“How do you cope with death?”
“It's art that helps me cope. Because art is a fragile magic, just like love, and that's humanity's only defense against death. That we create and paint and dance and fall in love, that's our rebellion against eternity. Everything beautiful is a shield.”
I live within minutes of Utah Valley University, so naturally, Wednesday’s tragedy has consumed our disheartened conversations. We’re all trying to cope with senseless deaths that seem to be on the rise, I know. I’m taking Fredrik Backman’s advice. I’m turning to art to cope. A month or so ago, Rae weighed in on some excellent reads—the kind that stay with you, the kind that feel like “a dream you hold in your hand.” Backman’s latest, My Friends, was a beautiful cloudland.
For me, it’s hard to resist a book about the power of matchless friendships that naturally endure. Four teenagers with “bruising home lives” connect through suffering. KimKim’s parents are emotionally absent. Joar’s father is a raging alcoholic. Ted has to deal with his father’s death and his mother’s grief. And Ali’s father is guilty of neglect. To enjoy the love and stability they lacked at home, the friends form a found family. (A family that feels like swimming off a sunbleached pier, a summer picnic sans ants, or a profuse firework display against a dark July night.) Hardship is not their only connector. Like any nurturing family, they share dreams. And encourage one another. Before the sun went down on their most memorable summer, a world-class painting was born, and masterpiece friendships fully formed.
Backman’s ode to friendship is extraordinary. It’s art. His writing is like a painting worth gazing at—it activated my brain’s reward centers, lit up my emotions, and produced a sense of aesthetic awe in me. My Friends is definitely a beautiful shield.