A short book about unrequited love. It kind of reads like a children's book with its almost whimsical narration voice. The story is about a woman by the name of Miss Amelia who is feared and respected in her small town. One day she falls in love with a hunchback and, with his help, operates a happy café in the downstairs of her home.
It is not mutual love, but a sort of maternal love that Miss Amelia has for the hunchback. People notice that the famously clenched down woman has a new sense of lightness about her.
However, all good things must come to an end. And in this case, a tragic end.
I will leave you with this quote I spied from litsalon user annac which made me pick up the book in the first place. It is just perfect.
“First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons – but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which has lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can: he must create for himself a whole new inward world – a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring – this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth. Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. (…) The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else – but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. (…) Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself. It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is for ever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved. Even if this experience can cause him only pain.”