Tag Archives: loneliness

Eleanor Oliphant is completely fine (Book Review)

TRIGGER WARNING: This book addresses difficult topics including mental illness, suicide, abuse, violence, and trauma. Some scenes and references may be distressing for certain readers.

Gail Honeyman is a master of dry wit and understatement in Eleanor Oliphant is completely fine. Eleanor is so unpleasant and awkward as to render her completely unlikeable at the beginning of the novel. I don’t want to see her bullied by her coworkers or strangers in public, but I could certainly see why they might. She invites side-glances with her oblivious rudeness and is a closed book. She doesn’t want anything to do with anybody and seems perfectly content in her isolation. Of course, it’s all a ruse and protective defenses, but those walls are tall and seem impenetrable.

The chance encounters, unusual incidents, and course of events that occur begin to bring about a soft opening of Eleanor. And the unfolding of her past, the development of some friendships, and her observations and realizations throughout the process are so endearing that I couldn’t help falling in love with her. She and her circle of people are everything that is wonderful about humanity, especially when coping with everything that is horrible with humanity.

Once again, I was disappointed by the rushed feel of the ending. I hoped for the same level of deep introspection at the end of the book that was delved into throughout the rest. What is with these authors rushing their endings? They need to be every bit as perfect as the beginnings and middles. But other than wanting more, I can find no fault with this witty, honest, hilarious look at a lovely woman who is absolutely NOT completely fine, but who will be. The author’s voice is refreshing, hilarious, and wonderful.

Honeyman, Gail, Eleanor Oliphant is completely fine, Penguin Random House, 2017.

Lonely Monster

(Poem 145 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/ed9aw7

There’s a lonely monster I know by the name of Stan.
He wanders the desert to avoid the face of man.
We ran into one another once on a camping trip.
I was with a tour group until I gave them the slip.
I came across Stan warming by a lovely little fire.
I assured him I wasn’t scared; he called me a liar.
With his eyes downcast, he told me about his past.
Then I told him about mine, though he never asked.
We agreed we were both the biggest lost cases,
not good with people and ashamed of our faces.
I remember the stars were quite beautiful that night.
Then Stan stood and stretched to his full height.
I was shocked and speechless, to say the least.
He was a hulking form, a most magnificent beast.
I apologized for staring, and he chuckled a bit
and declared me his long-lost mutual hypocrite.
See, together we each judged ourselves the worst,
as though from birth we both had been cursed,
though he had told me to give myself a break,
and I had preached that he deserved a fair shake.
When I eventually said I had to rejoin my group,
he patted my head, though he had to stoop.
We agreed to meet at this same spot once a year
to sit around the fire and drink some beer.
I’ve never told anyone of this once-a-year plan,
but I visit a lonely monster by the name of Stan.

@Home Studio – 145th poem of the year

Lonely Boat

(Poem 84 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/2ecDkl

Is there anything lonelier
than an empty boat
in the middle of the sea?

It has lost its mate
to the wind and the waves,
who never more shall be.

No, nothing is lonelier
than an empty boat
in the middle of the sea.

Except, perhaps,
this empty room
without you and only me.

@Home Studio – 84th poem of the year