The Time Traveler’s Wife

I know I’m a little late on this one.  I mean, the movie is coming out in August.

When I remember this novel, I’ll remember that it read like a commentary (a great one).  I’ll remember the dual first-person point of view.  I’ll remember the short sentences.  The wit.  The humor.  The beauty.  I’ll remember Clare’s innocent-yet-not-love for Henry.  I’ll remember Henry’s frustration and yet determination to deal with the life he was given.  Their lust for each other. I’ll remember the mystery.  The game of it all.  The science of it all.  The innocence and wonder of Alba.  Just the smartness of the idea and plot.  The way it made you think about love and time.

I’ll remember it was a good book until the end.  I really, really feel like we were jipped out of that last scene.  So many times we only saw glimpses of Henry’s life and yet kept reading to find out we were given them later.  For example, Clare’s 18th birthday.  Such a big part of the story and yet we didn’t get it until almost the end.  And Henry told us about that last scene they would have together and I was so sure we’d get to see and was so disappointed when we didn’t.  It’s like watching The Notebook and never seeing them die together.

I’ll go and see the movie just because I think Rachel McAdams will be a perfect Clare and Eric Bana should do Henry justice but really?  Unless they fix that last scene, I don’t know if I’ll have a good feeling walking away.