Reading My Friend’s Posthumous Novel

It was a sunny afternoon in August once I arrived residence to discover a bundle on my doorstep. I took it in with me, holding it shut as I eliminated my footwear and dropped my bag by the door. I didn’t bear in mind ordering something, so I used to be interested by what is likely to be inside.

After pouring myself a glass of water, I opened the bundle. I used to be greeted by a slim paperback e-book with a berry purple cowl, the picture of a blowfish looking at me by protuberant eyes. The phrases The Fetishist had been printed in massive white letters throughout the blowfish in order that it took me a beat to register the title on the prime of the duvet: Katherine Min.

Katherine was my pal. She was the primary individual I met once I visited Asheville, North Carolina, for a job interview eleven years in the past. She picked me up on the airport and, later, took me to dinner on the Laughing Seed Café, an enthralling vegetarian restaurant with aged brick partitions and glowy temper lighting. It was our first sustained encounter, and we laughed our method by our meal. When my baggage failed to point out up, she provided to lend me a pair of pants for my interview the subsequent day.

The e-book’s presence in my kitchen shook me, cracking open my coronary heart in order that the reminiscences began leaking out. Katherine handed away in 2019, and holding her posthumous novel in my arms in a house that she had by no means (and would by no means) set foot in was each sacred and painful.

I carried the e-book round my home with me for the subsequent few days. It sat on the couch with me. It rested on the desk subsequent to my cup of tea. It lay on my nightstand once I went to mattress at night time, its backbone going through me as I closed my eyes and fell into sleep. I wasn’t able to open it but. Instead, I simply wished to get pleasure from its companionship.

Later that week, I rummaged round within the storage — nonetheless largely unpacked even though I had moved into this home over a yr in the past. I discovered what I used to be in search of and carried it upstairs. When I opened the bin, skeins of sentimental yarn in a galaxy of colours greeted me. I pushed previous the muted hues of Noro, tossed apart the colourful tangles of Malabrigo, and at last unearthed three skeins of Miss Babs yarn in a colorway referred to as Zombie Prom. I bought this yarn with Katherine at a fiber arts truthful shortly after shifting to Asheville. Katherine and I used to knit at a little bit yarn store downtown — Purl’s Yarn Emporium, it was referred to as. We’d sit there for hours, knitting and speaking, earlier than placing away our initiatives and heading down the road in the hunt for one thing tasty to eat. I attempted to knit however couldn’t choose a mission.

That afternoon, I opened The Fetishist for the primary time. (I used to be feeling courageous, emboldened by cozy reminiscences of yarn and luxury meals.) I learn the dedication and, to my whole bewilderment, burst into tears. It was such a easy and wonderful dedication, and I might virtually hear Katherine saying it. That was the one a part of the e-book I learn that day. I savored it just like the little bonbons we used to get pleasure from on the chocolate outlets on the town, occupied with love and friendship and all of the issues that outlast us.

Over the subsequent few weeks, I took it slowly. It was essential to me that I benefit from the expertise of studying Katherine’s e-book. I solely get to learn it for the primary time as soon as, I saved pondering. For this purpose, I gave myself a complete day to let the Author’s Note percolate. (It’s that enchanting.)

Reading The Fetishist was, in some methods, like attending to steal again bits of time with Katherine. When I learn the phrases on this e-book, I might hear her voice. I might recall the fullness of her laughter extra vibrantly. I felt as if she was nearer.

I couldn’t learn very a lot in anyone sitting. Certainly not entire chapters, however generally not even a couple of pages. There had been simply so many reminiscences, little moments that floated to the floor. I lingered over them, tried to get pleasure from them. I normally learn voraciously, consuming a e-book in a matter of hours; I took my time with The Fetishist. I let it stretch out throughout three months. An total season.

Memories of conversations got here again to me as I encountered the story. I recalled Katherine speaking about one among her characters with me within the hallway outdoors the English Department workplace, the elevator bell chiming periodically as she talked about this lady who was recalling her earlier lovers whereas in a coma. I remembered conversations we had in her workplace, the dim gentle of her desk lamp illuminating the titles on her bookshelf. I used to stare on the backbone of her copy of Don Lee’s Yellow whereas we talked about writing, household, love.

Finishing The Fetishist was bittersweet. On the one hand, the story was compelling and fascinating and, above all, a extremely good learn. On the opposite hand, it was over. And in some methods, it felt like saying goodbye over again. Sure, I can decide it up and skim it any time. But that first learn was the one time I’ll ever have the ability to expertise the novelty of the story. It was a singular and shifting alternative to obtain a narrative from a pal who can’t inform me any extra tales.

Postscript: If the novel was a parting present, the Afterword was one thing else completely. Written by Kayla Min Andrews, Katherine’s proficient and quietly exuberant daughter, it was a poignant reminder of the truth that Katherine could also be gone, however she isn’t gone. Those who love her carry tales of her of their bones, and there are such a lot of tales I nonetheless haven’t heard.