Christopher John Francis Boone

Christopher

Being well beyond absentminded, it’s generally best for me not to borrow books, because they never get returned; and months or years later when the owner asks to have the book back, it’s nowhere to be found. Yesterday though, during visiting time before Bible Study, a friend handed me the curious incident of the dog in the night-time. A short novel by Mark Haddon.

Our Tuesday Morning Bible Study group gathers between nine-forty-five and ten o’clock to visit, have coffee and a biscotti. At ten-oh-five on-the-money we begin with open prayer then get down to business. So people can depend on it for lunch or other plans, we stop at eleven-fifteen sharp.

The novel looked intriguing, so I opened it upon arriving home at eleven-thirty; put it down for lunch at twelve; picked it up again at twelve-twenty; put it down reluctantly at two-ten to leave for an appointment; upon arriving home, helped Linda assemble the Christmas tree; opened the book again at three o’clock; laid it aside twenty minutes for supper; finished it at nine-twenty. It was a can’t-put-down.

Christopher is autistic, not mildly so. He knows all the countries of the world and their capital cities and every prime number up to 7057. The novel is his narrative, a murder mystery. When it opens, he is 15 years and 3 months and 2 days old. He cannot stand to be touched, nor the color yellow. An English boy living in Swindon, he is preparing for his math A-level, for which he feels certain of getting an A grade.

At Bible Study next Tuesday, I’ll return the book; but it was so captivating that I ordered a copy to be here in the house for Joe when he comes for Christmas. And two other Mark Haddon novels, A Spot of Bother and Boom!

This morning: six-monthly dentist appointment.

TW