I love Jan Karon’s novels about Episcopal minister Timothy Kavanagh of Lord’s Chapel in Mitford, NC.
Karon has an undeniable gift that is neither obvious nor overdone. The Father Tim novels -those sweet, simple, faith filled books- brought me back to Christianity when I was about as far away as I’d ever been… and for that I am truly thankful. They have a way of distilling faith down the the simplest common denominator without a lot of pomp and circumstance… and while that might not sound appetizing for some, I would invite them to visit Mitford and judge for themselves. Not a writer myself, I don’t know quite how to describe Karon’s writing style other to note that she won’t describe the baby bedding to you in excruciating detail, but you might know that it’s there.

Karon -or rather Father Tim- also taught me to pray the prayer that never fails: “Thy will be done.” Again, simple… yet powerful.

I have 7 of the 9 ‘Mitford’ series, set in the fictional Mitford, NC and just read Home to Holly Springs, the first of the ‘Father Tim’ series. This is a different book; not since the first novel has Tim been so much on his own. Faster paced than some of the other works, I sometimes had trouble keeping up. No wonder the minister’s head was reeling for much of this trip back to his roots! I think it helps if you’ve visited with Tim and his family before reading this one, but it’s not a prerequisite.

The trip to Holly Springs introduces new characters that are sure to turn up in later novels, but I sincerely hope we also see the usual suspects. More important than any other character was the young Timothy. We have a bird’s eye view of how our venerable Father Tim grew up, where, what obstacles he overcame, what tragedies he endured. I would say that he grew into the man he is in spite, not because of, these things.

Bottom line, there were people in his hometown that he reconnected with; memories he relived. Most importantly, there were blessings to be had for one and all.

Pied Beauty

GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89)

Written by C.S. Lewis and first published in 1942, the book is comprised of a series of 31 letters from a senior demon named Screwtape to his neophyte tempter, his nephew Wormwood. The letters are largely regarding the nature of man, his relationship to God and Wormwood’s new assignment, a Christian man living in WWII era London.

Why bother to post about a book this old? It reads as if written yesterday. The themes are timeless. As a Lewis fan, I cannot believe I missed this book. From Chapter II:

Work hard, then, on the disappointment or anticlimax which is certainly coming to the patient during his first few weeks as a churchman. The Enemy allows this disappointment to occur on the threshold of every human endeavour. It occurs when the boy who has been enchanted in the nursery by Stories from the Odyssey buckles down to really learning Greek. It occurs when lovers have got married and begin the real task of learning to live together. In every department of life it marks the transition from dreaming aspiration to laborious doing. The Enemy takes this risk because He has a curious fantasy of making all these disgusting little human vermin into what He calls His “free” lovers and servants—”sons” is the word He uses, with His inveterate love of degrading the whole spiritual world by unnatural liaisons with the two-legged animals. Desiring their freedom, He therefore refuses to carry them, by their mere affections and habits, to any of the goals which He sets before them: He leaves them to “do it on their own”. And there lies our opportunity. But also, remember, there lies our danger. If once they get through this initial dryness successfully, they become much less dependent on emotion and therefore much harder to tempt.

This is one book that will never be lent out; for one thing, I read the entire work chapter by chapter, each morning… in the bathroom. Sorry to be so blunt, but it’s custom made for this sort of reading; the chapters are very short and there is need for post read digestion and interpretation.
It’s back in the bathroom amongst the Triclear and toothpaste. I’m going to read it again.

I wasn’t really looking for something to read when I walked through the book aisle at Target Thursday. But it’s difficult to pass them and not look, so there I was, drinking in each title as if I were parched and they precious liquid.
A woman made the space too small when she joined me in the aisle, dragging her cart in backwards, like she thought it would take up less room that way. Barely glancing at me, she asked ‘are you looking for something to read?’ and I replied ‘always’. Beating a path directly to the back wall, she picked up Alice Sebold’s ‘The Lovely Bones’ and held it out for me to take while stating emphatically ‘this is a good book’. How can you argue with that? It’s like she was sent to tell me to read this book. So I did.

As it turns out, The Lovely Bones is a very good book. I love a good storyteller and Sebold is certainly that. Both easy to read and understand… yet she weaves an intricate tale so visually stunning she even makes you feel sorry for a serial killer.
That’s her gift, the balance. The understanding she bestows is a gift and a curse, much like 14 year old Susie’s heaven. Everyone gets their own heaven when they die, you see… and when Susie is raped and killed in a cornfield she goes to her own heaven where she can watch the living if she wants. But even there things are never ‘perfect’. One miraculous afternoon she actually ‘falls back to earth’ but does not, cannot stay.

Now that I’ve finished I can see obscure references, allegories and touchstones everywhere. The snowglobe, the icicle, the suburbs.
Susie’s body is never found, though the reader knows the location. It doesn’t matter, because ‘lovely bones’ are not her remains. Lovely bones [I think] references the framework of man, on a smaller scale the framework of family.

I could write a book about the book, but then you’d not need to read the real thing.

High Noon by Nora Roberts

My review

Rating: 3 of 5 stars
Perfect summertime fare. A light read that won’t stay with you once you’ve put it down to grab another mojito.

I became far more wrapped up in the more interesting secondary characters… and though the end unfolded in more than 3 pages, which I appreciate, nothing more was forthcoming after the climax.
Did Essie ever leave the house? Did Ava and Dave get together? And what about that house, which was also a central character.
All those wonderful story lines fell by the wayside as the two main protagonists came together.

And by the way, Phoebe is basically Eve Dallas. Same tough cop, same tragic, violent childhood. And oh, look: same gorgeous, rich man comes along who loves her just for who she is.

Entertaining in spots, mildly suspenseful in others, I would have loved a deeper look into these fictional people’s lives, a la Sue Monk Kidd or Anne Siddons.