I
had bumped into Jodi Picoult’s books at friends’ and family many times – books
upturned and splayed across beds, a comb efficiently doing a bookmark’s job; on busy
counter tops, tempting the reader to drop everything else and crawl back to figure out its end. ‘It
is that easy to immerse yourself in her books,’ I had been told. That probably is
a standard line one could expect to hear about a best-selling author. Only
that, anything she writes about, is ever made out of the ordinary. That much I
had figured. Yet the fact that it has struck a chord with so many readers will make
us think of the extraordinary times we are living in. Does it say a thing about
us as a race? Maybe.
Following
my little ritual before I begin a book, I had glanced over some of Jodi’s short
interviews. They have such a way of giving a peek into a writer’s soul. And
somehow, over the years, it seems to have become so important to me - to like the person, before I could like her/his
work. That probably is the exact opposite of what one should do. And try one’s
best to leave aside the biases, and take the work for what it is. But since I
am doing this largely for myself, I thought I would go with what comes
naturally to me.
The
story of ‘The Pact’, surges through you like a powerful force that refuses any respite till the end. And yet, it is a meditative take on some relevant issues of today. This probably is the book’s biggest triumph. With
just the right peppering of mystery, conflict, and drama, Picoult has managed
to weave a compelling ‘love story’ in ‘The Pact.’ That’s how she has sub-titled
it – A love story. And one doesn’t have
to wait too long to see the irony. Even without coming anywhere close to
experiencing the turbulence, the grief and the bereavement that this tale
entails, it resonates with its readers on a basic human level. And once it has
your full attention, it explores concepts of –
truth, perception, trust, faith, hope, without losing touch with its stoic vein.
And also pushes one to look inward to grapple with issues of mental health, marriage,
teenage life, parental expectations, and perceptions of love.
When
we talk about lasting impressions, what we refer to usually is that lingering
feeling that endures long after the story has ended. In this book, those would
be the courtroom scenes, that run over a chapter or more, that make a
permanent mark in the reader’s psyche. And despite the many references one
might have of such scenes, these manage to bring a fresh perspective.
The best part of a book however, is when you are confronted with astounding
and unexpected realizations, put across in the most matter-of-fact tone. Like
all along, this had been the goal, this is what all the fuss was about, only
that the author, with her clever narration, wouldn’t let you see it
at first. And those are moments I seek
out in a book like this one.
But
what is a story if it didn’t leave you feeling exalted at the end, despite everything? And how wonderful, if it left you marveling
over the limitless human potential, of
ordinary men possessing extraordinary courage. And the very next moment, sweeping the foundation of belief underneath your feet, turning around and
asking, but is it possible that what is courage to one, is cowardice to
another?
It
is no news that Picoult’s best-selling books have been adapted into movies one
after the other, and we have one based on this book too. I would probably wait
for my reader’s experience to settle down and find a comfortable place, and for
the feelings to become less raw, so that I can appreciate the film without the
baggage of the book. And who knows, I might just find a whole new dimension
that I might have missed in the book.
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