I’m looking through some old boxes my folks brought me from Portugal, when they drove over a couple years back. Yeah, they moved there and it’s just been an absolute blessing. Anyways, I find this book I haven’t read since 2000… it’s called Wild Swans by Jung Chang.
It’s a stunning story, full of history and personal, intimate sub stories, intriguing characters, that are, for the most part I believe, true. I was so overwhelmed by the intricate details, the clothes and the times, the unspoken and spoken rules adhered to – or not – that I cried throughout most of it, but smiled with joy by the end.
I had to write the author to say thank you to her for sharing this wonderful story. At the back of the book, I found the “About the Author” page, and discovered she taught at the School of Oriental and African Studies, London University, so just sent the letter there on a whim! I mean, I wasn’t yet 20 at the time, but I’ve always felt compelled to give gratitude where I can. I didn’t expect anything in return.
This all happened in Germany, during the period after I had failed my first year of university. I never thought to find an envelope in the post box addressed to me while I was living in Germany. But there it was, with my name in ever so lovely scripted handwriting. It was a card – from the author herself.
How cool is that? Fond memory!
Have a great Sunday folks 🌈❤🌻🌺😘💧
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How wonderful. A couple of decades or more ago, I had done the same thing.
After reading Angela’s Ashes, by Frank McCourt, I had sent him a letter via the publishing company. And he wrote back, with gratitude. I was stunned. Memories like these are so wonderful.
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I still haven’t read Angela’s Ashes – I recall that it’s quite a dark true story and I am always a little overwhelmed by the horror of what humans are capable of… it’s evident throughout history, and I can’t turn a blind eye, but sometimes reading about it through stories is much more vivid than a conversation or hearing it on the news…
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