Sunday
23Nov2008
comfort reading
Sunday, November 23, 2008 at 12:00AM in Toni McGee Causey Somewhere, there is a woman, sitting in a room, three days past a rape. Her bruises are turning purple and in a few more days, they're going to be that greenish hue of ghouls. She hasn't looked in a mirror, yet, but the swelling is starting to abate, and she can open her jaw without the execrable pain. The screaming is almost entirely in her head, now. The stitches hurting her remind her she's alive and she's not really sure why people keep telling her that, as if that's a good thing. She's not sure she wants to be. There's been just enough time to get past the initial shock, the stunned chaotic business of having lost any sense of strength in the face of the world. She has had just enough time to be processed, and there should be a stamp for her forehead: file # 56449A221.
Oh, people have been caring. They have been very professionally caring. All of the people, scads of them. They have been very careful not to touch her or move too fast. Everyone is diligent about addressing her respectfully, using her name, always making sure she feels like an individual. She can see it, see in their eyes how she is now different. The opposite of the person on the other side of the desk, where there are things like strength and weapons and confidence.
And right now, she is finally alone, though the moat around her has turned into an ocean, and the screaming, it just keeps on coming. For a few minutes, not having to deal with anyone else is good. A relief. But then there is the silence, and in the silence, it all happens again. She cannot close her eyes, because it's all happening. Again. She cannot talk to someone, because the screaming will break free. Or the tears. Either may kill her.
She needs. Needs. To be somewhere else, other than here. Other than this thing she's become. Needs to be able to step outside of her skin for a little while. Maybe a long long time.
She's going to go to her bookcase and pick up something. Maybe it's something where the woman kicks someone's ass. Maybe it's one where the good guy wins. Or the DA is brilliant. Or the girl comes of age and has confidence. Whatever it is, she gets to step outside of the bruises and the cuts and the broken bones for a little while. She gets to live a different ending. A different beginning. Have a safe place to be. And somehow, maybe, have a little hope that this thing, too, will pass.
Write a story for her.
~*~
Somewhere, there is a man, sitting in a hospital room. His wife has cancer, and he's been there, every day, before and after work. Except now, he can be there full-time, since he's lost his job. He's spent days seeking help, trying to find a way to keep her there, to make sure she has the care she needs, when all of his benefits are gone. He's filled out more paperwork in this one week than he's done in a lifetime, and only barely understands half of what they've told him, if that.
He'll try to get a second mortgage for the house. Sell off the second car, trade his in for something cheaper. The savings--such as it is, there's not much with two kids--is gone. The retirement will go next, and that might last a month, at this rate. They don't qualify yet for any sort of Medicare or help. His sister is at his house, boxing up stuff to sell. Doing it while the kids are at school, so they don't see.
The screaming is almost entirely in his head, now. The anger, the rage, the helplessness. His wife's asleep, and sleep is so rare with the pain she's in, he can't risk turning on the TV. She's been in too much pain for him to leave the room, though.
He's lost. He sees it in the eyes of the nurses, sees it in the eyes of the administrator. The woman running the accounts payable office. He's become this other thing, this person he doesn't know, and right now, for a little while, he needs. Needs. To be somewhere else but here. Someone else but him.
He'll slump down in the God-awful chair they have in the room, punching a pillow that one of the orderlies found for him, and he'll crack open that favorite paperback he grabbed on his way out the house this morning. For a little while, he gets to be a hero. He gets to fight crime or solve problems, save the world or save the girl. For a little while, he gets to have hope.
Write a story for him.
~*~
A lot of people in the industry are scared right now--things look bleak. If you're pushing through NaNoWriMo or that draft on deadline or beginning a new project, you may be at that part of the process where you're feeling exhausted--or scared to begin. Writer fatigue and fear are hard to combat in the face of a lot of bad news, and especially hard to slug it out when it looks like the possibility of selling is dwindling to nothing.
And this, ironically, is when we need story the most.
Story-telling has been around for millennia for a reason--we need to connect. We need to both transport somewhere other than our own daily circumstances and to connect to others, to know that someone out there understands us. Understands our fears, our desires. We need to escape, without physically abandoning our family and friends. Stories do that. We need the hope, the connection, the dream.
Write a story for us.
~*~
Tell me about a book that you read during a bad time, something that--for whatever reason, be it light or serious--just got you through the day.
Reader Comments (138)
Thanks for writing this for US!
I know there are books that have had major effects on me at times when I desperately needed it - but I haven't had my latte yet, so... I'll stop back by and add to the mix.
I've felt for awhile now that the word "powerful" has become over-used when referring to books and writing.THIS piece, however, is exactly what that word should be reserved for.
A book I've read more than once and have recommended to certain, though not all, friends when in need of a bit of hope is a book which starts out as hard and dark as any I've read. Laurie King's FOLLY was quite hard to push myself into, but became the book representative (to me) of hope, strength, survival and ultimately peace.
The last book that affected me shouldn't have. LEAVE NO MAN BEHIND by David Isby. It was very dry, packed with a near-overwhelming amount of history and information, and about a subject I knew little about. I bought it to understand the history of Special Forces for the backstory of a character--a book I intended to skim, not read--and ended up reading it cover to cover. I came away absolutely shocked that there was so much I didn't know about modern history and warfare. Two sentences from the back copy pretty much sum up the book: "These accounts show the US fighting man at his most heroic. Yet they also show how they have often been let down by their political leadership."
Reading the book helped immensely in grounding my fictional story, but it has stuck with me for so long it impacted how I view the military as a whole, and soldiers specifically. Veterans Day had a completely new meaning for me this year.
I'm with Kaye - all I can think of to say at this moment is, "Wow!"
You've done it again. Another stunning post.
I've been through some particularly dark times and, like you, often reach for something a little more fantastical from the bookshelf. So, any of Clive Barker's epic tales - WEAVEWORLD, IMAJICA, or THE GREAT AND SECRET SHOW.
And again, wow.
One of the toughest Times of my life (so far) was when Anne died four years ago. I read a lot during that time and I can't really think of one book in particular that stood out.
Honestly, it was writing that that got me through. I think this was because I felt like I needed some kind of control in my life because I felt so helpless with the actual circumstances going on around me.
I hope to one day sit down and write a story for Anne.
Aw, Zoë, thank you. And yep, Clive is definitely one I reach for. All great suggestions. Another writer who fascinates me is Neil Gaiman.
The writing... yes. Totally am there with you on that. I think I would go mad without the writing.
I'm sure you'll write something for Anne, and she would be proud of you.
And then I found this community of ours and it all came true (without the aliens and time travelers, although I'm still not so sure about some of you).
I hadn't heard of the Callahan Saloon books--now I am immensely curious and will have to check them out.
[You realize that Brett is now going to be all paranoid that the antennae still show, right?]
Because sometimes escape from reality is the healthiest gift we can give.
And 'fess up, Toni. You're far too evolved to be from our century. When are you really from?
An incredible moment in my life was when a man told me that he'd bought my books for his dying wife and that they made her laugh in her final days, took her mind off the pain and the fear.
I can't think of higher praise . . .
When I got home that night, I curled up with Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, which never fails to make me smile. Then I read a couple of the Doctor Who tie-in novels -- not great literature, certainly, but what I'd consider my literary version of a popcorn flick. Something that I can just sit back and enjoy without having to think all that much. And it helped. More than anything else, it helped.
Some thirty years ago, my safe dependable life was shattered, and could not be built back again. I had read Robert Massie's NICHOLAS AND ALEXANDRA a few years previously, and enjoyed it. I saw he had a new book, published jointly with his then wife Suzanne, titled JOURNEY. I got it, and was both jolted and, eventually, comforted by that book. I still keep it beside the bed, and perhaps once a month or so, read at least one or two chapters. In the mid fifties, their first child and only son was born with classic hemophilia. At the time, this diagnosis meant invasive bleeding into joints, crippling pain, and if not early death, the prospect of life long disability. The two parents had to come to terms with something they could not change. They found ways to meet the challenges. Eventually the financial windfall from NICHOLAS AND ALEXANDRA gave them the economic power to ease the struggle, but it was never easy. I realized reading that book, that all kinds of people, in all walks of life face overwhelming tragedy. As frantic as I felt, I was not alone. And especially the chapters written by Suzanne Massie gave me the perspective I needed to see my battle through.
For fiction - I can always lose myself in duMaurier's REBECCA. I find something new on every single reading - and I must have read it dozens of times by now. In more recent days, Elizabeth Strout's ABIDE WITH ME is another excellent story of decent people overwhelmed by tragedy and personal failings who find the paths to help each other.
Jean Rhys' Wide Sargasso Sea - I was in college and struggling with the idea of what it was I wanted to write, who I was, all of that angst-y stuff, and for some reason this helped pull me through that.
Ellen Gilchrist, all of her stories and novels over the years - she writes so beautifully about the South, and her characters are so bold and complex, and yet not overblown - regular people, really. She wrote a line in a scene where the MC touches her tongue to the screen in the door and tastes iron, and that one detail took me swirling back to girlhood - and made me realize the tiny details of a regular life's moment can be truly powerful to readers. It also helped me to learn that she raised four boys before she settled into being a writer, and published her first book in her late forties.
Barbara Kingsolver's Poisonwood Bible. I read that the year I had a 1-year old and a 3-year old. My efforts at leaving the house were thwarted by the 1-year old daughter, who hated the car seat with a passion, and her 3-year old brother, who also hated his but had learned how to delay gratification. We'd get to the end of our little street (if we were having a good day) and she'd start screaming that he was breathing too loud. He would wait a few moments (while I secretly counted and prayed he wouldn't do the next thing) and then he would CLUCK. One time. And she would go ballistic.
Poisonwood Bible transported me out of that point of motherhood, where I felt so trapped and like I had nothing else to define me but those car seat negotiations. It's pretty fitting that my copy has a child's pen marks all over it.
And of course, all the Murderati novels - too many to list, but just take a look at that moving sidebar! I've realized while reading through so many of your books that much of my early reading fix was crime and mystery and suspense, and that I've needed to let myself incorporate those elements into my own stories.
That there are so many examples makes a good point - for readers, having good books to turn to is crucial. And for those of us who also write, it's the go ahead to keep writing.
Thank you again, Toni - I know so many folks who needed this post right now.
And here I thought that writing a book at all was a tough thing. Now you want us to try to bind these savage wounds?
I'm not sure any book at all could comfort these folks save the Bible. But you've sure made me think about it.
And Allison, I found JD Robb because of you, and am now addicted and trying to read her whole backlist.
Dusty, I'll check out the Stardance books now -- thank you. I grew up dancing (lots and lots of lessons that I loved), so that will be fun.
As for being evolved? I am cracking up. Just as long as we don't let my family get to vote on that one, I'll be safe.
Ruth! That is so terrible, I am so sorry for your loss. I have two rescue pets, and I know how they can claim your heart. And I love Pride and Prejudice--I think I've read it at least once a year. (And I am not telling how often I have seen the movie.)
Woodstock--I hate that something derailed your life so much, but I am so glad you're here. NICHOLAS AND ALEXANDRA sounds like an amazing, heart-wrenching read. And now I'm going to have to check out Elizabeth Stout's book, too. Thank you.
We certainly can't fix them. Hell, we can't fix the leaky pipes, the screaming kids, the stubbed toe, either. But we can sure try to make 'em forget about it for a little while.
Just wow.
I don't know that I've got a single book that's helped me through dark times, but when I felt like there was something really wrong with me, Stephen King helped. I know it's a cop-out to throw out such a name author, but just knowing there was someone whose mind was as screwed up and dark as mine made me feel a little less alien.
I honestly don't think it's a cop out, though, to mention name authors--they're a name for a reason. It's great that you have a great go-to author, and I'm glad you're inspired. (As long as you're not inspired to re-enact Misery, we're good.) ;)
You, however, have been officially adopted over here at 'Rati (several times over), so you have no worries whatsoever. We're all very glad you're here.
My comfort read is only one passage of a book. It's from Gabriel King's 'The Wild Road,' and it's just one scene where a cat finds snow. He's a show cat who has never seen snow before, but knows academically that snow is what his paws and fur were designed for, given his breed, and his absolute happiness at finding a thing to demonstrate exactly what he is, and show him that he's *right*, is the most joyful and wonderful scene I've ever read.
As I've aged the books I read to distract me have changed. I find I'm attracted to books with underlying themes or values that I may want to reinforce in my life or sometimes add to my life.
Admittedly I find these themes oftentimes within books of murder and mayhem, romance and fantasy, but these books are where the emotions are often undiluted. The values are writ large. These tales serve as a backdrop to my own happenings, in the way we often seek out music or perfume to match our mood.
Thanks again Toni, for an evocative post.
I don't know how I would have survived certain periods if, like you, I hadn't found that sort of connection, where I saw that other people had been through things and survived them. More times than I can count, I'd realize I'd just read three or four books in a row on the same theme, though I hadn't intended that at the outset, and it helped me pry through the wall and figure out what was driving me.
Thank you, Catherine.
I love romances--especially romantic thrillers or suspense where there's a solid thriller/mystery and still, the couple have to figure out how to make the relationship work. Because in life, we can't have the plot and put the family/life stuff on hold 'til we save the world. It all gets messy and has to be dealt with at once.
I'm really glad you found what works for you and glad you're here! (And still coherent!) (I am still amazed.)
Catherine--yeah, I know what you mean. I've been buying up series lately. (I tend to go through great reading binges.) There is something very satisfying to finding a series that has several books it in already--where each story feels complete, but that world is not over for me. More to learn, more ways for the characters to grow, more exploration of what it means to be.
Communication... gotta love it.
I can lose myself with Eve Dallas and Roarke too, and Laurie R. King's "Folly" is a story for healing, I agree.
Oddly, though, when I need serious comfort, I turn without hesitation to either Dorothy Gilman's "The Tightrope Walker" or Morris West's "The Clowns of God". Two completely different books, and yet both give me hope and courage.
This is why I am so grateful to you and all of the commenters. We have such a great group here--people illuminate things for me in the comments I would have never thought of and I've learned so much from you all. I wish I could sit in a room and just listen to you all talk.
Another vote for King's FOLLY. Now I am truly intrigued. And I had never heard of the other two you mentioned (I feel like I must've been living under a rock, to have missed such great books as you all have suggested today). I'm definitely putting these on my must-check-out list. Thank you.