Hello friends!! Tuesday afternoon here. A few words on my latest books – not many I promise! – and then it shall be walk time, even if it is ridiculously hot and sticky this mid-March day.

14. The Passion According to G.H. by Clarice Lispector. What even do I say about this one? A profoundly weird book, I enjoyed it in part but most certainly not in its totality. I doubt I could even recommend it to anyone because I just don’t know anyone who could take the strangeness and come out unscathed. Oh but perhaps that is the point? One is not supposed to experience this book and not be different on the other side, methinks. Anyway. I won’t spin my wheels too much here. My favourite parts of this book was the wordplay and the absorbing rhythm at which the author spins her tale. The book fairly thrums with a high intensity sense of longing. There are stretches in this book which thrill in the way in which the author constructs a train of thought. I honestly don’t know how one can write in this way. I think perhaps I’d love to read her poetry for at the end of the day, the stream of consciousness which runs through this novel is poetic in a way which feels almost effortless, though I’m sure the author travailed over this book with much blood, sweat and tears. This is a good book, to be sure. But just maybe not one for me. There are philosophical underpinnings which make me quirk an eyebrow and wonder what exactly the author is getting at. Her thoughts are veiled at times and I wonder if the titular G.H. is an aspect of the author or simply a handy voice to ponder deeper truths that may be at odds with the accepted wisdom of the age. It is a work to behold and perhaps some of you may enjoy this one. The writing is beautiful and the way in which the author utilizes language is truly a marvel. If perhaps I had a bit more comprehension I too could peer over the heights of pretension and join the narrator at a spot unbidden and gaze myself over the deserts that call me back to my ancient home. But if we acknowledge an ancient home we too acknowledge the fruit that we ate that took us from it and though I wish to discourse myself on many things I fear my ability to do such is not quite up to the skill the author wields with such peculiar joy. I both loved and loathed this book. I think the author would approve.

15. Tom Lake by Ann Patchett. I enjoyed this book in the moment though less so as I reflect back now. It is a very easy read and the narrative pulls you forward swiftly, even as you lean forward with the girls in earnest, eager to hear the next part of the tale their mom has finally resignedly decided to tell. Possible spoilers ahead. The characters are lovingly drawn and there are parts of this book that I truly loved despite the trauma that marked this book in parts. I think my favorite parts of this book were simply witnessing Lara and Joe and their daughters living and working and talking and laughing and crying even as they spend their time working the orchard and wrestling with their past. I could have spent most of the time with them in fact! Maybe that makes me a bit akin to Peter Duke, one who recognizes the most unusual peace and beauty at that place and feels it to be home even though he only walked that land but twice. I did think this book was well written and did enjoy the craft of the writer as she tells a story about a girl who becomes a woman and experiences a life that seems as foreign to me as to her daughters. There were a few things that bothered me, of course. I have decided I don’t like Covid books. As much as it’s subtle, even reminders of that time irk me and especially looking back at it, it frustrates me to see all the follies of that era laid bare again. There are also a few character moments and choices that made me sigh, though I recognize they are common to this age so I should not be surprised. It makes me sad to see Emily’s fierce opposition to bringing children into the world. Though I do understand the sentiment and even know people who share it, it will never not make me sad. Though perhaps there I stand with Joe and Lara. And then of course the abortion at the end was handled with such brevity and obvious approval, it made me want to weep. I do so hate abortion. But is this not a reflection of the times and mores which even now hold sway? I suppose so. So as much as parts of this book grieved me and as much as I don’t think I’d read this one again, I am still glad I read it. There are reflections in this book that are truly lovely and I’m grateful to read about a family in which there is such fierce love for one another.