“It was quite the revelation to discover that the place you wanted to escape to is the exact same place you escaped from. That the prison wasn’t the place, but the perspective.” (p284)

A book about Regret. Wow! What a way to begin a new year of reading, imagination, learning and insight! The Midnight Library by Matt Haig was gifted to me this past Christmas. And what a gift it was! For who among us hasn’t wistfully said at one time or another, “I wonder where I would be if only I had…”?

Or how about this one, “If I could just go back and redo…”?

Oh, the list is long. The Book of Regrets is heavy. 

Have you sat with this thought for any amount of time? That if you could go back to a specific moment in time and make a different choice - take a different road - would life be better now? I think if you have honestly allowed your mind to travel there and let the pieces sort themselves into place you would see - no, you will KNOW - that this new life you think you want isn’t the "better" you are hoping for. In fact, the choices you made in your real life were made for a very good reason. 

Matt Haig gives us the privilege of revisiting Regret and hands us the tools to fix it by letting us become Nora. She cannot lift herself from under the weight of so many regrets and disappointments. As she hovers between life and death, we are offered the opportunity to “make things better” and “fix the things that are broken”. 

One of my favorite quotes is on page 50 as Nora enters a life she thinks will be better and almost immediately she 

“…wonder(s) if a life could really be judged from just a few minutes after midnight on a Tuesday. Or maybe that was all you needed.”

Yes. Oh yes, because truly, in letting ourselves wander into a different “better” life we often know instantly that no, this would not be better, it is just another possibility with its own problems. 

"You can choose choices but not outcomes." (p262) 

And oh, what a lesson this is and we need to come to accept this simple truth. 

"And among those lives she had laughed and cried and felt calm and terrified and everything in between. …some state of acceptance about life - that if there was a bad experience, there wouldn’t only be bad experiences." (p215)

Yes, no matter what life we live, there will be grief. There will be loss. There will be unspeakable sadness. And yet there will also be love and meaning and joy.

I would have called it Hope but the author here decides to use the word “possibility” as the root. 

"Possibility is the basis of everything. Every hope, every dream, every regret, every moment of living. (p195)

I am willing to make this shift over to his thinking because as we look out into the future, that is exactly what we should see = Possibility. 

The author’s intuition throughout the novel is subtly powerful. How did he know that even as I played with other lives in my mind where I could be making more of a difference, perhaps be well-known, or being recklessly myself that

“There is always something that stops my enjoyment. Always. I feel ungrateful.”? (p217)

Perhaps because it is a universal curse of humanness to desire what we don’t have and to waste what we do. 

Ah, and then she sees.

“She saw. The regrets she had been living with most of her life were wasted ones.”  (p186)

I loved seeing these words in print because although I have wrestled with Regret throughout my years, I have come to the dominant position of knowing what a waste it is to live there in that Land of Regret. What a good reminder and battle cry to live beyond the regrets, to know you are all those possible lives because you are complex and wonderful and “...nothing if not potential”. (p262)

"Every life begins now." (p83)

Her name kept popping up in bookstores, secondhand stores and even on resident nightstands. People really seemed to like Louise Penny's writing and the flowing story of townspeople centered around a Chief Inspector of Quebec. I caved. Well, can spending $2 on a used book be considered caving? It was a tiny indulgence to add a bit of diversity to my reading list. 

Because I tend to only pick up books I know I want to read or they happen to be in a genre of my liking, I rarely give a bad review. Hold onto your hats! Here we go:

I hate Covid. I hate everything about it - the conspiracies, the vaccines, the politics, the masks, the updates, the misinformation, the death, the sickness, the confusion, the fear, the utter sadness left in its wake. But nearing the top of that Hate List is the constant chatter about it. It really took over our minds, didn’t it? 

The Madness of Crowds nearly saw a premature death when on page 1 I read, “the pandemic was finally, officially, declared over…” Oh my goodness! I almost quit reading right then and there but seeing how I have been working on my “following through” I said a quick prayer that this would not be the main theme of the story and plunged onward.

Despite several more references and praises for the all-healing vaccination (no need to guess which side of the line this author stood) I could nearly contain my rolling eyes and exasperated sighs through those parts as I tried to concentrate on the bigger story. 

Right, the bigger story. Well, I did my best keeping up with characters and family members and how people knew each other in this fairly small town but I was often confused or maybe just not invested enough. Why were they all living under one roof? Christmas? Covid? I think it was Covid, but….does that make sense? I have so many questions. I did not like how hard I had to concentrate on who the author was speaking of and how this person was related to all the other characters in the book. I chalk that aspect up to this being a series and not to my lack of focus. 

Oh, wait, we haven’t yet spoken of the major theme! Now, this I admit I appreciated because I do enjoy having my thoughts challenged to go beyond what I think I know and feeling compelled to sit with something controversial giving audience to both sides. It can be uncomfortable. But in that discomfort compassion and understanding can rise. When was the last time you had a serious discussion about mercy killings? Right?? So, yes, under all the fluff of family, townspeople, work and relationships, lies the huge topic of “compassionately helping people leave suffering behind” or on the darker side, “who should get lifesaving resources when another pandemic rises.” 

A weighty, emotional discussion not many of us choose to place ourselves under. So, for all the research and for exposing me to history I was unaware of, I thank Louise Penny for her work. It is a bit jarring to be awakened to the not too distant past when US and Canadian governments collaborated in experimentation on unsuspecting individuals in the name of science and war. I actually took the time to do some further research on this particular black spot in our history.

But back to other story lines! The fact that one of the main characters is a father of a precious baby with Down Syndrome….well, that does seem a little too convenient for it to be believable. Or that Covid was allowed such attention all throughout the chapters - I think I have made myself clear on how I feel about the Big C so I shall say no more!

Except to conclude with the facts that I did finish the book aaaand it will soon find itself back on a thrift store bookshelf looking for more love than I can give it. I discovered something about myself through the reading of this novel. I don’t like mysteries. Which was an interesting aha moment. As an emerging avid reader in my early teen years, I loved mysteries. And well into my early adulthood most books I read held some intriguing detail that needed solving all the while being intertwined with historical touches and information. Certainly, The Madness of Crowds is a mystery for it demands the solving of a murder and an attempted murder before the final pages. But I just wasn’t interested….or maybe I wasn’t buying it…..either way, I doubt I will ever visit Three Pines to speak with the Chief Inspector; there is just far too much happening in his town, and I dare not keep him from his work. 

" A good story doesn’t just copy life; it pushes back on it." (page 520)

Despite Barbara Kingsolver being my all-time favorite author, it took over a year for me to open this book gifted to me from Christmas 2022. You have to understand that a commitment to read her books will result in an education you may not have bargained for. For example, just reading the book sleeve summary for Demon Copperhead sent a slight chill down my spine. I knew I would need to be ready emotionally and mentally before embarking on page turning through her latest novel.

Yes, it is a novel, but Kingsolver never just writes a story; she informs with impeccable research and firsthand knowledge. Her writing is so compelling because although the overarching story is fiction, the premise is a raw reality we may be guilty of turning a blind eye to or of being completely ignorant. In short, you close her books with fresh awareness and a noticeable weight of our true human existence. She definitely "pushes back". 

I was curious to see how she would write a modern tale of the preyed upon youth of Appalachia that would mirror the poverty and desperation of the children of Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield. The stories reflect the dire situations of each other from different times in history as well as give voice to the authors’ underlying intentions. It is gripping, depressing and revealing. It’s the stuff we don’t want to hear about. 

Barbara writes through the voice of the main character. His take on the life Fate has handed him. As you may imagine, the voice of this young disadvantaged soul is colorful and crude. (Yes, that’s your warning!) Poverty, foster care, child labor, addictions, lack of education, death. The emptiness of an end to his young mother's life is expressed in the most haunting way:

"Her life left no marks on a thing." (page 113)

and

"What my twisted, raggedy heart had always, always wanted. A mother, simple as that." (page 498)

As he learns to survive Life, the reader gets to grow alongside him. We are afforded the opportunity to foster a bit of understanding of a different set of circumstances we have been so "lucky" to have missed. We get to ponder such conclusions as, 

"It’s not natural for boys to lose their minds," she said, "It happens because they’ve had too many things taken away from them." (page 499)

"Trust the road. Because nobody stays, in the long run you're on your own with your ghosts. You’re the ship, they’re the bottle." (page 508)

"A person has only so much juice, and it's ideally kept for your homeboys, not all pissed away on strangers before three in the day. I taught myself to save the juice." (page 511)

And then decide if we agree which such thinking. Does it make sense in our worldview? Am I able to see fellow earth travelers a little clearer because I got to see something new from someone else's eyes?  

As far as a believable voice in this novel is concerned, I will say this. The author knows Appalachia and her writing/communication skill is not to be denied. I didn’t feel totally convinced I was hearing from a young boy’s thought process but did feel transported to a rickety porch with cicadas buzzing, listening to an old man pour out every story he could remember from a rather treacherous life.  

 

Any time I can read a book that will stretch my knowledge and small world view, I am at the very least intrigued and at the most chomping at the bit to see what shifts can be made in my thinking and understanding humanity. World War II is a "favorite" theme for writers, movie makers and historians. Perhaps, a little too much of a favorite? Never would I belittle the Jewish experience for all its inhumane, unthinkably evil chronicle. But there is more to the story; more for us to digest; more for us to be aware of in order to shape our sensitivities for the present and future. 

That's why A Woman's Prison Journal totally caught my attention. Here we have a record of this infamous time from the perspective of a German. Luise Rinser. Mother, widow, author and one of many Germans imprisoned for political high treason. Her views arise from a fairly sheltered, fortunate life until her writings are banned from being published and is arrested being betrayed by a friend and put in prison awaiting trial. There she meets countless prisoners from all walks of life who share their versions of why they remain locked in cells. 

It is quite a different account from the concentration and labor camps. Although "any experience of prison starts with the fact of loss of freedom" we also become acutely aware through her journal how the human spirit either survives or dies in such extreme situations.  

What I appreciate about Luise's journal is her honesty in how quickly one's morals and preconceived ideas of self, evaporates. "You need vast spiritual reserves to remain a human being here. Only in prison do you get to know your evil instincts."

Her journal is a study of human nature, hers, the others in the cells, the wardresses, those with power, all set in a place of suffering and injustice.  

Month 7 in my Read a Book a Month Goal for 2023 is going strong; I am actually a book ahead of schedule! I have found it super helpful to have at the ready the books I pre chose at the onset of the year knowing full well a few more would slip into the pile along the way. A quick glance through my previous reviews reveals a bit of a trend - not in genre or author - but in what I end up “reviewing”. My touted “book reviews” don’t necessarily give you a detailed rundown of what the book is about (because seriously, isn’t that what the book jacket is for?) Instead, I see I prefer to give you a review of how I became in possession of the book, why it’s on my shelf and where I may have found it with just a bit of a nod to its contents. I like to say, “there’s always a story” and apparently that includes stories about stories! 

According to the receipt tucked within the pages of July’s read, I claimed At Home in Mitford by Jan Karon in 2018 at a second hand bookstore in Canon City, CO. I was living in Texas at the time and life was resembling not a little load or even a mid-size load but the biggest load of you-know-what hitting the fan all at once. We aren’t talking just my life coming to a screeching halt, but my brother’s, my parents and two of my daughters’ lives completely up in the air. 

As a result of all this "hitting" and "fanning", I found myself in Canon City that hot day in July browsing dusty bookshelves after unloading a U-Haul with hopes and prayers for great new beginnings for 3 young adventurers. 

Then back to Texas I went with my new book to add to my own moving boxes. Now was not the time for reading.

Of all the books I have read there aren't many that cause me to snuggle deeper and deeper into the couch cushions to nest and remain still for hours at a time. Jan Karon's beloved Mitford books demand the snuggle without disturbance. Okay, I may accept a fresh cup of coffee and a wee snack from a considerate hand while enveloped in softness, but the longing to stay put until the last page is turned comes from a deep place within me. 

As a young adult I devoured the set of Mitford books my mother had on her bookshelf. Even then I realized I was reading about simplicity. Such “average” everyday people make up the characters in a town with no real claim to fame. Nothing to see here! Move along! End of town is that way! 

I feel like I should be bored - nobody dies, no big scandals, no crazy dreams coming true, there isn’t even a hero - just a pudgy rector and people living their lives in a town they call Home. Hmmm….

Obviously, several years have passed. Book One of the Mitford series gets joined by the rest of the series as I collect them. They sit on my shelves. They get put in boxes. They stay in boxes. Travel to different states. Then get displayed on shelves again. I know I will read them. I know I need them. There’s something inside the pages that calm me, make me laugh, bring tears from within, and cause me to love the individuals in the town.

Perhaps it is validation for just being normal. Or loving the fact that no one truly is “normal”; we are all characters with quirks and faults. I still can’t quite put my finger on it, but I knew I would pull this book off the shelf, grab a cozy blanket, and find a soft place to sit with ample snacks nearby when my soul was ready for comfort. When my heart was most longing for Home. 

As I write this all down, I recall the chaotic frenzy of those days in 2018. The hammering heart as it looked at a hollow future looming with no definition - just a reaching out into the emptiness with a faith something good might be waiting. No wonder my hand reached over the other volumes on the shelf that day and grasped the one that promised Home. 

Aaah, Steinbeck, I always know you will challenge my thinking and give me something to ponder! First, a little tale of why I have a copy of The Moon is Down. Simply and solely because of its author. Pretty sure I got it for free somewhere in my wanderings. Stamped inside the cover is a “Woodstock Collegiate Institute” borrower’s grid. Last checked out in 1971. The apparent lack of popularity holds no sway on the value of the book in my mind.

I am not even into the first chapter and I find myself captivated by the words in the foreword. In it I discover what I am about to read (I had no idea what the book was about when I greedily claimed it for myself). The following pages will deal realistically with the German invasion of Norway in 1940. Steinbeck wrote this novella after visiting war-torn Europe and had it published in 1942 while Germany was in control of Europe. “Thus, the events the novel describes were still current history when it was published.” and “is a story of man’s inner spirit and of his undying will to be free.”  

Wow! Yes! I feel I have already scored with a great find. 

Although intrigued, I enter the first chapter a bit intimidated because other than it being a window into history, this work is also an allegory. I fear I may not be perceptive enough to pick up on this very fine detail. So I begin studiously and with focused concentration hoping my intellect will be enough to capture the nuances of any ulterior meanings. 

For me, The Moon is Down reads like a play. I can clearly see the scene and character lines translate so well on an open stage with minimal backdrops and props. Scene I: a confident army marches across the stage, meeting no resistance from the unsuspecting town folk. An occupation rarely goes this smooth. Upon the mayor’s entrance and first words, I settle into my seat in the theater with feelings of doom for this simple village and its villagers. 

But as act follows act, it becomes clearer that simple minds will win as truths take shape verbally concerning war, being conquered and the results of a victor failing to understand people. What once appeared easy and sure has now become frustratingly difficult and not so much like a victory. Listen how these statements shift the audience’s predetermined conclusion of the story’s ending:

“The cold hatred grew with the winter, the silent sullen hatred, the waiting hatred. The food supply was controlled - issued to the obedient and withheld from the disobedient - so that the whole population turned coldly obedient.

Now it was that the conqueror was surrounded, the men of the battalion alone among silent enemies and no man might relax his guard for even a moment.” (p56)

I sit a little taller in my velvet covered chair. I always cheer for the underdog, but now I am joining their ranks with a determined, silent hatred of my own. The townspeople do not win with weapons and brute force. They win by not giving in. 

Eventually the occupiers uneasily take note of what is happening around them. 

Lieutenant - “Captain, is this place conquered?”

Captain - “Of course!”

Lieutenant - “Conquered and we’re afraid; conquered and we’re surrounded. Flies conquer the flypaper.” (p66)

One thing I love about John Steinbeck’s writings is the fact he doesn’t just weave a credible story with bits of history sprinkled throughout; they have a way of helping the reader understand human nature. In this case, war, and I would say from both sides. Although I stand with the occupied, I cannot deny my sympathy for those ordered to occupy and the plight they find themselves in for merely being conscripted men of a certain age of a particular time in history. 

Here is a conclusion worth considering:

“Free men cannot start a war, but once it is started, they can fight on in defeat. Herd men (followers of a leader) with neither spirit or conviction, cannot do that, and so it is always the herd men win battles and free men win wars.” (p107).