Maylis De
Kerangal has written an extraordinary book that will continue to haunt readers for
a very long time. Written in French and beautifully translated into English by
Sam Taylor, ‘The Heart’ tells a rich, poignant story of how the beating heart
of a young boy - fatally injured in a car accident and declared brain dead - is
transplanted to give new lease of life to a fifty one years old lady whose own
heart is on the verge of failure.
The entire
story spans a period of 24 hours from the moment the car crash takes place, to
that gut wrenching moment when the transplanted heart beats for the very first
time in the rib cage of that dying woman. In between, the story captures the
passage of time dramatically with each passing moment revealing the searing
pain of the parents who must first come to terms with the death of their young
son who, just a few hours ago, was alive, surfing the wild sea waves with his
friends, and now, lies cold on the operating table, under the bright lights of
the overhead lamps, his heart still beating but lack of any brain activity
suggesting that he has moved on to some other different world.
The doctors,
nurses, and the para-medical staff are working against time, because if the
transplant has to succeed, the decision to harvest the heart and other organs
must be taken now. The agony of the parents who have to give their consent to
harvest the organs is unbearable, but they must dig deep into their reserves
and arrive at that moment where they must accept that their son is indeed no
more, his beating heart notwithstanding. That sets into motion, a medical
protocol, practiced to the point of perfection, where the team of doctors,
nurses, and counsellors, together with highly efficient support services, swing
into action to harvest multiple organs and disperse them to different locations
in France to give hope and life to some other patients waiting for the organs
to arrive.
The English
translation is simply outstanding, lyrical sentences where clause after clause,
pregnant with deep meaning, gradually gathers momentum, exhilarating you,
taking you to an ever rising dizzy peak. Hanging there precariously, gasping
for breath, trying to hold on to your senses, when you start wondering just how
will the writer end it and bring you down - because you know that a sentence
cannot absorb so much of beauty - you find yourself slipping, without control,
and arrive with a deafening crash to that magical moment of revelation where
the writer was all the time trying to navigate you. Or sometimes, the sentences
gently purr along, caressing you, enervating your soul, making you feel as if
you are floating in a different medium, light like a feather. And, when it
ends, with your senses satiated, you cannot help but wonder: what was it that
you just experienced? What brilliant writing - meditative, soul lifting, and
thoughtful.
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