Re-reading BEES (Part 3)

Here's Part 3 of my series of posts about things I've discovered on re-listening to Diana Gabaldon's GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, Book 9 in the OUTLANDER series. (Part 1 is here and Part 2 is here.)

*** SPOILER WARNING!! ***

If you haven't read all of the OUTLANDER books, there are SPOILERS below! Read at your own risk!

More deep thoughts, this time triggered by the scene in Chapter 14 in which Germain is afraid to read his mother's letter.

“Who is it from?” I asked, and heard him swallow.

“My mam,” he said. “It--I know her writing.”

“You haven’t opened it yet?” I asked.

He shook his head, pressing his hand against his chest as though fearing the letter might fly out by itself.

“Germain,” I said softly, and rubbed his back, feeling his shoulder blades sharp under the flannel shirt. “Your mother loves you. You don’t need to be af--”

“No, she doesn’t!” he burst out, and curled up tight, trying to contain the hurt. “She doesn’t, she can’t...I--I killed Henri-Christian. She c-can’t...can’t even look at me!”

[....]

“Give me the letter, Germain,” I said, clearing my throat. I sat back against the bed. “I don’t know what it says, but you have to read it. Some things you just have to go through.”

(From GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE by Diana Gabaldon, chapter 14, "Mon Cher Petit Ami". Copyright © 2021 by Diana Gabaldon. All rights reserved.)

On re-listening to this scene today, I was struck by Claire's last line. "Some things you just have to go through." I've said similar things many times, in discussions on TheLitForum over the years about scenes in these books that are difficult to re-read, because they're very emotionally intense or traumatic. Wentworth, for example, or the farewell scenes in DRAGONFLY, or Roger's hanging -- and I certainly include Henri-Christian's death on that list!

I always find myself slowing down, listening to the audiobooks, when I know such a scene is coming. I procrastinate, I find reasons to delay listening to it. Dreading both the scene itself and the memories of how I've reacted to it in the past. Afraid to read further -- in much the same way that Germain is afraid to read his mother's letter -- because it will stir up all those very painful memories all over again.

I remember pausing a re-listen of OUTLANDER once, at the moment just before Claire opens the door to Jamie's cell in Wentworth Prison. Leaving the story suspended there, in the instant before she sees Jamie's mangled hand, for days before I resumed listening, because I just could not bear to go through that again. For me, that was the moment, on the first reading, when I felt the story changing before my eyes, into something much, much more than I'd thought it was at first.

My reaction on the first reading of that scene in 2006 was a sort of incoherent howl of protest, directed at Diana Gabaldon: "What are you doing?!?? You've RUINED him!!" That was the moment when I finally realized that this wasn't an ordinary sort of novel where the characters have adventures, overcome adversity, but come out more or less unscathed at the end. Just as in real life, the most traumatic events have permanent effects on the characters, and those scenes can be terrifying and very emotionally upsetting just to re-read. For many years, I couldn't listen to the farewell scenes in DRAGONFLY without total privacy and a box of tissues nearby.

I often have to consciously force myself to push through scenes like that, but I never skip over them. Not once. I tend to agree with what Claire says here:

"Some things you just have to go through."

Yes, it's VERY difficult, especially when the memories are still fresh. Everyone's tolerance for these sorts of scenes is different, but for me personally, I've found that if I make the effort to push through that difficulty, to try to see the situation from the characters' point of view rather than my own, the result is a richer and more rewarding reading experience.

People talk about how realistic these characters are, how they seem like real people. (And certainly I've said that myself, many times. <g>) Real people don't have the option of simply pretending that some painful or emotionally difficult or traumatic experience didn't happen. Such things have permanent effects, and they influence the person's character and behavior in subtle or not-so-subtle ways for the rest of his or her life. (As, for example, with Jamie's memories of Wentworth and BJR.) We can't simply wish those things away or pretend they didn't happen. No matter how tempting that might be.

Sometimes you just have to take a deep breath and plow through it, and trust that things will be OK, eventually. Fortunately for Germain, the letter from his mother turned out to be full of love.

“So,” he read, and his voice choked suddenly, then steadied. “So,” he repeated, “please, mon cher fils, come home. I love you and I need you to be here, so the new house will be home again.

“With my love always…” He pressed his lips tight together, and I saw tears well in his eyes, still fixed on the paper.

“Maman,” he whispered, and pressed the letter to his chest.

(From GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE by Diana Gabaldon, chapter 14, "Mon Cher Petit Ami". Copyright © 2021 by Diana Gabaldon. All rights reserved.)

Look here for the other posts in this series. I'll post more of my thoughts on re-reading BEES in the coming weeks. Stay tuned!