Waiting

I couldn't put down the novel, Waiting, by Ha Jin.

It's a study of character and the human heart; it's about one good and flawed man coming to understand what it means to "love wholeheartedly." 

Here's the first line:

"Every summer Lin Kong returned to Goose Village to divorce his wife, Shuyu."

The  story takes place during and after the Chinese Revolution, and it's based on a true story about a man who tried for eighteen years to divorce his wife.  It's straightforward in language, and the plot is relatively simple, but it's one of the most engaging novels I've read in a long time. 

As the story moves along, every chapter has a little jewel of description of the place--like a tiny poem embedded in the narrative:

"It was getting more overcast, so they turned back to the building. The ground was dusty, as it hadn't rained for weeks. Dark clouds were gathering in the distance, blocking out the city's skyline; now and then a flashing fork zigzagged across the heavy nimbuses. As Manna and Lin were approaching the building, a peal of thunder rumbled in the south; then raindrops began pitter-patterning on the roofs and the aspen leaves. I line of waterfowl was drifting in the northwest toward the Songhua River, where sunlight was still visible...."

When I closed the book at six this morning, I felt like I'd been there--and the question of what it means to "love wholeheartedly"  has been echoing in my mind all day.