“The Air a Library and the Record of Every Life Lived”
“Is it so hard to believe that great shuttles of souls might fly about, faded but audible if you listen closely enough? They flow about the chimneys, ride the sidewalks, slip through your jacket and shirt and breastbone and lungs, and pass out through the other side, the air a library and the record of of every life lived, every sentence spoken, every word transmitted still reverberating within it.”
–Anthony Doerr, “All the Light We Cannot See”
Why do survivors of traumatic events seldom talk about them?
After all, to talk about something is to process it, and to process it is the path to recovery.
Or so, 21st century psychology believes.
Damaged
World War II survivors knew otherwise.
Sometimes, the events are so searing that the best one can do is let them scar over, and ever after leave them alone.
That’s the attitude of the all-too-vivid characters in the superb “All the Light We Cannot See,” a NYT best seller last year that I just caught up to, that is sure to stay with you long afterwards.
P.S. The beautiful, haunting, other-worldly quote (above) is from the book’s closing pages.
