The Enlightening Power of Novels

I picked up The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey one evening after the kids were in bed. I had sprinted through a handful of nonfiction books in the previous weeks, and I was looking forward to jumping into a novel again. 

In the pages, I met Mabel: a middle-aged woman isolated in Alaska’s frigid winter suffering under the chokehold of melancholy and childlessness. She and her husband had fled to Alaska to start a new life together, all on their own. Years of strained relationships with family and friends made her feel like an outsider, especially after many years of barrenness and a stillborn. She grew tired of the whispers and looks and wanted to get away from it. She thought perhaps she and her husband would likewise grow closer through the isolation, but instead, they had only grown further apart.

When her husband accepts the invitation from the Bensons to get their help on the farm, Mabel becomes flustered and irritated. She wanted to keep her distance from everybody so that nobody could judge her or whisper about her inadequacies. 

As I poured over her story, I found myself perturbed by Mabel. Don’t you realize that a big part of your sadness is from your lack of community? I thought. Community isn’t easy, but we can’t survive without them. 

As soon as the words strung themselves together in my mind, I caught myself. 

I am Mabel.

Continue reading at Calla Press.