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19 of 21 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A book to which you will return time and again to savor a word, a line, a passage..., December 24, 2008
It is so fitting that this beautiful book - likely to be a favorite of yours, much as mine, one to which you will return time and again to savor a word, a line, a passage which you simply had to see again; in order to reveal new layers of meaning with every reading - has come out into the open during the holiday season. What book could possibly be better to curl up with during this season of brotherly love, than Paul Harding's "Tinkers"?
Even while this book has the propensity to appeal to any reader in its simply lovely recounting of a touching tale of generations of family, along with other vividly rendered lives met along the way, "Tinkers" is a profound, empathic and soulful work of art as well, replete with the most stunning descriptions, written in both tight as well as strikingly beautiful language, all of which blend together to create the sense of a whisper of holiness emanating from within nature and humanity.
I am reminded of a traditional blessing which is meant to be recited when one encounters a crowd of six hundred thousand people. The blessing praises God as `Sage of Secrets'. The intention being, that only God has the capacity to truly comprehend the individual cosmology of each and every one of the many souls on earth. Well, in writing `Tinkers', I believe that Paul Harding has humbly shown himself to be one who naturally emulates this divine trait, who is that empathic. With tender awareness and precision of language, Harding's heart shines through, in this brilliant, existential, and profoundly human work of literature, to reveal to us, in the sense of true revelation, the different souls who inhabit this book. He is so finely attuned to the human condition in all of its complexity, in all of its varied individual experiences, that Paul Harding can truly be called, "Sage of Secrets".
Harding's generosity of spirit reverberates throughout, as he guides us from a man hallucinating on his death bed, the very bed seeming to crash inwards as into a tomb of sorts which acts as a vortex for the fabric of all his personal history and ultimately that of the entire cosmos, into the souls of generations of men in this story, who seem to be tinkering with and studying the mechanisms of the world - of the cosmos, of nature, of epileptic seizures, of illness, of humanity, of mind, of belief, of inflation and deflation of ego, of clockwork, of time, of space, of hearts, of souls, of families, of love, of will, of loyalty... - in myriad ways, trying to make sense of it all, reaching for some grasp of how `it' works, wondering the extent to which they have impact, where they are in it all, whether through grappling in sermons, blending into nature, human interaction, providing healing and solace, supplying material needs, fixing household items, mending clocks... even as their thoughts seem to leak into each other's souls through a mystical connection of sorts which defies conventions such as time, as voice, as proximity, as life, as death... And into the souls as well, of - a haggard country wife whose will has broken; a hermit who doesn't speak, with whom a lovely silent ritual is forged; an ambivalent wife and mother; a chatty devoted wife; a dedicated grandson with conflicted thoughts; a child with slowed development; to name but a few, and even the perspectives of fish, of flies, of a cat, of a dog...
And finally, the description of how to make a nest, seemed to me to speak, in its loving detail, of the yearning for a home, and what a real home might caringly be constructed of on so many levels. Beautiful!
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