Ache

Last year I read In The Quiet by Eliza Henry Jones and blogged about it here, because it took my breath away.

Over the last two weeks, I've read Ache, her latest release. Usually I devour books, but this was not to be devoured. It was to be sampled in small delicious bits so I could appreciate its power and beauty.

It's sat on my To Be Read pile for a long time, quietly whispering to me but I wasn't feeling well enough to delve into it. In the Quiet had hit me hard, and I was expecting this to do the same. I needed to be well enough to be opened up (exposed, torn apart; I don't think there's a word that describes this event) by literature. The blurb was heartbreaking enough - grief and recovery after bushfire.

It was everything that In The Quiet was, and more. Powerful. Heart breaking. Touching. Devastating. Renewing. Human. Real. Gritty. Poignant. Masterful.

It's a story told in broken pieces, which suits Annie who is broken herself. Traumatic events have made her question everything in her life. Her closest relationships are tested. Her daughter is traumatised by their shared experience, yet neither can articulate their horror. The grief is raw with the child, Pip, and contained by Annie. The story pieces Annie together with the most gorgeous writing, in bite sized pieces.

The setting, in the mountains, was once beautiful but is now blackened. The descriptions of the landscape are beautiful and powerful, with the landscape regenerating slowly, as the humans heal.

There are some harrowing events, deftly handled with descriptions that leave you aching but also give you hope.

I don't think I have words for this book.

It's grief at its rawest. It's Australia at its harshest. It's literature at its finest.

It tears you, makes you ache, at the same time as it fills you with hope.

It beautifully demonstrates that everyone grieves in their own way, over their own losses, and none of those are easy to define or describe or articulate.

It also shows that time heals, but not everyone heals in the same way.

Ache gave me a beautiful ache inside. Thanks for another incredible read, Eliza Henry Jones.