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![]() | The Anatomy of Letting Go ![]() A therapist and patient confront grief through fragile rituals and shattered art. ![]() |
Enthusiasm, Another very interesting piece. While this is another exploration of desperation and loss, this takes a much more concrete approach. There is a tantalizing ambiguity in this. It seems intended to leave the reader trying to see through the fog, instead of the character in the story being fogged in...well, in addition to the character in the story, rather. The main theme is clear: even the wall (of therapy, in this case) needs support to keep from crumbling. The symbology is sometimes murky, the intentions of the characters only hinted at. Mental dysfunction is murky, though, isn't it? Your usual metaphors are not as colorful, and that seems intentional as well. This makes what symbology there is stand out all the sharper for interpretation. Here are some of those allusions and symbols that stand out to me, though they are certainly not all of the symbols herein: ~ Dr. Clara Voss kept a jar of dried lavender on her desk...for the ritual of crumbling a bud between her fingers. Lavender is often the scent of salvation and divinity, particularly in Christianity, where the concept of Salvation is magnified. In this line, I see Clara destroying her own salvation. (Later in the story, toward the end, this is looped back to.) ~ The name "Clara" means "clarity," and this character exudes anything but clarity. Juxtaposing contradicting images or concepts is an excellent tool to communicate non-physical conflict to the reader. Very clever. ~ “I tried to make her heart,” he said. “But it looked like a wound.” Tina Turner expresses a similar thought: "Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken...?" Eli is one of those ambiguities in this piece, and I'll touch on him later. But the insinuation in this line points to the inability of Clara to heal. Clearly, she can't move on, but in her state of painful stasis, like Eddie Vedder, it seems her "empty hands cradle broken glass of what was everything." ~ No reply. (There never was.) Clara's unarticulated cries for help are not heard or are ignored. Couched in the context of a phone call to the past, this avoids being obvious, and that is important in this piece. ~ “You’re a lighthouse...but you’re drowning in your own basement.” You use water in many of your stories seems to represent implacable defeat. With the top of the lighthouse being mentioned as well, though, this is one of those interesting ambiguities for the reader. Does this symbolize "how the mighty have fallen?" Or is it a representation of the more common case of denial and cover: "I'm dying, but I'm wearing a smile that will never let you know that." ~ “Take this. It’s empty, but… sometimes holding nothing is the point.” Wow. This is powerful, especially if viewed through the same socioreligious lens as the lavender. "Take this, and eat of it. It is my body, and it is given up for you." That's from the Catholic mass. But Clara offers: "Take this. This is my salvation, which is denied to me, but might find new life with you." I want to say that's too close for coincidence, but it might be a combination of my own experience and general disillusionment with pretty much everything. Still, the story is interpreted by the reader, so... In any case, it's a bloody brilliant symbol of Clara completely discarding any hope for salvation or surcease from her inner torment, denying self-care while still extending care toward others. ~ Her phone buzzes...New patient compulsive guilt...she turns it off. Holy s***. Another powerful set of symbol. She realizes (phone buzzing) that she is desperately in need of help (new patient), that she is consumed with "compulsive guilt..." but chooses self-destructive behavior patterns in lieu of asking for the help she needs (she turns it off). Damn—that's a tight, efficient package of some serious issues! ~ Clara sits in her car outside her brother’s old apartment....The heater’s still broken...She crumbles a lavender bud that isn’t there. Another of your compound symbol-sets the reader is compelled to evaluate Clara in toto, while there is a pause in the mental action of the story. What has happened in her life? She has obviously lost her brother and her spouse, and she blames herself. "Physician, heal thyself." Indeed; although she is a grief counselor, she cannot handle her own grief. But this might not be exactly her fault. Her guilt is "compulsive;" her mind demands she accept the blame of the world. Is her brother dead, and does she demand absorbing the guilt for it? Is this what came between her and her wife? Whatever the case, these symbols tell us Clara has succumbed to her breakdown and walked herself toward the brink, wishing she could reach for that lavender salvation still but knowing it is gone. ~ Stay here. Stay here. Stay here. Clara will not move on. She will not allow herself. Even though everything in the world is trying to help her move on, she has thrown away that salvation, and we can interpret here that it is deliberate as she wills herself to stay here in this half-life of defeat, sadness, and desperation. I like lists; I think you can tell. So here's another list—a list of instances of ambiguity that seem intentional to make the reader look deeper. But just in case they're not intentional, it might help for me to point them out. ~ Eli. Does he represent someone? Does her represent her brother's memory or ghost? Is the woman he tries to create actually Clara, broken beyond resurrection? Heck, is he Jesus, trying to resurrect her but finding her unwilling to accept His salvation? Or is he just a literary tool to indicate that others are beginning to see cracks in her? ~ The wool coat. Ostensibly an effort to be someone else, does this also represent an attempt to smother the self? (It sucks trying to breathe through wool. Trust me. ![]() ~ The heater. Not as ambiguous as the others, but the reader has to try to decide: is she longing for the warmth of other human beings, or is this an illustration that her heart of broken glass shards is no longer able to warm her blood into the action of moving on? This is another complex story in a very compact package. Not nearly as illustrative and image-driven as some of your other work, it gives the reader a different flavor of bitterness to chew on. That kind of variety is very important in your portfolio. A story like this, so representational and driven by thought and feeling, is hard to critique for grammatical accuracy. There is a lot of poetic license taken, and that fits the piece well. Similarly, with it appearing deliberately ambiguous, no fault can be found with the somewhat flexible arc of Clara (particularly her pre- and post-story status). I did not trip over any out-of-context words, either. I applaud that, because sometimes the right words are nearly impossible to find. (Just ask Clara.) All of which means I'm really no help at all except for reflecting back how very good this writing is. I feel privileged to read you work, and I appreciate the generosity of your asking for my opinions. Write on, brother. Write on! --Jeffrey NOTE: I am not a spiritual man, but I recognize others often are. I try to be open-minded, and that is why some of my interpretations are through the lens of religion or spirituality.
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