Thoughts on How Art Heals

I ordered this book on Amazon recently. It was delivered in an envelope labeled "fragile." I guess because it is an older book. It was written in 1962 to to be precise. It's one year older than me. I read it in grade school. This past Friday when it was raining, I sat in the garage with a cup of coffee, garage door up, and read 4 chapters. I'm not even sure I can read the whole thing now, though I probably will. Reading it is not really the reason I bought it.

This book is a story about a group of English neighbor children who find themselves menaced by adults who have stolen a valuable artifact. Eventually they find haven in a natural rock fortress on the shore of Summerwater Lake. This is "the Hiding Place" of the title. It is described this way: "On three sides it was shut up by rock faces so steep that not even a sheep could climb down them, and on the other side there was a lake." But the shore was unapproachable from the water because of jagged rocks beneath the surface of the lake. Yet, Ian, the 16-year-old hero of the story, knew a way there.

Art can be a hiding place. It's very likely that I picked up this book at the school library at Windsor Spring Elementary in Augusta, GA sometime between 1970-1973. I've shared already about the abuse that occurred in my childhood. This book provided a mental shelter for a young kid. It resonated as a fictional cocoon away from the menacing adult in my life. It gave me emotional relief and empathy in the form of literary companions.

I think I bought this book because as a child the story provided for me exactly what the title suggests: a hiding place. An Amazon reviewer opined that it wasn't particularly well-written children's literature. I guess it depends on how a person understands the purpose of literature. Lodging a book in the cranium of an adult to be recalled 45 or fifty years later is a pretty impressive feat if you ask me.