I originally wanted to read "The Mountain Between Us" by Charles Martin. However, the search for it in the 5 bookstores near our home was not fruitful, but because I just absolutely hate it when I have no spoils from book heaven, I thought I'd give this other Charles Martin piece a shot. I was glad I did.
"Of the six million species on the planet, only man makes language. Words. What’s more — in evidence of the Divine — we string symbols together and then write them down, where they take on a life of their own and breathe outside of us. Story is the bandage of the broken. Sutures of the shattered. The tapestry upon which we write our lives. Upon which we lay the bodies of the dying and the about-to-come-to-life. And if it’s honest, true, hiding nothing, revealing all, then it is a raging river and those who ride it find they have something to give—that they are not yet empty.”
As a book lover, I always say that any book that talks about books tells me it is a book worth reading. My apologies for the diacope.
Unwritten, is a story about brokenness, and the power of books to heal, when mixed with will. I do not know if brokenness is a typical plot for the author, but as soon as I read the prologue, it was very clear that it was going to be about fighting personal demons. I usually stay away from stories like it because they tend to dredge up memories from some of the darkest days in my life. But something told me that it might be worth it to suck it up and see where the story takes me.
More often than not, when I review a book, I start by talking about the lead characters of the story, which in this case are Katie, an award-winning actress, and Sunday, a reclusive author. Two people reeling from the downward spiral that was their life. But this time, I'd like to talk about Fr. Steady. A former soldier who served during WW2, helping those who have been injured. After vowing to serve the Lord if he makes it out of the war alive, he becomes a priest. His specialty, as he puts it, is "cutting the gangrene" which at a later stage of his life, becomes synonymous to fixing people. This is exactly what he does, when he persuades (or forces) Katie and Sunday to come together for reasons unclear to both of them. A staged death and a trip from Florida to France and back, plus an unpublished book later, they realize the wisdom in Fr. Steady's actions.
"...somewhere in that intersection of broken hearts and shattered souls... broken is not the end of things, but the beginning. Maybe broken is what happens before you become unbroken. What's more, maybe our broken pieces don't fit us... maybe my pieces are the very pieces needed to mend you and your pieces are the very pieces needed to mend me, but until we've been broken we don't have the pieces to mend each other."
This was a beautiful story of two people who were so broken, that the only way they can fix themselves was to fill each other with their broken pieces, until they finally emerge victorious--- and whole again. Not all who go through challenges in life are able to overcome them. Many lose the fight. But those who regain balance and wholeness are able to do so because of will, and the love of those around them. I can only hope that someone in this kind of fight comes across this beautiful story, because it speaks of one truth--- you can always make yourself whole again. You merely need to make the choice to put yourself back together.
Perhaps because of a dark time in my life more than a decade ago, I found this story to be so relatable. Many of the thoughts that went through the minds of Katie and Sunday, echoed mine. Just like them, I had my own Fr. Steady--- many of them actually. And just like Katie, I had my own Sunday--- I have always fondly referred to him as my savior, even if we went our separate ways after a few years. He came at the right time, and stayed long enough. To this day, he remains to be one of my very good friends. But sans the personal experience, there was something about how Charles Martin wrote it, that got to me. The raw emotion that comes in waves during a depressive state, but somehow you are unable to express or define, but you just know to be a heavy feeling in your chest. The lethargy that besets you when you are tired from trying to climb out of the dark. The tears that sometimes come and never stop falling, and those that do not come at all. The highs and the lows. The self-deprecation. The self-pity. The fear of yet another day of emptiness, after the one you just had. The lingering desire to end your pain. And finally, the joy that comes from having chosen to overcome it, and actually being able to do so. Everything flowed through his words. No verbosity, but somehow still beautifully woven together. Very close to the truth behind the struggle with the chemical imbalance impaling your brain and the unfortunate life events that either trigger or aggravate it. Impeccable writing from start to finish. Rich in culture and history. A 330-page journey from loneliness and isolation to jubilation. Perdition to redemption. Brokenness to wholeness. And for all these, I thought the Afterword dedicated to John Dyson was very fitting. As Charles said, his mentor and friend took him from good to great. After reading this book, I can truly say that John did exactly that.
“White pages are not bad news. They’re just part of the process. What’s a sea voyage without long weary days spent crossing the blank bits of the map? It’s how you get to the other side.”
- John Dyson