The Breath of Life

I finish reading The Dovekeepers by Alice Hoffman. My mouth is filled with grit and sand, my feet are cut and bruised by stone, my fingers grip the breath of life. This is a story about women. This is story about blood and death. This is a story about the lengths to which we must go sometimes to survive. It's scary in that regard. Scary to know what we as human beings are capable of doing to one another—and ourselves. We have enough reminders of that on a daily basis. And yet…

Alice Hoffman is my favorite contemporary author and this is, perhaps, her greatest work, and yet…I've put off reading it. Now, I'll have to read it again someday, this story of Yael, Revka, Aziza, and Shirah. I'll have to read it with more care and devotion. This story of lions and doves.

It's so very layered and intricate. Each sentence explodes with meaning.

If it is indeed: our duty as human beings to see behind the veil to the inside of the world, to the heart of things, then it would seem that Alice Hoffman has fulfilled her duty as a human being and then some.