Love and Loneliness


The last book review I posted contained a review for "The City of Falling Angels." I wrote the review before I was entirely done (which I've never done before) and realized afterward that I did the book an injustice-it's not over until it's over. The last few chapters of the book were excellent, and have changed my opinion of the book for the better. 


[I will say that the last few pages gave it a weak ending-he wrapped it like he was writing the final works before he had someone steal his computer and throw it out the window-an unlikely scenario]

All of this being said, there was one chapter that stood out above all others because of its content; the chapter expands on the life of a poet who had hung himself. His writing was controversial and although not internationally recognized, his writing had been beautiful, in a sad and dark sort of way. After his suicide, it became apparent that most of his poetry had been a cry for help. One line of one of his poems stood out to his friends and readers after the fact. "Loneliness is not being alone, It's loving others to no avail."

That line really stood out to me because it's true. I very much enjoy being by myself. It's very calming to be left alone with just your thoughts. However, that's because at the end of the day I know that there are people (and a certain Frenchie) who love me and think of me often and have my best interests in mind. Not everyone has that kind of love and support and to them, a crowded room only serves as a reminder of how lonely their lives are. 


Robin Williams is a prime example of this. It is heartbreaking to think of how he must have felt in order to take his own life and how his death might have been prevented. One person can't solve all the problems of another, believe me I've tried. It's too heavy of a burden to carry. However, you can try to look for signs that someone is crying out even if not outwardly or at the top of their lungs.  You can urge others to go get help.


In the book, the poet's friends couldn't understand why he would have felt alone. He lived in Venice, somewhere you're always surrounded by others. He had friends. He was social. But none of that made a difference to him, it didn't change that he still felt alone. His headstone reads, "The Man Who Loved Others," but what really matters is who loved him in return.

I misjudged the book because I thought there was nothing "important" left. I was wrong, "The City of Falling Angels" had a lot more to teach me, even in the last few chapters.

Sorry this isn't a happy Frenchies and Skittles and rainbows post, but life isn't always that way either. With the light comes the dark and I feel that the review needed correcting and that this was a serious and valid topic that also needed to be covered. Be safe, be strong, be curious, be smart, readers. You are loved. Have a great week.

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