Tag: fiction

That Peculiar Summery Shade of Green

James HoganLeave a comment

Hello friends! It is Memorial Day and while I’m grateful to not have a full day of work, Dani and I are both a bit saddened that our sick and weary bodies are keeping us from enjoying a proper day off. Ah well. I had a nice little walk when I woke up this morning (walking the MKT trail before 7am is always fun – you see the real ones!) and Dani and I went for a grocery store run a few hours back, but apart from that? We have had a most lazy and quiet day. I guess that’s good? My chest congestion continues to linger and annoyingly enough I’d even guess I have a small fever just now. But someday I pray my body shall recover and I will feel healthy again. Someday! I’d also like to write something creatively. Perhaps after I dash off a couple quick book reviews. It made me happy yesterday to write a little prose, as feeble as it is at times. Ah writing always relaxes and invigorates my mind. I need more such sessions. But as I seem to be rambling on without end, let me talk a bit about a couple books and then we shall see if my rambling extends to more poetical endeavors.

43. The Seven Dials Mystery by Agatha Christie. It had been far too long since I’d read a Christie, and after finding a few new ones I’d not read before at local used book shop, was hankering to dive right in! This one scratched the itch and it made me happy (albeit confused) as I read. Christie is her usual masterful self in this one. All new characters in this – not a Marple or Poirot to be found! – and I enjoyed as always the little window into 1920s Britain. The slang is always amusing and I don’t know, I just enjoy seeing the interactions between the young men and women in this – made me realize that things haven’t changed that much in the past 100 years! The mystery was solid too – though I did get a little suspicious partway through and half-guess the villain, it wasn’t by any means obvious. Typical Christie finish here, with plenty of twists and turns and very satisfying denouement. Glad I picked this one up.

44. A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L’Engle. In the mood for something homey and real and encouraging, I grabbed this from the shelf as it’d been a while since I’d read it. It was exactly what the doctor ordered. Full of L’Engle’s typical mix of the mundane and the ethereal, I found myself quickly engrossed in this tale of a young girl growing up one summer as all changes around her. I love the family dynamics in this one, I love the conversations, I even somehow love the various interactions Vicky has with her 3(!!) suitors, even though I think I remember that annoying me first time around. I do love how L’Engle writes dialogue and back-and-forth conversations about serious matters. Though I don’t always agree with some of the particulars of L’Engle’s theology, I love how she asks the questions and truly engages with the possibilities raised by this broken wounded world we live in and a God who is real. This book also has L’Engle’s penchant for the strange and beautiful as we vicariously thrill through Vicky as she swims with dolphins and touches the faint after-images of the divine touch on creation’s weave. This book isn’t perfect and there is one character in particular I really don’t quite like – oh Zachary Gray! – but at the end of the day reading this book was a comfort and joy to me. We need more books like this in the world.

One More Year

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Hello dear friends!! A few short thoughts on a few books read recently. I don’t want to write much here as I’m hoping to write a bit more creatively later on. As always, we shall see.

39. Notes from the Underground and The Gambler by Fedor Dostoevsky. It has been far, far too long since I’ve read words penned by Dostoevsky and reading these two novellas really made me realize how much I’ve been missing out. I don’t truly know what it is about how Dostoevsky writes but when he writes scenes, you really feel them. His prose is exquisite, his scenes imaginative and oh boy the characters. I’m not going to belabor my thoughts on these two stories, but they are magnificent and weird and wonderful in all the best ways. Both of them have a sense of sublime tragedy that is hard to capture yet Dostoevsky does it so well. There is humour galore (please don’t ever call Dostoevsky dull or boring) and there is plenty of the absurd. There are moments where I almost physically cringed with the raw emotion being displayed on the page. In particular I loved the interactions between the narrator and Liza in “Notes on the Underground” – beautifully, beautifully depicted. Also in “The Gambler”? Every moment with Grandmother was a riot and a wonder to behold. Again, I’m not sure what it is about Dostoevsky and his writing that captures my heart so, but I do love reading him. Yes, these are tragic stories and a bit grey and grim at times. Yet there is still heart there, if painfully it beats.

40. Roman Stories by Jhumpa Lahiri. A collection of short stories set in Rome, I enjoyed these in the moment but I’ll confess now that I’m not certain how long they shall stick with me. The writing is technically proficient but something about the stories themselves left me a bit cold. I may just not have been in the proper mood for them, who can tell? The prevailing themes are strong – marital tensions/dissolution/aging, living in a foreign land as a stranger yet not, racial animus and racism writ large – yet even with those themes being solid in and of themselves, the stories felt a bit stark and bare at times, feeling a bit too carefully crafted. Ah well, like I said, I did enjoy these in the moment for the most part.

41. Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay by Elena Ferrante. Another novel in the Neopolitan series by the brilliant Ferrante. Yet as much as I can acknowledge the craft in this one, I think this is a turning point novel for me. Don’t think I can read another. Very possibly I said this about the last one, but this time I think it’s true! Possible spoilers ahead, so read with care if not wishing to be spoiled. Anyways. The cast of characters in this one grows ever larger and while some times I struggled to remember who was who, the character list at the beginning helps with such. As always, any scene with Lila in it simply sings. I think the author knows this and deliberately deploys these scenes as needed, as her writing of the character sizzles with warmth and realness. Elena Greco, as typical, is a bit more of a boring character, but the fascinating thing here is that I think the author realizes this and even nods to such, attempting to show Elena buck against the norms and silken cords that bind her tight. Elena is always struggling to fight her own feelings of inferiority and is not helped by the many in her life – even her own husband! – who think she’s really rather second rate. It’s fascinating for the author to choose to depict her main character so and I think it’s really rather clever, even if it does come across as making Elena the duller character in pretty much any of her interactions with anyone else. Still yet, this book is eminently readable and as before, all the Lila scenes are fire – not to be missed. But this book ended in such a way that made me very angry and though I could argue that it only makes sense for it to have ended how it did, I abhor marital infidelity and the depiction of such…even if it seems warranted or even the right thing to do to abandon a spouse and children, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around Elena’s actions here. She’s impulsive and destructive and while I suppose we could say it only makes sense living with a husband who seems so neglectful and dispassionate, there is no way I can justify her leaving her family for a stupid affair of the heart. Nino is his father all over again (as I believe is pointed out) and I simply raged to see that Elena gets taken in by him so easily. Perhaps Nino actually does feel for her – as seems to be the case – yet even so? Two families wrecked just so that two people can indulge their feelings for one another. I loved hearing Lila tear into Elena and perhaps the last book in this series will show how these choices only lead to further destruction and misery. Perhaps, yet I don’t even want to find out. I knew this series got grimmer by the book yet I thought I could handle it. Ah well, perhaps not. I hate unfaithfulness.

42. Enjoying God by Tim Chester. A simple book on how we can grow in our enjoyment of God and communion with Him in the every day hardships and mundanities we face. I greatly enjoyed this one. Yes it is simple at times, but maybe we need that? This book had so many good reminders of how we ought understand who God is – in the three persons of the Trinity – and how we ought understand our relationship to Him – union with Christ and therefore relationship with God in true fashion – and then how we ought live and breathe to grow closer to our God in the everyday. I confess my full theological nerdery and say that my favourite chapter by far was the chapter at the end where the author dug into some of John Owen’s writings on communion with God and really went deeper on what it means for us for our union with God to be the foundation for our communion with him. Superb writing and fantastic summary of John Owen (not easy to do!). This book was good for my soul.

Redwoods

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Hello friends! A wet day outside and so alas no walk this Friday evening. But I suppose that means perhaps a few thoughts on a few books? I shall be brief, as I’d rather more reading time and more time with the Dani!

33. Looking for Alaska by John Green. Right, so I remember reading this book probably about 10-12 years ago? And I know I much enjoyed it then. Now? Well, less so. I wonder if that’s due to growing up or finding the book pretty fundamentally depressing or just finding certain things less amusing now than previously. Whatever the reason, this book didn’t do it for me this time. I found the author’s voice a bit annoying – narrator’s voice I suppose but it felt authorial – and while some of the adventures of the gang were fun to read about, all the rule-breaking, smoking, drinking, havoc-causing got a bit old by the end of it. Then of course, this book does take a turn later on that hits brutally and never feels like it really resolves, as much as the author tries to show the growth of his main character. I believe this book is slightly autobiographical (at least the author is pulling a bit from his past) and so it’s hard to criticize what I didn’t like over-much. There are some great set-pieces in this book and the author knows how to spin a story for sure! But at the end of the day, as much as the characters are vivid and well drawn and the writing is very serviceable, I didn’t enjoy this one like I remember enjoying it way back in the day. Maybe if you’re a teen or in your twenties, this will resonate or twinge your nostalgia positively. For me, reading this just made me a bit sad. I think there is some veiled commentary on self-destructive behaviour and what it can lead to, yet this book felt more self-indulgent than introspective. I’m probably being a bit harsh as not every book needs to be moralistic and I certainly don’t want preachy. Yet this book felt pretentiously haughty without a moral core supporting such. Ah well.

34. The City of the Sun by Brian Stableford. Another Daedalus mission book that I apparently forgot I had purchased! Found it hidden on my bookshelf before a trip and eagerly grabbed this for a plane read. It was serviceable but sadly is probably the worst Stableford I’ve read. The core mystery on the planet visited by the Daedalus crew was pretty easily sussed. Not many surprises here. Though the author still writes a good story, this one felt almost dull by the time it resolved. Also a little anti-Christian/religion message that irked me a bit, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised – Stableford’s writings have definitely hinted at his bias against organized religion before. Still for all that hot air, this book wasn’t terrible. Just not great.

35. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Oof. What do I say about this one? Picked it up in LAX to read on the plane and I read it over the course of the next few hours. One cannot go through life without hearing of this book and though I had been led to believe this book was not for the faint of heart, I had read a book recently that had praised it highly and so I felt it was time to give it a go. Worth it? Maybe? It is well-written, no doubt. There is a claustrophobic air about this one – yes you feel trapped as if you breathing the stalest of air. Perhaps as if you were encased in a bell jar. Ha ha. But really, I’m grateful that I read this, though I must certainly warn others that this book is not for the faint of heart. There is much in this book that was disturbing and hard to read. I would like to think that what Esther Greenwood goes through in this book was a rare occurrence, but sadly from what I know of history, that is likely not so.

This book is acclaimed as one of the vanguard works of the feminist movement and I suppose I can understand why that is so. Yet I believe to think of this book as purely a feminist one misses the mark a bit. Yes, this book exposes what it is like to live in a world tailored for men. Yes, this book exposes the overwhelming angst felt by one living in a world that felt as if it could not answer for what one longed. Yes, this book highlights the casual cruelty and wickedness of men who feel as if it’s their right to take what they believe is their due. But also? This book is so deeply personal. From reading a bit of Plath’s biography at the end, it is quite clear how much of this book is modeled after events that took place in her own life. There’s a reason Plath’s mother was so keen to block publication of this book. So this book is one that is Plath’s very own story spun out into literary form. And if anything, this book unmasks the sheer loneliness and confusion that descends upon one who feels as if there is nothing the world can do to relieve her pain. There is an incident in the book right before Esther goes back home that feels almost as if it is an instigating incident for her cracking apart and spiral down. Earlier yet, Esther is confronted with her lack of forward drive and paralysis into mediocrity as she is grasping for all yet holding onto nothing all at the same time. And so Esther is violated from within and violated from without. Her identity is what? A tool to be used and abused without anything of worth to distinguish herself from the plebeian horde. It is probably overly simplistic to say that her breakdown is caused by a simple trauma. Yet Esther was already at the edge, was she not? She needed only a push.

Ah I’m talking about this book far more than I meant to. I’m glad I read this one, but I would very much hesitate before recommending it to others. It’s a tough read. Pick it up with caution. If anything, reading this book just reminded me how fragile we are as humans. We are beautifully and wonderfully made, true. Yet we groan now in these vessels which feel incomplete at times. We are not our own yet we so strive and in this striving we rage and cry. There is a veil between us and the real – shall we not long for its removal just as Esther gloried in the lifting of the bell jar? I pray for compassion and for grace.

Slow Down If You Please

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A few thoughts on a few books this lovely grey Wednesday evenig.

29. The Apostolic Fathers in English edited by Michael W. Holmes. I had forgotten I had this one on my shelf! It has sat there for a few years now without me sparing it even the slightest thought. Finally though. It was time. I’m glad I read this work. What is it? Well, it’s a compilation of some of the earliest (non-canonical) writings of the early church fathers. We have works by Clement, Ignatius, Polycarp…the early-church manual “The Didache” and others. It was extremely fascinating to read words that had been written so recently following the life of Jesus Christ, even as the church was forming and coming to be slightly more structured and even as certain doctrinal elements were yet rather fuzzy. I think it important to read this with a discerning mind, especially if one reads – as I did – with the belief that the canon of the New Testament was divinely ordained by God and that these writings are not part of it. So are the words I read divinely inspired? I would say not. Yet still these writings give a glimpse as to the thoughts and beliefs of certain ones in the early church and I’m grateful for that. Some of the writings were truly fascinating and encouraging. Funnily enough I found the Epistle to Diognetus the most edifying! An apologetic for the Christian faith addressed to one who did not yet believe, I found it a clear and well-structured proclamation of the gospel. Some of the writings were a bit more odd. The Shepherd of Hermas? Yeah, that’s an odd one. I don’t quite know what to make of it and it made me uneasy at times. And some of the letters of Ignatius made me quirk an eyebrow, especially with his emphasis on the primacy of the bishops and their standing in the place of God. Hm. And I did note with sadness a vein running throughout many of these writings on the emphasis of works and holy living with a bit of a neglect on the work of Christ and what that work means for those who are his. Legalism and formalism already creeping in a bit. How quickly did errors accrete, even in the early church! So if you read this, read it with discernment and care. I would still heartily recommend this to anyone interested in theology and the early church. It’s a fascinating read and well worth the time taken.

30. Tiger by the Tail by Alan Nourse. An old slim paperback I found on my shelf, it’s a collection of old-school sci-fi stories, just what I was in the mood for! Yet…the stories weren’t anything much to write home about. These stories definitely felt in the vein of silly 50s/60s sci-fi, even reminding me a bit of Asimov’s lesser stories at times. I know this is technically “Golden Age” sci-fi, but I just didn’t think these stories were that great. There are better old sci-fi collections out there.

31. Dungeon Crawler Carl by Matt Dinniman. Finally. I’d been hearing about this one for a while and dismissed it figuring it was not my speed. Well, a friend finally lent it to me this past week and I knocked it out in a couple nights. Did I like it? Yes and no. It’s remarkably well crafted and the writer has a strong voice, to be sure. It’s a fun read!! But I probably won’t be continuing this journey. Even though I’m a bit curious how Carl and Donut’s journey progresses, I don’t think I can bring myself to read another one. I may have liked this book a lot more 10 or 15 years ago, I don’t know. If you play (or have played) video games, you would probably love this. I did appreciate the game references and it felt very Borderlands-esque (even the humor! especially the humor!) and the characters are strong. And I’ve heard the series only gets better. But! This book is just a bit too crass and profane, a bit too violent and dark…and…though I appreciate what the author is doing and it is a rather fun read, I just don’t need this in my head. So shutting it down after one. I wonder if this is a sign I’m just getting old? Or perhaps more weary of certain things I once found funny. Anyway, I do get the hype and I understand why this series is loved. Just not for me.

32. The Paradox of the Sets by Brian Stableford. Every time I read a sci fi novel by Stableford I find myself happy and pleased and wondering why I don’t read more by him. The author is wildly imaginative, wonderfully nerdy (especially on the subject of biological/ecological subjects!) and decently philosophical. This book is in a series that I have read a few books of before and technically this is the last one, but it didn’t really matter as the story is pretty stand-alone. It’s a mystery of sorts and I enjoyed trying to figure out what was really going on as the narrator attempted to discover the secrets of the final colony world on their mission. Well-written sci-fi goodness. Full approve.

Home By Eleven

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Hello friends! A rainy Saturday here and it’s nice to be warm and dry inside with nothing on the agenda this evening. Well, maybe some reading and perhaps some Great British Baking Show shenanigans. And I do hope some reading as well! But we shall see. I’m a bit tired but it’s not even 7pm yet so surely I can’t even start to consider bedtime yet. So thought I’d log a few of my latest reads and perhaps I’ll write more later? Nah I don’t want to promise that. But here we go, let’s talk about some books most briefly.

26. Disaster on Windy Hill by Lois Walfrid Johnson. The Northwoods series comes to a close! I do like this book and think it’s a lovely little capstone to the series. Finally they are all back at home again and we get the whole family and Kate continues to grow up and though the plot is pretty basic, the character arc is what matters here. Love to see Kate growing up into a strong woman of God. And some truly memorable scenes here, my favourite being when Kate witnesses Papa go out to the woods to seek the Lord and read the Bible in a time of hardship and fear. Might I remember this. Where do I go when I fear and my heart quakes? May I also cry out to the Lord in my distress, to one who shows lovingkindness to me his child!

27. Lost in a Good Book by Jasper Fforde. Another absurd romp by the literary mastermind Fforde. He really is quite a clever writer and I found myself much amused by this one. I suppose it really helps to have a good grounding in books and literary topics and I doubt I would have appreciated this one half as much if I read it fifteen years ago. Reading it now…well, it was simply superb. I don’t want to spoil overmuch, but the first part of the book is good, though just kind of ridiculous and off the wall. But about halfway through, when Thursday starts to enter other…er…dimensions…the book just becomes superb , tickling my fancy to the extreme. If you are a book lover and appreciate a book that doesn’t take itself too seriously and is wacky and fun and also chockfull of clever wordplay and bookish illusions….well, you’ve come to the right place.

28. Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery. Didn’t quite think I’d read this book again so soon after my last read, but ended up reading it for book club this month and though I probably could have foregone the read and just gone off memory…of course I had to read it again. And oh this one still delights. Some may wonder why this book resonates so much with my soul. I doubt I can fully explain but I just know my heart thrills when reading this one. Such simple sweetness, such profound beauty. I love reading of the good and the beautiful and the human, and this book delights in all the ways. It’s brilliantly written – Montgomery has such a way with words and so many wonderful turns of phrase. The humour is top-notch and I found myself laughing out loud multiple times as I read! Yes Anne is a bit ridiculous and at times overly whimsical and full of drama. Oh so many mishaps and misadventures! Still yet we see her grow into a young woman who loves deeply and begins to think of others before herself. I do so love how the author alternates between scenes of nature that delight the imagination and lengthy passages of dialogue where you can just hear Anne speaking her heart and soul. This book is one that reminds me of the sheer beauty of the world in which we walk and breathe and also speaks of the wonder of what it is to be human. So many times as I read a short descriptive paragraph of the path Anne was walking, I found myself smiling as my heart warmed as I imagined walking there myself.

I did find one passage that I marked in a past read and I wondered why it was the only passage I had marked off. Read it and then nodded to myself. Yup, I agree with past James. This passage thrums a chord deep in my heart and I shall close with this now. “It’s nice to be eating ice cream at brilliant restaurants at eleven o’clock at night once in awhile; but as a regular thing I’d rather be in the east gable at eleven, sound asleep, but kind of knowing even in my sleep that the stars were shining outside and that the wind was blowing in the firs across the brook.”

Resurrection Day

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Happy Sunday, friends. I have a few minutes as I sit and relax here at Laura and Caisson’s…an Easter banquet is being prepared and there is much work to do to prepare, but thought I’d grab a few moments (some of the only few I’ve had without anything else that must be done!) to write a few words on latest books. Of necessity, I do believe I will write fewer words than is my custom and may possibly not ramble as much as I usually do. Small victories. But why bother writing so many words when I can spend time with some of my most favourite people in the world? Now Caisson sits on the couch holding little Shiloh as she sleeps and Laura prepares a flour-less chocolate cake and Dani is resting in our room so…I suppose I will allow myself a moment or two to write.

22. The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde. This is a ridiculous and absurd romp. I had never read Fforde before but heard that this was a tale for the literary minded that don’t mind something a bit off the wall. And you know what? This one delivered. I found it absolutely hilarious. A bit irreverent at times and a bit more profane than I would have liked, but the humour was absolutely top notch. A lot of the jokes rely on a bit of knowledge of literature but in my mind, that made this book all the more superior. Mind you, this book is not for everyone. You may need to suspend your imagination a wee bit.

23. Grandpa’s Stolen Treasure by Lois Walfrid Johnson. Being back at Laura and Caisson’s means I get access to old childhood books once again. This was a quick breezy read, made all the more enjoyable by the memories summoned up as I read a book I probably haven’t opened in 20+ years. This one is probably not one of the stronger ones in the series. As Laura and I discussed, we enjoy the books that take place around the homestead and not in new cities. This one took place in Duluth which was interesting but…not quite as fun a setting as the farm and its environs. Still, a good tale well told and it is hard to find good children’s books so…would heartily recommend this to the younger crowd!

24. The Runaway Clown by Lois Walfrid Johnson. Book 8 of the Northwoods series, a fun story. Probably not the strongest of the series and the premise is stretching a bit much on the idea of Anders and Kate’s mystery solving skills, but you know what? Still worth a read. I particularly liked this one for the strong Christian themes and wisdom interspersed throughout. From Papa giving Kate dating/marriage advice (!! – also very solid and relevant even today!) to Kate standing up for her faith even when it sabotaged her friendship with her crush. Also, Kate sharing the gospel with her friend and praying with her!! Truly beautiful. This is one of those children’s books that is Christian but not weirdly so. It feels like a real family with a real faith loving a real God.

25. Mystery of the Missing Map by Louis Walfrid Johnson. Book 9 of the Northwoods series. A fun story with a few new characters thrown in. Probably not the best of the series, but I still found it enjoyable. It was odd reading this and having absolutely no memory at all of the plot (and continually being surprised by it!) yet little snippets here and there sparked my memory – “I remember this line!”. I’d forgotten whole characters yet I remembered reading certain turns of phrase. Funny how the memory works.

Imminent

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Hello friends! A beautiful Sunday has been enjoyed. Dani and I got a nice long walk in, albeit in possibly the most humid environment possible, to our great sighing dissatisfaction. Still though. It was good to be outside and soak in the sunlight and enjoy a nice long ramble together, talking of all and sundry. And we were not walking just to walk although so often that is what we do. We ended up at Kaboom eventually and it was a glorious few minutes browsing the stacks as I hoped to find a treasure. I will admit this was one of those rare cases where I did not buy anything! I did find an old 1916 copy of “The Possessed”, but decided not now, since I have no idea when I would end up reading it. Was really hoping to find a copy of “Brothers Karamazov” but oddly enough there were none to be found. Hopefully next time! Dani and I finally arrived back home and oh how good it is now after my shower to be sitting in my little corner chair enjoying the supreme relaxation that is felt after a good long walk. Dinner will be burritos and tomato and avocado soon enough. But not yet. I shall talk for a few words on my latest book and then it shall be time to read – “Gospel According to Jesus” still encouraging my soul.

16. First Love by Ivan Turgenev. Was initially thinking this would finally be the exception to prove the rule – the first of the great Russians that ended up a disappointment. And I will say that this tale is simple enough and not grand or epic in any way. But this little mid-19th century Russian story proved in the end to be worth the read. I had not read Turgenev before but heard enough that I was eager for this one. Yet the story seemed so bare bones and simple on its face, and so it is for the most part. There is not much subtlety in this one. Yet it is worth it simply for the last few pages and the reflection on mortality and what life really means and what it all points towards. The last few pages were sublime and worth the seeming-superficiality of some of the earlier pages. Grateful I read this one and I will not hesitate to pick up another Turgenev in the future. This was just a short story after all, so curious to see what his novels are like. I am a simple man of simple tastes and apparently I still haven’t met a 19th-century Russian tale that I dislike.

Shades of Grey

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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.

Simply Yes She Said to Me That One Fine Winter Day

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I’m a bit tired and don’t think I shall spend much more time on the computer this day. Leftover sausage and lentil stew for dinner, hurrah! And more Olympics-watching for Dani and I! We shall soon find out who wins the ladies’ figure skating gold! But for now, thought I might as well spend a few minutes of my time writing a bare few words on my latest read.

10. A Haunt for Jackals by J.L. Odom. A great read. As previously reported, read a new book recently (By Blood, By Salt) and was so struck by its uniqueness and high quality that I couldn’t help but immediately source the second book. This is that second book and I am very sorry to say that the third book is not yet available so I must wait for the conclusion (or just continuation?) of this series! Ahhh! But anyways, A Haunt for Jackals was a fantastic book, even if it was even more grim than the first book, if that was possible! This book is a very…how shall I describe it…muddy and bloody book. I think that description is apt. So I read this one a bit slower than I originally thought I would, simply because I had to be in the right mood for it. But once I slipped into the world again with Azetla and Tzal and others, well…the pages just rolled by. The world is so richly textured and the characters feel so real, I simply delighted in the reading experience every time I opened the book. There is definitely trauma in this book, especially with the history of Tzal being unveiled. It was…hard to read at times. Be warned. Still yet, there is beauty in this book. I’m grateful for this book, even though I must confess I was a bit surprised by a revelation at the end that I thought was too obvious to be true! But we shall see what the next book holds. Sad I have to wait!! Oh one more point. This book is definitely more of a military book than I am used to reading. Not sure if that’s my thing, but I have to say the battles were thrillingly told and even for someone as militarily inexperienced as I, was not bored. This author knows how to spin a tale.

A Different Kind of Music

James HoganLeave a comment

She sits on the porch in the fading light of sunset, a mug of coffee cradled in her hand. She knows it may possibly be too late for coffee but she cares not. The scent of coffee sparks her soul. The darkness draws closer and she looks out over the fields to enjoy the golden softness of the heads of grain before the curtain falls. It is good to rest this night. Her muscles are slowly untensing after the long day walking to and fro and hither and yon. A hot shower will be most welcome shortly, but not yet. Firstly the sunset must be enjoyed for the moment is not to be missed on a night such as this. The yellow light slowly turns to orange and threatens red as the sun slips ever further down the curve of the prairie sky. The clouds hug the horizon promising her very favourite type of sunset, the type where the garments of the heavens drape loosely about its frame. All the better to showcase the breathtaking beauty that is ever present but only rarely shyly seen. But enough of the sunset chatter, she thinks to herself as she breathes deep. She brings her other hand up to the coffee mug and she drinks. The wind blows across the treeless pastures and causes her to shiver. The sun winks and is gone. She lets herself sit a moment or two longer, slowly rocking back and forth in her chair. She plays a finger through her hair about her ear and considers. The thick book on the table next to her calls her name. But first, hot shower and cozy pajamas and then back on the porch to curl up with aforesaid book and a tall glass of something cold and dark. And she may even light a candle. It’s that type of night, a night for the prolonging of the beautiful and a lingering in the light. But first she must move her tired muscles. She slowly rises and turns to the house. Her hand on the doorknob, she looks back one more time to take a mental photograph of the way the porch railing silhouettes against the twilight. The night is not yet over, she promises herself. But now, shower time.