Revelation

I've just begun reading The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, one of my favourite authors, and I had this eureka moment as I read it. You might think it unnecessary, but I believe that one should find a literary character to relate to in the span of one's life. You see, by relating to that character and by listening to the character's "voice", you gain a new perspective on life. There results a reaffirmation of your identity as a person, which enables you to envisage your future self after being influenced by the character. Of course, you must expect changes, because you should never be static as a person. Your choices will invariably differ as another part of your life gives up the ghost.

For years I devoured books, smelled their pages new and musty, heard the crack of the spines, fingered peeling bindings, and hunted them all over the stores---yet this quest to find a kindred spirit in the world of books failed me. My early heroes were not like me. Anne Shirley, Jo March, Miss Havisham, Edmond Dantes, Jean Valjean-- these were characters whom I appreciated and admired, but I did not relate to them completely. There was, in our correlation as character and reader, a gap that was far too large for mending. We would perhaps be friends, but we would always be incongruous together; I never thought I would find that elusive personage. However, upon reading The Poisonwood Bible I finally found her. Adah, the twin who thought much but rarely spoke; the one who saw through her sisters and parents, who never fit in anywhere, who had a damaged brain but still functioned, who made palindromes her mantras, who rebelled against blind obedience to her father and the God who she felt had abandoned her. She is very much like me, although we are not exactly the same. She is equally the person I am, the person I want to become, and the person I want to leave behind. Never have I been so engrossed in a character. She compels me. We are shattered shards of the same mirror, and I feel that with little effort I can make her real. Because of her, I am pressed more than ever to know how the story ends; when that time comes I hope that I, too, will know how to deal with myself, how to conquer the demons, how to drag my right foot behind my left, how to shout without saying a word. After discovering her, the unbidden surprise in a book, I believe more than ever in the magic of books; and my faith in them is affirmed as it has been time and again.