Exit Wounds by Peter Godwin
Both the books I read this month have narrators who find themselves, in mid-life lost, like Dante: “In The Middle Of The Journey Of Our Life I Came To Myself Within A Dark Wood Where The Straight Way Was Lost”.
In Exit Wounds, Peter Godwin (“Mukiwa” and “When a Crocodile Eats the Sun”) finds himself in this dark place. After a life as a successful writer, journalist, war reporter, he’s now in dark woods. His mother, Helen Godwin, Her Grace, aged 90, is dying, as is his marriage. He is forced to confront his “Smothered memories,” as Nabokov called them in Lolita, memories “now unfolding themselves into limbless monsters of pain.”
Godwin says the entry point of a wound can be insignificant, often small, pursed. It’s the exit wound that gets you, where you see the damage (what the bullet/ spear/ knife/shrapnel has caused on the inside). It’s what kills you.
A beautifully written memoir, Godwin considers the life of emigres, exiles, refugees. He grieves the many losses that make up a life. Much feels familiar — he grew up in Southern Africa, the then Rhodesia, was conscripted into the Bush War, where some of the early wounds were inflicted.
He’s reported on apartheid, the TRC, war in parts of Africa, the Middle East, but it’s his telling this story, a story so tender, so achingly beautiful, peppered with literary references, and childhood memories that resonate with someone his age. This book leaves me holding my breath wet-eyed for the beauty, the resonance. Godwin may have found himself in a dark wood, but as the poet David Whyte says, “Stand still, the trees ahead and the bushes besides you are not lost, wherever you are is called Here … the forest knows where you are, you must let it find you.” Godwin is found.