You can read last week’s post to get a feel for what this very short series is about. Broadly speaking, in my quest to read more modern literature, I’m finding myself grappling with modern issues in a way that is rather different than when I’m having broad conversations with others, or reading news stories. Books are affecting to me, and always have been. I’m typically more emotionally moved by a book that just about any other stimulus. So, I take the stories they tell seriously and look for what the author wants to say with it.
I just finished The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah. This book is focused around Leni (or Lenora) and her parents. Her father was a POW in the Vietnam War, and hasn’t been the same since. They end up moving to Alaska (which is what the title is referencing) and occupying a homestead left to Leni’s father by a deceased friend from the war. I won’t say any more about the plot other than it’s a dramatic ride that had me hooked the whole way.
The focus of the book’s discomfort was domestic abuse and violence. Unlike my lack of background with the gay community and HIV/AIDS growing up, which led to a non-judgmental and supportive outlook, my only direct “experience” on the front of domestic abuse and violence was my mom repeatedly telling me that I should never lay hands on any future children of mine. I know that my dad grew up with some mild forms of corporal punishment within his family, but my mom would have none of it and strictly forbade it. I definitely appreciate that stance, and it’s led forward with me until today, as someone who’s really only done as much as wrestle.
The reason for using the phrase domestic abuse and violence is because they should both be emphasized in different ways. Domestic abuse often takes the form of emotional abuse and manipulation, while the violence part is rather straightforward. This book explores both concepts deeply from the perspective of a teenage girl who was mostly protected from these tough things until they suddenly stared her in the face.
It was heart-wrenching to follow this many-years journey in the book as a family struggled, clinging onto hope. Of course, this book only covered one aspect of domestic abuse and violence and how it materialized in a particular circumstance set in the 1970s and 1980s. But it really dove into some of the troubles still common today. Although I will admit that I’m woefully unaware of what progress, if any, has been made on these troubles.
The first very direct issue is that of legal recourse. If a woman is being abused by her husband, to what extent is she able to press charges and be guaranteed security in the future against retribution? As the book states:
… life—and the law—is hard on women. Sometimes doing the right thing is no help at all.
Kristin Hannah, The Great Alone
Of course I’m in the privileged position to not be on the receiving end of these struggles. But that puts me in the position to be ever the greater proponent, without stepping on the toes of the women who are at the forefront of the issues. It’s incredibly frustrating when the law and its implementation does not abide with our own internal compass as a society. This is one of those situations that still needs significant work to be improved. The Great Alone explores this issue of legality in two separate plot points, each one incredibly infuriating. However, this is theoretically a fixable issue at a systemic and societal level. These are hard changes to make, but people can often work together to make them happen.
There’s a second issue explored in the book that can only be dealt with on an interpersonal level: the hope, longing, and love that can still persist in the face of manipulation and violence. People so often say to abused people to “just leave [their abuser]”, when the reality is rarely that simple. First, a manic abuser rarely takes a “no” well, and a sudden departure is even worse. Not only that, but someone who has been thoroughly abused may have no lifelines left financially or otherwise to make use of. Luckily, the world has seen this and responded by creating sporadic shelters in secret locations designed for the aid and protection of abused people, but that’s assuming someone is willing to leave.
Deep in a thrall of introspection, Leni voices this thought about love and hope in light of her parent’s relationship:
Leni saw suddenly how hope could break you, how it was a shiny lure for the unwary.
Kristin Hannah, The Great Alone
This is a cynical, yet brutally cold truth when read in context. Hope, when not properly vetted and inspected, is indeed a dangerous lure for many reasons. It can cloud judgment and provide an infinitude of excuses. Manipulation and the cycle of abuse is tricky, and helping to navigate someone caught in it is extraordinarily difficult. I’m lucky to have avoided it for the most part in my life, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be an advocate or aid in improving society, or even a few people’s lives if given the chance. Seeing how it goes well beyond the scope of just two people is horrifying at times.
As I think about these two topics I’ve tried to discuss, it’s often the conversing that’s difficult as well. I was very aware of certain word choices that I made (and probably made far more mistakes than I intended to.) There are subconscious word choices and phrasing decisions made whenever a discussion happens, and these can be very damaging if not handled well. Furthermore, it is hard to discuss something with no definitive answer or resolution. There are so many ongoing conversations in today’s society that it’s hard to keep up. But, I suggest to take the time to ingest various pieces of media that give you snapshots of issues, and make sure you process them fully in whatever way is healthy for you. It’s good to have a way to work through topics that are discomforting. It’ll help keep us grounded in a world where so much is whirling around us, and there seems to be so little to hold onto.