Many whose attendance in God's house on a weekly basis was mandatory will sympathize with the young Jeffrey banging his head against the pew in boredom or furtively reading human biology books in his father's office. Or with the a-w-k-w-a-r-d scene in which he shares his newfound apostasy with his parents — an announcement that meets with silent, blank stares.
On the other hand, Brown conveys his own sense of the divine in small moments: a stubbed toe, fear of bugs, a confusing childhood memory, acts of kindness in everyday life. These trifles are infused with meaning and cherished by the author in a way that evokes the New Testament notion of Jesus in all things — but for Brown, without the Jesus part. He acknowledges, in another series of panels overlooking glorious mountain vistas, that where others see God's presence he sees beauty and wonder, but not a celestial presence.
Like all accomplished serial memoirists, Brown has mastered the art of mining the same veins of material over and over — looking at the same incidents from a different vantage point, highlighting a new stream of consciousness, focusing on an event that took place offstage in a previous work or with added bathos, in this case, abetted by the birth of his son. With each new round of toil he extracts new, rough-hewn gems — of which A Matter of Life is the most profound.
Did I mention that Brown's work is hilarious? That you will smile and laugh throughout? That you'll be inspired by the Brown family's goodness and gentle relationship with each other and the world? Reading this is a joy. Rereading it is, too.
Read an excerpt of A Matter Of Life