A man vows to leave his wife a sticky-note defining one thing he loves about her, every day. The woman transcribes these little notes -- silly, profound, sentimental, teasing -- into a series of journals. There's a car crash. The husband dies... so his wife believes.
Carol-Ann, a divorcee, severs her thumb opening an alimony cheque from her cold ex-husband.
They end up in the same hospital room, where something strange and magical happens: all over the world, pain and suffering -- human, animate and, extraordinarily, inanimate --becomes, literally, visible, as wounds and hurts, disease and sadness, begin to emit a brilliant clear silvery light.
The woman in the crash dies. The other woman takes the journal home with her. She wanted her to have it.
But her husband had survived the crash.
And so begins an extraordinary novel of love and pain. Not boy-meets-girl love or boy-loses-girl pain, but of human suffering and the love it engenders. In his previous novel, Kevin Brockmeier approached the two great qualities of John Cheever -- a plain, eloquent style, and an immersion in love even where you and I can't see it -- and in The Illumination he surpasses it.
The book is an extraordinary achievement. I see that one reviewer complains that it's a sci-fi book let down by poor writing. Isn't one of the things about reviewing to find out what the author is trying to do? This isn't science fiction, or urban fantasy, or any other convenient tag. It is what all art aspires to: something more utterly like itself than it is like anything else.
It glows with the two rarest qualities in life: profound sympathy and imagination. Something I can't quite define radiates from its pages, a something which encourages simultaneous tears and laughter. It's infinitely strange and utterly familiar with the familiarity of a recurring dream.
To say Brockmeier's writing is "poor" is raw opinion without substance, like saying "ugh" about salmon because it isn't pizza.
Technically, Brockmeier's flawless, rhetorically and analytically. He never shows off. Never wants to make us say "Wow, he's clever! Wow, he can write!"
To the reader, his writing's like quicksilver, flowing and coalescing with a brilliant glow which belies its weight, its determination. "The Illumination" is utterly itself, compelling, disorienting and, above all, humane.
If you are human, read it.