tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18163332140362625332024-03-12T20:07:16.390-07:00Buch Handling... books ... authors ... book rants ... poetry ... and moreSusan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.comBlogger302125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-16173702177047102062023-03-24T10:58:00.000-07:002023-03-24T10:58:01.256-07:00Evening Devotional - March 8th, 2023<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQdu6KBF8xzRnw0Dm6Ix-ZaCVXOkGuRSkEYGxSbUUNxHExg2jZ-tN2xvGCuCMRX5OV8qLO603j2JhKSmfCAHndeN2pgkvpyYhO9uqSL2ImoTC4Wef6C-72jnB4qp3zP53sXWpZNSL-cpMlknhVBRFMe65IaZIkrYkKre1B_5kTilmjwxWT0xvOfQfSvA/s276/Unknown.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="182" data-original-width="276" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQdu6KBF8xzRnw0Dm6Ix-ZaCVXOkGuRSkEYGxSbUUNxHExg2jZ-tN2xvGCuCMRX5OV8qLO603j2JhKSmfCAHndeN2pgkvpyYhO9uqSL2ImoTC4Wef6C-72jnB4qp3zP53sXWpZNSL-cpMlknhVBRFMe65IaZIkrYkKre1B_5kTilmjwxWT0xvOfQfSvA/w640-h422/Unknown.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Sickness has come to my little home this past week, a most unwelcome visitor. I’m usually a pretty active person. No, I don’t run marathons, but I spread myself around my little world in a bunch of ways. Having a strong and debilitating virus strike me down like a bowling ball does to pins is a humbling experience. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Last Sunday evening, I felt odd and thought to myself, “Something’s not right. Father, if I’m getting sick, please help me to fight it off. Life’s too busy !” </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Midweek, I lay like a sad sack in my bed, feeling like one big toothache. Lapsing in and out of sleep, I prayed, “ Father, if this is the way you want me to leave this world, I’ll obey. But, Father ? If this is the way, please hurry things up ! I hurt all over and I can’t breath and that choking thing that happened last night scared me !“ </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By the end of the week, I was coughing so hard that I thought I’d pop a blood vessel in my brain and ‘stroke out’ of this miserable existence. My prayers changed. “Father, I am in such distress. Please show me grace ! Take this sickness away ! “ </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">And still, I cough … and cough … and cough. I wait for healing and I trust that in time my body will be given the boost it needs. I have to keep the faith, for right now there seems little else, which leads me to my contemplation of the poor Assyrian and Babylonian exiles of old and how pained and lonely they felt in their enslavement. My petty RSV infection is nothing compared to the long and bitter enslavement of those peoples. What makes us common in our pain, is our faith that God will not desert us. We will always have God watching over us, no matter the ugly circumstances of our predicaments. We must always keep that in mind. </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">In the meantime, we must also make tea, sip soup, drink water, and wait upon the Lord. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">This, I believe.</span></p>Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-16342494760498664232023-01-11T16:38:00.001-08:002023-01-11T16:38:59.798-08:00Evening Devotional<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ2tN5SM8snwoCwYCgwLEKn-f9f9472LrsjglnjZgrSVqWkW-eqq7DqXiHHX8-mBpSqPwJctt41j9xcNyP_7eHVC5UWM3za51oJaBCG5nvgsh2KDsHdFsxJlHEhBoEZNOrI2iLaNL-rNHZD0xD6gWzAxHLRFpP6Nlbljg6tSbKUVUb25JHmizANpW0g/s270/Moonlight%20and%20Late%20Fall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="187" data-original-width="270" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ2tN5SM8snwoCwYCgwLEKn-f9f9472LrsjglnjZgrSVqWkW-eqq7DqXiHHX8-mBpSqPwJctt41j9xcNyP_7eHVC5UWM3za51oJaBCG5nvgsh2KDsHdFsxJlHEhBoEZNOrI2iLaNL-rNHZD0xD6gWzAxHLRFpP6Nlbljg6tSbKUVUb25JHmizANpW0g/w400-h277/Moonlight%20and%20Late%20Fall.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Yesterday was an incredibly busy day, filled to the top with all manner of tasks, obligations, and civic duties. There was joy in caring for my beautiful little grand girl, Mika. There was a packing up and going to her library story/play time. There was a quick trip to the fishmonger for a purchase for dinnertime prep. There was a dash to the polls to vote in the mid-terms. There was pick up and clean up while Mika took her nap after lunch. There was a dash into the craft store for materials for the church Holiday Stroll Christmas ornaments. There was a traffic-filled trip home for dinner prep … then, run the laundry, check the email, look at the calendar for the rest of the week, make some phone calls.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">When did I breathe ? When did I stop ? When did I rest ? I stopped as the moon rose high over our back yard. The news and chatter about mid-terms was on NPR. The prospect of politics becoming even more ‘kerfuffled’ overwhelmed me, so I stepped outside into the dark evening to just breathe. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The moon was so bright and full - sharp edges against the dark blue of the night sky. I just stopped and stood and said a quiet prayer, “Let me just rest in knowing that this moon has watched the eons pass. It has seen goodness and evil. It has shone down on sadness and great joy. It has been eclipsed millions of times, but it never stops reflecting sunlight to eyes, if they will only look up. Let me always look up, Lord, knowing that so many others have sat and contemplated life by the bright moonlight. Adam, Eve, Noah, Moses, David, Solomon, Mary, Joseph, Jesus, Peter, Paul … they all have looked and seen that bright orb and rested in knowing that all will be well. All will be well … I trust in you Lord to make it so! And the moon will continue to watch."</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: helvetica;">Then, I turned and walked back into the house ... calm, quiet, and breathing much slower. All will be well. I can rest in that assurance. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This, I believe</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px;">.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">NOTE: I have been journaling of late. Just a bit and slowly. Much of my writing revolves around devotional/prayer, but some also revolves around lifestyle stuff and my work with Noom. No one wants to hear about a middle aged woman's diet and lifestyle struggles, but perhaps one might be interested in the occasional spiritual pondering. So, Buch Handling takes a bit of a turn from poetry and book reviews to a devotional that I found worthy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I hope it strikes a chord. Peace and Hope !</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-5443176587151390962018-09-18T07:22:00.001-07:002018-09-18T07:25:45.552-07:00How Restful Is the Rain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UDiH2u04lw4/W6EHwWYeGBI/AAAAAAAASTg/v1E-0jnunxEtf8Q5yYITSY1PkX8ycbRNACLcBGAs/s1600/resize-img.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1500" height="460" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UDiH2u04lw4/W6EHwWYeGBI/AAAAAAAASTg/v1E-0jnunxEtf8Q5yYITSY1PkX8ycbRNACLcBGAs/s640/resize-img.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How Restful Is the Rain</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How restful is the rain </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">a soft hushing sound</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that brings me awake </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to soft grey morning.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m quick to smile</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">close my eyes again</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and cherish this gift</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of sound for my soul</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The ebb and rush of </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">storm, a gentle tattoo</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">becomes an insistent</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">tapping pulse of drops</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">They wash over roof</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">clattering in gutters</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">bringing new sounds</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to my drowsy mind</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The water, I envision</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It washes over roof tiles</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">through cracks to drip</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">on me upon my bed</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It floods the floorboards</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">lifts the linens and </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">gently swirls me away </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">adrift on time’s current</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I imagine opening eyes</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to stare upward</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">leaves and branches</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">passing by to clouds</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I spin like a leaf and turn</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">pelted and washed clean</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">water below buoying me </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">upward to receive this gift</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How restful is the rain</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">9/18/18</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">a fast write - some editing on the fly, but no real agonizing analysis of form or meter or rhyme - just flow of consciousness and imagery</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">NOTE: This is a new write ! Can it be that my drought is coming to an end ? I have hoped for a new burst of words, but it's been hard. So hard. This fast write is meant for a voice, I think. A soft whispering voice that is slow to read and that pauses over the lines and paces them like a slow reverie unfolding. </span></span></div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-14574971823691472672018-08-13T16:30:00.001-07:002018-08-14T07:55:45.900-07:00Passing Through Wilmot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">Tonight old man, your spirit whispers,</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">“Take care of the fields, stoke the fires.</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">Close the shades against the sounds. <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><br />Traffic is sure to come.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: inherit;">It’s summer and Kearsage rises</span><span style="color: #bf9000;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">In the haze of midday.</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">The old train station still aches</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">For the rumble and smoke.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">Evenings still come on slow.</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">The tick of grasshoppers tease.</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">Grasses rustle and click</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">On the evening breeze.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">The minions will surely gather,</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">To make the pilgrimage.</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">Wilmot will shudder and sigh,</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">Knowing that it's just your due.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: inherit;">The autumn’s breeze will descend.</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">The nights will become chill.</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">The view of Kearsage will open up</span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">And on you’ll go to the night and stars.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tonight, old man, your spirit demands,</span><br />
“Feed the cat and come into the parlor.<br />
There’s wine and talk. No need for a fire.<br />
Let the breeze carry me out the open window.” </div>
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on the passing of Donald Hall, a poem by Susan Lindquist - 6/24/2018</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I love poetry. I'll never profess to be any good at it, but I love it. I love words. I love expression. I love the voice that can come to a written piece when it's read aloud. I've written a lot of what I call 'poetry' over the years, but have found myself in a drought for words since the passing of my Dad, Richard W. Miller. Today, on reading of the death of one of my poetic inspirations, the gates opened, if only for a few moments.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">For more on one of America's finest poets ... </span><a href="https://lithub.com/donald-hall-poet-of-eagle-pond-farm/">https://lithub.com/donald-hall-poet-of-eagle-pond-farm/</a></div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-21627668644428873312016-09-14T06:21:00.000-07:002016-09-14T06:23:52.948-07:00It's That Time ... Again!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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R.eaders I.mbibing P.eril ! My fave online reading event of the year is upon us again !</div>
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The time between the beginning of September and the end of October is always a time that draws me closer to my cozy couch reading spot ... the first fall fires get lit, the days start to darken a bit earlier and the sun comes up a bit later ... the times when I tend to curl with a good book.<br />
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I read a lot ... kids books, chick lit, biography, spiritual and theological, bestsellers. Mystery and horror are not usually my 'go to ' genres, but at this time of year, a good haunting tale draws me. That's why Carl Anderson's annual R.I.P. event is such a fun tradition. I think I've been participating for three or four years now ... and this year I'll once again try to get to a few good reads - a ghost story, a non-fiction story of horror, and a new issue. Maybe I'll even find a good horror movie that I can squirm my way through without constantly shielding my eyes from the 'scary parts'. Stay tuned ...</div>
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If you're of a mind to participate in R.I.P. XI, hit the link for <a href="http://www.stainlesssteeldroppings.com/r-eaders-i-mbibing-p-eril-xi/comment-page-1#comment-426320">Stainless Steel Droppings</a>, Carl's bookblog. I'll look for your book reactions and suggestions on his review page!</div>
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Here's my beginning list of possible reads ...</div>
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Behind Closed Doors - B.A. Paris</div>
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The Haunting of Blackwych Grange - Amy Cross</div>
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A Haunting: The Horror on Rue Street - L.I. Albemont</div>
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The Crime of the Century - Richard Speck and the Murders That Shocked a Nation - Dennis Breo/William Martin</div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-47912588969942286862016-05-10T07:18:00.002-07:002016-05-10T07:18:35.869-07:00Coal Black Horse - Robert Olmstead<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sometimes I wonder what strange power leads me to the books that I 'happen' upon in our little public library. Take <u>Coal Black Horse</u>. This is not a book that I would ever normally pick up. And yet, I pulled it from the shelf last week, as I browsed through the library stacks. It seemed to draw my hand like a magnet does iron shavings. Once home, I had a stack of five books, but this one pulled at me when I went to choose the next read.<br />
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I've been reading a lot of theology and Biblical readings of late. Lenten studies and some work on social justice have kept me occupied, so the trip to the library was supposed to be a trip for some 'light reading'. This book is not light reading. It's a beautifully written quest novel - a young boy's voyage to find his father during one of the hardest times in American history. That voyage, seen through the inner dialogue of the young boy, carries the reader along on a loss of innocence and a confrontation with the evil that men will do when the world disintegrates to chaos.<br />
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Set in the weeks before and after the great battle at Gettysburg, Robey Childs is given the task of finding his father and bringing him home to the family's hill farm. Robey's mother has had a strange premonition and presses the momentous task on Robey with a strong admonition to secure a horse, never give it up, get a gun, shoot first and never question the instinct of survival suspicion, and to come home alive. And then, she sends him on his way.<br />
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What follows is an epic journey through hell and back. Robey's connection to the coal black horse is mystical. It has appeared at the trading post with its owner on death's door. It is aggressive and intractable, but accepts Robey's quiet and gentle way. It has an acute instinctive power to guide Robey as much as Robey guides it with the reins. When Robey discounts the horse's instinctive urgings, bad things happen. <br />
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Reading the book, lead me to contemplate our instinct for survival, the things we will do that we know are evil, but that must be done if we are to come through unspeakable events, the way we look for redemption when we have passed through a crisis. Robey does find his father, although he does not fulfill his quest in the literal sense. He does redeem himself after standing by and watching another innocent be brutalized, stealing food and horses to survive so that he can fulfill his mother's directive, committing murder, and witnessing the most horrid of Civil War battles and its aftermath. I could go into my contemplation of the horse as a symbol of one's natural dark instinct for survival. I could flip flop and talk about the horse's character symbolized as the father's will to deliver one more important lesson. I could talk about those spare lessons Robey learns while he cares for his father. I could yak on about the role that Rachel plays as an innocent delivered into the evil chaos of war and her role in Robey's growth could fill a page. The birth of Rachel's twins that occur at the end of the book and their redemptive power for Robey could become an afternoon's contemplation. And sleep ... it's powerful restoration. Well, that's another discussion. <br />
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So much for light reading ... and yet, I feel like I have witnessed a piece of literature that will be placed next to the other greats of American war writings - <u>The Red Badge of Courage</u>, <u>ColdMountain</u>, <u>Johnny Got His Gun</u>, <u>All Quiet on the Western Front</u> ... yeah, all those titles that were just as chilling, just as harrowing, just as thought-provoking and powerful.<br />
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Robert Olmstead has packed so much into two hundred and eighteen pages. One's brain and heart are full to over-flowing after this read. <u>Coal Black Horse</u> is a great book.<br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-20759493791842735352016-01-10T16:14:00.000-08:002016-01-10T16:14:20.952-08:00In the Sanctuary - A Poem in Honor of Peterborough United Methodist Church's 175th Year<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the Sanctuary</div>
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I love to gaze round the church as service begins.</div>
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All the dear faces softened for a moment -</div>
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taking the time to still thoughts and settle into peace,</div>
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waiting for song, sermon and benediction.</div>
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The rounded pew back is soft on my hand.</div>
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Think how many hands have rested there over time -</div>
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gripping in pain, tapping to hymn song, resting quietly,</div>
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leaning in for support and comfort.</div>
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It’s taken many a hand to build this church.</div>
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Polishing wood, dropping bills in the collection plate,</div>
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clasping in prayer, reaching to help neighbors, </div>
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cooking for, cleaning up after, crafting a community.</div>
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I don’t often think of times past, but here, sometimes,</div>
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I feel the whispered breath of a parade of souls -</div>
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Murmured prayers, soft amens, a faint humming, </div>
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loving fellowship that spans ages and echoes onward.</div>
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It’s humbling to stand in this long parade.</div>
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Sharing bread and wine and touching the same</div>
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Sacred place within heart and soul and infinity</div>
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here in this place with these people and our Lord.</div>
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S. M-L </div>
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12/31/2015</div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-51068659393137587912015-10-31T08:45:00.002-07:002015-10-31T08:45:17.133-07:00Saturday Snapshot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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'Ghostly Figurehead' - 10/30/15</div>
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I went to the Custom House Maritime Museum in Newburyport, MA yesterday to meet up with a friend, have some walk and talk time, and have lunch. This is the only shot I took in the museum. the statue is a wooden model of Lady Justice, but it looked like a figurehead to me. It was positioned by the window overlooking the harbor and beside a glass case with a gorgeous model of a clipper ship. The photo inspired me to make a Halloween card for you all!<br />
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Happy Halloween!</div>
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<b>shared at <a href="http://www.westmetromommyreads.com/2015/10/saturday-snapshot-october-31.html">Saturday Snapshot</a></b></div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-69905780315691689362015-10-26T07:28:00.001-07:002015-10-26T07:31:03.185-07:00In the Shadow of Blackbirds - Cat Winters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A candidate for the William Morris Debut Award, <u>In the Shadow of Blackbirds</u> tells the story of young Mary Shelley Black's dark adventure as she flees Portland, Oregon during the fall of 1918. Her father has been swept up in the anti-German hysteria that reigned during WWI here in America. He has been arrested on treason charges and she is left to flee to San Diego to live with her Aunt Eva until his case can be settled.<br />
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This novel is full to brimming with so much historical detail that it makes it hard to believe. It's more a comment on the history of the time all wrapped up in a ghost story. Mary Shelley becomes re-acquainted with a boy she knew as a youngster. Stephen Embers has grown up to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather. He has become an excellent photographer. However, his brother has inherited the photography business, and Julius is trying to cash in on the grief-stricken families of those lost during the trench warfare in Europe. He has branched into the area of spiritualism by photographing family survivors with the 'ghosts ' of their loved ones. Stephen hates this kind of exploitation, so he leaves the family business and enlists in the Army.<br />
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Mary Shelley is left to wait for the return of her friend. When news of his death in the trenches arrives, she begins having strange nightmares, visitations, and psychic sensations that hint at a much more complicated death for Stephen. Against her Aunt Eva's instruction, she embarks on a dangerous mission to solve the mystery of Stephen's death and let his soul rest, knowing that she has made things right here in the physical world.<br />
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Mixed up in all this mystery is the real-life danger of the Spanish Flu pandemic that was sweeping the world during this time. Death seems to stalk everyone here in the physical world and in the spiritual world of Stephen Embers. Mary Shelley must go out into the chaotic world of flu-stricken San Diego in order to ask questions, research the science of photography and Spiritualism, interview young veterans of the war to try to find the answers to the mystery of just what happened to her first love when he entered the service and found himself deep in the bloody trenches of France.<br />
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While a neatly told story, I had trouble with the first person narrative. It's not my favorite type of story exposition, so I struggled with all the "I's". I also found the concept of a 16 year old girl being given the freedom to travel alone, roam the streets of San Diego whenever, go in and out of Red Cross hospitals, not attend school, etc. hard to believe. That's fiction for you, though. What's unbelievable is wrapped and packaged into a good story. This is a good story. It just would have benefited from some more work to make it a better story. As a debut novel, it shows the potential of Cat Winters. I'm hoping that she changes up her POV in her next writing endeavor and focuses her overall story line a bit more. We'll see!<br />
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In the meantime, the novel fit well into the <a href="http://readersimbibingperilten.blogspot.com/">R.I.P...X reading challenge</a>, as well as my annual goal of reading more award-winning YA and children's literature. If you hit the above link, you can see what other participants are sharing for their R.I.P...X reading challenge posts. This is a fun annual challenge ... check it out!<br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-68866721592486438772015-10-18T13:44:00.002-07:002015-10-19T05:39:45.221-07:00Writing Poetry ... A Reflection<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This past week a friend from my little church with the green doors asked me if I thought I could write a poem in celebration of the church's 175th anniversary. I would love to, but have been suffering the worst case of 'block' when it comes to poetry over the past year. It all started when my father passed away. I can't for the life of me think why losing Dad would dry up my poetic muse, but it has. The amount of work I've produced since his death is pitifully small.<br />
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That being said, it might be time to push myself a bit. I'd begun sharing past poems at an Open Mic event that is a monthly thing at our little church. It's what got me in this situation of being asked to write 'on demand', I suspect. I've shared some of the older things that I've written, some good pieces and some pieces that I wrote fast with the idea of editing down the line.<br />
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Now, I'm in the situation of being expected to create something new. I'm scared and I'll freely admit it. Words used to come easily. I would wake up at the strangest hours and have phrases, images, whole poetic scenarios in mind. I'd get up very early in the morning and write for an hour or two with no thought of time. I wish for those days (and nights!) to return. Until they do, maybe having a set event to write for is a way for me to come back to writing poetry. I miss the writing process and the feeling of a bloom of words and ideas uncurling and finding their way onto the computer screen or the notebook page.<br />
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Maybe it's time to begin again ... stay tuned.</div>
Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-11286162839681684212015-10-17T14:38:00.000-07:002015-10-17T14:38:11.222-07:00The Little Paris Bookshop - Nina George<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This book , while being an international bestseller, got panned in some of the American press publications. Hmmm. I can't figure out why. Yes, it's got some pat names for its characters. Yes, it's a chick lit story of lost love, paralyzing guilt, loss, insecurity and the toll it takes. It's also a nice gentle read about redeeming one's self in the face of having acted stupidly. It's about taking a chance in one's relationships in order to begin anew. It's about accepting the warped and sometimes odd reasons that people act the way they do. It's about love and friendship. What could be wrong with a gentle story about all that?<br />
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This book will never be a great piece of literature that lives for the ages, but it tells a lovely story. It's romantic, it paints lovely pictures of Paris and the French countryside. It has some pithy, yet thought-provoking statements on life and love. It's not so profound that English professor fossils will gush, but Nina George has delivered a sweet story of redemption and renewal, and that's enough.<br />
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That's all I have to say.<br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-10188400942834849042015-10-10T04:08:00.001-07:002015-10-10T04:08:24.980-07:00Saturday Snapshot - Pinwheels Finally Finished!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Mill Girls' Pinwheels quilt is finally done, folks! I started this quilt two years ago at a quilt retreat. The top was finally finished this spring, but I couldn't find a backing fabric that I liked, so I set it aside for other projects.<br />
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On my way home from THIS year's quilt guild retreat, I stopped at a fabric store in Henniker, NH and came upon this beautiful brick colored backing fabric. Super wide (and super expensive - eek!), but just perfect for this quilt.<br />
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I snapped up the yardage, wrote the check, and didn't look back! My friend Susan Bowles put the quilt on her long-arm machine and did a simple all over lattice stitch. It continues the ultra-traditional nature of the quilt pattern. No fancy border, just a big old utilitarian quilt for a full-sized bed. Final measurement - 80 x 86 inches.<br />
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It's my new favorite ... but aren't all the new ones faves?<br />
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... shared at <a href="http://www.westmetromommyreads.com/2015/10/saturday-snapshot-october-10.html">Saturday Snapshot</a> ...</div>
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Click on the link to see what others are sharing this week!</div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-57020617893320545352015-09-19T11:22:00.001-07:002015-09-19T11:22:55.611-07:00Saturday Snapshot ... Farewell Summer!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The last weekend of summer and I have been lucky enough to have one last dip in the pond near my home ... so farewell, summer!<br />
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<a href="http://www.westmetromommyreads.com/2015/09/saturday-snapshot-september-19.html">Check out other snapshots ... HERE !</a></div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-52203622120369241842015-09-19T07:52:00.000-07:002015-09-19T07:54:58.640-07:00The Winter People - Jennifer McMahon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I was initially drawn to this audiobook because the turn of the seasons makes me crave mystery and ghost stories. I love listening to audio books, as I work around the kitchen so McMahon's creepy story about wishing a loved one back from the dead seemed a perfect distraction from canning tomatoes and making mincemeat for winter pies.<br />
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The story opens with a young couple living at the turn of the century in a small Vermont farming community. It's wintertime and bitterly cold. Food's a bit scarce, the farmhouse is drafty, but Martin, Sara, and their daughter, Gertie are making ends meet. Martin hunts in the woods behind the farmhouse, determined to care for his little family. The growing season is short and the fields are rocky, but martin ekes out a living for them. We read of one fall day when he returns to the house, having found a ruined homestead deep in the woods. He's found a bone ring that he gives to Sara. Her reaction is strong and definite ... get the ring out of the house and go bury it, return it to the earth. But Martin doesn't. He holds onto it ... his first mistake.<br />
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McMahon's story jumps to present time and brings in characters who now live on the same property that Martin and Sara lived on. Strange things are happening in the Vermont town. Ruth and Fawn's mother has gone missing and they are left to try to figure out just why. Their initial search of their house, barn, and grounds uncovers a couple wallets that belong to strangers and a gun. Ruthie decides to try to track down the owners, so she and her boyfriend take Fawn and head for Connecticut where Ruthie's childhood dreams become strangely real.<br />
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The plot thickens ...<br />
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Back on the farm, Fawn reveals to Ruthie strange hidey-holes that she has found in the farmhouse. her relationship with her little doll, Mimi becomes odder. She develops a strange fever. Winter has come on with a vengeance and the isolation of the farmhouse becomes heavy and foreboding of deeper troubles to come. Then, people begin showing up at the house who have connections to Alice, Ruthie and Fawn's mother.<br />
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These new characters bring the past and the present together and force a creepy confrontation that brings the stories of Martin and Sara, Gertie, Ruthie and Fawn's mother, and several other incidental characters to a head ( a contrived one, I might add).<br />
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I enjoyed this story up to the point when the modern day characters began making decisions and moves that became stupid and reminiscent of a B-movie knock-off. Did McMahon become tired of the story? Did she really feel that sending the characters off in a snowstorm to a 'haunted location' deep in the New England forest was logical or even plausible? I listened to the end, but my respect was lost for the integrity of the story from the time that the farmhouse scene takes shape.<br />
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That being said, the audiobook's narration was pretty good. Cassandra Campbell and Kathe Mazur bring a plodding foreboding to the read, providing voice to the characters that shifts well and keeps dialogue engaging. I always find 'childish voices' done by adults a bit cloying, but these readers accomplished the voices of Fawn and Gertie admirably. For a ghost story, <u>The Winter People </u> gets three stars from me ... it was a fine introduction to my fall line of creepy reads, but I know there are some better stories out there in the foggy mist of fall. As for Jennifer McMahon ... she has some other books that have received better reviews from writers far more knowledgable than me. I'll try another later in the season ...<br />
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<b>This is the second read in my annual RIP literary challenge. For this year's RIP X challenge details, other readers' reviews and reactions to their creepy reads, see the following link.</b><br />
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<b><a href="http://www.estellasociety.com/?p=1484">RIP X - The Estella Society</a></b></div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-68805167509587835712015-09-18T07:13:00.000-07:002015-09-19T06:45:21.427-07:00The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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How ironic that a young woman whose name translates "Morningstar' has written such a magical tale about the night. Erin Morgenstern's <u>The Night Circus</u> is an enthralling tale of love, twisted ambition, mystery and obsession, but mostly it's a tale of controlling one's dreams, visions and future. All these themes are wrapped up in a story about a magical circus that appears mysteriously at the turn of the 20th century and travels the world, attracting a cast of really memorable characters.<br />
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Celia and Marco are two very talented and sensitive young people taken into tutelage under older and far more experienced teachers ... magicians, illusionists, one might say, madmen. They are bonded at a young age to be in competition with each other. BUT WHY? AND HOW?<br />
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The Night Circus becomes the playing field for these two to begin molding a surreal and completely entrancing experience for the public, a circus like no other. This circus magically appears in places all over the world. It opens its gate at night and closes at dawn. Its troupe of artists include the most talented of acrobats, illusionists, fortunetellers, lion tamers and animal trainers. The characters become intertwined in their circus lives, as Celia and Marco produce tent after tent of increasingly intricate magical experience for circus-goers. What begins as a way for them to hone their considerable talents becomes a glorious collaboration of love. BUT ... and that's a big but ... their mentors have had other plans for their future and that future has no place for them to be together. One must extinguish the other in some fashion.<br />
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The fate of The Night Circus rests in how Marco and Celia respond to this more urgent challenge. They have come to cherish their mates in the circus troupe, respect and care for the public and the legions of <i>reveurs (dreamers) </i>who follow the circus from place to place. How can they put this warped challenge to rest and save the circus?<br />
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I loved this read. It's a debut book by Ms. Morgenstern and is soon to be a motion picture with a proposed fall 2015 release. I think I will be glad that I read the book before seeing the movie. There is so much depth and 'premise' to the words of her story that I frankly have problems envisioning how it will be made visual and how dialogue will be able to convey the intricacy of the story. I fear it will lose much of the magic of the novel. The settings are so incredibly rich in imagination that each reader is bound to have strong images in mind. The characters, too, are well described and in the case of the main characters well-developed so seeing a movie casting director's vision may be disturbing when one has one's own concept of the character. And just how can that magical circus clock of Herr Thiessen's be conveyed through film ? I just don't know ... but I suppose time will tell. <br />
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<b>This is the first book reaction linked with this year's <a href="http://readersimbibingperilten.blogspot.com/">RIP X literary event</a>. <a href="http://www.estellasociety.com/?p=1484">See details at The Estella Society blog</a> to read other reactions/reviews and/or to join with other lovers of Gothic, mystery, horror, and fantasy genres.</b><br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-77159047214525553202015-09-10T20:51:00.000-07:002015-09-10T20:51:33.317-07:00R.I.P. X - Fall's Annual Spooky Read Challenge Is Here!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Oh, goodie! It's here again! The autumnal tradition of reading all things spooky, eerie, Gothic, horrific! This year I'm starting by listening to the audio version of <u>The Winter People</u> by Jennifer McMahon. It's pretty creepy because it takes place in Vermont, which is practically right next door ! It's also a classic ghost story ... perfect for the first fall storms and blustery leaves!</div>
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I love the R.I.P. challenge. Originally begun by Carl Anderson of Stainless Steel Droppings, it has been taken on by Andi and Heather over at <a href="http://www.estellasociety.com/?p=1484">The Estella Society</a>. For complete details on participating in the different levels of this year's R.I.P. challenge, check out their post ... and then get ready to choose your poison, stack up your creepy reads and get busy!</div>
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I'll be finishing my audio book and moving on to a good murder mystery ... stay tuned !</div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-31764419893380023682015-09-03T06:00:00.000-07:002015-09-03T06:09:40.314-07:00The Girl On the Train - Paula Hawkins<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Clever premise behind this book ... haven't you looked in windows or witnessed goings on in yards as you passed in a car or bus or train? If you commute everyday you must have certain views that draw your eyes, time after time. It's all very innocent, isn't it?<br />
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Reading this book made me feel squeamish sometimes. It was extremely painful to be inside the main character's head. Rachel is just such a poster child for the path to alcohol addiction. It was sad reading about her failed marriage, her constant falling toward the drinking as a way to cope, deaden pain, escape her miserable life. The strangely intricate fantasies about the couple she watched every day, as she rumbled past on the local London commuter line was downright creepy. When something dreadful happened to the woman she obsessed on, the plot began to take off.<br />
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I'm probably the only person that hadn't read this book, as it's been so wildly popular all summer, but I'm still not going to discuss the plot details, as they all work to construct a good psychological thriller. Let's just say that the whole 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned thing' played out right down to the end in grand fashion.<br />
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Comparisons to <u>Gone Girl</u> would not be amiss, as both authors have played with what we think we know and what we think we see and how we can be horribly wrong, wrong, wrong. It's up to the reader to pay close attention to every detail and find the little clues that help with that big 'aha moment' when we see clearly just what's been building. This was a good, fast read. I couldn't put it down and will probably have to go to bed early this evening, as I read through much of the night.<br />
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Now, I hear there will be a movie? Does anyone know anything about that ?<br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-16808454396688996182015-08-30T05:07:00.001-07:002015-08-30T05:07:44.722-07:00The Wishing Thread - Lisa Van Allen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Every year at the turning of the summer season, I start looking around for 'October-y' reads. The perfect read has a bit of magic, maybe some ghost elements, maybe a hint of romance, maybe a touch of horror or mystery. <u>The Wishing Thread</u> gave me just the easy segue into fall that I needed. It's been a busy summer full of piecing quilt tops, canning garden produce, traveling for vacation, and garden puttering. I haven't read for the complete abandon the way I usually do. I've been reading for gaining knowledge and for fulfilling book group obligations. After a particularly demanding (and upsetting read (Ann Packer's <u>The Children's Crusade</u>) for which I won't even bother posting a reaction, I needed a truly light read - one that I could have a few laughs over, one that would make me remember that a good story can be told without gut-wrenching and depressing exposure of the human dark side. Thank-you, Lisa Van Allen.<br />
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After Packer's slow and meticulous de-construction of a family, it was a relief to settle into Van Allen's re-affirming story of what family really ought to be about ... losses that make people stronger, make them pull together, make them gently confront each other's foibles, mistakes, screwed up actions with love and forgiveness, make them move forward positively. What can I say? I like happy endings.<br />
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Van Allen's sisters Van Ripper - Aubrey, Bitty, and Meggie have gathered at the Van Ripper homestead to mourn the loss of their Aunt Mariah. After losing their mother to a mysterious disappearance and presumed death years before, the girls were raised by Mariah. Losing her is a hard loss, as she was the relative that stepped in when they lost their mother. She is a matriarch with a strange magical power that has groomed them to live out the Van Ripper tradition of being the area's guardians of mysticism. These women cast spells ...<br />
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The loss of Mariah comes at a crucial time for the family and its neighbors. Their old, established neighborhood is in danger of being bulldozed by the city of Tarrytown, New York to make way for an urban renewal project that will gentrify the entire area of the city. Their personal lives are in tatters, but they pull together to make one valiant attempt to save their home and their long-established family's place within the fabric of the neighborhood ... and they do it ... after a fashion.<br />
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This is a fast read. Van Allen moves her story right along. Her sisters are a good combination of quirky, straight-laced, and kinky. They're different enough to make the family dynamics interesting, even if they do seem a bit contrived. I can get past that when the story moves as fast as this one does. There's a bit of romance, a bit of psychological angst, a bit of political wrangling, and a bit of humor.<br />
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Perfect beach read or curl-up-in-bed and forget the clock read.<br />
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I plan to pick Van Allen's next book, <u>The Night Garden</u>, when I get to the library. I'm sure it will give me another good read. I still have a few other books to clear off the bedside table, though. Next up, Paula Hawkins's <u>The Girl on the Train</u>, Rachel Cusk's <u>Outline</u>, and Nele Neuhaus's <u>The Ice Queen</u>. Oh, and Erin Morgenstern's <u>The Night Circus</u>. I'll get back to you.<br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-24464324246744478212015-07-15T05:02:00.003-07:002015-07-15T05:02:57.622-07:00Moloka'i - Alan Brennert<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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What an interesting read! Not only is this book an accurate account of how the Hawaiian leadership and the US government dealt with a significant leprosy (Hansen's disease) outbreak, but it tells the story of one young girl, Rachel Kalama who is diagnosed with leprosy very early in life and what her ensuing years look like, as she is exiled to the government sanctioned quarantine community of lepers on the island of Moloka'i.<br />
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This was a sad story, but make no mistake in thinking that the life of Rachel was a total downer. Alan Brennert has created a cast of strong characters that support the story of the leper colony and the changes it goes through, as doctors and missionaries work to learn about the disease, develop treatments, and attempt to make life as normal as they can for the people being ravaged by the disease. The book is a fictionalized story of Rachel and her family and friends, but the history of the colony on Moloka'i and the information about the disease is very well researched and presented.<br />
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The historical novel centers on Rachel Kalama. She is a young Hawaiian girl who is diagnosed with the disease when she is seven. Rachel comes from a large close family, but the moment her diagnosis is confirmed, she is removed from her family and shipped with other afflicted people to the leper colony on Moloka'i. She is housed at a Catholic mission school with other girls and grows up in a loving, but isolated community. Because society doesn't understand the disease and fears the ravaging nature of the illness, contact with with others is discouraged and made very difficult by the strict rules of quarantine. Thus, a vibrant community grows within the colony amongst those living there. The story follows Rachel as she grows up, makes friends, loses them to the disease, marries, takes many experimental treatments, and finally has some success in fighting her form of the disease. No spoilers ... it's a great story and she is a strong, smart, and feisty character that never gives in to total despair.<br />
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The book is also a terrific read for those who don't know the the story of Moloka'i's history or the particulars of what leprosy really is. I learned so much about the disease by reading this book. I don't know that Alan Brennert has written any other books, but he did an awesome job on this one ... enough said.<br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-13322361752282132202015-06-13T14:14:00.002-07:002015-06-13T14:18:09.298-07:00Saturday Snapshot ... This I Believe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's Saturday morning and it's starting to feel like summertime. The gardens are coming on. While the comfrey draws hoards of fat bumbling bees and the chive plants draw me out to cut long spears for snipping over mashed taters or tearing and adding to the garden green salads that are plentiful now, the finest of early June flowers fade in the porch bouquet. The white bleeding heart has crisped its hearts on the stem and the deep purple columbine has dropped its delicate petals in a perfect circle beneath the flowers. Their time was glorious, but gone and it reminds me that time is fleeting.<br />
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Our time is short in the scheme of things and we'd best chew the chives, enjoy the greens, dig in the soil to set the basil and move on to other good garden deeds. Sharing the strawberries with the neighbors and the chipmunks, dividing the perennials and passing some on to friends, scrubbing the watering can and sprinkling the rose bushes with some insecticidal soap so they come to bloom, rising in a sweat from weeding chores to wave a neighbor on their way down the dirt road, making time to sit in the garden and sip coffee on sunny mornings, and marveling at the seasonal splendor seems crucial these days. These flowers, these berries, these opportunities for connection, this sunrise will never be again. They're to be appreciated now and wondered on ...<br />
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Indeed, time is fleeting. It's never too early to realize that we are a speck in the grander scheme of things. We have very little chance of making a difference in the grand scheme of God's plan, but we can surely make great things happen in our little 'back yard'. So my thought is to care for plants, animals, and friends - new, old, and unknown. If I can live this premise, I can't go wrong.<br />
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This, I believe.<br />
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<b>shared at <a href="http://www.westmetromommyreads.com/2015/06/saturday-snapshot-june-13.html">Saturday Snapshot</a></b></div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-20227830303978420922015-06-04T08:32:00.003-07:002015-06-04T08:49:26.888-07:00The Black Tower - Louis Bayard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I grew up in the extreme northern reaches of New York State. That being said, there was this lovely but decrepit chalet-type home that sat on the outer border of of small town called Fort Covington (near Massena, my hometown) that had the legend of the lost Dauphin attached to it. I was always intrigued by the legend that Louis-Charles, the son of Marie Antoinette and Louis the XVI was somehow spirited away from the Jacobin prison in which he and his sister were held. The story goes that royalists helped him flee prison, cross the Atlantic and settle in anonymity in a rural backwater in order to keep him from forces that would see him dead. I wondered and built fantastic stories in my mind how a prince might be guarded by faithful and monied allies and sent to safety to live out his life away from the horror that he'd surely witnessed during the Reign of Terror.<br />
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Finding Louis Bayard's rollicking story about the legend of the lost Dauphin, a rowdy, raucous French detective called Eugene Vidocq that has a penchant for outlandishly accurate disguises, a young doctor who is pioneering the study venereal disease at a time when it was ravaging the French elite, and a young French gardener who is mysteriously innocent for one his age was such a fun experience! This mystery/historical thriller is masterfully written and even more masterfully narrated. It was wonderful!<br />
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I'll not spoil the storyline by giving away plot, but just know that there is murder, subterfuge, hidden relics of the Reign of Terror and the following Napoleonic era, royals and gentry who are less than honest about their past, bawdy humor, and wonderful characters that are endearing. Great read, even better listen. Simon Vance is a professional reader for the Royal National Institute for the Blind as well as a radio announcer for the BBC radio ... he does an incredible job developing the character of Vidocq. His command at reading and interpreting the story is just stellar!<br />
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Okay .. have I gushed enough ? If you're doing a road trip, working at home at a sit-down project or puttering in the kitchen this would be a worthy audio experience. I'm off to return the 'book' to the library and check out another by Louis Bayard.<br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-63816301745922532492015-05-30T09:11:00.002-07:002015-05-30T14:20:16.674-07:00Hands2Help Quilt - Tra-La!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This small quilt has been a labor of love on a couple of levels. </div>
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<a name='more'></a>The idea of making a quilt in memory of my young grand-niece who passed away very suddenly at the end of January sat on my heart for a while before I came upon Sarah Craig's website and her annual <a href="http://confessionsofafabricaddict.blogspot.com/p/hands2help_11.html">Hands2Help quilting project</a>. When I looked at the charities that she was sponsoring this year, I knew immediately that making a quilt for a little girl who may find herself in a radically different world from her familiar one would be a perfect way to honor our Angela. Because You Matter may be a Canadian charity and I may be an American citizen, but love is love no matter the time or place.<br />
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The 2015 Hands2Help project is coming to an end, but I'm still linking to the original description of the project that I found. Perhaps someone reading this will be intrigued and put Sarah's website on their favorites list so that they can be involved in the 2016 Hands2Help project ... because love is love is love no matter the time or place.<br />
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So here is the finished project. I'll be having my pastor say a blessing over it tomorrow and then it will be lovingly wrapped and posted to Nina so she can pass it on to some little girl who needs some sunshine and blue skies.<br />
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Thanks Sarah for being in the right place on my computer at just the right time. Hands2Help has been as much a healing project for me as it's been a work of charity for others. I can only chalk up happening onto your site as a work of grace from above.<br />
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Now, I think I'll go out and do some gardening with my little friend, Little Bee !!! Happy Saturday !!!<br />
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<b>... posted to Saturday Snapshot and Hands2Help ...</b></div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-62614859868359556542015-05-16T10:23:00.001-07:002015-05-16T10:30:40.282-07:00Saturday Snapshot ... Lilacs !!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My bank account may say I'm poor as a church mouse, but during lilac season I feel as rich as a queen!</div>
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<b>... shared at Melinda Ott's <a href="http://www.westmetromommyreads.com/2015/05/saturday-snapshot-may-16.html#disqus_thread">Saturday Snapshot photoshare</a> because everyone should experience springtime lilacs ...</b><br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-33248081075119920002015-05-14T05:58:00.001-07:002015-05-14T10:40:39.552-07:00The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender - Leslye Walton<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In preparing to write my reaction to this novel, I did a bit of research on the literary technique of using mystical realism in one's plot development. My only experience of the sub-genre (?) is with certain Latin American authors whose stories were so mystic that they were far over my head. I left this type of novel alone for years until I read <u>Like Water For Chocolate</u>, at which point, I thought that I'd fallen back into the mystic just enough.<br />
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The point is that this type of writing is not for everyone. You have to let go just a bit of what you consider real and true, latch onto the images and experiences of the characters and accept that what they experience is based in reality - their reality - a reality that serves to say something about life, higher ideals, et cetera. That being said, I found Leslye Walton's debut novel a winner. It's already being short-listed for awards across America as one of the best new young adult reads. I'm not so sure that it is strictly for young adults, but I often think that much of what is written for young adults is really 'cross-over' stuff. That's another rant post, though. Suffice it to say, this story addresses a bunch of issues like opening one's self to love and its messy possibilities, loving enough to allow one's children to become their own distinct personalities, fulfilling one's dreams and not being afraid to fail in the attempt, finding one's self in the midst of one's strong family influence and history, and overcoming society's sometimes harsh assumptions about one's self. Among a bazillion other things ...<br />
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Ava Lavender looks back on her life and her family history to tell a tale that will make you feel like you've entered a fairy tale. This is a love story, but it's not about the heart thumping happy ending of romantic love fulfilled. It's about the messiness of love, the development of love over time, the way love is nurtured by some and destroyed by others, the way one comes to love oneself enough to survive sorrows. The members of Ava's family experience love's foibles in vastly different ways and Ava reflects on these joys and sorrows, as her own life moves toward a strange climax.<br />
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I loved this book, but I'll warn you. It's not for everyone.<br />
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1816333214036262533.post-66491131307763345822015-05-11T11:40:00.001-07:002015-05-11T11:46:11.289-07:00The Truth About Alice - Jennifer Mathieu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Jennifer Mathieu is relatively new to the young adult publishing world and in her first novel, she has hit the ball out of the park, as far as I'm concerned. Don't get me wrong. This is a difficult book to read, especially as a mature woman. It's graphic in its portrayal of young people and the culture of high schoolers and their world. I struggle with the level of sexuality, drugs and alcohol use that young people are exposed to, so reading a book as hard-hitting as this is difficult. That being said, it also flew by for me. it's not a long book. Alice's story unfolds fast and furious.<br />
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This is a story about the most horrendous case of bullying that occurs in Texas high school over the course of one school year. Alice is going into her junior year when she attends an unsupervised party at the home of a schoolmate. There's drinking and some drug use, there's loud music, and mayhem, and there is hooking up amongst the boys and girls during the course of the evening. Alice comes away from the party with rumors swirling about her behavior - and rumors spread and are blown up and elaborated on. Before she knows it, she is labelled the class 'slut', her friends are pulling away from her in fear of being labelled by their association with her. When one of the young men who she is rumored to have been sleeping with dies in a horrid car accident, Alice is blamed for distracting him by texting him incessantly. She becomes a social pariah and suffers shunning, verbal abuse, character assassination, and harassment. How can she ever make it through the rest of her high school years? The question hovers ...<br />
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Mathieu constructs the story of 'the truth' about Alice by using four characters from the different social strata within the high school. These stereotypic characters recount the year and the way Alice becomes a focal point for the students' bullying. Of course, as they recount their point of view on the events, we learn of their individual fears, obsessions, self-consciousness, and foibles. Their 'truths' become warped by their own personality flaws. Alice becomes a fatalistic, hardened recluse that retreats into the hood of her sweatshirt jacket, walks to and from classes in an anonymous 'bubble' that isolates her from hallway slurs, bathroom stall graffiti, lonely lunch table seating, and social snubbing. <br />
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The story is told in a mercilessly honest way, leaving this reader emotionally drained. I know the facts of teenage alcohol use, the levels of sexual activity that young people are engaging in, and the levels of 'cattiness' and mysogyny that can occur in middle and high school cultures. i taught in the setting for close to ten years, but one never gets used to the level of brutality that teenagers can wreak on each other - and perhaps that's the one big fault with this story. Nowhere in the story is there a teacher or administrator that reacts to Alice's predicament. She seems to weather her junior year by hiding in the school library, without any one adult stepping up to help her. Even her mother is absent from the story, off with a new boyfriend or partying after work or on weekends and leaving Alice to her own devices.<br />
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The book has been nominated for an award as an offering by best new author ... we'll see how it fares. I found it interesting that my used copy came in mint condition from the east baton rouge Library bookmobile. Hmm. I'm wondering if it was 'removed' from the shelves because of its graphic discussion of teen culture. I can certainly see some school and library leaders being reticent to put it on the shelves, as some parents will have a field day debating its 'appropriateness'. I, myself, think its an important book to have available for kids, as they will easily see themselves reflected in one of the characters telling their own version of 'the truth' about their classmate. in that respect, I think it fosters a level of empathy for all involved with the important lesson that we need to be very careful about making assumptions about others, about becoming involved in the school (or any!) rumor mill, and about believing less of what we hear and more of what we tease out on our own through direct observation and honest communication.<br />
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Mathieu's new book <u>Devoted</u> will be coming out in June. We'll see how she develops as an author. In the meantime, <u>The Truth About Alice</u> will most likely remain a top read for high schoolers for a while.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">photo: George Hixson</span></div>
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Susan Lindquisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04039551683129884367noreply@blogger.com0