Seeing the Light by Rick Williams
In his collection of short fiction, Seeing the Light (Poets’ Choice Publishing), author Rick Williams tackles many dimensions of storytelling from the viewpoint of the veteran — whether directly or indirectly. In tale after tale, we come to understand the deep wounds suffered by these characters — wounds that go beyond the physical to ravage the mind and soul. And how these wounds affect everyone around them as well. Here and there are pieces with protagonists who are not specifically identified as veterans, but that doesn’t diminish the power of their stories and how they complement each other.
Interspersed between the stories are many portraits of veterans wounded or killed in action, all illustrations created by the author, who, as it turns out, is a recognized artist with work in museums and private collections throughout the U.S. The portraits have a folksy feel, and while most of them are of people who served in Vietnam and WWII, their colorful and personality-filled treatments give them a contemporary feel — any of them could be your next-door neighbor. Which is, to some degree, the point.
Through the lens of fiction, we learn of experiences on and off the battlefield of otherwise “regular people” whose lives were transformed by war, loss, aging. There’s the medic whose love for his ill-fated Vietnamese patient is the one thing of meaning in a senseless situation; there’s the soldier dishonorably discharged one week before the end of his tour of duty in Iraq who is later deported to Mexico. There’s the D.C. lawyer hired by the Department of Defense to evaluate terrorist interrogation methods; there’s the Vietnam vet who carries a torch for his childhood crush, only to discover she doesn’t recognize or remember him anymore. There are struggles with getting VA benefits and with PTSD; but most of all, there are the horrific results of self-medicating, particularly with alcohol.
Several of the stories feature characters, all living in different situations, who grapple with the crippling effects of addiction. Most poignant of these is the novella A Cunning and Baffling Progressive Disease, which is also included in the collection. In it, we meet Freddie, who has been given the ultimatum by his wife: get sober or get out. Fully in denial, Freddie seeks treatment but it is clear that he isn’t ready to commit to what it takes, and his lack of self-awareness leads to disastrous results.
If this all seems a bit heavy, fear not: there are moments of levity (as with the curmudgeonly tourist of “Not Asking for Help”) and injections of quirky characters that make these stories balanced and satisfying reads. Just don’t expect many happy endings, or in some cases, endings per se. Some of the tales drift off eerily, leaving the reader to reflect on what has happened, rather than bringing the situation to any resolution. But again, that’s probably the point. As in life, some of us are capable of change while others are not. And some situations can never be resolved.
Taken as a whole, this collection of literary-quality stories and lively portraits (both artistic and written) is a formidable work from a debut author who, as Richard Harteis writes in the book’s introduction, employs a “model of compassion and honesty … in the lives of the characters he portrays.” The reader indeed comes away with a deeper understanding of humanity through the experiences bound between the covers of this slim volume.
