In which we follow through on a whim
In what can only be classified as a moment of pure madness, I picked up Darcy Cosper’s Wedding Season in the Norwegian translation – Bryllupsfeber – at the local supermarket. There are several reasons why “madness” is the correct classification. Firstly, I don’t read English books translated into Norwegian (comic books excluded, though I prefer the original there, too). This has to be the first time I’ve contemplated doing so for well over 10 years. Secondly, I no longer read chick-lit. There is no good reason for this, it just doesn’t appeal to me anymore.
However, for a few mad seconds it obviously seemed like a good idea. And having spent the money, I thought I might as well spend the time, and read it in order to get rid of the book again.
It’s pretty much what you’d expect. It had a somewhat surprising ending, though not the “surprise ending” I started fearing half-way through, which cheered me up. I had my moments of trying to translate the Norwegian back to English to figure out what the author could possibly have meant – as expected – but not so many as to make it tedious. I enjoyed the friendly banter of Joy and her circle of friends, I thought Cosper did a pretty good job at capturing that common history/common language thing that people who know each other well develop.
And it reminded me how excessively annoying it can be when people try to push their views on how to best live your life on you. I try to avoid doing so myself, but I’m sure I forget occasionally, and even occasionally is too often.