Book 20: The Illumination by Kevin Brockmeier

The premise of The Illumination is intriguing and full of possibility: one night, for no reason that anyone can ever figure out, everyone on earth's pain suddenly becomes visible; they glow from the site of the sickness or injury. As if this weren't enough clever plot device for one novel, we also have a journal of love notes that becomes the common thread tying our characters together. Jason left a note on the refrigerator every morning for his wife, telling her something new that he loved about her. His wife, in turn, faithfully transcribes each note into a journal. But when his wife is killed the night the Illumination begins, the journal starts making the rounds of a series of sad, lonely, desperate characters. The writing is lovely and skillful here, and the central idea--of suffering as light, of pain as beauty--is tantalizing. I wanted to love it, but....I just couldn't. I couldn't quite connect with the beautiful suffering, and I couldn't connect with any of the characters, either. Which is a bit ironic, since the characters are crying out for connection and constantly, painfully, failing to find it. I was kind of waiting for it like the characters were; I kept thinking it would circle back around and the discrete plots would finally come together in some meaningful way...but it never happened. I guess that's the point--how fleeting and tenuous our connections to each other are, even as they're the most important things in life--but it just wasn't satisfying to me here. I can't put my finger on it, and I still wonder if I'll change my mind after I sit on it for awhile, but that's where I am right now. I was anxious for it be over as I was reading it. The love notes, which at first were endearing, started to seem tiresome and a bit gimmicky.