Suzy re-reads The Notebook
My sister said that they weren’t really in love. She said it was infatuation. It couldn’t be true.
By seventh grade, my English teachers were in full control of my reading. The world was no longer a free one. I cannot remember too much about myself in the seventh grade because I was a different person, but the memory of how much I enjoyed reading this novel can't escape me. My worries at the time were very insignificant. My room was painted a pink color, one that my mother and sister had chosen against my will; I was always more of the tomboy. My sister joked and teased that my dad had only one daughter because I always preferred joining the boys in sports and hanging out with them to shopping or having sleepovers. But growing up, the one thing that was my girly guilty pleasure was reading fairy tales and admiring the Disney Princesses. My idol was Cinderella but even in choosing Princesses, my sister got first pick. Yet even more than my sister, I had become a hopeless romantic in my youth. My prince was coming one day. I mean, everyone has a prince. Through the imposed reading we did in school, I felt that I was seeing less and less of this happily ever after ending in stories and more of a cynical perspective on life. The Notebook brought me back into the world of fairytales, but in a more sophisticated manner.
I fell in love with Noah and Allie within the first ten pages of the novel, lying there under the covers with three pillows stuffed behind my head. I could never read sitting uncomfortably; silent reading in class didn't work for me. The upright, awkward seating had forced me to stare at the pages of words but see nothing because the desks were too conformed for me to relax. Because of my age when reading this book, I had a different outlook on what the idea of true love was. My sister had read the book right before giving it to me, and although she was happy that Noah and Allie ended up together despite all of the obstacles, she had also sympathized with Lon (Allies fiancé that she had left behind). For me it had been a clear cut decision: Noah and Allie must be together. Allie could never choose anyone but Noah. I couldn’t bear to read the parts where she was with Lon, or talked to Lon, because it wasn’t important to me. It had just been a little obstacle she had to get through. Being at the tender age of twelve, I found the description of when Noah and Allie make love on his living room floor rather disturbing and embarrassing at the time, sitting there in my bed. I quickly flipped the pages to the end of the chapter. Although at that age most children would not have minded I guess you can say I was sheltered as a child. I thought I had known what love was at this time because I was in love. His name was Chad Michael Murray; he also happened to be the star of several movies. But I had a very concrete concept of how this whole love thing worked. I used to think emotions were clear cut, black and white; that one is either in love with another or they weren’t. For me, The Notebook was a modern day fairytale and all the things I wished for on stars. I was certainly a hopeless romantic, and this had justified and proven that my dreams of a true love and romance had not only been fantasies but that they could be reality.
The Notebook is pretty much split into two sections; the first is the story of how Noah and Allie fall in love, break apart and rekindle their love in their younger years. The second part of this novel describes how Noah and Allie are now in a retirement home and she has Alzheimer’s disease. When my sister handed over the novel she explained how the second part of it had literally left her in tears, but the moment I started to read that part I thought to myself “I wish they were young again, this old people stuff is really boring me.” I didn’t find reading about people as old as my grandparents interesting whatsoever, especially ones in a retirement home. I barely skimmed through the second section of the book because I wanted to know how they ended up, but I could not find any connection or interest in the love story of two very old people. Fairytales ended in a happily ever after, not in retirement homes.
While rereading this novel, I realized how much I have actually changed as a person. The opening line asks, “Who am I? And how, I wonder, will this story end?” Years earlier, these words were followed by anticipation. Who was this mysterious person and what was his story? Yet, rereading this line now gave birth to a whole new series of questions. I was less concerned with Noah and more so with my own being. Who was I? How was this story going to end differently for me this time? This was not the same book I had once enjoyed, somehow the same words and pages managed to unveil themselves differently and the story was not a vividly familiar one. I have experienced so much more and grown as a person that I couldn't have possibly read it in the same way, as cliché as that might sound. I have experienced love and heartache; I have grown to understand the complexity in ones decision making and feelings, and that every decision made will determine the rest of your life. But with all of this said, when I reread laying there under the covers with three pillows stuffed behind my head, I fell in love with Noah and Allie all over again. Some things never change.
Years later, the conformity of sitting in a desk or even sitting up to read are still impossible. I found myself once again stretched out on my bed; although my room now looks different. The walls are lime green. This time I got to pick the color. Throughout all of the transformations my room has overcome, my precious Disney collectibles still seem to occupy the walls and shelves. There I sat, the story’s romance rekindling in my head. The characters faces had changed from what I had first envisioned; these new ones were people of more familiar faces. This time I had a more realistic ideal of what Noah and Allie were going through at the time, things weren’t so clear cut. Feelings weren’t white and black anymore.
Throughout my rereading, there were moments where I thought that I could relate to what Nicholas Sparks was conveying, I felt what they felt, and heard what they said and compared many of the things to my own life. Although I could now relate to these people on a deeper level, the butterflies that had been present five years earlier were stronger than ever.
Yet with this warmth also came skepticism, one that tagged along with my maturity. At moments while rereading I thought to myself that no one could ever love another that much to go through all of that. I found it hard to believe that Noah did not come across another girl who would sweep him off his feet as Allie did, especially him being a guy. Would he really be able to hold on to the feelings of young love for all of those years and not doubt it throughout that time? In society people often chuckle at the thought of young love, they do not give it as much credibility as it deserves because they believe that they are too immature to understand what love is. Young love is often referred to as foolish and easily doubted. We often misinterpret young love as infatuation. So how can Noah have held onto this love throughout the years? Although I believe in love at any age, I became more analytical in what I was reading and more skeptical of how true their love was. With age comes wisdom, so over the years my eyes were opened to the realities of relationships.
Skepticism is now a part of my reading of the novel, but it is one that cannot overshadow my belief that love exists and fairytales are not just for children. The little girl in me still believes; they were in love.
My sister said that they weren’t really in love. She said it was infatuation. It couldn’t be true.
By seventh grade, my English teachers were in full control of my reading. The world was no longer a free one. I cannot remember too much about myself in the seventh grade because I was a different person, but the memory of how much I enjoyed reading this novel can't escape me. My worries at the time were very insignificant. My room was painted a pink color, one that my mother and sister had chosen against my will; I was always more of the tomboy. My sister joked and teased that my dad had only one daughter because I always preferred joining the boys in sports and hanging out with them to shopping or having sleepovers. But growing up, the one thing that was my girly guilty pleasure was reading fairy tales and admiring the Disney Princesses. My idol was Cinderella but even in choosing Princesses, my sister got first pick. Yet even more than my sister, I had become a hopeless romantic in my youth. My prince was coming one day. I mean, everyone has a prince. Through the imposed reading we did in school, I felt that I was seeing less and less of this happily ever after ending in stories and more of a cynical perspective on life. The Notebook brought me back into the world of fairytales, but in a more sophisticated manner.
I fell in love with Noah and Allie within the first ten pages of the novel, lying there under the covers with three pillows stuffed behind my head. I could never read sitting uncomfortably; silent reading in class didn't work for me. The upright, awkward seating had forced me to stare at the pages of words but see nothing because the desks were too conformed for me to relax. Because of my age when reading this book, I had a different outlook on what the idea of true love was. My sister had read the book right before giving it to me, and although she was happy that Noah and Allie ended up together despite all of the obstacles, she had also sympathized with Lon (Allies fiancé that she had left behind). For me it had been a clear cut decision: Noah and Allie must be together. Allie could never choose anyone but Noah. I couldn’t bear to read the parts where she was with Lon, or talked to Lon, because it wasn’t important to me. It had just been a little obstacle she had to get through. Being at the tender age of twelve, I found the description of when Noah and Allie make love on his living room floor rather disturbing and embarrassing at the time, sitting there in my bed. I quickly flipped the pages to the end of the chapter. Although at that age most children would not have minded I guess you can say I was sheltered as a child. I thought I had known what love was at this time because I was in love. His name was Chad Michael Murray; he also happened to be the star of several movies. But I had a very concrete concept of how this whole love thing worked. I used to think emotions were clear cut, black and white; that one is either in love with another or they weren’t. For me, The Notebook was a modern day fairytale and all the things I wished for on stars. I was certainly a hopeless romantic, and this had justified and proven that my dreams of a true love and romance had not only been fantasies but that they could be reality.
The Notebook is pretty much split into two sections; the first is the story of how Noah and Allie fall in love, break apart and rekindle their love in their younger years. The second part of this novel describes how Noah and Allie are now in a retirement home and she has Alzheimer’s disease. When my sister handed over the novel she explained how the second part of it had literally left her in tears, but the moment I started to read that part I thought to myself “I wish they were young again, this old people stuff is really boring me.” I didn’t find reading about people as old as my grandparents interesting whatsoever, especially ones in a retirement home. I barely skimmed through the second section of the book because I wanted to know how they ended up, but I could not find any connection or interest in the love story of two very old people. Fairytales ended in a happily ever after, not in retirement homes.
While rereading this novel, I realized how much I have actually changed as a person. The opening line asks, “Who am I? And how, I wonder, will this story end?” Years earlier, these words were followed by anticipation. Who was this mysterious person and what was his story? Yet, rereading this line now gave birth to a whole new series of questions. I was less concerned with Noah and more so with my own being. Who was I? How was this story going to end differently for me this time? This was not the same book I had once enjoyed, somehow the same words and pages managed to unveil themselves differently and the story was not a vividly familiar one. I have experienced so much more and grown as a person that I couldn't have possibly read it in the same way, as cliché as that might sound. I have experienced love and heartache; I have grown to understand the complexity in ones decision making and feelings, and that every decision made will determine the rest of your life. But with all of this said, when I reread laying there under the covers with three pillows stuffed behind my head, I fell in love with Noah and Allie all over again. Some things never change.
Years later, the conformity of sitting in a desk or even sitting up to read are still impossible. I found myself once again stretched out on my bed; although my room now looks different. The walls are lime green. This time I got to pick the color. Throughout all of the transformations my room has overcome, my precious Disney collectibles still seem to occupy the walls and shelves. There I sat, the story’s romance rekindling in my head. The characters faces had changed from what I had first envisioned; these new ones were people of more familiar faces. This time I had a more realistic ideal of what Noah and Allie were going through at the time, things weren’t so clear cut. Feelings weren’t white and black anymore.
Throughout my rereading, there were moments where I thought that I could relate to what Nicholas Sparks was conveying, I felt what they felt, and heard what they said and compared many of the things to my own life. Although I could now relate to these people on a deeper level, the butterflies that had been present five years earlier were stronger than ever.
Yet with this warmth also came skepticism, one that tagged along with my maturity. At moments while rereading I thought to myself that no one could ever love another that much to go through all of that. I found it hard to believe that Noah did not come across another girl who would sweep him off his feet as Allie did, especially him being a guy. Would he really be able to hold on to the feelings of young love for all of those years and not doubt it throughout that time? In society people often chuckle at the thought of young love, they do not give it as much credibility as it deserves because they believe that they are too immature to understand what love is. Young love is often referred to as foolish and easily doubted. We often misinterpret young love as infatuation. So how can Noah have held onto this love throughout the years? Although I believe in love at any age, I became more analytical in what I was reading and more skeptical of how true their love was. With age comes wisdom, so over the years my eyes were opened to the realities of relationships.
Skepticism is now a part of my reading of the novel, but it is one that cannot overshadow my belief that love exists and fairytales are not just for children. The little girl in me still believes; they were in love.
