I have begun reading Brian Selznick’s The Invention of Hugo Cabret. So far, have got myself through to Chapter 5. The book’s jacket promises this work ‘to create an entirely new reading experience’ what with author’s style of ‘combining elements of picture book, graphic novel, and film’. So far, this promise is holding up.
I rarely choose books based on reviews: Some reviews rave about books that I often I find unreadable and, or, or because, not to my liking. Prizes are never the foolproof way to choosing a movingly enjoyable book. As far as I’m concerned, Nobel-prize winning authors can be counted on to give as difficult reads and as dubious rewards for your pains at the same time (always excepting Gabriel Garcia Marquez, for his Love In The Time Of Cholera). The Booker has turned in a better batting average (Peter Carey, glorious with his Oscar and Lucinda; Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children was for the most part amusing, but his circus-jugglery type of storytelling got the better of me to ever get past half of the book), but has a reputation for denying the better-deserving works the award. I say: Though I may not have read the others, David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas ought to have won over the other titles in the Booker shortlist that year!
In the end, though, it’s all about personal preference and what moves you. There’s really no point in complaining much. The key thing is what moves.
I am amazed at how the books I choose to read lead up to a sort of spiritual — nay, mystical — impact for me. Since I don’t look too much to book news and buzz, I usually rely on my gut feel, a sort of involuntary instinct (saying sixth sense would already be overkill) when deciding on a book to invest my emotions on (ha, overkill!). A particular book would already have a pull over me— an instant connection— as I examine its cover design, its back-cover summary, its author information… or even before, just as I pick it up. But this particular connection is just a start: Deciding on a book usually takes time (minutes to days to weeks), to reflect and feel and get in touch with a sort of connoisseur’s intuition. This connection is often vague, as yet undefined, and may be revealed only after the book has been read to its final pages. But this method has brought me to many a book that moved me.
As with The Invention of Hugo Cabret.
The book showed itself as I was looking for a birthday present for my brother. There was the pull, but I had my second thoughts, firstly, because it would be seemingly awkward to give such a gift to a twenty-something; and secondly, its price-tag, being a hardcover, is looking to be heavy on the wallet.
But there was the pull; my brother and I could be such kids (at our ages!), anyway; the credit card can share the wallet’s burden, for now (ulk!); and the connoisseur’s intuition acknowledged neither doubts nor objections, and even willingly gave in to the gut feel’s wave of gut feel, only after about 30-minutes’ worth of connoisseur’s reflection inside the bookstore.
I am slowly finding out what that connection that I felt with the book was. As Chapter 5 closed, the reader was made to understand that the automaton that Hugo’s father was working on may have a message that Hugo felt he had to know. The automaton is supposed to be a writing automaton, but Hugo’s father died before getting the chance of finally and fully fixing it. It now becomes Hugo’s personal mission— albeit with only a vague understanding why— to restore the automaton and discover the possible message it hides.
My dad died a few weeks ago. In a sense, I didn’t get to know much about him because his lifelong illness and condition didn’t really help at us getting through to know him. I am as curious to know what message and what revelation regarding his father the writing automaton has in store for Hugo Cabret. I guess deep within, I have this spot of longing to have the chance to pull something off that furthers my understanding of my own dad.
This adventure of Hugo Cabret gives hope to the possibility of perhaps, someday, I may have the chance to fulfill this longing.
