Tuesday, 1 June 2010

Thaw

by Fiona Robyn

That’s it. It’s over. The last chapter of Thaw was published yesterday.

Come to think of it, I would never read Thaw if it was not serialised on a blog. Thaw it is not a comedy or fantasy or science fiction. If anything, it tries hard to be realistic. To a rather disturbing degree, I should add. The trouble is, as a whole, it is not believable. I hope you forgive me for expecting the work of fiction (that includes diary fiction too) to be believable or, at least, self-consistent.

Here’s a premise: Ruth, the author of the diary, is describing her life, writing every day for three months, all while she is deciding whether it is worth to carry on living. Why three months exactly, is anyone’s guess, but wait. From 1 March to 31 May, Ruth somehow acquired a friend, got a real (not imaginary) boyfriend, re-connected with her aunt and even started to mend her relationships with her father and his second wife. Moreover, she enrolled to and completed a beginner photography course. Very impressive achievement for a depressed person, I say.

Ruth also managed to annoy me on a different level. Sometimes she writes as the master of suspense. And some other times as if she plans her diary to be read on stage. No real person would ever write in her journal this:

People. Things. Places. Moments. Stories. All moving past in a blur of beautiful colours, as if my whole life were flashing before me.
And so, after some initial discomfort, I stopped to worry about Ruth. Yet this morning it felt weird not to read her diary. Maybe I miss her annoying me on daily basis? I think now I understand the soap addicts.

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