Like the Red Panda

If I were a Xanga member, my post would look like this:

I just finished reading: Like the Red Panda


However, I'm not a Xanga member, so I'll just tell you about the book and why I enjoyed it.

It's basically a fictional suicide letter disguised as a novel. Does that creep you out? Well, sorry, but I'm about to go off the deep end.

It's been a while since I've truly read something for fun. Sometimes, I'll read books that are not assigned in a class, but they usually have something to do with my Christian walk or chosen career path. This book was refreshing because it was one of those books that by reading it I accomplished absolutely nothing. Sometimes, I feel those books provide the most rewarding literary experiences.

Instead of making me think about myself, this book offered an escape into the life of Stella, a girl who wasn't entirely like me. She was a high school senior on the brink of graduation who lived in California and had been orphaned as a pre-teenager when her parents O.D.ed on cocaine. None of those components are a part of my life right now, but I still related to Stella. I know what it's like to be an outsider, a loner. I know how it feels to be bored with life. I know what it's like to want to die.

I haven't been suicidal since my junior year of high school. Those times are barely even memorable anymore. I know killing myself was never the answer and I'm SO glad I never followed through. Feelings, situations, frustrations never last. Suicide is a horribly permanent remedy to temporary problems.

I'm obviously not the only person who has struggled with suicide. Last Wednesday at The Outpost, Kevin handed out an excerpt from Red Moon Rising by Peter Greig and David Roberts. He didn't get a chance to talk about it, but I read it anyway. Here's a taste:

I still remember where I was when I heard the news that Kurt Cobain had killed himself. Somehow, it seemed momentous that a world-famous musical genius had stuck a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. In his suicide note, he simply claimed that he felt "guilty beyond words." But, with hindsight, the rock star's suicide wasn't momentous at all; it was just another death of another depressed individual failing to find sufficient meaning in a messed up world. After working twelve hours a day copying product numbers into account ledgers, a Japanese man called Wataru Tsurumi wrote a book called The Complede Manual of Suicide, advising young people on how to kill themselves. It has sold 1.3 million copies since 1993.

I wonder at how glamorous suicide can seem to people who don't really know anything. Then I think about how complex the decision really is. I remember what it was like when I made that decision. Then I remember this quote from my favorite movie, Girl, Interrupted.

"When you don't want to feel, death can seem like a dream. But seeing death, really seeing it, makes dreaming about it f***ing ridiculous."