Spoiler content if you view the extended entry…
I was thinking about the death of Henry in a hunting accident in his and Clare’s sanctuary, The Meadow.
Henry’s death is senseless, he, as his condition dictates, materializes naked in a field while Clare’s brother and are hunting. In a fit of reaction Henry is shot by his brother-in-law and then spontaneously warps back to his normal time, New Years Eve, a bloody mess at the feet of Clare.
Ugh, it eats me alive to think about it.
Tim travel killed him.
In any case, Henry time-travels at a young age when, in the final moments leading up to the car crash that will kill his mother, he time travels elsewhere, and then back, along the roadside.
Time travel saved him.
If we think about things properly, we see that Henry’s life should have been over many years earlier than the date of his eventual demise had it not been for this unusual affliction. The entire sickly powerful love story that we hold in our hands, could not have happened had it not been for this damnable affliction.
Henry, like Damocles, was living under the weight of the suspended sword, as are we all. Niffennegger asserts a Dionysian fiat for celebration and eros.