Not to be flippant, but it takes a global pandemic to truly reevaluate one’s place in the universe. Something as unprecedented as the spread of the coronavirus automatically lends one’s thoughts toward issues of life, death, and the afterlife.
Thoughts about an afterlife rarely crossed my mind on a daily basis prior to the last few weeks. They are ever-present now, it seems. With a steadily rising death rate and an exponentially rising infection rate in the U.S., it’s a wonder more people don’t seem to be going insane with terror, running through the streets, screaming. We’re all keeping it together, though, so we have that to be proud of, I suppose. Then again, we haven’t even reached the projected peak of the infection, so who knows what the fuck will be happening in a few more weeks.
Anyway, the afterlife: I’m inching closer and closer to believing in one. To be honest, I’m not sure that I ever truly stopped believing in one, I’ve just come closer and closer to the realization that we can’t comprehend, at all, what it is like. My childhood vision of heaven and hell—-with angels, clouds and harps; demons, fire and brimstone—-is probably as close to the truth as Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are close to being real.
Of course, it doesn’t help that I have been reading a lot of John Connolly lately. “A Game of Ghosts”, Connolly’s fifteenth book to feature his haunted private detective, Charlie Parker, is all about the afterlife, but the afterlife and the supernatural in general have always played a preeminent role in Connolly’s fiction. This one just kicks it up a notch.
The plot—-as par for the course for a Connolly novel—-is elegantly convoluted. There are so many storylines going on, so many characters to keep track of, it’s almost silly of me to try and break it down for you, so I won’t.
I will say that if you have never read a Connolly novel—-and a Parker novel, in particular—-this one is probably not the one to start with. So many narrative threads have transpired prior to this book, so many well-established characters have, or will, come to their (satisfactory and/or satisfying) end in this book, and so much of Parker’s backstory is vital to fully understanding what is going on in this book, that the book would read like gibberish to a reader coming at Parker for the first time. Sure, it might suck you in with Connolly’s hauntingly beautiful prose, and the ideas within may seem fascinating, but you simply won’t get it.
Just know that it is a humdinger of a ghost story. Creepy as hell, guaranteed to give one hair-raising goosebumps and possible night terrors months from now. It will—-like the events in the world right now—-also force one to contemplate what awaits us all after death. For some of us, the thought of an afterlife is a pleasant thought, a consoling thought of a place where we may one day reunite with loved ones and see paradise, finally.
Others, however (and Connolly seems to take very little glee in the thought), may find the thought of an afterlife as a terror beyond anything that this world can concoct, because if the afterlife is a place where we ultimately meet our final judgment, the thought of death as a vast infinite nothingness may actually be preferable.