I want to step outside my typical writing and share something I have never shared before – two novels, an author, and the most poignant understanding of personal human endeavors, loss, and life within historical context that is so penetrating, I slow my reading for fear the novel will end.The author is Amor Towles. The two books I read of his in wrong descension was his latest first, A Gentleman in Moscow, and his debut – perhaps last, Rules of Civility. The cadence of his novels is not ruled by dialogue, but intent on sharing the characters convictions, their philosophies, and their trials. The intensity with which he delves into the persona is beyond anything I have read. Interspersed with wit personified in Agatha Christie, and the poignancy of Walden and Dickens, he unveils the human spirit like no other.That combination seems well suited to today’s conflagrations of betrayal and ineptness and ignorance. It revels in the spirit of human dignity and self worth given the circumstances of the era – revealing that every era of time is in its own tapestry of a painting whether along the Seine or the trials of personhood in the Soviet Union or America. They are the inner struggle for self – and love.The words spill across the pages like a violin. Each note reverberating a different soliloquy to be embraced and coveted lest it be lost in a singular second of time. Never to be grasped again.I have never felt so moved by an author as I have with these novels. Fictional in their rule, historical in their setting and societal ambiance. Seductive in the worldly sense without the necessitation of overtly candid sex, this author has grasped the gift of tale. And the diction of words in a melodious composition just as reminiscent of an opera as a jazz quartet or a dance routine of Fred Astaire.Amor provides a glimpse into what was to see what is today. From a place of society within the frame of the political eras that existed in this time frame he portrays. The politics of which are integrated but not judged. Simply presented – as an historian might.His main characters are seemingly devoid of one common anomaly – family. And thus traverse the rails of trains traversing the countryside – devoid, yet desperate to create this fulcrum of court. Of a purpose. Of a life outside of life apparent.I finished the second – albeit debut novel today – and feel a sense of vacancy. As though I need him to fill more of the vacuous void that has eclipsed our society in such tragedy we cannot find a leveled jutty from the mountainous cliff. I personally shared the experiences of wonderous persons who have come in and out of my life through the resonance of time and situation. Leaving a mark. A memory. Long gone. Never forgotten.The basic instinct of the novels being to revel in each and every moment as a punctuated gift from God or Angels. Each person brought to us in our lives was placed there for a valuable purpose – sometimes good and sometimes bad – but always for purpose. And nothing is coincidental or random.Good Night My Friends -
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