The Great Blue Yonder

Alex Shearer

Macmillan, £9.99, pp 182
ISBN 0 333 96006 8

Rating: ****

We all have an underlying curiosity of what it is like to be dead. What happens on the “other side” may not be the topic of most dinner party conversations but it probably occupies our subconscious for much of the time. As adults we can try to rationalise our destiny through our humanistic or our religious beliefs, but so often we get stuck—for example, in the grief of losing a loved one or of losing a relationship. We can all waste so much time by not being able to leave behind what has happened in the past and move on.

Children who are bereaved find it difficult to articulate their feelings of what has happened and to make sense of their emotions of sadness, longing, loss, and guilt. Children, unlike most adults, do not grieve constantly and deeply for a period of time but can move quickly in and out of grief over a long period—a bit like jumping in and out of puddles. Sometimes these feelings include the guilt at being happy again and enjoying a different form of family life. This is especially true when a young parent has died, when the new family frequently includes a stepparent.

The Great Blue Yonder is a beautifully written book that conveys so many of the feelings and emotions experienced when somebody has died. The story is told from the perspective of Harry, a young boy who was killed by a lorry while out cycling. Just before he was killed, Harry had argued with his sister and told her, “You'll be sorry when I am dead.” The book explores Harry's feelings and those of his family and friends and the difficulties of not having the opportunity to say goodbye. Harry is unable to move on to the “great blue yonder” until he and his family have found their own sense of peace over what has happened—how he achieves that and who he meets on the journey is the adventure.

Although the book is written for older children and young teenagers, readers of all ages can enjoy and value its message.

This life affirming book will strike a chord with those who have struggled to make sense of a painful experience, which probably includes all of us. It is also amusing, although it might not be comforting to read that the hereafter has as much bureaucracy and as many managers as does the here and now.

Mari Lloyd Williams, consultant senior lecturer in palliative medicine, Leicester Cancer Centre and Leicestershire Hospice


studentBMJ 2002;10:1-44 February ISSN 0966-6494