They would have done anything to divert the stream, make it meander on the plain and dry up under the weight of the sun… his last breath, when he was fully part of the waves of the sea, an invisible aspect of their rhythm.” “Their brother grew easily towards death in the same way as a source for a river, hidden under the earth, begins flowing and carries water across a plain to the sea.“It would not be long before all the life in me, the little left, would go, as a flame goes out on a mild day, easily, needing only the smallest hint of wind, a sudden flicker and then out, gone, as though it had never been alight.”.* Burdened with guilt and "what if?" about a situation that ended, or looks as if it will end, badly. * Lost a loved-one prematurely, especially a child. I expect this novel provokes the strongest reactions in those who can tick at least one of the following: I weep for the times when I have failed my own child, and humbly seek forgiveness - not from God, but from the flesh of my flesh, my beloved, precious child. What use a mother who cannot help her child at their time of greatest need? She looks back for solace, to the virginal ancient goddess Artemis, even as she looks ahead, in answer to the whispered call of death. Memories which are milked and warped by protective predators with a new religion to start. Memories which hurt as much as they heal. Her greatest pain is that there was nothing.Īnd now she has nothing but her memories. She examines his faults, questions his miracles, and agonises over what she could have done differently: how she might have saved the life of the one she gave life to, how she might have saved the Saviour of mankind.
Ultimately she lost him to a gruesome and humiliating death that left her vulnerable to shadowy principalities and powers. In later years, she lost him to delusions and dodgy friends that turned him into a dangerous demagogue. The first, innocuous loss, was at the temple, when he was twelve, staying behind in his “Father’s house”. She remembers how her beautiful, thoughtful child was transformed and lost to her, lost to life. Mary, mother of Jesus, is looking back at the life and death of her beloved son. I read it as a mother, sharing the agonies of another mother: grief and pain and guilt of a degree I hope I will never have to face. Militant atheists may find this too steeped in the New Testament. “ I did not think that the cursed shadow of what had happened would ever lift… It pumped darkness… It was a heaviness in me that often became a weight which I could not carry.” The agony of wounds and guilt, yes, but the balm of forgiveness, too, I hope. I read it as Gentle, stoical, visceral pain leaches from every page, into my fingers, till my very blood is charged with it. “ I did not think that the cursed shadow of what had happened would ever lift… It pumped darkness… It was a heaviness in me that often became a weight which I could not carry.” The devout may find this too heretical.
Gentle, stoical, visceral pain leaches from every page, into my fingers, till my very blood is charged with it. In her effort to tell the truth in all its gnarled complexity, she slowly emerges as a figure of immense moral stature as well as a woman from history rendered now as fully human.more To her he was a vulnerable figure, surrounded by men who could not be trusted, living in a time of turmoil and change.Īs her life and her suffering begin to acquire the resonance of myth, Mary struggles to break the silence surrounding what she knows to have happened. For Mary, her son has been lost to the world, and now, living in exile and in fear, she tries to piece together the memories of the events that led to her son's brutal death. To her he was a vulnerable figure, surrounded by m In a voice that is both tender and filled with rage, The Testament of Mary tells the story of a cataclysmic event which led to an overpowering grief.
In a voice that is both tender and filled with rage, The Testament of Mary tells the story of a cataclysmic event which led to an overpowering grief.