My brother and David Mitchell
My brother bought me my first David Mitchell book, my first three David Mitchell books actually. Birthdays and Christmases were full of poorly wrapped books from my brother. Because I trusted my brother and his taste and we LOVED books and especially sharing them, I became a huge David Mitchell fan. And also because he’s awesome. David Mitchell writes vast sweeping stories about intertwined lives leaping through time and the connection between all things. Gardner and I loved this shit. We wrote stories about this shit. The Apocalypse. Reincarnation. Scary creatures. My brother and I were inspired together. We wrote a movie script about a brother and sister who have to save the world from monsters. We had another brilliant idea for these Zombie Survival Kits that we thought of after watching Shaun of the Dead and contemplating what we are going to ACTUALLY do when Zombies attack. Who’s car would we take? His. Mine is faster but he has a truck to run over bodies. What kitchen implement would be most affective to decapitate them? I think we both decided on large BBQ utensils. Gard and I even planned on opening a bookstore together for our retirement in Rangeley Maine with a cozy coffee shop in the back with lots of billowy couches. For his 30th birthday, I sent him my favorite books of all time. And he promptly distributed the books around his house in true Gardner fashion. One in the bathoom. One by the bed. One in the living room. And he would read bits of whatever book he happened to be sitting by. I don’t think he ever finished any of them.
My brother took his own life in September 2011. One of the things I did the week after his death was to go to his bookshelves in his house. I held those books. I wanted every single one. I wanted every single thing in his house actually. He had a grocery list downstairs on the stove and I had a hard time not pocketing it. I took a lot of his books. His favorites. His English books. Also, the ones I had given him just 6 months before, for his birthday. It’s a horrible thing to take back something you’ve given someone. So… my shelves are filled with my brother’s books. And sometimes, when I’m reading one of them, I find something my brother underlined. Or notes he wrote in the margins.
So when I heard David Mitchell was coming to town this past September and it happened to fall on the anniversary of my brother’s death, it seemed like the perfect thing to do to celebrate him. So, I went to UCLA with my dear friend Jen, who happens to be 6 months pregnant, and her husband Stephen. We went to pick up our tickets and were treated with the most beautiful fresh copy of his brand new hardcover novel. Jen and I were literally squealing with delight. We rushed into the theater and bustled our way to the 3rd row! THIRD ROW people! We were acting like we were at a freakin rock concert. While I sat patiently and waited for the rock star to come onstage, I kept running my hands over this book, opening and closing it in excitement and anticipation. Jen and I continued squealing as we waited and Stephen continued expressing his shock and surprise at our behavior. “I am stunned and concerned by how you two are acting.”
Finally David Mitchell walks on to the stage and Jen and I practically burst from our seats. He’s a very unassuming British fellow who we are shortly convinced is an UTTER GENIUS. He launches into a reading of his new book. It’s amazing. Then begins the Q&A. He’s brilliant and funny and kind and self-deprecating. And we are utterly in love!
There is a book signing afterwards and the moment the Q&A ends, Jen and I leap from our seats and run to the door, leaving Stephen behind to fend for himself. We don’t quite push people down but we wanted to. We contemplated, after the fact that we should have used Jen’s pregnancy to cut the line. Next time. There were maybe 50 people ahead of us (jerks) but 100 people behind us (suckas!). As the line crawled forward I got to see David Mitchell kindly speaking to each and every person in line… everyone wanting a piece of this clearly exhausted and jetlagged man. I wanted to play it cool so he’d think I was cool. But also not too cool because he needed to know how much I LOVED him! As we drew nearer, I felt sicker. What would I say? Should I have him sign the book to me and my brother? Will that be confusing? Will he single me out, recognizing a fellow genius? I was finally a few people away and I turned to my friends. “I feel like I want to throw up. I feel sick to my stomach. My heart is literally beating out of my chest. And this is not hyperbole.” They gave me a pep talk. Just trust myself. Speak calmly. And BE COOL! Okay. Now… here I am… suddenly… it’s happening. David Mitchell has my book. He is signing it. I take a deep breath. “You’re signing this book for me and my brother. He introduced me to your work. And he died three years ago. Today. And I am here in honor of him.” This tired man, signing his 51st book of the day, looked up at me. I said, “He loved you and I love you. Your work.” Oh my god, he thinks I’m crazy. He continued looking at me. “I can feel him when I read your books.” And then, David Mitchell, still holding my eyes, said, very quietly “Then I really do hope for the continuance of the soul.” He held my book out to me and said, “Your brother would be really proud of how you are honoring his spirit. You’re a really good sister.” I took my book and shook his hand. “Thank you.”
And as I waited for my friends to have their own wonderful experience with this man, his words washed through me. What a gift. On this day. For my brother’s favorite author to tell me what a good sister I am. It’s like Gardner left me a note in the margin. And then, in that moment, I know about the continuance of the soul.
