The Chronology of Water by Lidia Yaknavitch

Bodies, they say, are made up of water. Human bodies, I mean. In The Chronology of Water, Lidia Yuknavitch tells the story of her extraordinary life surprisingly naturally. She shies away from exploiting the huge shock potential of her experiences. Instead, she downplays them, leaving them slightly murky and only obliquely referenced. She plays with time, and water, and language. And she is fascinated by bodies. Bodies as sexual, bodies as expression. Love, and violence, and sorrow are all impressed upon the physical bodies of held within her pages. Although she explicitly writes about how water envelops her experiences, the sheer physicality of her writing suggests that her overt theme is not the most pervasive one. I think the best word to describe The Chronology of Water, cliche as it may sound, is compelling. I wouldn’t call it beautiful. It can be, at times, but Yuknavitch doesn’t mind being ugly, either. And although much tragedy occurs, she lets it flow in and out of the narrative, without dwelling on it. It is inspiring, perhaps. And realistic, certainly, although it is only one individual perspective on reality. But I would choose the word compelling because of the intimacy with which Yuknavitch writes. Her narrative comes close enough to matching my inner monologue that I have to listen. I might just learn something about myself.

~By Staff Writer, Sarah Hoffer