Suicide Dictionary engaged every sense available to this reader and at a high altitude of consciousness. And yet it proved accessible to lower altitudes as well, winding its way up and down an ascending descending staircase as if heaven were on its merry way to earth. Dizzying, to be sure, yet there are rails for holding on.
At one level the author, Paul Lonely sets out to tell the history of a fictional 15th century monastery, complete with monkish characters, and a story line that sounds made-up but with a set-up involving a true-to-life Pope Nicholas V. The first Renaissance pope, it was said of Nicholas by a contemporary who rose to pope after him, "What he does not know is outside the range of human knowledge." Respecting Mr Lonely, it might be said, what he does not know about words, may well be outside the range of the English language.
As if to prove the saying, the story Mr Lonely tells is just one level of a multi-story construction involving a series of delightful sonnets, playful acrostics, and rare poems of such simplicity and elegance and economy, they pass the test of the best literary science. The wording is so tasty it melts in the reader's heart, sending electricity across the skin. And the brain just has a field day with subject matters that include and transcend history, philosophy, the sciences, the arts, and spirituality at its utmost expression, the contemplative schools of various spirit traditions.
Did I mention that the aforementioned feat is carried out under the bare guise of a collegiate dictionary, 'A' section, be it said. That's right, Mr Lonely turns to the common literary appliance for inspiration in ordering his uncommon wording. Word by word, the first 100 A's supply the scaffolding for the author's distinctive style that, when all is said and done, dares not just to take the reader's breath away, but actually to breathe for the reader. When I finished my initial reading I felt ready to join-up with the monk-poets of Rainbow Abbey.
The book cover carries this endorsement by Ken Wilber: "a startling work of sheer genius . . . highly recommended, if you can handle it." I made my way to its end feeling I was the handle. Riddle by riddle of this masterful work lures the reader to see with clarity and conviction that the reader is the riddle, and at book's end, to feel less tied in knots, free to soar. Unlike any book I can recall reading in my 62 years, this one makes me want to live another 62. I have copies upstairs, downstairs, and one for the car, so I should live so long.