Fate Gate: Written in the Scars

In the midnight hour . . .

At the stroke of midnight . . .

Before midnight . . .

Pop culture is rife with allusions to what happens when night melts to morning.  Billy Idol, Cinderella, Ethan Hawke, and countless others have spun or starred in stories about the mythology of the witching hour.  So I knew that Matt Haig's novel, The Midnight Library, would be, if nothing else, mysterious.  Which is always nice around Halloween.  I heard about it on Ivy's Closet, and I don't take librarians' reading lists lightly.  Billy Idol, not so much.  Although I am a fan of '80s pop rock.  And comic relief.  

Anyway, The Midnight Library is the story of Nora Seed, a multi-talented but depressed thirty-five-year-old caught between life and death in the purgatory of a library -- the Midnight Library.  The librarian is Mrs. Elm, an elderly sage who was Nora's high school librarian.  Mrs. Elm supplies Nora with the Book of Regrets, a tome listing everything she ever wanted to be, including a rock star, an Olympic swimmer, and a philosophy scholar.  Nora picks a regret, then opens the corresponding book to live the life she thinks she missed out on.  Sometimes she stays minutes, other times days.  If it's the right life, then she'll end up staying forever.  But if it isn't, then she'll return to the library to try again.  So, yeah, it's the whole parallel-universe-space-time-continuum-butterfly-effect thing.  Which I could've better explained by saying that Nora works in a music shop called String Theory.  

Nora's journey is fascinating, scary, and sad.  But it's also perplexing.  Because as she test drives more and more destinies, she begins to realize that they're as similar as they are different -- and that she's unsure what it is that will make the right one "right."       

Innovative yet familiar, The Midnight Library elegantly combines the best-loved elements of It's a Wonderful Life, NBC freshman drama Ordinary Joe, and every Choose Your Own Adventure book to deliver a sci-fi-tinged, timeless tale of gratitude and self discovery.  Rich in symbols and nuance, it's also a modern parable about the importance of mental health.  When I reached the last page, I was so engrossed that I didn't want it to end.  Nevertheless, the ending was perfect.  I wouldn't go back in time and/or across universes to change a thing.  

Unlike Billy Idol, who, according to Behind the Music, was caught with the nanny on the baby monitor. 

You Look Like a Doily

 Not So Dainty Doily Necklace

Dress: So, Kohl's

Shoes: Guess, Marshalls

Bag: Marshalls

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Jacket: Decree, JCPenney

These were my wedding shoes.  I purchased them for $12.99 from Ami Clubwear.  They started out life solid red, their only adornment the rhinestone-sprinkled flower perched above the peep toe.  I added Hennytj's lovely pink satin roses and rhinestone buttons as well as craft store peach, yellow, and mint ribbon roses and danced all night with nary a mishap.  Talk about a testament to Gem-Tac!

Garden Guest Star Necklace

Dress: Modcloth

Shoes: Ami Clubwear, embellished by The Tote Trove

Bag: Krystala Creations, Etsy

Scarf: Gifted

Campus Queen Corsage Brooch

Top: Delia's

Jeans: Sears

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Fred Flare

Scarf: Marshalls

So said Ethan Hawke's Troy to Winona Ryder's Lelaina in Reality Bites when she emerged in a crochet dress to meet Ben Stiller-as-Michael-the-smarmy-record-producer back in the mid-1990s.  A grunge coming-of-age classic if ever there was one, it went right over my head the first time I saw it. (I think I was twelve.)  

Kind of like "Girls."  Yep, that's right.  I'm retracting my former criticism of Lena Dunham's critically acclaimed angst-filled HBO series.  Partly due to my new-found mission to be a kinder, gentler blogger, and partly because I recently watched the entire first season on DVD.  It was good.  Gritty and real and in-your-face and all those other adjectives attached to things that make you squirm.  In the wake of the sad-song-staged final credits, I couldn't help but think that it should be mandatory viewing for twelve-year-old girls, a kind of cautionary tale counseling tempered by a good mom's tough love commentary.  (The irony of my twelve-year-old self lacking the perspective to appreciate even Lelaina's considerably tamer trials is not lost on me.)  Life, after all, isn't all tea house heroine getups.  A point, by the way, most masterfully made in the romantic comedy Austenland, albeit ironically and with more glitter than grit.  But more on that later.  

And with that, we've come full circle.  Not an unfit end for a post starring a doily.