The many splendored things, the rare happy endings, the yin of the yang – do they ring a bell or they are phrases that simply make you jaded? While realism appears morbid and creates anguish, The Universe of Us by Lang Leav will enable the reader to view un-fairytale-like love on a different perspective.
In fact, The Universe of Us presents a tiny universe that opens up to you after a time travel for years or centuries, and meets you finally when your heart can already comprehend the reality in the guise of beautiful poetry. A mixture of elegy, ode, free verse, and sonnet-like, Ms. Lang is able to evoke various strong emotions. So strong that the turn of each page is like watching them on HD big screen. Then you’d learn that love is a hurricane wrapped inside a chrysalis. And you are a girl walking into the storm.
As I’d pause between rhythmic lines of The Universe of Us, half of my brain would exclaim. How eloquent! How masochistic, too! Take a look at this: But now I have learned the secret of distance. Now I know being close to you was never about the proximity. OMG! How do you explain that to yourself on a wee hour when you just picked a book so you could sleep real quick?
I want to talk about the aftermath of love, not the honeymoon or the hitherto; but the upshot and the convalescence, the slow, hard hauling—the heavy tow. I want to tell you about those evenings, that crept inside like a vagrant cat; and cast around its drawn out shadow, untoward—insufferably black. I want to write about the mornings, the sterility of the stark, cold light; struck against a pair of bare shoulders, the lurid whisper of a misspent night. I want to convey the afternoon setting, the water torture of the sink; drip by drip, the clock and its ticking, and too much time left now to think.