A Lesson Learned

January 11, 2008

Gretel Ehrlich’s A Match of the Heart demonstrates the power of abstractions, of vague concepts that hold no literal truth, but bring the reader closer to the writer’s realm and experience.  Ehrlich makes sense where there is none; a sound is tangible, light is heavy, the air is a person, etc.  These images which seem to hold no meaning, or at least no meaning in the most simple sense, actually serve a larger purpose for this specific piece, and more generally, play an important role in nonfiction: They explain the unexplainable – they add another dimension that was never seen or experienced before. 

           

            Ehrlich accomplishes this abstract style and tone using various tools.  Extremely open-ended questions are just one example: “There are no shadows or sounds.  Should there be?”  The author is questioning her own observations – are they right? And did they happen?  Ehrlich also invites the reader, speaks to the reader, asks for the readers assistance.  These abstract questions draw the reader closer; the story becomes mutual.  The narrative distance isn’t there because the narrative is in your face. 

 

            Ehrlich also uses abstract imagery as a tool to get the readers attention – to put the reader in the scene.  “Blue trickles in,” “Gravity is done with me,” “Sound…is a snowplow moving grayness aside like a heavy snowdrift,” and “long knives of light” – these are just a few examples of the powerful and abstruse imagery used in A Match of the Heart. 

           

            At first, the ocean is gray – it’s mean, it’s absorbing, it’s deadly.  Later blue comes, but the blue is the ocean, it’s the nice ocean – the light and the surface.  These concepts add to the piece by separating the ocean into good and bad – reiterating a struggle for life (a clash between good and evil).  Sound comes alive in this story, literally.  The heartbeat emits waves, moving water.  The author slows down time, which makes the story all the more mentally stimulating.  Gravity becomes a person.  Rather than stating that she is experiencing no gravitational forces, Ehrlich describes gravity as a thing that chooses to forget about her.  The effect is more profound and cogent.  At the end light strikes Ehrlich like lightning.  We all know how it feels to experience intense light after being stranded in darkness.  Light stabs the eye, as is similarly said in the piece: “I have been struck by lightning and I am alive,” and “knives of light.” 

 

            Ehrlich takes a quick moment and makes it into a long struggle.  Each moment is broken down, and the reader is taken by surprise – dragged into the struggle.  Her abstract style removes any initial narrative distance and makes the reader slowly experience a brief conflict.  Is she mean?