long.
Hopefully, during this stage, you’re able to escape quicker than this neurotic reader.
5. The upward turn
The pain is fading as is the depression. You’re ready to pick up something new! ( If you’re anything like me). In the end, the loss of this story was really hard, but hey, you are you and when this phase comes I am sure you’ll know what to do.
Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” ― Dr.Seuss
You’ll be on your way up, out out of the dark and hurt, out of the end of the story, indeed. You’ll be able to look back upon this great book soon with a kindly sly smile. Look back and say hey, reading it was right for me.
6. Reconstruction and working through
As a part of this process, I have opted to read as many books by the same author as possible to work through the feelings of finality.
You could do this, it’s handy when like this author they are particularly prolific such as 25 books+ Sometimes this isn’t an option like what if it’s their debut or they wrote only one. In this case… It’s time to dig deep on Goodreads lists, discover similar books. I know I know.
Nothing can compare to this book, but reconstructing your reader self means work. Start something on your reading list or find the novel’s first cousin.
As you begin your next choice gradually you should start to accept the loss.
7. Acceptance and hope
Hey, but you know the fantastic thing about print media? You can always read it again.
There is hope for you yet dear reader. With the weight of fantastic literature scattered through the centuries, I do guarantee you’ll find something this phenomenal again. Keep searching and when you stop looking there is will be another great story for you and for me.
This phase is when we accept that it’s over and find hope for another story that will steal your heart and soul and bind it into an air chrysalis. I hope that magic in this final phase we can find hope for other great experiences. Common magic can be found everywhere. We found it in loving a story and that can grow into hope for more wonder and magic to come.
I do hope that you find hope in future reads and wish you my condolences for the end of this one.
Takeaway
Just this dramatic prolific readers take on grieving a finished novel. It feels so bizarre and silly to say but I couldn’t explain it any other way.
The book isn’t dead I know this. But the story is. But it isn’t? The story lives on in my memory yet does not continue. This story is a part of me and for that, I am grateful.
Reading this post I hope you take away the after-effects of falling in love with a story. To love a fictional world so immensely it leaves causes you emotional pain to let it go.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… stories make the world go around.
Think about it.
They really do.
So don’t let this book be your end. Don’t let it leave you irretrievably lost. Pick up another story if you’re ready. Pick up that story and read the hell out of it. Maybe this story will need to be grieved too, you won’t know until you start.
So start once you’ve made it through! Through each phase with two cares or 200. Stories this great mustn't be the end together we can try again, find a story that we love, again. Luckily throughout life, there should be more than a few, you’ll have to keep reading to find out.
OH! and Remember, the story stays with us in our hearts forever.
The book I am letting go of.
Perhaps I’ll get a copy and re-read it in a year or so…
Bridie Dillon, Smiling Politely.
Mum to 2. Pre-Med.
Lover of words, written and read.