This Book Helped Me Reconsider What it Means to Grieve

"Much of the greatest art, I find, seeks to remind us of the obvious. This is real, is all it says. Take the time to stop and imagine more fully the things you already know. " Bringley Pg. 22

Like me, you’ve probably seen this book promptly displayed in the nonfiction section of your local bookstore.

All The Beauty in the World, like Bringley’s job as a museum guard, is a slow-paced and contemplative experience. I was deeply enthralled by his musing on what art means to him and how it has been a fundamental part of his life and healing journey.

The book interweaves discussions of loss and despair with the sometimes wacky tales of being a professional people watcher at the MET in New York City.

I was hesitant about picking up this book because I actively avoid novels that feature NYC as a backdrop. I lived in the city for several months with my abusive ex-partner and reading stories in that setting can sometimes be triggering. But I am happy to report this novel not only didn’t give me a panic attack, but it also healed a part of me I didn’t know I was still grieving.

After buying a book, I typically reserve it on my shelves until just the right moment. Book collecting and book reading are two different hobbies after all.

After purchasing a copy online, I was surprised to find the Korean translation of this book displayed in large bookstore chains like Kyobo and YPBooks. It’s rare to find a foreign debut author’s work receiving such immediate praise in Korea, so I was happily surprised when I couldn’t escape the gorgeous covers on the tables.

South Korea’s excitement prompted me to read my purchase as soon as it arrived at my door. As a voracious fiction reader, I am grateful to start the year with this immaculate nonfiction piece.

"Could there really be this loophole by which I could drop out of the forward-marching world and spend all day tarrying in an entirely beautiful one?" P.g 34

I respected Bringley’s decision to want to slow down and stand in his grief. After losing his older brother to cancer, he couldn’t stand the idea of moving forward without honoring his memory in some humble capacity. He decided to apply to be a security guard for New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art to spend his days in stillness, surrounded by beauty.

His healing came quietly. He spent years staring at the same paintings on his eight to twelve-hour shifts at the MET. He felt comfortably swaddled in the large crowds of tourists and art lovers. He became a fly on the wall and an all-knowing eye.

As his career continued and he became a father, he noticed a profound peace that came from being an observer. He felt intuned with his children and his wife, even when he was completing a twelve-hour shift. His love for art and his family was heartwarming and had me smiling throughout the book.

A wonderful surprise in Bringley’s novel is the sketches he interjects throughout. He could have added photographs of the MET but I’m so glad he chose to use his own art instead. It helped give the book more intimacy, as he often explains what the art made him feel as he stared for months on end at the same pieces.

Like myself, Bringley doesn’t subscribe to any particular religion. He describes himself as a worshipper of art. But as he was placed to guard paintings and statues with strong religious attributes, he began to grow compassion for the devoted, excited religious folks who traveled to see the Islamic Mosaics or the Virgin Mary. It’s always nice to see other atheist/agnostic people in literature who don’t turn up their noses at others.

I saw a lot of myself in Bringley. I used to nude model for art classes. It would be two or three-hour sessions where I was completely still and silent. I found a lot of peace in that work. I wonder if I too would make a good museum guard?

“I think sometimes we need permission to stop and adore, and a work of art grants us that.” Pg. 80

After turning the final page, I continued to sit in stillness in a manner I think Bringley would be proud of. It’s easy to get caught up in goals and ambitious achievement, this author reminded me of the joys of contemplation.

It is also easy to be stuck in feelings of melancholy that are hard to escape from. Bringley taught me that it isn’t about confrontation or avoidance, which I previously believed to be the only way to view trauma. Rather, Bringley urges us to embrace the pain as if it were another visitor in the museum of our lives. Observe, be gentle, and take your time.

I was also struck by his observations of his ever-changing grief. He noticed how his days filled with other grievances, minor and large, and over time they filled the hole in his heart that his brother’s death created. I know what it feels like to be guilty over not being sad when you feel like you should be. But we aren’t meant to live in constant mourning, we are just meant to live.

Sitting (or standing, in Bringley’s case) in silence, in our thoughts is healthy. I think I’m guilty of burying myself in constant entertainment. Whether it’s social media, Netflix, or books, I’d like to take Bringley’s passion for reflection and try it for myself. I’d like to actively surround myself with all the beauty in the world.