Goodbye Days

Warm * Heart-Swelling * Soft

Goodbye Days by Jeff Zentner
Contemporary YA

It took me way longer than it should have to read and finish this book. This is the type of story that if I did not have a life I would have devoured in a sitting. Sadly, sittings do not happen anymore and reading only happens in the nooks and crannies. And even with the frequent pockets of time, I’d only dented a few chapters. So, for this beautiful story, I made an effort to have some time with it. On vacation at the lake, while children were safely in life jackets and playing in the mud, I was able to cut into the first half of the book. Then for the last half, I enjoyed an early June day on a towel, laying in the shade of our backyard tree, lifeguarding our 3ft inflatable pool.

"Goodbye Days” is best eaten in a couple of good sittings. Not because it needs it, but because you want it. Some stories require you to plow through them, partly because you want to know what happens, yet you want to get it over with. The author does a great job of hooking you, and keeping you hooked until you are mercifully released when either you skip to the end (my first choice) or freight train it (this rarely happens for me, I don’t have a thing about finishing books). Following the main character of “Goodbye Days” was like hanging out with a friend. A friend that I cared deeply for and wanted to make sure was alright.

Also, for the first time since A Fault in Our Stars, I want to re-read a book just to highlight through it. Zentner has injected “Goodbye Days” with the most beautiful observations on life and death. As a human, I had such a great connection to them and as a writer, appreciation. 

And there’s one more thing that compels me to place “Goodbye Days” as one of my picks. One night in November of 1999, my boyfriend took me to Huntington Beach, surf city. It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. When he asked me to go, I said okay with a raised eyebrow. As a Southern California native, a date on the beach in November is weird. It’s cold. It’s eerily empty. I had to wear a pea coat and boots. So, we arrived at the beach, and I figure we will just walk along the pier or vacant bike path. Instead, he insists on walking on the sand. (Yes! In my boots) I comply. And he guides me to the very spot that in August of 1998 we shared our first kiss. He gets on one knee and proposes. Zentner’s description and recall of a beach in November was both dead on accurate and to me, a beautiful reminder of this moment. Thank you Mr. Zentner for the flashbacks.