The Beauty of Escapism

“People read books to escape the uncertainties of life.” Barbara Kingsolver

Photo: Courtesy of Bluestocking Bookshelf

For the last several years, we have done our best to find beauty and peace in a world which has seemed devoid of it. From politics and war, to health and wellness, our ‘give a darn’ has been depleted. Now more than ever we seem to be searching for that thing to help us escape from our reality.

With the physical inability to travel as we would like, we have ‘run away’ through books. In 2020, there were over 750 million print books and 191 million e-books sold. (I can attest that I was a large contributor to that statistic!) What drove us to read more? We wanted to depart the confines of the world which we had not chosen: this pandemic/job loss/medical issues/family struggles all of the facets of life which are oppressive. But that’s how it has always been, hasn’t it? Diving into what Carl Sagan called ‘…a flat object made from a tree…on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles’ has always been my personal sanctuary. But there were times it was so much more.

In September of 2015 I had entered a contest sponsored by Meryton Press, and was one of the winners. My little story ‘Winter’s Awakenings’ was going to be featured in their anthology “Then Comes Winter.” To say I was over the moon was an understatement. I had written so many notebooks filled with stores, had finished a complete unpublished novel, and was certain that someday I would be sitting on Oprah or Ellen’s couch talking about my best seller. This was my ticket! I had already mentally chosen my dress for the awards ceremony and things were falling into place. And then, my life was turned upside down.

Timmy-6 weeks after diagnosis

A week or so later, my husband noticed three little bumps on our son’s neck. After a trip to the doctor, our then nine-year-old Timmy was diagnosed with T-Cell Lymphoma. The world as we knew it was over. Our days of Boy Scout Meetings, Football and Soccer practices were instantly replaced with hospital stays, surgeries and medicines which we couldn’t even pronounce. Our baby was broken and there was nothing we could do.

As many of you know, cancer doesn’t just affect the patient: every family member, friend, teacher, colleague is touched in some way. Our little family of five had to hunker down and readjust. My husband had to step away as the Head football coach, friends took our youngest two sons to practices and school to try and give them a sense of normal that their eight and four year old minds could comprehend. And we prayed. A lot. But what I really wanted to do, was escape.

Escape the sterile hospital rooms; escape his cries of pain; escape the beeping of the machines when there was air in the IV tubes. I wanted to be anywhere else with my boy. My husband and I switched off nights in the hospital, so our two littles would have one of us at home all the time. When it was my night, I couldn’t sleep. Neil the Ninja (as we called the night nurse because he made sure to come in so quietly, our boy NEVER woke up with him) would always say, “Mom. Shut off your kindle. Get some rest.” And I would say, “Neil, I know when I wake up, my baby will still be here. So, for a few minutes I’m going to Derbyshire.” And I did.

I was in a carriage with Elizabeth and the Gardiners; I walked the gallery of Pemberley and saw Mr. Darcy’s portrait; I had my heart in my throat when Lizzy saw Mr. Darcy coming from the stables. I was in a world that was not my own, and it was wonderful!

In a criticism of Pride and Prejudice, Sir Winston Churchill said, “What calm lives they had, those people! No worries about the French Revolution or the crashing struggle of the Napoleonic Wars. Only manners controlling natural passion as far as they could, together with cultural explanations of any mischances.”

Although I believe in his brilliance during WWII, I must respectfully disagree. Why should we always be forced into our surroundings? Why do we need to be reminded of the things which torture us, which drag our spirits down and we have no control over? Jane Austen knew what was happening abroad (as you may recall, her cousin was guillotined in France), so why should she dwell on it? Why should we? Instead,  I personally would much rather take on the attitude from “Matilda” by Roald Dahl:

“So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.”

And I wasn’t alone. In addition to the nurses, doctors, and other patients with their families, I had Lizzy, Jane, Bingley and Darcy. Their presence gave me the strength to get through another night, and another day. They motivated me to start writing my own novel, and that’s where “A Lie Universally Hidden” was born and nurtured, in room 416 in Kaiser while my sweet son slumbered. So thank you, Jane Austen. Thank you to all the authors who have helped us escape our darkest moments; who have helped us to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I did.

Timmy and my Mr. Darcy

We were blessed to reach our light on February 2, 2018 when our boy officially went into remission. He just passed his 4th year of remission, but every appointment, every ache or pain sends my husband and I into silent panic. But, no matter the outcome of our lives, I know I will always have my friend Jane waiting to help me escape for just a few more hours.