This book may throw you a bit--and although I am pretty sure it is an allegory in parts I will definitely be reading it again.
Depression is a terrible illness and Brae Mackenzie seems to be deeply depressed. Nothing is bringing her joy--her Mom died when she was very young and her husband just died. She goes deeper and deeper into a depressed state. Her Father finally notices and gives her a letter-a family heirloom-a letter written to Brae by her Grandmother. It is a treasure map--but where will it take her?
She goes to Scotland where her family originated-and with the help of the dour Scot Daemon--follows the trail of the treasure map. What she finds at the end is where the allegory will become apparent!
I truly enjoyed this book and believe it may help others and that everyone will enjoy the story!
About the Book: (from Amazon)
Brae MacKenzie, a successful San Francisco painter, is a woman who seems to have it all but who's felt a sense of loss and longing since childhood. Her artistic passion hasn't filled that void, and with the untimely death of her charismatic husband, the old pain resurges.
Brae's father senses his daughter's pain and before she embarks for an exhibit in England he hands her a family heirloom hidden away for years...a letter: "Since you are still among the living, your heart is not broken...follow the map," Brae reads, "to Scotland."
The London exhibit, in its ultra-chic hollowness, prompts Brae into taking and advice of that bewildering letter. She hops a train for Glasgow.
When the train goes through a tunnel and emerges in an infinite forest of Scotch pines, descendants of the ancient Caledonian forest, Brae suddenly feels something. This is her stop; she just knows it.
She is met at the station by Damon, a stranger, or perhaps not. He becomes her own personal tour guide to the myths and history of a past she never knew--and to a romance she never dreamed of having. She had it all, beauty, love, wealth and fame, but her soul was empty. It wasn’t the loss of her perfect husband, her painting did not give her joy, she was empty inside, something was missing.
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