The Frozen River

I finished reading The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon the night Wayne called me out of the blue to tell me he was missing his dad. We had a nice conversation, and then I couldn't get back to sleep so I stayed up until 11:30 pm (late for me) to devour the end of the book.

Reading this book was a multi-step process for me. The journey began when Lisa recommended it, and I immediately put it on hold at the library. After waiting a long time for my turn, I was not initially super impressed with the writing. 

Phase 1: I was definitely drawn in by the vivid depiction of a harrowing scene in the beginning: a body violently traveling down an icy, turbulent river in 1789 Maine. The book is historical fiction, which I love, but with a torrid twist and a mystery. At first I thought it was written with  a bit too much sensationalism for my liking.

Phase 2: To my surprise, I discovered the novel was based on a real woman, who kept an actual written diary chronicling her life as a midwife during the early days of America. Some of the book is fictionalized because many of the journal entries are sparsely detailed, but it is still a compelling commentary on early American society.

There is a nonfiction account of this story titled A Midwife's Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, Based on Her Diary 1785-1812 that I started to read but ran out of time. I hope to pick it up again and learn more about this earnest and vibrant woman. Published in 1990 by historian Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, the book is a Pulitzer Prize winner. A documentary version of A Midwife's Tale was produced in 1997 by the PBS series, The American Experience. I'm very annoyed that I have to purchase the DVD on Amazon for $19 or subscribe to PBS Documentaries for $4.99/month in order to watch it.

Phase 3: Naturally I turned to other sources to uncover more about Martha Ballard and her diary. Cool fact from Wikipedia, "Under a 1668 Massachusetts law, midwives were often asked to pressure young unwed mothers into naming the father of the child in the throes of labor, an action which Ballard frequently participated in." Maine, of course, was part of the Massachusetts Bay Colony at that time.

The provenance of the journal itself is interesting as it turns out it ended up in the hands of "Ballard's great-great granddaughter, Mary Hobart, one of the first female US physicians to graduate from the New York Infirmary for Women and Children in 1884, the same year that she received the diary."

Eventually the journal found its way to the Maine State Library where it was unearthed by the historian Laurel Thatcher Urlich who began to piece together stories by cataloging journal entries and cross-referencing with other documents, bringing to life the post-revolutionary world of Hallowell, Maine.

Here are a couple of quotes, in Martha's own words that demonstrate her thoughts about her record-keeping. In the beginning of her diary she states, "Memory is a wicked thing that warps and twists. But paper and ink receive the truth without emotion, and they read it back without partiality." Towards the end, she concludes, "Or maybe-if I am honest- it is because these markings of ink and paper will one day be the only proof that I have existed in this world." As a writer, I certainly relate to both of those sentiments.

One final note that touches my heart as a writer and a lover of history.

"I want the world to remember that small acts, done in love, matter every bit as much as the ones that make the newspaper and the history books."

The Dog Who Followed the Moon

It’s apropos that I listened to the audiobook version of The Dog Who Followed the Moon by James Norbury, the day Uncle Ron died, on his birthday, at age 87. It is a sweet story about a lost dog named Amaya who is rescued by an old Wolf who joins her on a quest to find her parents.

As one review states, “Eerie woods, forgotten cities, and other obstacles await Amaya and the Wolf on their adventure. As they make their way through the wilderness, the two learn profound lessons about love, sacrifice, and the importance of embracing change.”

I was moved to tears by the story’s gentle commentary on life’s journey, loss, grief, and death. This quote especially spoke to me and my particular search for meaning:

“Somewhere inside you is a poem that you alone can write—a unique blend of what you love, what you fear, and all the things that only you’ve experienced.”

Here is more of the Wolf’s Zen advice:

“Most of our lives are spent doing the traveling, and the arrival is only a tiny part of that journey. We should do our best to enjoy every part of the adventure. Maybe we will never get to where we want to be, and wouldn’t it be sad if we had not even enjoyed the ride?”

“How do I do that?” asked Amaya. 

“Slow down, look around, breathe, take in the sounds and colors. Imagine you’d chosen this moment as your destination, not just a point along your journey.”

Finally, the Wolf reflects on his circumstances: “He’d led the pack to great victories and bitter defeats. His life was a tapestry of successes and failures, and he wondered what different choices he could have made that would have saved him from dying on this mountaintop exiled from his pack.”

The Wolf’s contemplation of his life is not so different from that of most humans in the end. As it turns out, the wolf was exactly where he needed to be, in a moment that would forever impact his new friend Amaya and countless other lives moving forward. It’s reassuring to know that a life well lived will lead each of us to the same place.

At first, it was disappointing listening to the audiobook because I missed flipping the pages and seeing the stunning illustrations. By the end of the hour-long reading, my weeping eyes would not have been able to focus on the beautiful pictures. I plan to treat myself to a hardcover copy of the book.

 

 

Here One Moment

Here One Moment by Australian author Liane Moriarty is unnerving. It poses a lot of questions about how we live our lives and think about death—the choices we make, coincidences, and how we react to challenges. It’s a mind-fuck of a book.

It delves into personality disorders like sleepwalking, OCD, depression, and introversion. It documents  relationships between spouses, parents and  children, roommates, coworkers and bosses. As SNL’s Stefon would say, “This place has everything!“

During an unexpected delay, an airplane full if people are trapped as an older woman systematically predicts the how and when of their deaths. That in itself is terrifying— being trapped for hours on an airplane with kids puking and babies crying—then some random crazy lady in a trance starts predicting when and how every passenger will die. Her mantra, “Fate can’t be fought.”

I love this reviewer’s perspective: “A riveting story so wild you don’t know how she’ll land it, and then she does, on a dime.”—Anne Lamott