Poisonwood Bible

I just finished reading Barbara Kingsolver’s “Poisonwood Bible” for, oh, I don’t know, maybe the 10th time? Its like a great roadtrip where you reach your destination and say, “Oh, I’m here already?” I’ve heard people say they wish they could read a book for the first time again because there’s no experience like the first. But when it comes to “Poisonwood Bible”, I have to be honest and say, it always feels like the first time for me.

Lately I have felt so shallow. So I picked it up, knowing I didn’t need something necessarily happy and good, but rather something strong and demanding. Sometimes we read the same books again for comfort, but in this case, its exactly the opposite. Her writing makes me uncomfortable; it makes me want to change. It makes me feel better and worse all at the same time, desperately clinging to salvation in the face of an unhappy ending. I read about someone else’s loss so that I can gain. Is that selfish? Perhaps. The words are deep, dark, and just when I’m feeling a little lost, they suddenly yank me to luminosity and I feel a hesitant, looming sort of hope again. The writing is relentless, but forgiving. Like anything resilient, I return to it again and again and it never seems to lose a thing. In the end, I guess I just love things that encompass both light and darkness, both in unexpected places.

It reminds me of what we all are, and a quote from one of the characters sums it up. “A crooked little person trying to tell the truth. The power is in the balance: we are our injuries, as much as we are our successes.”