by Connie Willis
A time-travel novel about England in World War II.
Lately, I've been captivated by England in World War II. A weird thing to be captivated by maybe, but it's a place in history rife with ordinary heroism that snowballs into improbable victory and I think that's pretty cool.
It's been brought to the forefront of my mind and heart by a two-part novel about it by the great Connie Willis. Through the literary device of time travel, she weaves the threads of multiple character arcs into one beautiful image of love, self-sacrifice, and (not sure if she intended it or not) Providence. I'll add to this as I go on, but for now, this quote more or less sums up what's so beautiful about this book (although it won't mean quite as much if you haven't read it and don't know the backstory to each of the examples she gives). It pairs well with today's Feast Day of The Sacred Heart of Jesus, as a reminder of what He looks like, laying down His life for us.
“She had been wrong in thinking Christ had been called up against his will to fight in a war. He didn't look - in spite of the crown of thorns - like someone making a sacrifice. Or even like someone determined to "do his bit". He looked like Marjorie had looked telling Polly she'd joined the Nursing Service, like Mr. Humphreys had looked filling buckets with water and sand to save St. Paul's, like Miss Laburnum had looked that day she came to Townsend Brothers with the coats .He looked like Captain Faulknor must have looked, lashing the ships together. Like Ernest Shackelton, setting out in that tiny boat across icy seas. Like Colin helping Mr. Dunworthy across the wreckage. He looked... contented. As if he was where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to do. Like Eileen had looked, telling Polly she'd decided to stay. Like Mike must have looked in Kent, composing engagement announcements and letters to the editor. Like I must have looked there in the rubble with Sir Godfrey, my hand pressed against his heart. Exalted. Happy. To do something for someone or something you loved - England or Shakespeare or a dog or the Hodbins or history - wasn't a sacrifice at all. Even if it cost you your freedom, your life, your youth."
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