The Shadow of the Wind

I am reading a fantastic book right now called The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon (original in Spanish, I've got the translation). I picked it up before heading to hospital for the birth. The story takes place in Barcelona following the Spanish Civil War during the early years of the Francist dictatorship and tells the tale of a young boy, Daniel Sempere, whose father is the respected owner of a used book store. One day, when Daniel is still quite young, his father takes him the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, a near mystical, hidden palace where abandoned or forbidden books go to end their days. The tradition has it that when a person visits the Cemetery for the first time, he must pick one book to keep and cherish forever. Fate and destiny seem to drive Daniel to pick up The Shadow of the Wind a book by an unknown author by the name of Julian Carax. Daniel is enthralled by the book and determined to find out more about the mysterious author. This leads to an incredibly complex and wonderful story of love, betrayal, murder, and mystery.

Daniel meets and befriends a mysterious homeless man who goes by the name of Fermin Romero de Torres. Daniel introduces the man to his Father and they end up adopting him and taking him on as hired help in the book store. Fermin is overwhelmed by their generosity and becomes their most loyal supporter and friend. Meanwhile, Fermin has fallen well and truly in love with Bernarda, the maid of another book store owner and begins considering the possibility of becoming a father himself. One day in the book store, Fermin asks Daniel (and this is the point of this post):

‘May I ask you a personal question, Daniel?’

‘Of course.’

‘I beg you to answer in all frankness,’ he said, and he cleared his throat. ‘Do you think I could ever be a father?’

He must have seen my puzzled expression, and he quickly added, ‘I don’t mean biologically – I may look a bit rickety, but by good luck Providence has endowed me with the potency and the fury of a fighting bull. I’m referring to the other sort of father. A good father, if you see what I mean.’

‘A good father?’

‘Yes. Like yours. A man with a head, a heart, and a soul. A man capable of listening, of leading and respecting a child, and not of drowning his own defects in him. Someone whom a child will not only love because he’s his father but will also admire for the person he is. Someone he would want to grow up to resemble.’

‘Why are you asking me this, Fermin? I thought you didn’t believe in marriage and families. The yoke and all that, remember?’

Fermin nodded. ‘Look, all that’s for amateurs. Marriage and family are only what we make of them. Without that they’re just a nest of hypocrisy. Garbage and empty words. But if there is real love, the sort you don’t go around telling everyone about, the sort that is felt and lived…’

‘You’re a changed man, Fermin.’

As I read this passage while resting on my cot in the hospital, I began to reflect that this is exactly what I wanted to be for Philippe. Someone to look up to and learn from. To share ideas and feelings with. Someone who guides and instructs and who is there to listen and maintain links of love and friendship. I want Philippe to be a better person than me, without my faults and vices. I want to be the one who guides him along the paths of life, to point out pitfalls and helps him get back on the path when he stumbles and falls. The path will be of his own choosing but I will walk it with him.