A few years ago, I picked up a copy of the first installment of the Griffin & Sabine trilogy; a book subtitled “An Extraordinary Correspondence”. I don’t remember exactly where I picked it up, but I remember it because the book had actual postcards in it stuffed in envelopes. I must’ve been too young to appreciate all the love and mystery and stuff, but the book sucked me into its world so much that I remember it distinctly as a memory in itself—not tied to an age, place or event. But that memory got buried beneath factoids and experience, and it was just a few days ago, when I borrowed a copy of the Griffin & Sabine Trilogy boxed set, that I said, “Hey, I’ve read this before!”
The first of the series affected me more now than it did when I was a kid. Now, it wasn’t just about being in this separate world, reading other people’s letters. I felt this longing, this want, to have what they have. It’s weird, but even though the characters don’t have......
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