Brief in length, heavy on pathos. A Home Far Away is an exceptionally appropriate title in encompassing the cognitive state of the spiritually and societally ostracized through the lens of religion and domestic misfortune. To escape from it all, those people need a home: a community of shared love and warmth.

I just have to say, the author really gets it. By that, I mean the indubitable highlight of the story, which is religious guilt. There lies a copious amount of stress shouldered daily by people who think they are the devil's spawn due to their realization that their heart's desires misalign with their bodies sculpted with the likeness of The Divine Entity. The fear of being cursed, intermingling with the hatred of one's nature, all stream into this woeful ocean of philosophy:

"If I were born differently, this love wouldn't have been a sin."

And at the very least, that newfound home could have been one without the gallows for a backyard; where greetings don't come as meted judgments; where they can be one with the neighborhood, warm cheers close in proximity as they all relish in the greatest gift given to man, the ability to wholeheartedly love.

Of course, contrarian scenarios all too well exist in real life, and the author resolved to capture its full tragedy. Sprinkle in some hope and joy to exacerbate the looming threat, give the characters some time with peace that should have been theirs to regularly taste to begin with, before finally pushing them off the edge once and for all.

How cruel is the truth that this world cannot save space for the people who need it most.

All this to say, A Home Far Away was sad to read. Despite the depressing frame, the hasty approach it took dried up the adhesive of a surefire emotional journey, thus preventing me from being too heavily invested enough for a heartbreak.

However, it had its powerful moments, such as when Alan shot through the crucified statue of Christ. That bit, yes, it broke me to pieces. That whole scene in the chapel subdued my capacity for optimism, because it was the last nail in the coffin. After being enclosed on all sides, even Jesus, whom Alan had faith for and prayed to even after all the pain His devout apostles (his parents and the priest, though he really shouldn't be included) gave him, had failed in Alan's eyes.

His entire life was practically dictated by people and things that didn't come from his essence. Simultaneously, there is a breathless feeling of denying who you are to escape the punishment of sin. Despite having Hayden, a runaway of memories, even that was fleeting in the end too. It is poetic that their end was met at the palms of the ocean, the primordial source of life and the material used to relinquish sin in the hopes of a resurrected one without it.

I express all this, but the genuine emotional movement I had could only be attributed to the approach the story took and the execution to traverse the plot. Were it to be more fleshed out, were more avenues to have been explored, were it to have been more than a trauma dump and a flash-to-pathos, maybe I would have had sufficient room to move as the author's stringed puppet play. Nevertheless, it was a good experience overall, and I am not discounting its loyalty to its themes and the resolute gestures to paint a melancholic work.