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.

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.

Isola

I’m not sure what to make of the book Isola by Allegra Goodman, but I disagree with the negative reviews on Goodreads, some calling it “annoying and boring." This is the kind of historical fiction that needs to connect the dots and fill in the blanks because not much is known about the life of the real person on which the story is based, and I think the author did an admirable job. I like books that make me think, and shed light on other ways of living and different times.

What is known about Marguerite de La Rocque de Roberval, I found to be riveting, and her experiences have been written about many times. Born into French royalty in the 1500s, she fell into challenging times upon the death of her parents. She became well-known after surviving abandonment on the Isle of Demons off the coast of Canada, a treacherous and fantastical place with a rich history of its own. You can read a fascinating summary on Wikipedia here.

In order to fabricate a sense of time and place for Isola, Goodman not only read about Marguerite, but she studied objects and paintings from the time period. In the Author’s Notes of the novel, she recounts learning about the life of Marguerite this way:

“In an illustrated children’s book about Jacques Cartier, I read a passage that stopped me short. It went something like this: In 1542, a nobleman named Jean-François Roberval sailed separately with colonists to meet with Cartier in what is now called Canada. Roberval brought along his young ward, Marguerite de la Rocque who annoyed him by having an affair aboard ship. Roberval marooned Marguerite and her lover on an island in the Gulf of Saint Lawrence where she managed to survive for more than two years while fighting off polar bears.”

This is quite a tale for a woman to have lived through, especially in the 16th Century. Religion, duty, gender expectations, and class privilege mingle with the cold, harsh reality of daily survival during this period of time. Although the heroine’s inner thoughts and daily activities are full of melodrama and sentimentality, bordering on mawkishness, I believe this portrayal is true to the mannerisms of the times. 

The author’s writing style was also fitting. It transported me back to a different era. Nearing the end of the book, I began to wonder if I would even be able to write in this manner, with an old-fashioned flourish, like script from a quill. It might be fun to try!

Here is an example of the language used to describe Marguerite’s feelings of accomplishment having never had to perform household chores in the past but participating with the servants at her relative's home.

“Filling these packets and wood boxes, I felt a joy I had not known before. It was not love, and it was not comfort, nor was it mastery or beauty, but it was usefulness.”

And here, Marguerite contemplates all she has been through. “I have been alone, bereft, but I know now that in solitude we find our way, and in learning, and in God’s word.”

Finally, I love the Queen’s candor upon meeting Marguerite and hearing about her misadventures on the island.

“Those who know their faults are truly wise,” the Queen said. “And those who have endured the worst have most to teach. Do not say, then, that your story does not deserve retelling. Tell me, rather, how I might reward you for offering what you have learned.”

This is sage advice for any day and age.

A short YouTube video about Marguerite de La Rocque

Sapiens

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari was published in 2015. I was introduced to the book by a friend in the summer of 2025 and became enthralled with the content. Originally published in Hebrew in Israel in 2011, this is an ambitious book that seeks to answer the author’s childhood question, “What is the meaning of life?” 

Heady stuff. 

It took me two months to finish reading, but this thought-provoking book was well worth my time. In my defense, the book is long—I wonder how long it took to write it?—and I found it repetitive in several areas. In the author's defense, it's said that repetition lends itself to deeper learning. Much of the material presented is based on theories developed by historians and theologians during eons of research, but the author does a good job delineating the scientific facts he uses as jumping off points for his narrative.

There is a lot to learn about this topic, but unfortunately I had to skim through at least three sections that contained despicable descriptions of Sapiens' mistreatment of other animals. Humankind’s disregard for the well-being of other species is really driven home by this author, and it makes my heart hurt. Other juicy morsels of information within the pages also made my head explode. Reading about the origins of mankind has been quite an interactive experience for me!

Sapiens is structured around four principles coinciding with the progression of Homo sapiens. Part One: the Cognitive Revolution. Part Two: the Agricultural Revolution. Part Three: the Unification of Mankind. Part Four: the Scientific Revolution. Harari concludes his discourse with some thoughts about the future of the species. 

If ever there was a time for renewed optimism about humanity’s future, that time is NOW.

Edited 5/22/26 to add: 

I find all of this fascinating, and I’m in the process of weaving together bits and pieces obtained from this book into a much more nuanced essay about societal growing pains. Scraps of knowledge have been rattling around in my brain for months and connecting to everything else I absorb through my reading and in the news. They form the basis of my recent journaling, as I grapple with making meaning of current events and drop pieces into the giant jigsaw puzzle of life.

A Life Suspended

This important book, A Life Suspended: A Mother and Son’s Story of Autism, Extinction Bursts, and Living a Resilient Life, is written by my writing group facilitator Nicole Donovan. 

It was fortuitous that I attended Nicole’s Snapshot Stories workshop at the Sandwich Library in February. Despite my experience writing, after retirement I was in need of some inspiration. I learned so much from Nicole that I signed up for five more sessions in May at her Lotus and Rose Healing Arts Studio. The Ancestral Stories writing group continued meeting monthly through September and has been a consistent source of joy for me throughout.

Now, I’m at a crossroads about how to move forward with my writing. September truly is a month of transitions and a time for me to come to terms with my goals. I love the group energy of Ancestral Stories and can’t give that up. I’ve been questioning what direction to take, and I feel like I need some guidance. My ancestors haven’t exactly been banging down the door between me and the netherworld, but nonetheless I feel their presence. Somehow, my writing persists. 

And, I have seriously digressed from this book review!

Having finished reading this book, I believe Nicole is a good fit to help me bring some coherence to my own ideas. Her writing is honest and accessible. She writes in an open and authentic manner about the very personal topic of her son Jack’s Asperger’s Syndrome diagnosis. Nicole is insightful and generous with her time and feedback.

Our writing styles and outlook on life seem similar in many ways. We’re both mothers and teachers whose experiences reverberate with the familiar themes of self-doubt, a search for clarity, and difficulty letting go. Correlations echo throughout, mostly in our reflective natures and coping strategies. Therapy, journaling, breath work, meditation, and humor bring solace to us both during emotional challenges.

I love how Nicole incorporates figurative and descriptive language into her prose. Her story is both heartrending and hopeful at the same time. She fully captures the essence of trying to keep it all together as a mother, as well as the intensity of our ‘mother bear’ feelings for our children. 

I annotated the hell out of this book as I read it, but this passage stands out for its relevance in my life at the moment. 

“There is an old saying, ‘When the student is ready, the teacher will appear,’ which I found true in my own life. Jack was ready for the next phase. It was time for me to let go . . .”

I have had opportunities to be both the teacher and the student in my lifetime. Lifelong learning and emotional growth are the key components for a worthwhile existence at any age.

Abscond

Abscond is a short story by Abraham Verghese that I downloaded to my Kindle for free. I think I like this author’s writing, but his novels are LONG and therefore require quite a commitment from me. I’m glad I made it through The Covenant of Water and need to decide whether to attempt Cutting for Stone. I worry I won’t have the stamina. 

Verghese clearly writes from what he knows, and much of that knowledge seems to revolve around Indian and Scottish cultures, as well as an interest in academics and medicine. I recognized these similarities in both of his stories I have read and suspect the same is true in Stone.

So in summary, Abscond was entertaining. The story centers on the life of 13-year-old tennis prodigy Ravi Ramanathan, during the summer of 1967 in New Jersey. The description on Goodreads begins, “Fate challenges a boy to find his place in the world …” Ironically, I felt there were some areas that could have been fleshed out more. In other words, think I would LOVE this author if his books were “just right” (like Goldilock’s porridge) in length. Not too short and not too long :)

Burn

There’s something about this book that kept me reading … for a month, but the ending was so, so disappointing. Burn by Peter Heller sacrificed plot for character introspection and intricate (but repetitive) descriptive details.

That said, I think I liked the writing style (which isn’t often the case). I would have preferred more meat on the bones of the storyline which involved some type of armed conflict between Maine secessionists and the US government. There’s also the “ick” factor of the main character’s recollections of his sexual encounters with his best friend’s mother when he was a teenager.

Let’s examine some of my annotations for clues. The main character, Jess, through whose eyes we are viewing the current events, is kind of a lost boy. A good person, wrestling with a difficult past as well as an unclear future. He is thoughtful and makes good decisions under pressure. Here he reflects on the elusiveness of achieving happiness.

“The hammer had dropped so often in his life that when there was peace, when there was enough love, when he was cradled by it—the love of a friend, a wife, a dog—he knew that sometime around the height of his joy or contentment—right at the apex, when it seemed life might right itself like a ship in a cross sea, and turn, and sail smoothly—just then lightning would strike. A rogue wave would rise up and blot out the horizon.”

Waiting for the other shoe to drop is how I have perceived this experience many times in my life. I also identified with this passage that demonstrates the power of positive thinking during rough times. 

“He thought again that he might pretend—that the world was a vessel of beauty and peace. He didn’t have to: The clear cold morning was real. Storey was real—his chosen brother—and he had Jess’s back as always. These woods, in their exuberant transition to a dark and frozen winter, were real. The coffee he would soon pour into cups that would warm their hands, the welcome heat off the fire, the quiet wheezes and pops as the flames burned down were all real. One could focus, couldn’t one? Mightn’t one sit in the full bore of a sun just clearing the trees and drink coffee quietly as the meadow dried and the day warmed? And feel a measure of peace?”

Finally, I do appreciate a doomsday story that incorporates a little Zen wisdom to help ease a character’s emotional pain. Here, Jess ponders, the age-old question that the student asks of the Zen master. “I have gained enlightenment, what do I do now?” The response: “Wash your bowl.”

“I have lost everything, what do I do now? Wash the pot, ha. Maybe enlightenment and total loss are the same thing. That is something to chew on.”

I do admire a character who recognizes something worth chewing on, and I guess the juicy morsel of introspection is the best we can expect from life during these uncertain times. Keep it real, and do what needs to be done!

The Beggar Maid

Small Things Like These

I’ve been exploring my Irish roots in some recent writing workshops, so it’s perfect timing for Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan to become available on CLAMS.

Keegan’s stories always make me think, which is the whole purpose for immersing oneself in a book. I learn many Irish/British expressions along the way, too. The real draw for me, however, is Keegan’s thoughtful, realistic characterization. She writes in a way that brings people to life. There’s nothing I despise more than reading about contrived, stereotypical individuals who I would never want to hang out with.

This time, I had great empathy for the main character, Bill Furlong, the hardworking, steadfast owner of a heating fuel delivery company. Bill, his wife Eileen and their five daughters are salt-of-the-earth, faithful members of an Irish community sometime in the 1980s. Bill is a thoughtful man who often reflects on his family’s circumstances, recognizing and appreciating the fruits of his solid, working class lifestyle. His work puts him in contact with all manner of people, and he is especially mindful of those not doing as well as he.

Keegan offers insight into Bill’s perspective with her tight, honest prose. Who among us cannot relate to this quick bit?

“When he reached the yard gate and found the padlock seized with frost, he felt the strain of being alive and wished he had stayed in bed…”

And, here one of my favorite sentiments is echoed.

“Always, Christmas brought out the best and the worst in people.”

A shocking discovery one day causes Bill to dig deeper into his own consciousness. As he does, he contemplates his wife’s simple philosophy, “If you want to get on in life, there’s things you have to ignore, so you can keep on.” I can relate to that myself. The world is full of horrific news, but to become overwhelmed by it, can lead to hopelessness and inaction. 

The soft-hearted Bill, however, can’t shake off the weight of what he has witnessed. His inner conflict brings him head to head with the Catholic Church and leads him to this revelation, “Was there any point in being alive without helping one another?”

I’ll conclude with this quote that pretty much sums it all up.

“People could be good, Furlong reminded himself, as he drove back to town; it was a matter of learning how to manage and balance the give-and-take in a way that let you get on with others as well as your own.”

Keegan’s writing invites us to ponder our own inner angst as well as how it relates to our connectivity to humanity. That certainly makes for a worthwhile read.

Edited to add my thoughts after watching the movie on Hulu. I would not have chosen the Oppenheimer actor to play Bill Furlong, but I was pleasantly surprised to see a different, less intense, softer side of Cillian Murphy. His portrayal of a conflicted man was balanced and believable. At the close of the movie this statement fills the screen. 

“Dedicated to the more than 56,000 young women who were sent to Magdalene institutions for ‘penance and rehabilitation’ between 1922 and 1998. And the children who were taken from them.” 

I was unfamiliar with the legacy of the Magdalene Laundries but not surprised to research the subject and learn a little about the abuse that took place. This quote from the Mother Superior’s sermon is particularly haunting, considering that many families remained silent in order to protect their own children. “The love of the Lord is everlasting upon those who fear Him. His justice reaches out to the children’s children when they keep His Covenant in truth.”

Three Days In June

 

Three Days in June by Ann Tyler felt like I was reading something authored by the fictional character Lucy Barton in an Elizabeth Strout novel. The entire book read like a play-by-play of the most mundane activities of the main character. Luckily, I identified with Gail Baines, a socially awkward, divorced teacher in her 60s.

Granted, a few conflicts unfold to keep things moving along in this quick read, and that’s what kept me going. However, drab dialogue like the following didn’t make it easy. 

I said, “Oh.” I said, “I hadn’t considered that.”

The story takes place in the Baltimore area during the three days surrounding the wedding of Gail’s only daughter, Debbie. The book opens with bad news being delivered to Gail by her boss and supposed friend Marilee. Gail is being let go from her job as assistant headmistress at the swanky private school where they work. The reason given is her lack of people skills which Gail appears not to dispute.

Along the way, the arrival of Gail’s ex-husband with a kitten complicates the situation. In flashbacks, the demise of their marriage as well as Gail’s relationship with her own mother are revisited. A small hiccup between bride and groom as well as the antics of the overbearing in-laws also factor into the plot and nudge it along.

Tyler is the author of many books including The Accidental Tourist which I read but can’t recall anything about, except that William Hurt plays the main character in the movie adaptation. In my twenties, I had a crush on William Hurt and even saw him in a Broadway play. A Spool of Blue Thread found its way onto my "Want To Read" list a while ago, but I think I’ll give myself space before I try another Tyler novel.

I did, however, download one of her vintage short stories,Teenage Wasteland, because it was free on Kindle. I will update if I ever finish reading that.

Update: Apparently, I did finish reading Teenage Wasteland this summer. The theme of the story speaks to the issue of control, and how difficult parenting has become. The story is a warning for parents not to loosen their grip on the important aspects of raising children. It’s similar to the wisdom of learning not to worry about things that can’t be controlled, and focusing instead on making positive change whenever possible.

“O God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Crash Book

 

 

Crash Book is the second of my former therapist Marlene Denessen’s books that I was delighted to discover online and read. My curiosity was peaked by the title and cover image depicting a closeup of a deer head. It turns out, the book documents her healing journey after being seriously injured in a car accident involving a deer on Route 195 in Massachusetts.

Published in 2022, this book is a pretty handy resource filled with practical advice for developing a meditation practice. It contains anecdotes that humanize the experience for those of us just beginning. Marlene’s voice is straightforward, nonjudgmental, and rings with clarity. Her salt-of-the-Earth guidance is easy to understand and incorporates background information about mindfulness and wellbeing. 

For example, here is a quote from Marc Hiles of the Iona Center that is so relatable.

“We are overdosed on data and underfed on the mysterious. Our brains inflate while our souls wither.” 

I need to be especially cognizant of not drowning my brain while my soul remains thirsty for knowledge. This concept also brings to mind a beautiful word I learned recently from Susan Cain, the author of Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. “NUMINOUS” means mysterious, spiritual, enchanting, mystical, bewitching. Wouldn’t the world benefit from a boost of numinousness?

In Crash Book, Marlene talks about what she calls the “passing show” or the daily distractions that inevitably compete for our attention during meditation. She matter of factly counsels us to recognize the passing show, pay it no mind, and redirect our focus on our breathing and the process of clearing our heads. This is powerful advice that has always worked for me. She also references the Buddhist term for this inner chatter, “monkey mind” of which I am most definitely afflicted!

The Measure / The Serviceberry

The Measure by Nikki Erlick is probably going to scare the shit out of me, but I can’t resist. This book became available through CLAMS on May 5, and like a moth to a flame, I clicked borrow.  When my teacher friend Elaine talked about it a couple of years ago, I was intrigued, but I was still working and didn’t have as much time to read as I do now. 

Earlier this year, I read Here One Moment, thinking that was the book Elaine had recommended. The premise of people knowing when they will die is similar but handled in very different ways. I have dissected that book on this blog. 

Naturally, all the books I have on hold are ready at the same time, and last night I began reading The Serviceberry by Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of the more well-known Braiding Sweetgrass. Probably, I will become either totally frustrated or wholly enlightened trying to read these two books at the same time. Let’s see how this plays out.

I’m still slogging away on The Measure but last night (5/21/25) I finished The Serviceberry. The book’s subtitle says it all really: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World. It’s appropriate that I finished reading this tiny book during a time when I’m losing patience with the clown in charge of our country and the posse of idiots he has surrounded himself with as they wreak havoc on the environment and the common good.

Turns out my dual reading experiment worked out nicely as I finished The Measure today (5/22/25). The books, despite being very different, are oddly complimentary. Both brought in elements of current events and the politics of humanity. 

All Fours

I really need to become more discerning in my choices of reading material. Information overload and overwhelm is real, especially these days when I let myself ponder how few years I realistically have left I know that sounds dark, but it’s just reality. I probably shouldn’t have wasted my precious time reading All Fours by Miranda July, but once I made it halfway, I was committed to completion.

I also probably should’ve recognized the sexual connotation in the title too, but again, no, I missed that clue and was taken aback a little bit when the book lurched into full-blown soft-porn as the main character awkwardly explores her sexuality and questions her life choices. 

In case you’re thick like me, toward the end of the book you’ll be treated to this pearl of wisdom, “Everyone thinks doggy style is so vulnerable…but it’s actually the most stable position. Like a table. It’s hard to be knocked down when you’re on all fours.” So says the unnamed protagonist’s long-suffering artist friend when describing her sculpture of a green marble, headless woman on her hands and knees! And by long-suffering, I’m referencing her putting up with her annoyingly, self-indulgent 45 year old friend throughout the entire book.

I wish I could recall how this book came to be on the long list of selections I wait patiently for on Libby. Could have been the Titcomb’s newsletter or New York Times bestseller lists. If I could remember, I’d avoid future recommendations from that source.

It’s never good when you can’t wait to finish reading a book, hoping all along a tornado comes along and wipes out all the characters or they all die in a house fire. No such luck. I finally made it to the end and was left scratching my head. Somehow the irritating main character was still going, like a demented Energizer Bunny, leaving a trail of devastation and confusion in her wake.

Shark Heart

Shark Heart: A Love Story by Emily Habeck is a weird-ass book raved about by the woman leading the weird-ass poetry workshop I took in February. I actually participated in three free workshops, and the poetry was my least favorite for many reasons. Poetry is a challenge for me even though I love it. The instructor did her best to her passion for the craft. And I did heed this book recommendation from her.

As so often happens with weird-ass books I read, I kind of like it, but it needs some tweaking/editing. It is a quick and easy read so that’s nice.  I originally rated it harshly, 3-stars on Goodreads, but after reviewing my highlights and writing this summary, I would change it to 4-stars.

The idea is a good one, creative and original, but the orchestration of all the pieces misses the mark for me. The structural elements, choppy chapters, and awkward transitions between viewpoints distracted me from the many profound declarations, such as this one.

“Joy and grief are human birthrights, but mostly, being alive is everything in between.”

And this one.

“Truth and Love were complicated concepts on their own, and patching the two words together created a significant tangle Lewis could not unwind.”

The setting is an otherwise realistic world but it appears normal for some humans to contract an ailment that causes them to change into animals. The main character named Wren, who is not a bird but a woman, reflects on how her life has been impacted by these transformations. The story begins as her husband is diagnosed with a Carcharodon carcharias mutation. Thus begins the couple's misadventures as he gradually transitions into a great white shark. While the physical adaptations he endures are shocking, his psychological journey proves to be the most unsettling. 

The characters and even their animal counterparts, impart a great deal of wisdom as they are forced to reckon with their unusual circumstances. Their interactions are all a bit poetic and metaphoric. Maybe in its own weird-ass way reading this helped me connect to my own inner love of figurative language.

Maybe life has no ceiling, no floors, no walls, and we’re free-falling from the moment we’re born, lying to each other, agreeing to make invented ideas important, to numb ourselves from the secret.” “What’s the secret?” “Maybe what happens between birth and death isn’t as precious as we think.”

I’m no stranger to trying to unravel and make sense of my deep, dark emotions. Like the characters in this book, I always resurface to soak in thoughts of hope and optimism. So, I’ll conclude with this Mary Oliver quote that I love and that was shared at the poetry workshop I attended.

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”