Book Review: One Day by David Nicholls

This novel is yet another in the alarming trend I've begun of reading books that hit entirely too close to home.  Yes, One Day is on the surface a love story, a romance between two people told over twenty years, but it's about so much more than that.  Nicholls examines the condition of young people in the modern age with such stark honesty and unapologetic truth that, for the recent college grad only beginning to embark on the "rest of my life" path, a lot of the story (most particularly the parts that aren't intended as tragic) read with a profound sadness.

Emma and Dexter officially meet on the day of their graduation from university, July 15th 1988.  They spend the next 24 hours getting to know each other (no, not in exactly the way you're thinking, though there is some snogging), and their relationship is revisited on July 15th of each subsequent year, during which they always have some sort of significant interaction or event taking place in their respective lives.  Each of them veers down a misguided path at different points, and though many readers would probably jump to vilify Dexter for the caddish drunk he becomes in his late twenties, there is something even more regrettable about Emma's descent into boredom and complacency, her refusal to take chances and for a while, to pursue her true ambitions.  Both characters spend much of the story lost in this manner, unsure of themselves as they attempt to navigate the transition from adolescence to adulthood with little initial success.  They are utterly miserable and you feel miserable reading about them, especially as it becomes clear that the lone bright spot in either of their lives is the other, a fact that they spend entirely too many pages refusing to realize.

There is also an overarching theme of wasted time, and the opportunities we miss out on in life and in love.  We see several moments when Dexter or Emma very nearly takes the plunge, trying to change the status of the relationship, but they are foiled again and again by their circumstances or their own respective cowardice.  This is a story that, contrary to what the advertisements for its film adaptation (more on that in a bit) would have you believe, does not have a happy ending.  What I loved so much about it though was that I didn't want it to.  This story has a painfully real ending, and it is everything these two characters both do and don't deserve.  Nicholls takes us on a journey that we can empathize with because it could so easily be my story, or yours or his or hers.  It's universal, this struggle to be that we watch Emma and Dexter endure, and the book concludes on a bittersweet note, one that has stuck with me (and, I expect, many other readers) as a lesson, or perhaps a glimpse of what our own futures might hold if we aren't careful.  One Day is a snapshot of life as most of us know it, and it is a better story for making no apologies for that.

As for the film adaptation, which opened in theaters yesterday, I am definitely interested to see how it pans out.  I can already tell where there might be some creative liberties taken, and those changes may or may not translate well on screen.  There are several factors, however, which encourage me to think it might be a reasonably good adaptation:  the performances of Jim Sturgess and Anne Hathaway, both of whom are more than capable of delivering the kind of emotional connection this novel begs; the fact that Nicholls himself wrote the screenplay, thus hopefully ensuring that the original intent of the story will not be lost; and most importantly the fact that this film is being released by Focus Features, which for me is as good as a guarantee of it's quality.  Some of the reviews I've read (I don't like to read too many going into a movie, at the risk of biasing myself) have been very negative, while others have indicated that it might be right up my alley.  I am determined to find out for myself, hopefully soon, and will have my full thoughts here once that happens.  In the meantime, I encourage anyone looking for a heartfelt, genuine read to give One Day a chance.

What a Difference 4 Years Makes

In thirteen days I will be on a plane.  I will have gotten my diploma, a piece of paper that verifies how much debt I've accrued and how many dry dusty books I've read.  I will have said goodbye to the most wonderful people I've ever met, many for the last time.  And I will be closing this chapter of my life, stitching it neatly shut behind me without knowing what's ahead.

When I left Chicago for Seattle four years ago, I was bursting with hope.  I'd been trying to break out of the place and the life I'd known for so long, and here was my chance, finally.  I was ready for anything, good and bad.  And I've been lucky, because most of it, the vast majority really, has been good.  No, good doesn't do it justice.  It's been tremendous, life-changing, and educational in more ways than I ever expected.  I took a risk and, in a rare twist of fate for me, it paid off.  It paid off and I am so grateful it did.

Yes, I gave some things up to come here.  But the things I gave up then were all maybes, all possibilities, all question marks.  I might have found what I was looking for if I'd stayed, but probably not.  People looked at me strangely, didn't understand why I thought I needed to leave, to strike out on my own.  Some days even I didn't understand why, I just knew it was something that had to happen.  I didn't want to spend my life wading among the question marks, and wake up one day with a whole lot of would-haves and should-haves.

What I'm walking away from now is much different.  There aren't any maybes here, not really.  There are certainties, and a lot of them.  I could be happy here for the rest of my life.  I would get to keep the friends who have become my family.  I would feel safe, surrounded by the amazing landscape that makes up this place.  I would get to continue being this version of myself.

But the restless part of me recognizes that for the disadvantage that it actually is.  The wanderer inside of me isn't ready to stop moving, to settle for what I've found at 22, even though I feel more alive here than I ever have.  There's an optimism in this next step, the biggest question mark I've yet encountered-- if four years here can change me so much for the better, who's to say I can't find even more in the next place I decide to call home?  And even if that's not on the table yet, that feeling of instability, of not knowing quite what's going to happen tomorrow, it pushes me to strive for more, to be better.  It's the reason I've taken so long writing my novel while I've been here-- I didn't need to use writing as my escape nearly as often as I used to.  But do you know what?  In the weeks leading up to my departure, I've been more dedicated to it than ever; some part of me feels like if I can just finish telling the story, everything will be okay.

And really, that's been the case my whole life, probably always will be.  As long as I can write, as long as I can keep telling stories, things will turn out all right.  That, at least, has never been a question mark.

Getting Nostalgic: Six Weeks Left in the City of Rain

"You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place, like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and place because you'll never be this way ever again."

This just sums up so much of how I feel about life right now.  I've given myself an official deadline:  if I don't have anything lined up in the job department by Friday, I have to book a flight to Chicago (my apartment is kicking me out the day after graduation).  Since I haven't really heard much of anything about jobs, it's pretty unlikely at this point that I'll have anything resembling an offer by the end of the week, so I've started preparing myself for the inevitable.

And then I found this, and it expresses my thoughts exactly.  I've been thinking a lot about how much I'll miss all my friends here, especially since we're all going in such different directions and may not cross paths again any time soon.  But I think I really am going to miss the person I am here; and more than that I'm scared of losing the progress I've made.

Seattle-Andrea is a person I like very much.  She's got a lot of determination that she just didn't have four years ago; she's loved and she knows it, and people trust her more than she probably deserves.  Chicago-Andrea?  She's kind of a fuck-up, to be honest.  She doesn't believe in herself and she doesn't go after the things she wants, mostly out of fear.  I don't want to fade back into existing as Chicago-Andrea, because then what have the past four years been worth?

I'm going to try to embrace it, because what else can I do?  I'll spend the summer writing stories for my portfolio and submitting stuff for publication, searching for jobs, and avoiding the bad habits I invariably fall into whenever I go home.  I'll read books and meditate and spend some time in the sun (I have been having withdrawals for four years, so the Vitamin D will probably do me some good) and hang out with my sisters. 

And maybe, just maybe, I won't miss this place as much as I'm terrified I will.

From Me to You

"He who speaks loudest is not always right."  (author unknown, also I may have paraphrased a bit)

It is indescribable how much I wish I could pass this tidbit of wisdom on to many of the people I encounter every day.  I think we definitely all have a phase where we believe we know everything, and also that everyone else wants to hear our opinion stated as though it's fact.  I grew out of that phase eventually (although when confronted in an argument with someone who's still there it is tempting to revert), and I think that's because I was just slapped in the face by life telling me "Nope, actually Andrea, you're wrong.  And you're kind of a d-bag."  I think we all need someone to tell us that once in a while.


The most unfortunate thing about college is the phenomenon of kids who have gone their whole lives without the revelation of their douchiness.  In fact, some of them have been praised for their pretentious ways, and it's definitely gone to their heads.  So I guess I'm posting this to help them, as well as those of us who have to put up with them. 

"Nope, actually ____, you're wrong.  And you're kind of a d-bag."

You're welcome, and please, feel free to pass it on.

Nice To Meet You

"So much has to happen in order for two people to meet."
---21 Grams

I just re-watched this film with a few friends (sidenote:  I'm fairly certain I've met the quota of how many times you can sit through "21 Grams" without sinking into a depression spiral), and this quote again jumped out at me.  It was something I've been thinking about lately, and I recalled hearing someone say this, but couldn't quite place it.  I guess it was fate that made my friends choose this movie (despite my many warnings that it would kill their buzz), so that I could pinpoint its source, and muse on it a little bit more.

It's true, if you really think about it.  I don't think anything can be a pure coincidence; there is always some sequence of events that have led us to our current place in life, and if the same goes for the people we meet, then it follows that our circumstances have aligned to allow us to know one another, even if only for a moment. 

Think about the people in your life-- friends, significant others, acquaintances.  How did you meet?  What pushed you to approach them and introduce yourself, or vice versa?  Why is that the way things went, at that particular moment, when there were a million equally plausible alternatives.  What if you and your best friend hadn't sat across the aisle from each other in that awful Astronomy 120 class?  What if your boyfriend had gone to a different bar the night you two met?  What if you'd followed your initial appraisal of that girl across the coffee shop, rather than made conversation and realized how much you had in common? 

Every time we meet someone new, no matter the circumstances, we're making connections.  We're connecting ourselves, not just to others, but to the universe itself.  In interacting with the people we are dropped into a situation alongside, we are cementing our place in this moment, right here, now.  We are in essence saying 'yes' to our own existences, and to the possibilities they offer us.

I think about all the people who are in my life now, and how things might have been if I hadn't met them, if our paths had never crossed.  It's a hazard, I suppose, of being on the cusp of graduation; you think about yourself at the beginning of this ridiculous journey, and how you never could have anticipated just about everything that followed.  I am grateful, eternally, that my path has led me the way it has.  I truly believe there is no one among the people I've met who hasn't shared something with me, supported me, or taught me something, about the world or about myself.  I wouldn't trade any of those awkward first meetings for the world, knowing now how much good came from them.

I'll try to keep this in mind the next time I meet someone new, or catch someone's eye across a crowded room.  I'll ask myself, what happened to bring us both here?  What do we have to give to each other?  Maybe it's just a smile, or a compliment to brighten a day.  But maybe it's so much more.