One of the most rewarding discoveries I’ve made in my reading life is finding an author or authors whose sensibilities resonate with me in their stories, filling me with a deep sense of connection. The key word in that last sentence is sensibilities, as it appears that relatability has become the defining characteristic of the reader-writer relationship. I wholeheartedly disagree with that and believe relatability is the most overrated element in a reader’s connection to a story.

Why do I believe that? Because I’ve been reading Jonathan Carroll for nearly fifteen years, and he’s one of my all-time favorite authors, I’ve realized that it’s not relatability that creates a genuine bond between reader and writer. After reading Bathing the Lion, I return to sensibility, and it feels like the most logical choice.

Bathing the Lion tells the story of a group of individuals from Vermont who will be connected in ways that will make each person examine what it means to be human and how to live an authentic life. The story unfolds through the eyes of Dean Corbin, a men’s clothing store owner, and his singing wife, Vanessa Corbin, along with his business partner Kaspar Benn, Jane Claudius, who owns the bar where Vanessa performs, and Bill Edmonds, a widow. Carroll connected all these characters’ lives in a way I didn’t see coming, using a sci-fi trope. He, a surrealist, approaches the choices people make with romantic realism, and the decision to use that trope to bring these characters together was an intriguing one.

Carroll’s wisdom shines throughout the novel with a nugget like this one:

“Buy whatever you want in life so long as you can afford it: a Ferrari, thirty-dollar cigars, golok Knives…it doesn’t matter what. Enjoy the hell out of them, but never ever own anything you can’t walk away from. Like if your house caught on fire, no matter how much you love possessions, you can still walk out the door without the feeling the need to go back for any of them. Let it burn. And if it’s gone, it’s gone—the end. Sure, you love it and of course you’ll miss it, but never forget it’s only stuff. Just walk away.”

Bingo. This nugget of wisdom is from a minor character in the novel, but Carroll displays words like these throughout the story. As a reader, it’s the sensibility of such stories that continually draws me back. Reading a story for me is about a character’s journey. People matter, and the choices they make matter too. Carroll does that in his own unique way, unlike anyone in contemporary fiction. Paul Auster and Charles de Lint have specific styles in their stories that I admire, and it is widely recognized that they, along with Carroll, are my all-time favorite authors.

I will write that Bathing the Lion is not my favorite Carroll novel (Mr. Breakfast gets that honor), but it displays his strengths and weaknesses as a writer just like the other Carroll novels I’ve read. It would be easy to be distracted by his style, which obscures the depth of his stories, where he acutely understands human nature. Bathing the Lion is a must-read if you want something different, but be prepared to have your assumptions challenged as a reader. Carroll, a unique talent, deserves to be widely read by readers.