The Time Traveler's Wife - Thoughts

I already knew that I was a fairly "grounded" person. I don't mean to say that I am more solid and stable in this lifetime. No, that would be false. But grounded in reality, in the present, in the "I can see, hear, and feel it" kind of way. I don't do Star Wars or Star Trek, and fluffy Sci-Fi (see: Charmed) don't usually do it for me. Somehow, though, I was able to dive into The Time Traveler's Wife and believe it was possible. Maybe this occurred because it was a love story and I'm always a sucker for those. Maybe it was the gentle, but matter of fact, presentation of Henry's unique quality that allowed me to "believe". Whatever it was, I started to wonder if time travelers really exist. The next naked man I see in the street or hear about on a plane, I'm asking.

I didn't really know where to begin for my thoughts on the book. I'm a chunker of thoughts, and like to jot them down as I go along to help me remember what I was feeling at a particular instance. I didn't do that with TTTW, and I wish I would have. Instead, I found a site for book club questions and thought I might tackle a couple of those.

Why do you think Niffenegger used the title The Time Traveler's Wife instead of just The Time Traveler?

Funny how this was the first question for the book club AND it was my first question when I started reading it. It easily could have been called The Time Traveler, and all events surrounding are simply that - events surrounding. I think the love story would have been lessened if it was simply a book about Henry and his experiences as the traveler. Having a Time Traveler as a main character sets him apart regardless, and by giving Clare the title, it "ups the ante", if you will, for their relationship and allows the story to unfold around it.

The story is sometimes told by Clare, sometimes by Henry. Did you like how it was organized?

I find it more interesting to experience yourself through someone else's eyes. By allowing both Clare and Henry to tell the story, we are allowed into their self-reflection during first-person narration but immediately turn and see them through the eyes of another character. We hear their thoughts, but then see their mannerisms. It was a unique way to allow the characters to take on both positive and negative traits that are sometimes missed when the book's voice is only one. Could you imagine being able to come to the Square Table, every other day getting to read Hubs' words about me? Of course I would never allow that because I'm too shallow to let you see the dark side of Tooj.

Who is your favorite character?

I generally am quick to pick a favorite and it's typically who the author intends for everyone to like. I'm pretty vanilla when it comes to character choosing. I like you if you're good, I don't like you if you're not. Simple, right? But not so much with this book, in my opinion. My first inclination is to love Henry. I don't think I ever wavered from that. He did the best he could with what he was given, in my opinion. Jumping from year to year, naked, sometimes freezing temperatures to deal with and cops chasing you....who wouldn't spend every waking "normal" moment of your present in the comfort of a loving bed partner? I never once was turned off by his obvious lack of eloquence when he was younger. He was coping and I tend to have a soft spot for those who cope in ways that might be considered unorthodox, rude, or even illegal. I won't elaborate on that point.

Clare as a favorite? I really enjoyed younger Clare, but as forgiving and accepting as I was of Henry's faults as an adult, I had less for Clare. Is that because I tend to think women in general should have more self-control? Or maybe it's because I considered her "normal" and thought she should be able to restrain from making choices that wouldn't suit her future. She had the advantage of knowing she would (again) meet her husband, and yet she succumbed to Gomez. Not once, but twice. And strangely enough, the first encounter should have made me more angry because she was *this* close to reacquainting with Henry, but it was the second time, after Henry, that drew the most ire from me. My lack of empathy for Clare's emotional state made me wonder if, as a female, I simply sympathize more with men or if I have unrealistic expectations of women in grief?

It all goes back to the "grounded" point I first made, I think. I don't know what it's like to really lose control and allow emotion to overcome me. I cry a lot, yes. It's my weakness when I'm frustrated or angry or scared. Strangely enough, I don't cry often when I'm actually sad. I tend to focus on duties and bounce emotions off. It's my way of coping. Clare's character was interesting to me in that she showed much restraint when Henry was traveling, taking care of familial duties and such, but she weakened in odd moments.

If nothing else, I suppose, these reflections of Clare's weaknesses are there to remind me that I will never know what it's like to be living someone else's day-to-day. I don't like saying "life", it's just so sweeping. Our lives are made up of day-to-day events, and to judge and pretend to understand someone else's events without having lived them would be preposterous of me. I know, I know...it's only a work of fiction. But what is story-telling if it doesn't come with a lesson?

My only complaint about this very well-written book is the end. To mimic a FB buddy, "I don't know how I wouldn't have ended it differently", but I didn't close the book feeling complete. I'm a sap for happy endings, and while you can imagine that eventually they will have their happy ending, it wasn't what I was anticipating. One of the book club questions asked if we agreed with Henry's decision to keep his "future" hidden from his present self so that he could live a semi-normal existence, when in the present. For a majority of the book, my answer was yes. But for the ending...it was no. I wanted him to change it, alter it, do something to "fix" it. But he didn't. I suppose that's how life goes, isn't it? We can't just fix and alter life to fit how we want. Lesson learned, indeed.