See that guys, it’s a succulent plant that ISN’T DEAD (yet). It’s still alive. It lived longer than my last kid – at this point my old one was leaking water and crying out for help.
Anyway, Of Things Gone Astray is like the type of book I would one day like to write. It’s imaginative, and comforting, and I don’t feel overwhelmed by any type of plot being forced in my face.
The basic premise is that a group of individuals wake one morning to find something important to them missing: the front of their house (yes, really), their sense of direction, their status, their looks, material and immaterial possessions. Told in the form of drabbles, this collection of perspectives is wonderfully unique and funny, and puts a smile on my face when I have shit days (note: every day is a shit day).
At the end of it I’m not even 100% sure what I’ve just read but it’s made me think about all the things I’ve lost, of all the things I hope to gain. It’s realistic in a sense that it’s not realistic at all but just enough for me to feel like, if I don’t hold on tight to the things that matter to me, they could be gone the next minute.