I finished a book yesterday by a friend from graduate school, and she's been very successful. It's been exciting to see each book take a leap from the last one, and this book knocked my socks off. Set in the 1700s, it could almost be construed as a tale of a man who is autistic, and who comes to develop attachment to another human being, or as a story of a genius, or a man ahead of his time. It's based on a real person, which makes the life more amazing. And it's about the clash of cultures that occurred when the British founded a colony of prisoners in New South Wales. It resonated deeply for me, as a product of such culture clashes on both sides. It's so beautiful it makes my heart break a little.
My friend has worked steadily at her craft and stretched her wings and flown higher than she perhaps dreamed. She wins international awards, and yet is grounded and real. Her laugh is still a thing I treasure. She's a friend, but she has the world following her thoughts and feelings. What a strange concept, and how I can see that had I had her ability to focus and be persistent, I too might have developed into a fine writer. As it is, my interests have been too varied and my shyness too great to insist on being heard. Up until now, that is. As my Buddhist teacher reminds me: never say too late. I feel inspired.
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