Revolutionary Mothers

Someday, hopefully by the end of 2026, as I continue to work on overcoming my “mother wound,” I’ll finish reading Revolutionary Mothers: Women in the Struggle for America’s Independence by Carol Berkin. The book survived my purging in 2024 because of its historical subject matter, just like I survived my childhood struggle for freedom from the tyranny of my mother.  

The Book of Flaco

 

In June I went by myself to an author talk at the Sturgis Library. How had I never encountered any of David Gessner's work until now when his writing style is right up my alley? The workshop itself was short but very worthwhile. It was structured differently than others I had previously attended and I feel like I learned a lot listening to the author. Gessner is a memoirist with a connection to Cape Cod who writes about nature and environmentalism. Titcomb's was there peddling their wares, so naturally, I couldn't leave without purchasing two books. I justified The Book of Flaco because I decided to have it inscribed by the author and gift it to my owl-loving friend Elaine, whose birthday is in July. The other book I couldn’t resist was Return of the Osprey: A Season of Flight and Wonder. Gessner began his presentation with beautiful close-up videography of ospreys hunting and nesting.

My wily plan was to “gently read it beforehand,” the problem being, I’m a slow reader and only got about halfway (Chapter 6) before my friend’s birthday. Then another problem surfaced when I remembered I can’t even think about Flaco without getting emotional. For sure his story doesn’t have a happy ending, but Gessner’s perspective on the tale managed to fill me with inspiration.

When I started my “careful reading” on June 10, the sobbing began immediately. Working hard to ensure the tears avoided the text, I picked it up again the next day and managed to plow ahead, gaining marginal control over the weeping. Then, the book sat, waiting for an appropriate time for me to immerse myself in more blubbering. Meantime, two other books by Gessner and one by his wife expired from my digital Kindle shelf. I managed to read to page 60 of 363 in A Traveler’s Guide to the End of the World.

This summer there was a documentary about Flaco playing at the Cape Cinema. Wild Inside follows the owl’s hero’s journey as he escapes from his enclosure at the Central Park Zoo through his winning the hearts of birders and others during his year-long period of freedom. I can’t even watch the movie trailer without fighting back the ugly-crying!

I don’t know if I’ll ever return to The Book of Flaco — I know how it ends after all — but I am forever grateful to have made it as far as I did into Gessner’s exploration of the owl’s connection to humanity, and I will certainly always hold a place in my heart for him. One New Yorker who documented Flaco’s brief adventures, Ruben Giron, sums it up best.

“I believe Flaco enjoyed his freedom, and he lived it in the way that an owl will enjoy living. He used his intelligence to find places to hide, places to hunt, and he did that, and he’s a hero to me. I mean, it’s what we’re all trying to do. We’re all living our life, trying to find that place of joy in life. Some of us are in cages. Absolutely the biggest cage is our own mind, but certainly being under the precepts of society and culture, there is an entrapment that occurs. We believe that we’re supposed to be a particular way, but Flaco, he could only be Flaco, and he was enjoying that freedom.”

The Correspondent

I waited a very long time to read The Correspondent by Virginia Evans. Everyone has been raving about it, and I must admit I absolutely love the idea of telling a story through letters. So much so, in fact, that I’ve often thought about doing it myself. The decades-long email exchanges between me and my college roommate meld together a crazy romcom-worthy medley of stories full of angst and personal growth. The protagonist in this book compares her letters to “the links of a long chain” documenting her life experiences. 

Many of the one-star reviews for The Correspondent called it boring and forgettable, but I suspect those readers didn’t try hard enough to connect with the characters. I love a character-driven plot with strong personalities bouncing off of each other. While Sybil isn’t my favorite fictional heroine, I didn’t mind spending a short time with her as she tackles the nonsense this strange world throws at her during her twilight years. We have a lot in common, of course, and despite her abrasiveness, I also grew to appreciate some of her pithy observations. Here are a couple of examples:

“Most people tell you they want to hear the truth, but they do not, and if you tell the truth it will come back to bite you like a snake finding its own tail to swallow.”

“When I was young, by writing letters I found a framework that made living easier, and that has never changed.”

That’s exactly how I feel about the writing I’ve been doing my whole life. This exchange between Sybil and her daughter really hit home with me, too.

“You said that you hadn’t told me about it because you don’t know how to confide in me, that I am very distant. My response to you was that you have never seemed to need me, and you said that I taught you not to need me.”

I heard The Correspondent is being made into  a movie starring Jane Fonda, and while she wouldn’t have been my first choice to play Sybil, I’ll probably watch it. And even with Jane Fonda playing the lead, the theme will probably still resonate with me.

Yesteryear

It’s been a long time since I stayed up late to finish a book, but that’s what happened last night with Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke. I read it in one week which is also  remarkably fast for me. Additionally, it's the first time in a long while I’ve read a hardcover book rather than a copy on my kindle.

It all started when I downloaded a digital sample last Friday night having had the book on hold forever. Once I finished the sample, I couldn’t wait to keep reading. This is the kind of compelling reading material I was recently talking about—a book I couldn't put down until I knew how it ended. Unfortunately, I was ultimately disappointed. 

What a shame such a relevant and engrossing premise for a story was executed in such a narrow, mean-spirited way. Transported back to the wilderness of Idaho in 1855, a trad-wife influencer is forced to endure the very chores and hardships she so glibly demonstrates on camera for her modern audience. Waking one morning after a stressful, real-life incident at her state-of-the-art Yesteryear Ranch, Natalie Heller Mills finds herself in a situation she describes as "a bruised and beaten version of my life." The house, children, and farm are not-quite-right-right-but-similar versions of her own. It's COLD and her ragged nightclothes are irritating her skin! Her husband, Caleb, is a gruff, older clone of himself. I was looking forward to reading about the actual realistic trials and tribulations of domestic life in nineteenth century America. Instead Natalie's experience morphed into a hellish, overwrought drama reflective of her own narcissistic sensibilities and selfishness. 

There’s a lot of evangelical Christian-nationalist bashing happening in this book, which I'm not necessarily opposed to given today's politics. For me, it just crossed the line into a trite, oversimplified portrayal when I would have appreciated a more nuanced approach to describing the olden days. The author drives home the message about the second-class-citizen role women play in this homespun culture with the repetition of expressions like this one. "A man may work from sun to sun, but a woman's work is never done, never done, never done." While there may be a bit of truth to this, I believe contemporary women have made strides against inequality, and this privileged influencer had certainly reaped the benefits.

I've been listening to the wonderful I've Had It podcast for several months now, so I've gained a wealth of insight about the horrendous, prejudicial behavior exhibited by many white evangelical Christians living in rural America. The podcasters are two women—"blue dots" from the "red state" of Oklahoma—who do not mince words when it comes to defending the universal rights of all people including ethnic minorities, immigrants, and LGBTQ individuals. I applaud them for that. Yesteryear incorporates many of the hostile biases into the thoughts and actions of Natalie and her family members. The following diatribe ensues when Natalie's mother confronts her with the knowledge that vegetables being grown on their farm are not organic, even though Natalie insists they are to her online followers.

"My mother stared meaningfully behind me, and I turned around to see a pesticide barrel by the barn. A flare of anger whistled through me, so hot and painful I nearly gasped. Those dumb fucking immigrants . Idiot Mexicans. They never cleaned up after themselves, no matter how many times I asked."

Of course, Natalie doesn't own up to the fact that not only does her husband have help working the farm, but she employs producers and nannies to assist with her domestic projects like cooking, baking, mending, and childrearing. As the chapters alternate between real Natalie's current world and the time traveling Natalie's unpleasant circumstances, things begin to wildly unravel for our unlikeable main character.

By Chapter 33 when the Lord starts speaking to 1850's Nattie through one of her daughters, I started getting really confused and wondered how on Earth, or in what crazy crescendo of science fiction, this story would actually resolve itself.

"A shiver runs through me. Hello, Father... I feel him on this porch. I see Him in her, speaking to me."

The book's ending was an act of redemption but it left me feeling empty, like I had just eaten a gallon of ice cream and knew I would pay the consequences in the morning. All I wanted was for Natalie to get her comeuppance and develop into a self-actualized, humble version of herself. Instead, the novel broke off on a wicked path of legal, religious, sexual, and familial hellfire.

Overall, I like the author's writing style, and the story moved along at a good, if somewhat reckless, pace. I just wanted more—something deeper and more philosophical than this main character was able to provide—but it was a good reading experience that left me with a renewed conviction to check out more actual books from the library in the future.

Edited to add:

First, here’s a little taste of my new favorite podcaster, Jennifer Welch.  I Hip News

Second, guess I should have read the reviews on the back of the book jacket before I wrote this. Here's a sampling:

From Kate Tuttle, The Boston Globe—"One of the year's most relentlessly fast-paced and satisfying novels, a sharp and witty social satire that also works as a taut thriller."

From Maddie Oatman, Mother Jones—"Bracing.... Juicy, vindictive, and loads of fun."

From Michelle Ruiz, The New York Times Book Review—"Natalie is an electric antiheroine.... Revelatory."

From Aiden Arata, Los Angeles Times—"Bitingly funny and occasionally heartbreaking.... More than a giddy, gory tale of a tradwife's comeuppance."  

   I came for historical fiction but got satire instead :)

Liberty's Martyr

Someday I’ll read this book, Liberty’s Martyr by Janet Uhlar, a writer from the Cape. Copies were gifted to me and my teacher friend Elaine by the author who we met at a Massachusetts Historical Society summer workshop. See the note below for an explanation of why I'm thinking about this book now.

Liberty’s Martyr is about Elaine’s favorite historical ‘crush’, Dr. Joseph Warren who famously died at the Battle of Bunker Hill. My copy of the book has survived the famous purge during the Dumpster Summer of 2024 and currently resides in my living room bookshelf. I'll have to ask Elaine if she ever read it.

Teaching social studies and attending history workshops and exhibits are what I miss most about being retired from teaching. Of course, I still visit museums and speaking engagements, but the element of integrating the material into my professional life is what’s missing. That, and the camaraderie of learning and synthesizing information with colleagues. It was fun while it lasted, before the education system fried my nervous system.

Note: It was just about a year ago on June 24, 2025 when I dragged Elaine—on her last day of the school year—to Tales of Cape Cod because Janet Uhlar was speaking. To say the author was hyper would be an understatement. It was the longest, strangest event I have ever attended at Tales. Elaine was exhausted, and I was my usual jumble of chaos. Here’s an excerpt from my journal.

Last night I met Elaine in Barnstable for a quick bite at the (awful) Tuscan Cuisine Restaurant and a spirited talk at Tales of  Cape Cod—the author was ranting about contemporary biographers ‘flying fast and loose’ with the facts about her subject, Joseph Warren. The adventure culminated with me somehow locking my purse with keys IN the car and having to call Michele and AAA to rescue me. I should just stay in my house. 

Beachcombing at Miramar

Beachcombing at Miramar: The Quest for an Authentic Life by Thomas Bode was mentioned by my therapist from years ago in her book, Little Dipper. Marlene Denessen was a beacon of hope for me during my early thirties when as a young mother, I was seeking clarity in my life. Her book suggestions provided a lifeline for me. I can easily get overwhelmed in the self-help sections of bookstores and libraries so I rely on the recommendations of people I respect. Marlene’s were always right on target.

Discovering in my sixties that Marlene herself had actually written three books that I could purchase online was a revelation for me. She credits this book with helping her through a time of introspection and change, so I knew I had to read it. It only took me five days to devour this tiny, cosmic literary treat.

The subtitle says it all. I have been on this quest my entire life and finally feel ready to enjoy the fruits of my efforts. The author put into words so many of the demons I have wrestled to overcome, especially embracing the somewhat elusive human experience of following one’s own bliss. This book offered me a deeply touching depiction of man’s connection to the environment and his own inner wisdom. The author beautifully mirrors my own beliefs about violence vs beauty and peace vs war.

This passage pretty much sums up my current mood as well as my belief in the healing powers of the beach.

“Throughout my adult life I, too, have been trying to break through an invisible iron wall. I have come closer to achieving that goal here on the sands of Miramar than anyplace I have ever dwelled before. The journey has not been easy; I still have a distance to travel before I fully arrive. But I am on my way toward the center of myself, doing my best to strip away layers of sham and pretense as I go along.”

Somedays I wake up feeling this way too. “As I walk the beach, I feel as if a great weight has been lifted from me, and I’m ready to reach out beyond the boundaries of myself.”

However, I wouldn’t describe my beauty experiences as “the light caress of a woman in the wind.” To me it feels more like an empowering burst of budding confidence strengthened by the intoxicating salt air and penetrating heat of the sun’s rays. Add to that the sound of small rocks flittering against the sand, and my perfect beach day has just been manifested.

The book concludes with the author acknowledging the significance of his role as the Beachcomber. He describes one of his cherished collections—portraits capturing the essence of everyday people. I wholeheartedly agree with his sentiment, especially today.

“Whenever I look at them, I become convinced that the hope of the world lies not with churchmen, statesmen, or politicians, but with men and women like these who have banished pretense from their lives.”

This Instagram post also speaks the truth:

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DZQcuc5imb4/

Owl Magic: Your Guide Through Challenging Times

Owl Magic by Mary Petiet is a quick but valuable read. I like its focus on providing a sort of blueprint for surviving during difficult times. 

Those times are NOW! 

I keep having to remind myself that all times in the history of the world have had their share of challenges, but somehow I always return to the idea that humanity should know better by now. We shouldn’t have to continue replaying these conflicts between good and evil, right and wrong. We should have learned our lessons about being kind and humble and following the Golden Rule.These times should be different, and it’s up to humankind to make them better. I am of the belief this will only happen through a spiritual reckoning that isn’t specific to one religion but embraces the unifying tenants of all of them.                                       

Inclusivity is key to the evolution of humanity, and this book captures the spirit of that realization. There’s no place for exclusion, bigotry, and hatred. Universal human rights are nonnegotiable. People who are not on board with that idea must not be tolerated or allowed into positions of leadership. Yet somehow today, here we are. This simple concept has been warped and ravaged throughout history, and the time has come for a post-Covid renaissance. As the author notes, “Such times of plague have historically led to times of change.”

Each chapter of this book begins with a grounding poem and ends with a yoga pose, meditation, and list of writing prompts for reflection. The whole idea is to provide strategies for quieting the inner and outer noise that makes introspection and the process of self-actualization difficult. Taming the "monkey mind".

What if everyone could be convinced of the importance of this practice? Would we all be led to the same well of humanity, connecting us to all the goodness and abundance life has to offer?

My favorite chapter “Apocalypse” invites us to acknowledge our fears utilizing the wisdom of the Universal Law of Courage. This deeply resonates with me. The ultimate fear of death may be the foundation for all our individual fears.

“What if we accept death as something as natural as birth, making it a natural experience instead of a scary one. From darkness comes light, and from death comes new life and innovation.”

What if, indeed? Owl Magic provides a map for humanity to follow as it evolves, once we are finally able to reject the greed and hate that currently envelops our world.

My secret wish is that all religions and countries—fictional divisions created by mankind—will accept the power of the Universal Laws: Connection, Love, Courage, and Potential. Finally, the Universal Law of Least Effort compels us to “accept things as they are” even as we endeavor to bring about the huge, positive social changes that are necessary. 

This Must Be the Place

I think it’s time for me to stop reading books that just help me fall asleep at night. This Must Be the Place by Maggie O’Farrell, who also wrote Hamnet, falls into that category. It’s a soothing practice I developed while I was still working, but now I’m ready to make a shift to compelling reading material—books that I can’t put down until I know how they end. 

For me, this story has been a leisurely drift down a lazy river in an inner tube. There’s nothing wrong with that actually, but I’m such a slow reader, my 21 day library rental doesn’t allow enough time for a jaunt at this pace. At 33% complete with other patrons waiting, I was unable to renew the book so I switched my Kindle to airplane mode. 

I’ve never been a fan of book chapters jumping around between the perspectives of different characters. IMHO the technique is overused, and the story always suffers when it isn’t skillfully executed. I really didn’t connect with any of the characters as they flitted from chapter to chapter taking turns sharing the spotlight. I wasn’t intrigued by the aging, reclusive actress, her arrogant, filmmaker first husband, or her precocious French-speaking children with her second husband. 

Daniel, the protagonist seemed to have a personality that shapeshifted from beginning, middle to the end of the story. Initially portrayed as a quirky but down to earth divorced father of two children, he became self-absorbed and annoying in flashbacks to his college days where he interacted with equally off-putting, newly introduced characters.

By the time I arrived at the chapter about Maeve adopting a child in China (about 65%), I no longer cared who she was or why her backstory was interrupting the flow of Daniel’s life. Oddly, I liked Daniel best in one chapter toward the end of the book that felt like a lone island adrift and completely disconnected from the vast ocean  of the rest of the story. Here he finds himself randomly on a no-frills  tour to the Salar de Uyuni salt desert in Bolivia with his oldest son Niall. The narrator of the chapter is a recently divorced, older British woman named Rosalind who hasn’t made an appearance before or after this section of the book. I found myself wanting to follow her life path as the chapter ended, not Daniel’s.

By the time I finished the book, I didn’t know if I was routing for Daniel to find happiness or just content to have his story come to a conclusion, one way or another.

The Healing Power of Storytelling

I borrowed The Healing Power of Storytelling by Annie Brewster, MD with Rachel Zimmerman from by polymath friend and soon-to-be coauthor of Saving Humanity Through Education, Sue C. Because it’s not my book, I had to annotate on post-it notes.

At first this was uncomfortable for me, but I pushed through. Now I have a gazillion little notes to make sense of and transcribe. This book validated everything I already believe about the importance of storytelling. The added component of people with medical conditions being empowered to document their personal struggles brought a sense of purpose to the process. I guess when it comes down to it, sharing our stories in order to connect with and help others is what it’s all about.

And for me, the ability to internalize, communicate, and celebrate our stories is the most important of all human aspirations. 

My Friends

Here’s my experience with Fredrik Backman, the prolific, beloved Swedish author. Meredith recommended him, and I loved A Man Called Ove and My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry. I tried to read but gave up on Anxious People and Beartown. I wanted so badly to love My Friends, but I really didn’t. I didn’t abandon it though. I plodded my way to the bitter end even though every step of the way I found it overblown and overwhelming. 

This one-star review on Goodreads says it best. Something similar to when you over-highlight parts of a text. When everything is highlighted, it’s impossible to discern what has significance. This book tries so hard to be deep and ends up feeling shallow.

I actually polished off the resolution of My Friends on the plane to Puerto Rico for Sue and Bonnie’s excellent adventure to Vieques Island. The book redeemed itself briefly at the end and turned out to be a great entry point for my “Medicare-year-birthday-celebration" with my dear high school friend. Vintage1961. 

Strange Pictures

Strange Pictures by Uketsu is strange indeed. Even more mysterious is the author’s bio: “UKETSU only ever appears online, wearing a mask and speaking through a voice changer… His innovative ‘sketch mysteries’ challenge readers to discover the hidden clues in a series of sinister drawings… They have sold nearly 3 million copies in Japan since 2021. Uketsu‘s true name and identity remain unknown.”

In my opinion, the author’s premise and marketing strategy are brilliant, but the execution of the plot, not so much. That said, I had to rate it 4 stars because I—slow reader extraordinaire—devoured the book, making quick work of it in 11 days. In places where it became graphically descriptive, I choked a little on the details. Over all it went down smoothly, but undoubtedly will leave me with a bit of heartburn.

The story’s strong start devolved into a jumbled mess of “tell” not “show”, and the pictures lost their relevance by the end. Truthfully, the pictures alone would never have led me to solve the mystery. Luckily, I didn’t need to since it was so intricately spelled out by the author in the second half of the story. Could be that something was Lost in Translation here. In any event, while I find Japanese philosophy fascinating, their literature sure is deranged.

Final score: A+ for originality. C- for implementation. 

The Book of Fire

The Book of Fire by Christy Lefteri held my attention for about a month but clearly didn’t compel me to quickly zip through it to the end. It was kind of a slow burn for me, a leisurely and worthy bedtime companion during the month of January. Maybe it helped me assimilate into the post-holiday bleakness of the coldest winter I've encountered in years.

People magazine aptly describes the book, “A tender depiction of loss and healing that raises questions about guilt and blame in the age of climate change.”

I really liked the authenticity of the characters in this book, especially the sweet wife and mother, Irini Diamandis, who narrates the story. When a devastating fire rips through their village in present-day Greece, Irini is introspective about the many hardships they face as she is called to hold her family together.

The disaster has brought changes to their way of life and Irini ponders the complexities of human response to tragedy. “Was it Aristotle who said that man is a political animal? Not that we are all born to take an active interest in party politics, but it is in our nature to live in a polis, a community.” Deriving assurance from a reliance on social connections, is one of humanity’s greatest gifts.

Before the fire, Irini reflects on the highs and lows of life and the history of her ancestors. “Over the decades and centuries, there were many joys and many losses that could be peeled back like the fine translucent layers of an onion.” After the fire, she works to remain positive in the midst of so much devastation. “Yes, maybe, life will get better. I will focus only on the things still living; I will ignore the darkness and the deadness that surround them.” Most importantly, she uses all of her resources to mend and strengthen her relationships with her husband, Tasso, and daughter, Charo.

When I finished the book, I needed to reread the beginning. It turns out the plot device of shifting from past to present throughout was a bit confusing for me. I did gain better understanding of the events after reading the first few chapters a second time.

Reviewing the portions I highlighted on Goodreads reminded me how much I appreciated the themes of survival and rebirth. There is something deep within this novel about human connections, us-versus-them mentality, and rising above it all to embrace our own strengths and tolerate the differences of others. There is also a genuine respect for the environment, humanity, and cultural and familial bonds. These threads combine to create a pleasant experience inhabiting the inner thoughts of the main character, Irini, whose sincerity and integrity are endearing.

Lefteri also wrote The Beekeeper of Aleppo which is more well known. Maybe next winter I’ll find refuge in this story, immersing myself into the lives of a Syrian beekeeper and his blind wife.