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It had been a tumultuous time in my life when The Goldfinch was published. Certainly, there were enough daily calamities then to keep me occupied without needing a bildungsroman novel to liven things up. Over time, the days returned to a more even but busier keel - recreational reading became a luxury that I could not afford. With an empty nest now, I have been able to work through some of my reading list but the backlog is deep. The Goldfinch turns out to be lively reading - a story that grabbed and kept my attention. I want to know what happens next - a basic premise of a story that is no longer a given. 

 I truly struggle to stay interested in novels these days and my overall demeanor is very reminiscent of my grandfather's. He was a notorious nay-sayer and prognosticated the worst case scenario at every turn. But he was at heart a very peaceful man, loved hanging out with us grand-kids trying to help us help ourselves. If there was anything he could do to be useful to people around him he did his best. But the news frequently triggered his outbursts and he would rail against the absurdity of the world.

 Something about a kid becoming adult and leaving home to start their own life seems to act as a trigger for a generational shift in mindset. Atleast, that has been my experience. I suddenly have a lot more common with that crotchety old man than I do with people my age who still have kids to raise. Reading The Goldfinch was able to put me back in time a bit - the way I had once been, reading everything in sight, being able to find escape into the worlds created in fiction. I doubt the phase will last too long but it was nice to experience it for a bit.

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