booktastic

“As drastic as it may appear, God will actually allow a person to experience hell on earth, in hopes of awakening his faith. A holy love makes the tough choice to release the child to the consequence of his actions.” - Max Lucado, p. 42

Max Lucado wrote this book, For the Tough Times, for people experiencing any kind of tough time, from having general anxiety about money to grieving over a loved one.

This is a very short book - 79 pages, and the print isn’t tiny, while the pages are - so while Mr. Lucado tackles a very complex topic, he really doesn’t have the room to do more than scratch the surface. He tackles grief, revenge, suffering, worrying - but each of those topics would be enough for a book in themselves. He dissects a few Bible quotes (”Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far,”) making sure to put the distinctly Protestant spin on them (”What Paul is saying here is that the moment he departs or dies, that very moment he is with the Christ.” [p.75] Completely at odds with the Catholic notion of Purgatory of course… and not really supported by the scripture he quoted since it just says he wants to be with Christ, not that he’s immediately going to be with him), makes a point about the subject, (for instance, on Revenge, “Would you like some peace? Then quit giving your neighbor such a hassle,” and yes, that is a real quote from this book,) and then moves swiftly on to the next subject.

This book may be appropriate for somebody who is worried about money, or anxious about the environment, or abstract things like war and suffering. It may even be a good introduction book for somebody who has never, ever contemplated the deeper religious meanings of things like suffering and pain - who is not actually experiencing deep suffering and pain at the time.

However, I wouldn’t even think of giving this book to someone who had lost a spouse or a child - you know, deep pain. If I had just lost Mr. Hall, I would find the tone of this book lightweight and flippant - if not a trifle insulting. (”Cheer up, stupid. God loves you.”) Times of deep pain that deserve a more serious, in-depth discussion of pain and suffering. C.S. Lewis’s A Grief Observed, Victor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, or parts of Thomas Merton’s The Seven Storey Mountain. I would especially not give this book to someone who someone in deep suffering who was new to the concepts expressed in this book, because I don’t think it would be an appropriate introduction.

Okay, this may seem kind of harsh. I’ve told you what I wouldn’t do with this book and what it isn’t. But, really, what this book is is a brief discussion of a few subjects related to anxiety and suffering; I don’t think this book was intended to be an in-depth treatise on the subject of suffering, or else it would have probably been a bit more than seventy pages long.

So, again: if you know someone who is in real pain, please, give them a more serious book. I think this would be a decent, lightweight book to give to someone who was experiencing mild anxiety about life, or worrying about a concerning abstract concept.  — Mrs. Hall

Somehow in the course of the first ten days of the year I have finished not one, not two, but four books. This is not because I have become an astoundingly voracious reader with the beginning of ‘09 - but because I had quite a few books already under way on January 1st. (Shh, don’t tell).

Well, that and the fact that two of the books were rather insubstantial. The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus was only a hundred-something pages, and big print at that.

The Salmon of Doubt was not as insubstantial as that - technically speaking. It was about the length of a regular book. However, I found the description of the book (implying that it was the last Dirk Gently novel) entirely misleading: the majority of the book is made up of bits and snips, articles, forwards, introductions and the like, all written by Douglas Adams. There are exactly four chapters of the lost Dirk Gently novel, leaving us with a tantalizing non-ending while the story is still substantially and confusingly underway. Following the chapters are a brief summary of the planned book by Adams; a summary which gave us more details about how the story went but not how things finished up. So while I did enjoy those four chapters (they reminded me of what fun I had reading the first two Dirk Gently books, and made me sad that there won’t be any new adventures) - it was more tantalizing than anything else.

Incidentally, who else thinks that the cover of the book pictured here (describing this as “Hitchhiking the galaxy one last time”) is extremely misleading as well??

All and all, I would not advise Adams fans to go out of their way to pick this book up. Maybe, if you want to read a prolongued tribute to Douglas Adams, are interested in his non-fiction work and aren’t bothered by incomplete stories, you could look it up… but if you want a new complete Dirk Gently novel (or are misled by the cover into thinking that this is a last Hitchhiker novel) you can totally give it a miss. — Mrs. Hall

Well, today is the official last day of Christmas by the Catholic calendar (we celebrate Christmas officially on the 24th through the day of Christ’s Baptism, which this year falls on the 11th of January. This gave us an awkward 18 days of Christmas, but who can really complain about a couple extra days of Christmas? Mr. Hall and I were rather sad to discard our beloved tree and pack all the festive decorations away…)

But, in deference to the last day of Christmas, I have one last Christmas offering for you:  The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by Julie Lane. This is distinct and different from The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum (in spite of the identical names). I finished reading this one yesterday by the lingering light of our last Christmas tree’d night for the next twelve months.

As could probably be gathered from the title, this book is an account of Santa Claus’s life. It describes how the “filling the stockings” tradition came about, how the plant holly got named and put to its use, how he wound up with a red suit, sleigh, reindeer and so on.  It goes all the way from his tragic beginning (his parents and little sister all died in one night) to his own sad but miraculous end (yes, he does die at the end!)

There are some odd elements to the book. It was published (originally) in 1932, and is rather “of its time period” at times - like when young Nicholas’ father see Nicholas making his little sister a doll and complains to his wife, “Eh, Mother… I’d rather see Nicholas down at the boats with me learning to mend a net than fussing with little girls’ toys and forever carrying Katje about with him. ‘Tisn’t naturual for a boy to be so…”

My biggest problem with the book, however, is that it is essentially a realistic fictional account of Santa’s life. Why not, you ask? Well, if you want a realistic account of Santa’s life, why not just write a factual biography of the real St. Nicholas? Writing a realistic but fictional account just seems to be an (inadvertent) attempt to muddy the waters.

I’m not saying this is a terrible book. Quite the opposite - it was cute and had its charming moments, and I daresay child readers might enjoy it. It even had “discussion questions” after each chapter (which I must say I did find a bit odd, since this isn’t a factual, historical book) to increase the enjoyment and understanding of the book, I assume. If you’re a Christmas aficionado, you should probably check it out.

And with this review, the Christmas season of 08-09 comes to a close. I hope it was a good one for you! — Mrs. Hall

“Boomtown turned out to be a place where everybody’s favorite thing to do was to blow stuff up. …They valued education more than money, worked hard, stayed married, loved their children, cared for the environment, and honored the heritage of other cultures. You may ask, ‘How is that possible?’ I see your point. A place like that can’t be real. But it should be.” - From the “Introduction” by Nowen N. Particular

Boomtown, by the mysterious Nowen N. Particular, takes place in the fictional town of Boomtown, Washington in the 1940’s. The story is told by the Reverend Button, newly arrived with his family to minister over the Boomtown Church. After arriving, he discovers two things that upset his composure: first, that the people of Boomtown are one and all eccentrics who love blowing things up; second, that all the previous ministers of Boomtown Church (some twenty four of them) died in bizarre accidents after only a year or two of ministering.

The story is almost an ensemble piece, focusing chapter-to-chapter on the individual stories of the inhabitants of Boomtown. We hear the story of Chang, the town’s founder and creator of the fireworks factory that gave the town its name; Walt, the Butcher turned Barber; Mabel, proprietress of the eponymous Mabel’s Diner (”Terrible Coffee, Worse Service”); and the Hopontop Indians.

Right off the bat, I would like to say that I essentially enjoyed reading this book. However, I did find myself wondering if it would really hold the attention of the “tween” audience that it is apparently aimed at. Yes, it is colorful and cartoony and has lots of crazy happenstances. All well and good.

But the story is told by the father. Typically, a book of this type would be from the perspective of one of his children - and, indeed, they had more adventures than he did although (as promised) his life was endangered on several occasions. I mean, I did enjoy the book - but I can’t help but wonder if I would have enjoyed it just as much at age 10, or if I would have gotten impatient with the adult main character and wanted to see things from the kids’ viewpoints instead. Even though many things that happened in the book were intentionally very outlandish, I couldn’t escape the feeling that this was a grownup telling a story to another grownup. I don’t have any kids available to question and see if that approach works or doesn’t work, so I’ll just have to leave this issue open-ended.  But, what if the book Peter Pan was told entirely from the perspective of the Darling parents? It would have been a rather sad, depressing, colorless story.

The author stated in the introduction (quoted above) that he was “surprised” by the “ethnic variety” in the town. Okay, I get that this is supposed to be a Utopia of sorts; the author’s idea of the ideal town where everybody respects everybody else. But I’m also reminded of a warning on the beginning of the recently released Vol. 1 of Fleischer’s utterly wonderful Popeye cartoons:

(Emphasis on the final line, “… to do otherwise would be the same as claiming these prejudices never existed.”) Yes, the author did mention something to the effect that some people had some issues with a mixed-race child who becomes involved in the story. Yes, the author did take pains to explain how the town had a Japanese mayor just a couple years after the end of WWII, when most Japanese Americans were still viewed with suspicion across the USA.

Yet, I see the main character casually accepting things like the fact that the area has a female, hispanic circuit court judge (unusual for a small rural town even in this day and age) without any question whatsoever (despite the fact this is supposed to take place in the 1940’s) to be pushing it just a bit. Yes, I know this is essentially a cartoon world, but I think it could have borne a few more comments that this was very unusual in that time and place.

However, perhaps the biggest problem I had with this book was the ending - and I will try to explain my problem without ruining it for any potential readers. The book spent a lot of time getting us used to a certain set of characters (the amusing cover announces that this is “Book One” so I’m assuming that more are planned) - and yet, this set of characters simply ditches the town at the end. I found that rather disconcerting as well as going against a lot of what they’d been setting up in the book… it was like all the lessons that had been learned about acceptance were simply discarded. I’m assuming that the next book would simply have to deal with a wholly different set of characters, which I would find even more disconcerting. I liked these characters - I wanted to spend more time with them.

And I would also like to point out that despite this book being told by a minister (and being published by a Christian publishing company) I thought the religious message, if there was one, was a touch on the covert side. Perhaps the author was aiming at that to avoid “preaching” to the kids… but, really, if I’m buying a book from a religious publishing company, I kind of expect there to be a clear-cut religious theme…

I’m afraid this is going to be a half-and-half sort of review… because I essentially enjoyed reading it. I thought Boomtown sounded like a nice place to live in spite of the fact that it had no Catholics. I was entertained by most of the colorful characters - and wouldn’t want to live in an idyllic small town where everybody loves everybody else and enjoys setting off fireworks?

But, as I said, I had issues with both story elements and fact that we are getting everything from the perspective of the stodgy father character (which as an adult I had no problem with - but which as a kid, whom this story was ostensibly aimed at, I might have been bored).

So what is my final word? As I originally stated, I essentially enjoyed reading this book. I would recommend it to other adults who are looking for light, colorful reading and enjoy escapism - but I don’t think I can whole-heartedly recommend it for kids.  — Mrs. Hall

At that book sale last week, I happened to pick up a copy of a brand new children’s picture book called Ocean Wide, Ocean Deep, by Susan Lendroth, published August of this year by Tricycle Press.

Now, I didn’t buy it for myself, even though I have a “thing” for well-made children’s books (my minor at university actually focused on children’s literature. When my fellow students were struggling with Henry James, I was reading Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret.) I picked it up for a baby I know.

I chose this book over several other picture books because this one had very nice illustrations and a sweet story. It’s about a girl, in the olden days, waiting for her Dad to get back from the sea.

Pretty simple story, right? Well, it’s a picture book for small children. It’s SUPPOSED to have a simple story. When your book is less than twenty pages long and has fewer words than this blog post, you have to be pretty concise in your story structure: You announce the problem, deal with the problem, and at the end of the book, resolve the problem. The problem is announced - girl’s dad is going away to sea. Deal with the problem: girl misses her dad. Resolve the problem: Dad comes home. Everybody’s happy.

Unfortunately, although I really like this book, I haven’t got a lot to say about it… because it’s less than twenty pages long and has fewer words than this blog posting. But let me reitterate: sweet story, BEAUTIFUL illustrations. If the book has one flaw, it’s that some of the vocabulary used in it is a bit advanced for the “picture book” age group… but I suppose that would be a good opportunity for vocab building, too, so I can’t even really complain about that.

So, to sum up - if you need a pretty, sweet, new picture book for a young lady you know this Christmas: pick up Ocean Wide, Ocean Deep. Definitely a keeper. (Although I’m not keeping mine, darn it. Lucky baby!) — Mrs. Hall

A few posts ago, I told you my opinion of The Cereal Killer by Diane Mott Davidson. That was a pretty decent book and I enjoyed it quite a bit (even though it was slightly disconcerting when - listening to the audio book - the main character described details of a physical romantic encounter. Up until that point I could totally pretend that this was friend talking to me about her life… but that kind of weirded me out. But - that was just a minor issue, and I probably wouldn’t even have cared if I had been reading, rather than listening to, that book.)

Well, as I mentioned, that was the third book - so I went to the library and picked up the first, Catering to Nobody. It is so-named because in it, the main character’s business is temporarily (for almost the entire book) closed down.

This means that one of the main things I liked about the third book — the fact that the main character was constantly talking about food –  was more or less absent from this one. Oh, don’t get me wrong - food did come up on a good number of occasions, and the actual recipes are featured in case you are interested in making them - but it just wasn’t there as much as in the third one. (Which is another problem with reading books out of order!! I hate reading a book from “later in the series”, then going back and reading the first book and not liking it as well!!)

However, as a mystery novel it was pretty interesting. I didn’t find the setting of the mystery (an ObGyn doctor scandal) quite as personally interesting to me as the focus of The Cereal Killer (which was a higher education scandal, an area I have more experience with and more interest in. Higher education, I mean, not higher education scandals). However, that is not to say that it wasn’t interesting at all, or that you would only enjoy it if you spend a lot of time at your ObGyn… Just a personal preference there.

I enjoy and like the main character, Goldy, even though her views on things are rather different from my own. However, now having read two books, I must say that I take mild issue with the fact that the character often doesn’t push some points hard enough… Let me explain. Let’s say, for example, she has an idea that her friend Marla knows a clue which may solve the mystery. Goldy asks her about it surreptitiously,  Marla stonewalls her a bit or says she’ll talk about it later… and Goldy just lets it slide, feeling she can’t pursue the matter.

Things like that happen a lot in the book - so much that it almost feels a touch forced, like it’s a device to draw out the length of the story. Oh well, I suppose there are worse ways to draw out the length of a mystery story… like by shoving a semi-unrelated short story about cannibals or Mormons into the center of the book.

Mid-way through, I was on the verge of saying that I wasn’t excited enough by Catering to Nobody to track down the next book in the series. However, by the ending I was thoroughly engrossed and found the ending good and satisfying, so I will be locating the next book. Although it must be said that after discovering the title of the next book is Dying for Chocolate, I really had no choice in the matter.

I can’t resist a book with chocolate in the title. I seriously can’t. — Mrs. Hall

I have a shameful confession to make. When I was a child, I owned the complete set of Paddington Bear books…

And I never read them.

I don’t know why I never read them. After I learned to read I became a voracious reader and consumed almost every book I owned and many I didn’t (thanks, West Plains Public Library) - including an entire series of rather crappy “Solve it Yourself” mysteries and “Choose Your Own Adventure! ” books.

But not Paddington. There were just a handful of books I owned that I never read (including Misty and King of the Wind because I could just never get into a book about a horse. I liked horses, like all eight year old girls do, but I was never interested in reading stories exclusively about them. I mean, who cares what a horse is thinking about? In my experience growing up on a farm, horses think about two things: eating and finding things they can use to knock off/crush the people riding them. But I digress.)

I don’t remember why the books never interested me. I was always interested in the British Isles, so it kind of surprises me that I didn’t take to the books… I seem to recall, at some point, asking my Mother where they had come from and if she had ever read them; I don’t remember her reply, except that it can’t have inspired me to read them. But I do remember what happened to those books - I wound up giving them to the children of some friends of ours who were even more poor (poorer?) than we were (!!). They were excited to get them.

And so I have gone through my life Paddington-less. The story would have ended there, but for the fact that recently I was searching for audiobooks to download from the public library website. I searched, on a whim, for “Stephen Fry” (a British actor of whom I was overly fond at one time; he was half of the team of Fry and Laurie, the other half being Hugh Laurie of House fame)  - and discovered that Stephen Fry was the narrator for a copy of A Bear Called Paddington, available for download. Somebody else had it checked out, so I patiently waited my turn for it, and downloaded it last week.

It only took me a few hours at work (data entrying) to finish it… but it was delightful. This kind of story was made to be read by someone like Stephen Fry: so quaint and distinctly British, with lots of emphasis on subtle puns and wordplay. Mr. Fry has an amazing speaking voice and was able to do all the different characters (with different accents and intonations, depending on the case) perfectly.

As far as Paddington goes… I am very sorry, now, that I did not read these books as a child. This one at least was very cute and enjoyable, and I even chuckled out loud a couple times. As far as the narration by Stephen Fry goes - it was fabulous.

If you’re in the mood for a sweet, light, enjoyable, entertaining book - and want to hear it narrated by a great voice actor - buy or download this copy of A Bear Called Paddington!! – Mrs. Hall

Okay, this year I have had a propensity for picking up series mysteries - and starting with the wrong one. This one wasn’t entirely my fault. I was looking for a book to download and listen to from the Chicago Public Library website - I was hoping to try one of those “The Cat Who…” books, but the earliest one in the series they had was 13 or something, and that’s just a bit too late in the series. Finally, after clicking through several pages of “If you like this book, you will also like..” I saw this, and there was no indication of whether it was the first, third or seventh in the series.

So I looked it up. Turns out The Cereal Murders was the third in the series. I remembered this book from a previous encounter: I was in the basement of Powell Books in Hyde Park Chicago (a marvelous used book store: I recommend it. It seems to go on forever) looking for inexpensive things to read, and saw this on a shelf. I contemplated it because the cover appealed to me, but I wasn’t really into mysteries at the time, and put it back.

I was reminded of that when I was on the library website, and decided to download the book. After all, it was only third in the series, that wasn’t so bad.

It’s an audiobook. (I apologize to those of you who don’t consider listening to audiobooks as “reading” - it’s really my only option at work, since if I sat there at the computer with a novel in hand my bosses might get suspicious). The thing about audiobooks is, I have begun to be of the notion that a lot of how much one enjoys an audiobook is due to how good the reader is. If the reader doesn’t quite work for you, it winds up being very distracting from the book. On a recent audiobook, I was distracted the every time she tried to do a “male” voice. All her “men” sounded exactly the same - because it was just her, the reader, doing a gruff, gravelly voice. Well, not all men are gruff and gravelly.

However, the reader for this book was very good. She didn’t try to “sound like” a man when she read the male parts - she just changed her tone or inflection, which worked beautifully. The only part where I was distracted by the author herself was when she had to re-enact someone’s scream and death gurgle (which she did quite well, I might add. It did make me laugh, but just because it was unexpected)… but, if that’s how it was written, that’s how she had to do it, so I don’t fault her that one.

Anyways, I suppose I’d better talk about the book itself. I enjoyed it! It’s the story of a caterer who becomes involved with a bizarre higher-education-related murder when, at an event she is catering, she finds the dead body of the valedictorian. Our heroine is Goldy Bear (yeah, yeah, perhaps the naming of characters in the book didn’t always work for me, but what can you say? That’s a minor issue), and the story is told from her viewpoint, first person (which helped the audiobook, I might add). The mystery was enough a focal-point of the story that I didn’t spend a whole lot of time wondering when she was going to get back to mystery solving… And the climax of the book was the solving of the mystery, and it was exciting. Although perhaps I wasn’t paying as much attention to the mystery element as I should have because I was distracted by another element.

Our heroine is a caterer, and spends the majority of the book talking about food. Manicotti, extreme nachos, chocolate dipped biscotti, slices of sourdough bread slathered with pesto… *Passes out, revives self several minutes later and goes on.* I was sitting there at work listening to this book and literally salivating. Now, I’m not sure how it would have come across if I’d read the book: there’s a certain amount of your reaction which is dictated by a reader when you listen to the audiobook rather than reading the novel itself. It could be she just made it all sound really good with her tone and inflection. But I can say this: I wanted to go home and cook. As an added bonus, this book includes the actual recipies for the most prominent foods mentioned. I didn’t listen to them (honestly, what fun is listening to a recipe? “Two cups flour. Two teaspoons cinnamon. One teaspoon sugar…”) - but now I want to buy (or bookmooch, or library) a copy so that I can check those recipes out.

So if you like food and enjoy cooking and reading mysteries, I can recommend this novel. I finished it at work today and promptly came home and made Alfredo pasta from scratch, and served it over some store-bought noodles that my Mother assured me were almost as good as “home made” - and they were. All and all, today brought both good reading and eating experiences. — Mrs. Hall

After that particularly heavy book last book, I definitely felt that something lighter was in order for my next reading experience.

But I didn’t put a whole lot of thought into it. On the way out the door, I wound up snatching the first thing off the shelf that I hadn’t already read all the way through - Myths to Live By by Joseph Campbell.

I haven’t read this book all the way through before (despite starting to do so once or twice) because the beginning of this book appears to be simply a rant against religion. All religions. The Bible, the Koran, the Vedas and everything:  apparently totally made up and fakey with no basis at all in fact and people who believe in them are being primitive and stupid and holding back progress (according to Joseph Campbell).

Hence the fact that when trying to read this book in the past, I usually put it down after the first couple pages. I mean, why on earth would I want to read a book that literally calls me stupid? It would be one thing if it were even decent arguments against religion (if there is such a thing); instead, it’s simply “we haven’t found  archaeological evidence for such-and-such at this point; therefore, such-and-such never happened.”(Ruling out any future archaeological discoveries, of course. And let’s not even discuss the question of whether consensus on world events between wholly unrelated cultures — such as the Israelites and the American Indians — is a form of evidence. But that’s getting into Velikovskian territory: Velikovsky was more or less the Anti-Campbell in this respect, and that’s a whole other story…)

Mr. Campbell obviously lived in a much simpler world. (A world where my father, as a teenager consulting his high school guidance counselor, was told that there was no point in studying to become a paleontologist because “all the dinosaur bones have been dug up already.”) They hadn’t found hard evidence yet, so it didn’t happen. He doesn’t even take into account that some so-called “myths” had actually been at least partially substantiated by archaeological finds even at the time of the publication of this book (I’m thinking in particular of how stories about Troy were considered mythic… until they found evidence of Troy). And let’s just ignore all the interesting findings in the field of Biblical Archaeology in the last forty years. A literal reading of the Bible is silly to Mr. Campbell (how could Noah possibly have fit two of ALL THE ANIMALS IN THE WORLD onto a boat?? PSHAW! A child could see through that one…) so it’s all completely false. Yes, Mr. Campbell. You sure got me on that one. Boy, is my face red.

On this reading, I was determined to get past all this stuff in the first couple pages. Once I read on, past the section where Mr. Campbell is simply bad-mouthing Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists and every other religion under the sun, I got to his best known thesis: “What I would suggest is that by comparing a number [of myths] from different traditions, one might arrive at an understanding of their force, their source and possible sense. For they are not historical. …They speak, therefore, not of outside events but of themes of the imagination. And since they exhibit features that are actually universal, they must in some way represent features of our general racial imagination, permanent features of our human spirit - or, as we say today, of the psyche… about which, in fact, it will be necessary for us to know if our conscious minds are to be kept in touch with our own most secret, motivating depths”(p.24).

This is important, as he points out earlier, because apparently even though all religious and myths stories can “no longer be taken seriously by anyone with even a kindergarten education” (p.8), “in this there is serious danger. For… such literally read symbolic forms have always been - and still are, in fact - the supports of civilizations, the supports of their moral orders… With the loss of them there follows uncertainty, disequilibrium… there is nothing secure to hold on to, no moral law… there is everywhere in the civilized world  a rapidly rising incidence of vice and crime, mental disorders, suicides and dope addictions, shattered homes, impudent children, violence, murder and despair” (p. 9).

So, in short, religion is totally false… but knowing about it without believing it’s true, simply looking to it for its deeper psychological meanings, somehow keeps us from becoming dope addicts. (He does not explain why, if all religion is false, we should care whether or not we become dope addicts or not. There is no reason on earth why we should try to live good lives or be nice to each other if God doesn’t exist, which is of course a key flaw in the reasoning of those who would “evangelize” for Atheism. But, again, I’m digressing!)

He then analyzes several similar myths from different regions and says what they might say about the human psyche. Now, this is very interesting stuff; I have always been interested in both mythology and this form of reading between the lines for a deeper human meaning.

But, as you’ve probably guessed from my comments, I’m rather critical of his outright dismissal of a factual basis for religion and mythology. Can’t Jesus have existed and his story mean something symbolically to the innermost part of your brain?

The answer, of course, is that it can. The essence of Campbell’s theory - that mythological and religious stories have important meaning for the human psyche - totally works (and indeed, only has relevance) if there is factual and/or truthful underpinning for the stories in question.

And so, I’m going to make a concerted attempt to finish this book. Hopefully now I’ve gotten past the worst of his religion-bashing and am into the part that holds interest for me: comparative mythology.  This field really does fascinate me. And hopefully it’s not outright boring for you either, because if I do finish this book I will probably be discussing it again at some length. — Mrs. Hall

Now, if like me you were otherwise occupied in 2006 (we were completely tied up in our own problems at the time and not watching the news) you may have missed the incident related in Holding Fast: The Story of the Mt. Hood Tragedy. Three climbers became trapped on Mt. Hood and there was an intensive search for them, hoping to find them while they were still alive.

It didn’t work out that way.

This book was written by the widow of Kelly James, the man whose body was the first to be found. The second wife of Mr. James, Karen James relates how she met Kelly, their seemingly charmed relationship, their professional successes and Kelly’s hobby of climbing - and how it all led to that fateful day that he didn’t come home. Then she discusses the details of the incident itself, and its aftermath.

It’s somewhat hard to be objective about this book and discuss it from a reviewer’s standpoint because I found it so emotionally-charged. Plus, how do you criticize a woman discussing her husband’s death? Is there any way to discuss possible faults of this book without being a complete and utter jerk?

Let me try.

As I said, this book is so emotionally charged that it’s hard for me to get perspective on it. It’s very painful to read. I’m not saying that as a criticism of the style or technique of the writing - I’m saying that the story itself is painful. As a wife one of my greatest fears is the death of my husband; this story is all about that fear realized in one of the most horrible ways possible. In that aspect, the book is truly heart-wrenching and sickening. Instead of watching her writing style and structure, I was continually putting myself in her place - which I suppose actually is the mark of a well-written book.

Besides discussing the incident itself, the book is also about how Karen’s faith saw her through this difficult time and how she dealt with the tragedy. A network of good friends, supportive family - and deep personal faith - are what kept her going through the darkest times up until now, roughly two years later.

This brings me to a criticism of the book: I feel that this book may have been written a bit soon. Not that she hasn’t dealt admirably with the situation - but the tragedy only took place two years ago. Less than that, even. I think this book might have had a more fully fleshed-out feeling if the authoress had waited five, maybe ten years before writing it. A scant year and a half later, this book is more part of the healing process than a objective description of it.

Not to say that she doesn’t share some important insights about the nature of grief and how faith has carried her through the situation. However, the book has something of the air of an unfinished story, like an autobiography written by a thirty year-old. Yes, the stated focus of the book - the finding of Kelly, the initial grief and recovery of his family - is told. But this book is predominantly about Karen James’s grief and recovery; barely a year and a half later, although her faith has strengthened and the passage of time has somewhat softened her pain, it still has the feeling of an open wound. I would like to know what her perspective on faith and grief are in five years - or ten. I have a feeling it would be totally different. (Not opposite; just different.)

If you were one of the millions who was praying for the Mt. Hood climbers while the tragedy was unfolding, you may want to read this book. If you are looking for books about grief and faith, this would also be another book to examine. And I didn’t finish it feeling wretched as I thought I would - I felt somewhat uplifted. However, I would like to recommend that the publisher consider adding an afterword from the authoress five years down the line so that this story will have a fuller sense of completion. And that’s all I have to say about that. — Mrs. Hall