Mike Cleveland’s The Broken Bridge is a sweeping allegorical tale about unity lost and the sacrificial love that alone can restore it. The story begins in a vibrant and harmonious world where two communities are joined by the Great Bridge. More than just stone and mortar, it’s a living heart that binds people together. Fidel and Verita’s love is set to be sealed at the bridge’s center, but a sudden and catastrophic collapse shatters both the structure and the people’s trust. As the physical chasm grows, so does the spiritual and moral divide, giving way to fear, selfishness, and grief. Various figures, each embodying different philosophies and approaches, arrive to offer their versions of repair, but only one path leads toward true restoration. Through vivid scenes and a layered cast of characters, Cleveland builds an allegory of the human condition, the Fall, and the atonement.

The imagery is lush but never indulgent; the bridge itself is practically a character, breathing with history and meaning. Cleveland’s gift lies in his ability to make a symbolic world feel tangible. I could smell the bread from the communal kitchens, hear the lapping of the Vitae River, and feel the stone vibrate under the feet of a united people. When disaster struck, the grief was palpable. He writes loss in a way that made my chest ache. And yet, there’s a steady thread of hope woven in, even through the darker passages, that kept me turning pages long after midnight.

The book isn’t just a pleasant walk through metaphor. It has sharp edges. The portrayal of human frailty, how quickly love can curdle into self-preservation, hits uncomfortably close to home. I found myself frustrated with characters who gave up too soon, and pained by those who clung to impossible ideals, hurting others in the process. There were moments I wanted to shout advice into the pages. But that’s a credit to Cleveland’s storytelling; his people aren’t cardboard saints or villains. They’re complex, flawed, and deeply human. At times, the moral symbolism is overt, but it never feels like a sermon being read to you. It feels like a mirror being held up.

The Broken Bridge left me with that rare mix of satisfaction and longing. The sense that the story had resolved, but that its truths would keep echoing long afterward. It’s a tale for readers who enjoy their fiction with meaning baked into every scene, who don’t mind being made uncomfortable on the way to being inspired. I’d recommend it to fans of allegorical works like The Pilgrim’s Progress or Hinds’ Feet on High Places, as well as to anyone wrestling with themes of reconciliation, grace, and the cost of true unity.

Pages: 183 | ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0FH365HJT