It's Miller Time

“Circe, he says, it will be all right. It is the saying of an oracle or a prophet….He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what is means to be alive.”

I wore out my audible rewind when I listened to those soothing lines.  So often good books deliver important messages straight to my heart. And I’m a huge sucker for life in perspective. Thankfully, Madeline Miller’s got one ton of wisdom, and she’s not afraid to share it. Sapience bubbles up and overflows in her protagonists. To quote Depeche Mode, “I just can’t get enough. I just can’t get enough.”

In case my December post wasn’t effusive enough, let me reiterate once more: I L-O-V-E-D The Song of Achilles—as in big Aphrodite platonic love. So I downloaded Circe with wicked speed.  In college, because I totally dig the humanities, I took not one but two Greek and Roman mythology classes. Years later, I’m well aware that Circe is a minor goddess. (Nymphs aren’t front and center stuff.) Like Harry Potter, she’s good with a magic wand and she’s not afraid to turn men into pigs. Other than that, she was hardly on my radar. Miller gave Circe dimensions. Beautiful dimensions. That’s not all, “this first-person account is a kind of greatest hits of the ancient Greek world: Prometheus and his endless punishment, Scylla and Charybdis, Hermes, Apollo, Athena, Daedalus and his son Icarus, Ariadne and the Minotaur (who is Circe’s nephew), Jason and the Golden Fleece—and Odysseus, of course.” I’m with reviewer Aida Edemariam when she observes, Miller goes beyond mere magic realism where anything can happen—where changes occur willy-nilly and leave audiences divested. “The real power doesn’t lie in the ostensible facts of the narrative, but in its psychology. And that is where Miller anchors her story—in the emotional life of a woman.” A woman who I now find relatable and relevant. A woman who has me thinking about what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch my feet. Who’s got me thinking about what it means to be present. 

Posted by Tracy

Mrs. Brightside

“Once you’ve fallen in love with books, their presence can make you feel at home anywhere, even in places where you shouldn’t belong.”

Happy January 2022! I’m headed into the new year like a washed-out sloth. I wish I were being dramatic. I promise, I’m not. I guess I’m kind of like Bob Wiley right now: “I’m doing the work, I’m baby-stepping, I’m not a slacker! Just look, I’m in really bad shape!” On the bright side, I’ve been reading awesome books. I’ve felt at home in places I shouldn’t—on the island of Aiaia, in the American Old West, a small mountain town near the Swiss border and war-torn Paris. Books have a way of making everything feel better. I’m so glad about that.

Even books that document a horrifying world war can inspire feelings like hope, amazement and awe. Kristin Harmel’s The Book of Lost Names promoted all of the above. This historical fiction revolves around a smart young grad student named Ava Traube Abrams. After her father is seized by the Wehrmacht, Ava and her mother devise an escape route through Nazi-occupied France. Ava is a talented artist. To her surprise and her mother’s complete dismay, she finds a way to use her art to outwit the Nazis in order to rescue Jewish children from Hitler’s vicious reach. I’ve read plenty of WW II novels, this we know. How did I not know more about the brave men and women who forged identity documents? Ava’s story is inspired by a true one. It was fascinating to learn about the saving grace (and art) of forgery. While there were predictable moments amid hiding, false papers, escapes, and arrests, this story was quite intriguing overall. The Book of Lost Names underscores the fact that love requires real courage. It reminds me that the sun never really rises—the earth rotates to face the sun—and we have to turn our eyes to brighter things.

Posted by Tracy

Passing Out Stars

The Christmas countdown is on—are we feelin’ the heat? Or are the presents wrapped under the tree while warm citrus spices mull deliciously on the stove? Regardless, we always have time to talk books. I haven’t read Louis Erdich’s Pulitzer Prize The Night Watchman, but I decided to give her latest a try. Lots of talk about The Sentence lately. A small independent bookstore, a ghost, and a main character haunted by her own strange past set the stage in this November release.

The story takes place in Minneapolis during an unprecedented year of worldwide pandemic and tumultuous racial and political unrest. Tookie, bookstore employee and former inmate who survived years of prison by consuming literature as if it were essential to sustain life, is haunted by the ghost of the store’s most annoying customer. Flora dies in 2019 on All Souls’ Day and refuses to leave the bookstore that she visited daily. Tookie must solve the mystery of the haunting to free her from the spirit that greets her each day. 

If I’m passin’ out stars…I’d hand over 4 for this one. Are there other books I’ve read this year that I’ve enjoyed more? Yes. Four Winds and The Last Thing He Told Me harnessed more admiration in this girl’s mind. USA Today offered The Sentence a solid four stars with this praise, “Dazzling…A hard-won love letter to readers and to booksellers, as well as a compelling story about how we cope with pain, fear, injustice and illness. One good way is to press a beloved book into another’s hand. Read The Sentence and then do just that.”

Posted by Sharee

Better than Eggnog

“He is half of my soul, as the poets say.”

Friday just called—she’ll be here tomorrow and she’s bringing the Coke Zero with limes. Thank Heavens!! I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m up to my eyeballs in pressing stuff and I’m suspiciously devoid of the Christmas spirit at the moment. I’m sure if I turn on a few Christmas tunes and peruse the Holiday gift guide I’ll feel better.

Listening to The Song of Achilles felt a whole lot like holiday cheer. (Granted the Greeks are all about the tragedies, but it was such a good listen.) I had no idea Circe’s brainchild created, “a thrilling, profoundly moving and utterly unique retelling of the legend of Achilles and the Trojan War” years ago. How’d I miss this? Thank the Heavens again for my savvy niece who clued me in on the Orange Prize winner. Even if you’re not a huge fan of Homer, you’ll love Miller’s backstory. Hers is a quiet love story that is both inspiring and heartbreaking. You’ll be hard-pressed to feel anything but admiration for the ardent devotion between Achilles and Patroclus. The first-time novelist by night, Latin/Greek teacher by day grabbed me from the very beginning and never let me down. If you find spare minutes this holiday season, grab a book by Madeline Miller—it might be better than eggnog, peppermint bark, and all the Christmas trimmings (minus Rachel’s ginger snaps, of course).

Posted by Tracy

Crack Open a Cold One

“Strength and Beauty must go hand in hand.” Louisa May Alcott

Holy Mackerel! It’s been a month and change since I’ve posted. A month and change!!! I’ve been on a big ol’ rollercoaster. I’m hoping the holidays will rescue me. (Should I be nervous that I’m looking for some kind of liberation from the busiest time of the year?) Hmmm. Good thing I’ve got my own grown-up Christmas list: No more lives torn apart, way more books to start—and time to heal this workin’ momma’s heart. Of course, visions of Doerr and Towles have already begun to dance in my head. Anticipation of good reads to come is a gift in and of itself, no?

Okay, back to the present. I need to tell you about We Are All the Same in the Dark by Julia Heaberlin. Like Jane Harper, Heaberlin comes from a journalism background.  She’s won awards for her work and all of that good stuff. Interestingly, she’s been called a writer hiding in plain sight. And this detail caught my eye: “Heaberlin anchors her books with troubled but badass women. Think Amy Schumer’s character in Trainwreck, except with guns and greater possibility of redemption.” But I didn’t read that female’s-got-pride comment until after I closed the cover on We Are All the Same in the Dark; the truth is I stumbled on the title somewhere and I’ve been on a bit of a psychological thriller bender lately. (Blaming Michealides for that.)

Chances are, if you like a cold case, you’ll like We Are All the Same in the Dark. It’s been a decade since Trumanell Branson disappeared, leaving behind a bloody handprint. While younger brother, Wyatt Branson, was legally cleared of the murder conviction, he was found guilty in the court of public opinion. (His stint in a mental institution only perpetuated harsh judgments and treatment.) Wyatt’s high school girlfriend, Odette (daughter of the late police chief and now a detective herself), was determined to crack the cold one wide open.  There are twists and turns and a parallel story to run alongside this atmospheric mystery. Were there a few loose threads? Yes. But overall, Heaberlin achieves something far bigger than solving a crime—she effectively underscores the fact that, for females, strength and beauty must go hand in hand.

Posted by Tracy

Long Live Curmudgeons

“I love me a Curmudgeon.” –Rachel

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a bit of a sucker for a good story built around a quirky curmudgeon. Olive Kitteridge, Miss Benson’s Beetle, A Man Called Ove…I love them all. When the second installment of The Emmy Lake Chronicles came out this summer, I couldn’t imagine Woman’s Friend magazine continuing without the formidable Mrs. Bird.

Yours Cheerfully continues Emmy’s wartime story after parting ways with Mrs. Bird. It follows her progression as a journalist, activist, and soon-to-be married woman. Although slightly predictable, author A.J. Pearce manages to keep you cheering for Emmy and all the female factory employees diligently working to maintain home and family while trying to seriously aid the war effort.

Pearce has done it again—she’s captured charm and locked it away in her pages. Simon and Schuster had this to say about her latest offering: “Every bit as funny, heartwarming, and touching as Dear Mrs. Bird, Yours Cheerfully is a celebration of friendship—a testament to the strength of women and the importance of lifting each other up, even in the most challenging times.” If I’m passing out stars, I’d hand over 4 bright ones for Emmy’s latest exploits. Keep ‘em comin’ A.J.!

Posted by Sharee

Lightning in a Book

“I’m gonna read a book. From beginning to end…in that order.” — George Costanza

It’s high time, people. Time to dub this The Summer of Rachel.  First, she formed a book club with the cutest nephews around. Nolan, Jude, and Tate have effectively stolen my heart with those shiny faces. (I love a missing tooth.) Their awesome picks would make even Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker proud! Second, she captured lightning in a bottle. I’ve been begging the Universe for time away where the only sounds I hear are crisp pages turning and sturdy aspens quaking. All I get are crickets. As summer comes to a close, I can’t help but wonder what else Rae’s got up her sleeve? I’m sending that woman a block of cheese!

Reading Miss Benson’s Beetle by Rachel Joyce this summer felt like my time for a minute—like tasting the fruits and letting the juices drip down my chin. Who can resist “a hilarious jaunt into the wilderness of women’s friendship and the triumph of outrageous dreams”? I could tell you how Margery Benson, a bit of a cipher in her own right and wrestling with despair, gets a wild and desperate hair to fulfill her decade-old self’s dream: discover the golden beetle of New Caledonia. In an effort to hire a French-speaking assistant, our dowdy Marge interviews a quirky but lovable floozy named Enid Pretty. Flamboyant Enid (who doesn’t speak a lick of French) also has pull with the universe. She sort of lands the job and the friendship of a lifetime.

Rachel Joyce, you are a genius. You made me laugh (out loud.) You made me cry. You made me care deeply about characters that sprung out of your fantastic head. Miss Benson’s Beetle was an intoxicating listen. (As always, Juliet Stevenson is brilliant.) I’ve recommended this book regularly throughout The Summer of Rachel—I’ve now lost count of how many readers returned to say thanks for sharing some serious portable magic.

Posted by Tracy