The Only Story by Julian Barnes is the story of a 19-year-old youth who falls in love with a married, middle-aged woman. It is a powerful story about how the passion and tragedy of love dissolve into each other. But for me, it is also about how first love can shape and define entire lives. How many of us, on
hearing certain songs from "way back when" daydream wistfully about those feelings, the fumblings, the first love that never quite died.
But there is a feeling that, in my opinion, is the strongest of all. Unrequited love - the road not taken - the kiss never taken - the pain never felt - a life never lived - a person never really known. An unlived love has no limits, never begins, has no time, never knows disillusion. The beloved - usually distant, married, uninterested, or unapproachable - remains an object of indefinite idealization - a picture of Lilly, a longing never taken, shivering - diamonds and rust.
And, of course, it is not only songs that are inspired by unrequited love. Think of the multitude of books - Persuasion, Death in Venice and Gone with the Wind - all so popular, so real, so understood.
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