I still think about The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz. It was last year when I was last happiest. I relive those summer days of bliss, listening to Nana’s “Aitai Yo” and reading Oscar Wao. I had done a lot of travelling for work last year, so I took the book everywhere with me like an essential part of my bag.
I started this book as a book club pick. I wasn’t entirely keen on it at first, but that opening chapter captivated me. It was so creatively written, sounding like genuine journal entries plucked from real emotion. I first thought it was non-fiction because of how it was narrated with footnotes documenting history. It wasn’t. It was just the genius of Junot Díaz and his writing.
I especially remember reading Beli’s chapter and feeling so heart-struck, so resonated by what she felt. The events of her life were exciting, romantic, traumatic, and tender. I recall sitting by a lake, reading about her being kidnapped and betrayed by a man she was blindly in love with. That pain Beli experienced took me by storm; it was as if I was reading words I had written.
Recalling that pain of my own blind affection for someone, I wrote “Maya”, a precious writing journal that captures a point in time that seems melancholy, tranquil, and peaceful, just like “Aitai Yo”. But that happiness faded.
I didn’t finish the book, and I refuse to read on because of what I have lost. That freedom, that love, and those memories stay closed, just like this book. The book itself was great. I loved the characters; they felt real, and there was a pure line of seeing them develop and grow. The book spoke on trauma and tragedy yet still found time to feel amusing, exciting, and impactful. Although I never got past page 167, this book holds a special place in my heart.
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