To Whom it May Concern: Letters from the Ledge {a review}

Some authors manage to connect with huge audiences, but no author connects with everyone. Readers vary. They come to the page with a personal history, an education, a world view. They come seeking a specific experience -- escape perhaps, or entertainment, or enlightenment.

Some want action, romance, or suspense, and some want to meet a character who understands their deepest longings, fears, or sorrows. Some have short attention spans, and some love to linger long over exquisite passages, savoring the language as much as they do the story. Every reader is unique. And that's (one reason) why any review of any book should be taken as subjective.

That said, there are some objective questions that can be asked about any literary work. Does the writing style and content connect with the intended audience? Does the author accomplish what she set out to do? And that brings me to Letters from the Ledge by our own Lynda Meyers (aka, Madison Richards.)

Most writers I know say they write with an ideal reader in mind, and I'm guessing Lynda is no exception. I'm also guessing that, in the case of this particular book, I'm not that ideal reader.

The easiest way for me to describe Letters from the Ledge is to compare it to Salinger's iconic novel, Catcher in the Rye. In both books, the protagonist is a troubled teen, and the author bows to the character's voice. Letters isn't Lynda's story. It's Brendan's story. And Sarah's. Paige's, Nate's, and Tess's.

But there's a big difference between Holden Caulfield's self-absorbed, depressive, stream-of-consciousness angst as voiced by Salinger and Brendan's heart-breaking dance with self-destruction. The difference is the strong hand of Love hidden in the shadows.

God isn't center stage in Letters, and yet He's everywere.

If you like your hope served up in curly letters with hearts floating around them, Letters from the Ledge is not for you. I confess, I squirmed and cringed more times than I bothered to count, but not because the writing was sloppy, the characters shallow, or the plot full of holes. On the contrary. It was Lynda's skill -- not the lack of it -- that pulled me out of my comfort zone.

The book is exceptionally readable. I felt Brendan's pain and Paige's fear. I wanted to shake Ginny and wake her up. I mourned for Tess, cheered for Sarah. Yes, there's resolution and even a bit of happily ever after, but there's no shying away from brokenness and suffering. The language and subject matter belong to the streets of New York City, and the characters often search for meaning or comfort in all the wrong places.

Some Christians understandably have a hard time with that. Indeed, some would even say a Master's Artist has no business treading into that territory.

But I have to wonder.

If we don't meet hurting people where they live, how will they find their way Home? In Ann Kroeker's blog post about the Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing, she quoted Gary Schmidt as saying, "Writers are servants who ask questions and point tentatively." If this is true, then Lynda has mastered servanthood. Because Letters isn't a bullhorn for conservative Christianity. It's a picture of common grace, of a Hand shaping our days in spite of us, of redemption through, not out of. The book asks more questions than it answers. And yet, where Salinger remains stuck in Holden's head, Lynda soars above injustice, abuse, corporate corruption, family dysfunction, and even death, inviting us to glimpse the grand design of a patient, engaged God.

I'm not Lynda's ideal reader, because it's been a long, long time since I was a prisoner to pain. I already know the wonder of a Love that will not let me go. I already believe that suffering serves His purpose and grace reaches into the darkest pits. I'm not teetering on the edge.

But a lot of people are, and they need to meet characters who understand their brokenness. Some may be ready for a sermon, but others? They won't listen if we preach. They need a servant who asks questions and points tentatively.

This letter wasn't written to me. It was written to them. And I hope it finds its way into their hands.

* * *

 

Jeanne Damoff lives, reads, and writes in Dallas, Texas.

Comments

[SimplyDarlene]

Miss Jeanne, this is a good review. I'm so glad for your honesty. And my take-away from this piece is "If we don't meet hurting people where they live, how will they find their way Home?" -- because we have to remember that in all of life, not just writing, aye?

Blessings.

[Miz Melly]

I'm just starting this book and am gripped already. Lynda's writing is really refreshing. The characters are well rounded and real. I'm very excited.
Thanks for the review. I hope Lynda's book gets a wide readership and those who might normally shy away from literature out of their comfort zone might take a chance on some good old-fashioned story telling.
M

[Jeanne Damoff]

Thanks, Darlene. And, yes, your take-away is a good reminder for all of life. I judge people far too quickly, writing them off without ever entering their stories to discover how they landed where they are. Lynda's book helped me see through the eyes of characters who are nothing like me and yet, like me, are broken bearers of God's image, searching for hope in an often hostile world. I need that wider perspective.

So glad you're reading it, Melly! And I agree, the story grips and the characters come to life. Thanks for adding your recommendation! xo

[Lynda Meyers]

Darlene - It is my goal to live with purpose to that end... To meet people where they're at. This book is currently being read aloud to a classroom of behaviorally challenged middle school kids and they are being deeply impacted - the subject matter is sparking difficult but oh-so necessary conversations. I'm honored by this. It is enough.

Mel - I'm so excited to know you're reading it! I value and respect your opinions and can't wait to hear your thoughts at the end!

Many thanks Jeanne, for such a balanced and honest review, and for the courage to speak out and speak up for books (and authors) that sometimes ride the ragged edge :)

Much love,
and even more grace.

...May we all, always fly free...