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The Living Bridge
The Living Bridge is a work of Christian allegorical fiction that weaves together the stories of five broken people whose lives intersect in the shadow of a shattered bridge between Eastlight and Westshore. The book follows Mary, Lydia, Matthias, Cleopus, and Tamar as each carries grief, guilt, or despair to the riverbank where everything once fell apart. Their stories unfold in three movements that chart their journey from damage to darkness to eventual restoration, all centering on the arrival of a mysterious teacher named Geshriel, whose presence begins to mend what the earthquake destroyed. The opening chapters set the tone well, especially Mary’s torment under “Legion” and her stunning moment of deliverance, and Lydia’s aching exile from her family across the broken river.
As I read, I found myself reacting less to the plot mechanics and more to how the author frames suffering. Cleveland writes with a kind of steady compassion, letting each character’s pain breathe before offering any hint of resolution. Mary’s chapter in particular struck me. Her inner world felt raw and believable, and the moment her mind finally quiets when Geshriel calls her “beloved” is one of the more affecting scenes in the book. The prose is simple, almost plain at times, but it works because the emotional beats land without being dressed up. It felt like sitting with someone who has been wounded for so long they’ve forgotten anything else is possible. The author doesn’t shy away from darkness, but he also doesn’t exploit it. Instead, he uses it to build a kind of slow, patient hope.
There were moments when I paused, not because the story demanded it but because something in the writing touched on familiar human questions. Lydia’s longing for her daughters across an uncrossable river is written with a tenderness that feels lived-in rather than symbolic. Matthias’s crushing guilt over the collapse he caused, and the way he interprets every failure as further proof of his curse, could have felt melodramatic, but it didn’t. His scenes carried the weight of someone who can’t imagine forgiveness applying to them anymore. Cleveland seems most comfortable when exploring how shame isolates people, how grief reshapes their days, and how mercy begins as a voice they aren’t even sure they heard correctly. Sometimes the metaphors are quiet, sometimes they shine brighter, but they always feel in service of the characters rather than the other way around.
The book’s message is clear without being heavy-handed. The “living bridge” isn’t just a rebuilt structure but a person, a sacrifice, and a way back home. This won’t surprise readers familiar with the genre, but it still lands because the characters’ journeys make the message earned rather than assumed. If you enjoy faith-centered fiction, particularly stories that blend biblical echo with imaginative narrative, this book will likely resonate. Readers who appreciate character-driven arcs of healing and gentle spiritual allegory will find plenty here to sit with. And for anyone who has ever felt stuck on the wrong shore of their own life, the book offers a quiet reminder that bridges can be rebuilt, even when you’ve forgotten how to hope.
Pages: 227 | ASIN : B0FX5WS62Y
The Living Bridge
Mike Cleveland’s The Living Bridge continues the sweeping saga begun in The Broken Bridge, drawing us back to the world split apart by the shattering of the ancient stone span across the Vitae River. This second volume narrows its focus to five broken lives in the months before Geshriel, the carpenter, gave himself as the keystone of a new living bridge. We meet Mary, tormented by demons of grief and despair; Lydia, stranded far from her family and branded an outsider; Matthias, the cursed builder crushed by guilt over his son’s death; Cleopus, a revolutionary consumed by anger; and Tamar, condemned by her own betrayal. Their stories unfold in three movements that build toward the moment when Geshriel’s love begins to transform both individuals and communities. The book blends allegory, spiritual reflection, and raw storytelling in a way that feels both ancient and startlingly present.
I found myself drawn in by the way Cleveland writes pain. He doesn’t dress it up or keep it at a safe distance. Instead, he lays it bare. Mary’s torment felt claustrophobic and heavy, yet it rang with truth about how grief can twist into lies we start to believe. Lydia’s yearning for her family carried me straight into her loneliness, and I felt her ache as if it were my own. The sorrow runs thick, and I caught myself needing to set the book down just to breathe. But that intensity is also its strength. It’s not a story of quick fixes or shallow hope. The book forces you to sit with loss before it shows you healing, and that honesty made the moments of light feel earned rather than cheap.
I appreciated the style of the writing. At times, it leans into bold, sermon-like declarations that give the story a sense of weight and authority. The message often comes through with such clarity that I found myself stopping to take it in, underlining sentences I didn’t expect to linger on. Phrases about love that refuses to let go or hope that survives silence stayed with me. The blend of allegory and character-driven narrative gives the book a unique rhythm, and when the two meet, the effect is powerful, striking straight at the heart.
The Living Bridge presses on wounds most of us carry in some form. But for readers who are willing to wrestle with grief, forgiveness, and the idea that love is stronger than death, it offers something rare. I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys Christian fantasy with a strong allegorical bent, and to anyone who needs a story that admits the depth of human pain yet still dares to point toward healing.
Pages: 227 | ASIN: B0FX5WS62Y
LITERARY TITAN 