Diane Matcheck, The Sacrifice

It's been a while since I actually finished reading a book. I mean it's already late April of 2010, and the last book I read cover to cover was back in January? I'm sincerely amazed by how fast the time goes by. I actually finished reading this book Saturday night but I've only remembered to blog about it today at work.

Diane Matcheck's The Sacrifice is a young adult fiction piece, and this is actually the second time reading this book. I read it the first time when I was around 13, and the only thing I remembered about the book almost ten years later was that it had made me cry.

I was fondly recollecting my memories of reading when I remembered reading a book that made me cry. Really that was the only thing I remembered about it at first. I didn't remember the title, the author or even the story. Upon further rumination I remembered it was about native people and that a sacrificial ritual was somehow involved. I did a lot of research to find this book. It's not exactly very well known. I of course eventually found it - that story from my youth that compelled me to tears.

So I started reading this book fully expecting to bawl my eyes out at every turn of the page, but it wasn't the case. I really didn't remember the story at all. It was strange reading the book full-well knowing that I had read it before, but not having any memory of it whatsoever except of tears. It's funny the things you remember...

The actual story isn't bad. It's at its core a coming-of-age story. I dunno, for me I find coming-of-age stories the most compelling and heartwrenching in general. If I had to guess why... I'd probably say because there has never yet been a moment where I thought that I've changed, that a singular moment or even a collection of moments has changed me. I feel like I'm still waiting for my own coming-of-age.

It's funny to think that because it's not that I haven't lived a life that was full of events. That's what life is - a collection of events. But maybe it's due to my bad memory that I can't relate to the events of my own life. Maybe I can't even recall who I was before to feel like I've changed. I'm 22 now. It only makes sense that I've changed, but how come it doesn't feel like I have?

So, the main character of this story struggles and comes to an understanding about herself and the world. That's what coming-of-age is, right? Finding your place in it all...

I got to the part that had made me cry that fateful first read-through almost 10 years ago. It was sad, but it wasn't as sad as I remembered it being. Honestly, I didn't cry this time around until I finished the book and laid down to sleep, and it wasn't because I was saddened by the story but because I was angry at the world. I guess that's a sign of change. That's how 10 years scars you and deprives you of your innocence.