In my book there was no question. It just had to be so or if not then nothing at all.
It was a discussion we were having about of all things her new book. The existentialist discussion of the purpose of life and why we do what we do.
Her book had attracted a lot of criticism. She’d ‘missed the point of her own book’ argued one critic, as if that made any sense. But the book aside it did point out serious issues within her, which in my book were far more important than anything, she wrote about.
It was as much to do with the booking she got when the police pulled her up for driving over the limit, both the speed limit and the blood alcohol limit. From that point on it became clear that the book was a secondary issue and her own mental health was more what we needed to focus on.
The cops in their way threatened to throw to book at her if she didn’t mend her ways, her reputation as a famous author of books weighed little against the public good. So she took her last three books to the local schools and donated them to their libraries. They loved receiving them, each book was inscribed with her name as the donor and the author, she signed each copy and felt good doing some good.
It was a great awakening to her. The months spent writing her book questioning everything around her had led her to dark places and in the last few days she’d seen a light, life was simple in many ways, people became hooked on her book, read it cover to cover, engaged her in discussion, paid her huge sums of money to present her book at shopping centres and girl guide meetings.
From out of everything a new book was emerging. We all waited with baited breath.