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A review by grymoira
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce
4.0
The Pilgrimage is not a book for everyone. There. I said it. It is not a book to be taken up and read for momentary entertainment. Nor is it a book whose reading should be undertaken by anyone who is not prepared to put some work into it. So, who is it that I recommend this book for? I recommend it for the reader who is willing to undertake a journey of discovery, not just of a flawed and initially unlikable literary character, but also a journey into the center of all the unforgivable, hidden, and wholly human parts of their own life and self.
Harold Fry undergoes a metamorphosis during the telling of this tale. It is only after I had finished reading the book (and it took me nearly 4 years, off and on!) that I realized I had undergone my own. In fact, I am quite sure there will be more change to come as this book has its way with me. Still and all, I am glad I read the infernal thing.
Initially, I had a very difficult time reading this novel. I would have totally given up the effort if not for the fact that it was recommended to me by my daughter just months before she lost her battle with inflammatory breast cancer. She had only ever recommended 4 books to me in her short life. And she was an avid reader (like her mother - but with generally very dissimilar literary taste). Her recommendations were: The Poisonwood Bible; The Handmaid's Tale; Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, and The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. I could not get into the first two, but loved the entire Harry Potter series and devoured each of them with gleeful and unrepentant gluttony. Unlike the Harry Potter books, however, I felt an antipathy toward The Pilgrimage, when I first attempted to read it, similar to that I'd felt toward The Poisonwood Bible and The Handmaid's Tale.
I could not connect with the main character. His behavior was unfathomable to me, and I found nothing about him to be worthy of admiration....certainly nothing book-worthy. I put the book aside, but came back to it several times over the years - always with the same result. Recently, I took up the book again. This time I vowed I would finish it. It was one of the last things my daughter asked of me, and I would not rest easy until I had honored her request, I realized.
It was a nightmare. For several weeks, I would pick up the book, read a few pages, and chuck it aside in frustration. The journey Harold Fry was making seemed both plodding and improbable. Stacked against the very real monster of cancer, Harold's efforts and small epiphanies seemed a meager payback for my enduring proximity with "the villain". But I persisted. It was just a day ago that I picked up the book for what I vowed would be the last time. I. Would. Read. The. Damned. Thing.
It was in the small hours of this morning, as I eagerly turned a page in my Kindle, that I realized I'd somehow progressed from "must make myself read this" to "must find out where this pilgrimage ends...if it ends". As to the final evaluation of this novel....well, I may never be able to accomplish that with sufficient accuracy to satisfy myself. But, I can and will recommend this book....with, as I stated, a few caveats.
To read this book a reader must be both willing to work, and strong enough to handle deconstruction of self. I am pretty sure all the tools and materials are left for the self-reconstruction at the end of the Pilgrimage. But I will get back to you on that....if I ever find out.
Harold Fry undergoes a metamorphosis during the telling of this tale. It is only after I had finished reading the book (and it took me nearly 4 years, off and on!) that I realized I had undergone my own. In fact, I am quite sure there will be more change to come as this book has its way with me. Still and all, I am glad I read the infernal thing.
Initially, I had a very difficult time reading this novel. I would have totally given up the effort if not for the fact that it was recommended to me by my daughter just months before she lost her battle with inflammatory breast cancer. She had only ever recommended 4 books to me in her short life. And she was an avid reader (like her mother - but with generally very dissimilar literary taste). Her recommendations were: The Poisonwood Bible; The Handmaid's Tale; Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, and The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. I could not get into the first two, but loved the entire Harry Potter series and devoured each of them with gleeful and unrepentant gluttony. Unlike the Harry Potter books, however, I felt an antipathy toward The Pilgrimage, when I first attempted to read it, similar to that I'd felt toward The Poisonwood Bible and The Handmaid's Tale.
I could not connect with the main character. His behavior was unfathomable to me, and I found nothing about him to be worthy of admiration....certainly nothing book-worthy. I put the book aside, but came back to it several times over the years - always with the same result. Recently, I took up the book again. This time I vowed I would finish it. It was one of the last things my daughter asked of me, and I would not rest easy until I had honored her request, I realized.
It was a nightmare. For several weeks, I would pick up the book, read a few pages, and chuck it aside in frustration. The journey Harold Fry was making seemed both plodding and improbable. Stacked against the very real monster of cancer, Harold's efforts and small epiphanies seemed a meager payback for my enduring proximity with "the villain". But I persisted. It was just a day ago that I picked up the book for what I vowed would be the last time. I. Would. Read. The. Damned. Thing.
It was in the small hours of this morning, as I eagerly turned a page in my Kindle, that I realized I'd somehow progressed from "must make myself read this" to "must find out where this pilgrimage ends...if it ends". As to the final evaluation of this novel....well, I may never be able to accomplish that with sufficient accuracy to satisfy myself. But, I can and will recommend this book....with, as I stated, a few caveats.
To read this book a reader must be both willing to work, and strong enough to handle deconstruction of self. I am pretty sure all the tools and materials are left for the self-reconstruction at the end of the Pilgrimage. But I will get back to you on that....if I ever find out.