I really should stop talking about Frank
Frank Lloyd Wright. Did you know the illustrious architect had an affair? If you did, then you probably know whatever it was “that happened.” I didn’t know he had the affair, so I’m unaware of what happened… and so the ending of Loving Frank: A Novel
Without thinking, I find myself in conversations with others about the book that I have not yet completed. As soon as my words I uttered, I then I find myself caught up in this precarious little dance, where I must let the other person know, (who usually does know about the affair and what Frank did), in no uncertain terms, that I do not know Frank had the affair, and I prefer to have what he did kept a surprise, revealed only by Horan herself; under her own timing.
I have it on good authority that whatever happens is pretty dramatic, because the friend who lent me the book screamed when she got to the part. Fueled by my insatiable desire to find out what he did, I found myself devouring pages whenever I could; over breakfast, waiting on firefox to load before I wrote my daily post. Now, I’m at the 2/3 mark… almost to the end. This is the point where I stop reading the book. I’m satiated enough to put the book down, but no longer eager to see the book end, and say goodbye to Horan, Frank and Mamah. I do this all the time with books that I love.
So, if I want the ending to remain a secret, I must be careful to no longer talk about Frank, and let the long, leisurely ending unfold itself over the next week, when I will finish the book at my typically, long leisurely pace.
[...] Still, with winter comes more reading, and why I really must stop talking about Frank. [...]