#36: A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving

Although I was fortunate enough to pick up this book at the very first tumblr book swap, the fault is my own for not having read it until now. I find find myself wondering (for the bajillionth) time, “What took so long?” but yet again, it was the right story at the right time.

One aspect of Owen Meany that I loved was how it is perfect for Fall. Mike beat me to the punch a little on this, but it’s true. As the story shows time moving on, it seemed fitting to read it as the seasons and our subsequent lives changed as well. Maybe I say this too much, but autumn in the northeast tends to be a simultaneous beginning and end. Irving’s descriptions of life in this part of the United States seem to focus on, well, privileged white people, but nonetheless show that a change from within happens every year at about this time to just about everybody who walks out their front door.

Now, my talent for writing may not come close to that of John Irving, but I can very much relate to his character, John. Owen Meany told him that “faith takes practice.” Faith, in a world where the intellectualization of ideas tends to be sometimes more accepted, is often difficult to achieve. This doesn’t always mean a spiritual faith (which is becoming even more frowned upon) but faith in the environment, faith in the decisions of others, faith in our actions, faith in the people we love. It all takes practice and while it is continually difficult, I’ve always found faith to be worth the effort every time. Because honestly, I’d feel rather broken without it. There’s already enough hurt out there.

This has been one of the tougher reviews for me to get out because of how much I loved the book. In the time that I’ve been doing this, there has always been a connection between what a book has meant to me and what I’ve been able to say about it. If I say, “Oh, it was really personal” that doesn’t seem to do the story justice and neither does the “Well, I just liked it a lot.” What I guess I will say for this one, as a summary of sorts, is that it moved me. It made me cry in best way possible and it allowed me a certain toughness and grace that doesn’t always come easy from a novel. I’ll read it again, and I’ll tell you to read it too. But take your time and maybe you’ll read it when you need it.