When the World Breaks Open

Seema Reza uses an episodic structure rich with sense memory to trace her journey from a violent, troubled marriage to an independent, uncertain life as a single mother and writer.  Each brief chapter frames an episode in her life like a snapshot, capturing complex memories into a single image vivid with detail and emotion.

Stylistically, the book begins with rich straight-forward narrative prose that gradually shifts into more lyrical, introspective language interspersed with poetry.  This shift subtly reflects her own emotional passage from the traumatic effects of her marriage to a more informed, reflective state of mind. 

Seema’s journey does not move in a straight line from Point A to Point B, but is instead a complicated and unpredictable passage through many different episodes that, collectively, lack a clear pattern or end point.  But they do reflect the pattern of life.  From the success of leaving her husband, to her struggles living as a single co-parenting mom, from the rewards of building her relationship with her sons, to the grief of losing her father, her life is a series of steps forward and backwards.  Only after the passage of time can she see the understanding and philosophical perspective she has gained.

The author’s use of sense memory enriches each episode, and elicits the complicated emotions of each scene.  Seema’s honesty about all of her emotions, whether they are desirable or not, creates a compelling authenticity that engages the reader in her story. Each of these emotions -- be it pain, passion, loss, equivocation, regrets, selfishness, anger, confusion or longing – inform different episodes and drives the phases of her growth.

In “Forgiveness,” Seema uses vivid sense memory when describing Karim, and her struggle to reconcile his abuse, with memories of the love she once felt for him.

“How do I forget that love?  I have experience in forgetting the bad times, the anger, the vicious words, the arguments and blame.  But how can I forget the feeling of his rough cheek against my hand, of my fingertip traveling down the line of his smooth forehead along his nose?  The smell of his neck.  The hard jut of his collarbone, the round of his shoulders in my palms.”  [p. 35]

Sense memories are invoked again in “While We Sleep” as she describes the sweet healing memory of sleeping with her younger son.  (In other, alternating passages, she uses these memories to contrast the comfort and security of his life, to the violent, tragic lives lived by children like him in other parts of the world.)

“I will wake completely tangled up with this child who snores and sleeps with his eyes almost fully open.  His bony feet kicking mine, his head in the crook of my arm, his elbows battering my ribcage.  His sleeping bag abandoned on the floor…

“I will disentangle myself, get up, grant myself the slow luxury of French press coffee brought back to bed and read, my back aching from a night of disturbed sleep…

“He will laugh aloud in his sleep, and I will touch my palm to his forehead and smile. . . “. [p. 47-48]

            In “Beyond,” the author recalls being at the beach with her father, as she struggles to cope with his death.

“A large man with incongruously thin legs, my father’s splayed steps were never more steady and certain than when he entered the ocean... His grip on my hand never seemed quite tight enough; his large soft palm felt like it could slip away, distracted, at any moment.  But when the water got deep and the waves came pounding at my chest, knocking me over, his grip tightened and I folded my knees, forcing him to pull me up, to bear my weight.  And he would laugh and continue walking, his stride unbroken, while I floated along beside him.”  [p. 125]

Then, in “When the World Breaks Open,” Seema describes walking into the ocean soon after her father has drowned.

“The water is cooler than is comfortable.  I walk into it with purpose, bringing one foot in front of the other in wide circles, like a tightrope walker.  Before long I have passed the point where the waves crash into foamy explosion.  Now the water rolls smoothly in great green velvety humps.  It feels as though I am moving through nearly set gelatin . . .The sky, overcast when we lay our blanket out, has brightened to a Mediterranean blue, with big, boiling white clouds in patches.  I wonder what the sky was like the day my father drowned.”. [p. 139]

Throughout the book, Seema uses these sense memories to ground herself in reality, and to make sense of the past.

Ironically, she works with military veterans suffering from PTSD and other trauma-related disorders.  Her personal trauma set against a backdrop of the darkest, most profound effects of battle trauma give her a new perspective on her life, and an empathetic appreciation for what she has.  She may not be able to save these patients, but she can at least do something to enable her own personal healing.

From the pain-numbed account of a troubled marriage in the beginning of the book, to the more fluid philosophical tone and poetry of the later chapters, the author gradually gains some perspective on the meaning and evolving nature of her own life.  By portraying all of her emotions honestly -- including her anger, jealousy, vindictiveness, and selfishness – she makes it clear that she has not yet arrived at a fully healed, evolved emotional state.   Yet her imperfect emotions give weight and integrity to the book.

No attempt is made to force a neat, fully resolved ending.  At the end of the book, Seema’s journey continues.  In the end, after all, there are no answers or perfect conclusions.  There is only truth.

Lisa