The Shack. A book review

"Read it," Yvonne said. "I can't tell you about it, just read it."

If it had been anyone else, I would have smiled, and said something polite. But I wouldn't have gone off and bought it. Yvonne is wise about books, if you don't count the Midford ennui. She is wise about many things, and I listen when she makes a recommendation.

I bought it.

Now I am half way through, and I only took a break because I needed to assuage my thoughts with a keyboard massage; writing is so often how I think.

I don't know if you'll like the book.
I don't know if I like it.
The first few chapters collapsed that part in me where grief abides. Grief never goes away, once you've taken her in, she merely retreats into a dark hollow near the region of your stomach. Her emergence is implosion.

The book begins with a tragedy, and spins off into a dream. I kept crying, in the first chapters, but I seem to be better now. I am not one of those women who welcomes an opportunity to weep.
Tragedy so often hits blindside. There you are, minding your own business. Suddenly, your world changes, and you are never the same again. If you don't know what I mean, just a wait a bit, and you will. Life is like that, and that is the grip of the first few chapters of this book.
The Shack is very disturbing, and quite compelling. All that, and I'm only half way through!
After the initial need for Kleenex in the opening pages, the book takes a provocative turn. I'm thinking now, and it seems that there is much fodder for contemplation. It's got me thinking about how I think of God. Who is God really? How has my religious paradigm been wrong? What assumptions of mine need to be cut loose? What, among my theology, is not Biblical?
The description of God was hard for me to take at first, too much of an assault on my traditional beliefs. I am beginning to like it, somehow. It's got a ring of freshness and truth, that really resonates in me.

I guess I'll have to get back to you on how the book turns out. I'm sure I'll finish it tonight, unless I exercise some Herculean restraint, by putting it down, and going to sleep. In which case, I'll update you tomorrow.

And, Yvonne, I'm sorry I didn't like the Midford story. I tried really hard. But, I love you very much, indeed.