Soul-food :]

"Goodnight Mister Tom" by Michelle Magorian

I love this book :] It's my favorite book of all time and never fails to make me cry. I've stayed up to read this book (despite pressing datelines and exams the next day) countless times and everytime, I feel stronger after having read it :]

It's set in World War II, in the countryside where an old widower - Mister Tom - fosters a child - William - who like many others, have been evacuated from London because of the bombings and air raids.

Just some of my favourite parts (although there're more, but you need to read it in context to be able to fully appreciate it :] ):

On friendship:

Zach had eaten fish many times. He had spent several summers by the sea when his parents were doing summer seasons but it was the first time he had ever had a companion of his own age to share those summer joys. Most of the time he used to wander alone, chatting to people, but his odd appearance and forthright ways seemed to annoy them and they tended to ignore him. With Will, he felt that he could do and be anything and anybody and Will would still like him.

On fatherhood:

As with the sudden discovery of the lowness of his peg, Will noticed now how old and vulnerable Tom looked. It unnerved him at first for he had always thought of his as being strong. He watched him puffing away at his pipe, poking the nerly lit tobacco down with the end of a match.

Will swallowed a few mouthfuls of tea and put some fresh coke on the range fire. As he observed it tumble and fall between the wood and hot coke, it occurred to him that strength was quite different from toughness and that being vulnerable wasn't the same as being weak.

On coming into yourself as a person:

Zach was almost black and his hair, doubly curly. The experience of floating had had a calming effect on him. He was less erratic and jumpy. He still played the fool but he had stopped trying so hard to be entertaining. For once he allowed himself to sit back and be entertained by the others.

On grieving:

He felt again Zach's presence next to him, felt him staring up at the starry night and coming out with some strange fragment of poetry.

"No,no," he whispered, shaking his head wildly. "No, no. You're not here. You'll never be here," With ony angry sob he picked up a dead branch and struck it against a tree trunk until it shattered. Wildly he picked up any other branches he could find and smashed them, hurling the broken bits into the river not caring if he hurt any animals that might be hibernating nearby for he felt so racked with pain that he no longer cared about anything else but the tight knot that seemed to pierce the very centre of him. He was angry that Zach had died. Angry with him for going away and leaving him.

With an almighty force of venom he tore one tiny rotting tree up by its roots and pushed it to the ground. Catching his breath for a moment he stood up stiffly and looked up through the branches of the trees.

"I hate you, God. I hate you. You hear me? I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."

He stood, yelling and screaming at the sky until he sank exhausted and sobbing on to the ground.

On religion:

The following day was Sunday and was their last day in Salt-on-the-Mouth. Tom and Will went to the village church while Zach found a sheltered spot by the sea. Although it wasn't his Sabbath he gripped his little round cap into his heathery hair and swayed gently to and fro ekeing out the few Hebrew prayers that he remembered. It comforted him to sing the strange guttural sounds. It was like uttering a magical language that would make everything all right. His parents had taught him that whoever or whatever God was, he, she or it could probably understand silent thoughts but it made Zach feel better to voice his feelings aloud.

Finally, on beautiful places that restore your soul and make you feel at peace because of the people you're with:

In the afternoon Tom, Will and Zach took a last cycle round the village along the bumpy lanes that lay inland from the cliff tops. They wheeled the bicycle and tandem along the beach and, as dusk approached and a pink and orange haze stretched itself across the sky, they sat and watched the sun slowly disappear.

Mrs Clarence had a surprise gallon of local cider waiting for them on their return and, as it was a little cool that evening, she had lit a fire. They sat down by its comforting flow, to home-baked break, cheese, onions and tankards of cider. The cider warmed their stomachs and transfused itself to their sunburnt skins.