To: Fans of Somber Fiction

When I Found You by Catherine Ryan Hyde
Book Review #2

Don’t judge a book by its cover?  Yea. Right.  I’m all about the cover.  Will I read a book with a cheesy or boring cover?  Sure, but it may take some convincing and a lot of awesome reviews.  This cover, however, tugged at my heart strings the first time I stumbled across it.  A little boy standing on the feet of a grown man?  Oh, please, someone grab the tissue box.  And that would be appropriate for this read.  Not a whole box, actually, just a few will do the trick. 

When I Found You is the story of an unlikely duo:  an older man wandering through the monotony of his simple life and a young boy with a chip on his shoulder.  Their worlds couldn’t be more different, but they’re united by a powerful event that haunts both of them.  For the older man, it gives him purpose and reason.  The younger, it gives him anger and a few years in juvie. 

Nathan McCann finds a cold and almost lifeless baby in the woods one morning on a duck hunt.  How tragic.  How scary.  How perfect, because if not for Nathan, young Nat would not be alive.  However, young Nat has a lot of skeletons to battle before he can appreciate such a gift. 

The two forge through much of life together, and life for them is anything but sunshine and rainbows.  No, sir.  The storms hit, and they hit hard.  However, Nathan McCann is a character you want on your side during the storm.  His wisdom, consistency, and level headedness are the perfect complement to Nat’s passion, temper, and edge. 

The story is heart warming and wrenching, all at the same time.  Ms. Hyde writes with a very cool and creative style that makes the read quick, entertaining, and thought provoking.  Her word choice and character development is unreal.  She can skip seven years in between chapters and not miss a beat.  Her work flows like a fabulous painting in an art museum.  One that is abstract and out of the box.  You’re captivated, not sure how the artist created such a piece.  You wish there was a longer explanation on the plaque detailing more, but you understand this is all the painter wanted you to know.  You appreciate the art, understand you’re not an artist, but you walk away and wish there was a bit more. 

And, this is how I feel at the end of the book.  I loved it.  Enjoyed every chapter.  Couldn’t put it down, but I wanted more.  Not in the plot or the epilogue.  I get what happened to the characters, but I wanted more for all of them.  I’m not such a sap that I can’t handle the lack of a hunky dory ending, but there wasn’t enough closure for me.  The characters, young Nat especially, carried so much hate and bitterness.  He was like the Pandora’s box of pains and scars – you never knew which emotion would drive his next decision or reaction. 

I guess I just wanted there to be more healing.  I wanted more cleansing.  I wanted redemption.  I wanted forgiveness.  I guess, not in attempt to speak “Chriastianese”, I wanted young Nat to experience Christ.  He grinded through his battle scars with will and gumption, but I know those eventually run out.  The support he was surrounded by was fabulous, but that will one day fail.  The golden rule mentality he eventually adopted is refreshing, but it just may not hold up if the large storms come again.

So, the story telling was so magnificent and the novel’s constructions so precise, that I felt a connection with the characters.  I didn’t just know their story or their descriptions - I ached for them.  I cried for them.  I wanted more for them. 

Then, amid my ponderings, I’m kindly reminded (by the Lord) that I should translate this empathy and desire over into the NON FICTIONAL sector of life.   DUH.  Am I really mulling over the sanctification of fictional characters?  Wake up, Paige.  And, thank God for grace.

And, so, Ms. Hyde, whether or not you meant to you, your work has compelled and reminded me to seek out the young Nats of this world.  They’re everywhere.  We’re all a bit like Nat, but the truth is: there is So. Much. More.  Pain, loss, rejection - - it’s all a PART of who we are, not WHO we are.  Time doesn’t heal wounds, Christ does.  Your work makes me want to act.  To move.  To be a part of the bigger picture. So, thank you for that, for that is the epitome of great literature.  (And, thanks for the cover.)

From: Paige