What We're Reading Wednesday: End of the Road

I have been so blessed in the past year or so (well, really in the past 55 years or so--but I digress).  In the days, weeks, and months following the publication of my novel Finding Grace, I have met--both on-line and in person--some of the most wonderful people, among them fellow writers who have been so incredibly kind and generous.  I have been humbled, buoyed, moved to tears--if there's an emotion to have, I've probably had it--by the things they have done to help me get the word out about my book.

Trying to promote and market a novel written by an unknown author and published by a small Catholic publishing house is no easy task; but it sure is a heck of a lot easier when you have friends in your corner who post reviews of your book on Amazon, or on their blogs and websites; or who send you Facebook messages out of the blue, filled with encouraging words; or who pass your book on to family members and friends when they're finished with it themselves.  (More than sales, even, I am interested in readers!)  There are some special people who have gone above and beyond to offer whatever support they can, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to properly express how grateful I am for the gift of their friendship. 

Among the long list of people who have been so wonderful to me are three Catholic authors: Ellen Gable Hrkach (whom I had the pleasure to meet, finally, in August, at the Catholic Writers Guild Conference), Therese Heckenkamp (whom I haven't met--yet!--but who was the first person to take a chance on my book and list it on her Catholic-Fiction.com website), and Amy M. Bennett (who has been my e-buddy/Facebook friend ever since she read Finding Grace, on Therese Heckenkamp's recommendation, and contacted me afterward, and whom I hope to meet one day).  I have read books written by all three of these women, and I thought I'd use the WWRW forum to spread the word about the good work they are doing by writing clean, engaging fiction that both entertains and inspires.  This Wednesday, it is my pleasure to share a recent review I wrote for Amy M. Bennett's murder mystery/suspense novel,  End of the Road.

 

   

Laura Pearl's review

Nov 09, 13  ·                                    

 5 of 5 stars           

                       

I just finished reading this terrific, engaging, page-turner of a mystery/suspense debut novel by Amy M. Bennett--and it left me thirsting for a sequel!

Corrie Black, the beautiful, spunky, raven-haired owner of Black Horse Campground (which she has been running on her own since the death of her beloved father, Billy Black Horse), is used to peaceful summers in fictional Bonney County, NM, surrounded by a group of loyal longtime friends and a collection of repeat customers who have become almost like family to her. She is shocked when Marvin Landry, who has been vacationing at the campground for many years with his wife Betty, is shot in his RV--in cold blood, in broad daylight. Marvin seems to be the most unlikely victim of such a crime; and thus begins an investigation into this bizarre murder, led by Corrie's childhood friend and former flame, a great-looking man of few words named Sheriff Rick Sutton. One prime suspect emerges right away: a handsome, mysterious, and secretive stranger named J.D. Wilder, who just so happens to have pulled into the campground on his Harley under the cover of darkness--the very night before the murder.

That's all I'm going to give you in the way of details, because I don't want to spoil the plot for you. But I will say that although the "who-done-it?" genre is not one that I'm normally drawn to, Bennett has made a convert out of me. "Was it J.D.?" I kept wondering. "And if not him--then WHO?"

But even without the attention-grabbing murder mystery at the heart of this story, I would have wanted to keep reading, if only for the enjoyment of Bennett's writing style and her excellent character development. Not to mention the fact that there is an intriguing love triangle for all of us hopeless romantics. Corrie can't help but have feelings for both Rick, who's always been her rock, and J.D., who makes her heart skip a beat; they are both very attractive, and they are both real men in the best possible sense--brave, strong, and chivalrous.

For a Catholic reader, it was heartening to see that Bennett did not hesitate to include her main characters' devotion to the Catholic Faith in the book, simply by mentioning that the workers at the campground fill in for one another on the weekends for short spells so that everyone has the opportunity to get to Mass. Religion is so often denigrated in modern fiction, and authors so often take pains to make sure readers know that their characters either have no religious affiliation or don't believe in God at all; thus, I found the simple references to Mass-going utterly refreshing.

Amy M. Bennett is a talented writer who won the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) contest in 2005. End of the Road actually started out as a 2009 NaNoWriMo project and was completed two years later. It was the winner of the 2012 Dark Oak Mystery Contest, and I can surely understand why. It is a winner.

Although the mystery of Marvin's murder was solved by the end of this book, the love triangle wasn't--I hope that sequel's coming, Amy.

Highly recommended!   

P.S.  Coming in future WWRW posts: reviews of Therese Heckenkamp's Frozen Footprints and Ellen Gable Hrkach's In Name Only.

P.P.S. Don't forget to check in at Jessica's for more book talk.



Love Thee, Notre Dame

At the end of October my husband and I traveled from our home in New England out to Colorado, for a visit with our oldest son and his family.  While we were at it, we thought we’d kill two birds with one stone and watch one of Notre Dame’s contests on the road (after making it out to South Bend three times already this season to see the Irish play on their home turf).

About a half-hour after Notre Dame’s 45-10 victory over the United States Air Force Academy that Saturday afternoon, we attended an anticipated Mass.  It was held in a large heated tent on the academy’s grounds, not far from the Falcons’ football stadium.  We are generally not fans of either outdoor Masses or anticipated ones, preferring to attend Sunday morning Masses inside churches.  Especially churches as beautiful as the Basilica of the Sacred Heart on the Notre Dame campus, when we’re lucky enough to make that happen.

This cell phone photo can't begin to do the Basilica's breathtaking ceiling justice.

But since my husband had to catch a couple of connecting flights the next day to get home in time for work on Monday, we decided that we should take advantage of this conveniently-timed Mass that the Notre Dame Club of Colorado Springs had taken pains to provide for any Catholic football fans who might be in the same boat we were that Saturday.  We would never fall back on the “traveler’s dispensation,” except in the most dire and extreme of circumstances, and had been working on finding a church that would offer the earliest possible Mass the next morning; but there was no doubt that this Mass that took place a stone’s throw from the stadium right after the game ended made things a whole lot easier for us that weekend, Mass planning-wise.

The tent was jam-packed with mostly Notre Dame folks, all sporting navy blue, gold, and Kelly green garb.  Just about every article of clothing I saw in that tent—t-shirts, hoodies, parkas, baseball caps, knit hats, gloves, scarves, pants, and even sneakers—was embroidered or silk-screened with leprechauns, shamrocks, or the familiar interlocking N and D.  If you’re a lover of Notre Dame (which our family most definitely is, and then some!), then the Irish-themed congregation that was huddled against the cold under a tent that night was a sight for sore eyes.

A table draped with a dark green damask tablecloth served as an altar, and upon it stood a large golden crucifix.  The priest was very holy and reverent.  The Notre Dame Club members who assisted him were obviously very faith-filled and dedicated.  A young man served as cantor, leading the rest of us in traditional hymns near and dear to any Catholic’s heart.  It was all very beautiful, and I was moved more than I ever thought I would be—surprisingly so.

We arrived early, as they were setting up for Mass.

I was sitting in a tent that had been set up on packed dirt and grass, not in a glorious church with light streaming through its stained-glass windows; yet that night, that tent felt like a cathedral.  And not once, but two or three times—as I sat in my metal folding chair next to my husband, surrounded by faithful Catholics who obviously know that Notre Dame is about so much more than just football, listening to the familiar words of the liturgy—my eyes filled with tears.  My heart was bursting with such warmth and love, contemplating the dedication of those hundreds of fans, who could have rushed out to eat a restaurant dinner or continued the tailgate cook-outs they’d begun before the game…but instead, had rushed to a huge white tent, a temporary House of the Lord, to participate in the un-bloody re-enactment of Christ’s great Sacrifice on the Cross.

This experience, in a nutshell, tells the story of how Notre Dame gets so much right.  The school has been chastised, and rightly so, for some of the mistakes she has made.  When the administration invited the most pro-abortion president in the history of the United States to be the keynote speaker at the 2009 commencement ceremony (and conferred an honorary degree from the university upon him to boot), many of Notre Dame’s most dyed-in-the-wool supporters felt betrayed.  My husband and I were affected by that poor choice in a deeply personal way, because our third oldest son graduated that year.  We were watching the whole scandal unfold, up-close.  We were there in the Joyce Center when the president gave his speech, and our hearts were heavy indeed.  We would have skipped out on it altogether, but our beloved middle son—of whom we were very proud—had worked hard for four years to earn the right to wear a cap and gown that day, and for his sake we weren’t going to miss that.  But for a while afterward, we wondered if Notre Dame was heading in a direction that would lead us to cancel our support of an institution that has been so special to so many members of the Pearl family.

Few earthly institutions are perfect, however, because the human beings who run them are inherently flawed, born as they are with the stain of Original Sin.  And I’ll tell you, that Mass on the USAFA campus reminded me of why I love Notre Dame as much as I do, even though I was never a student there myself.  That Mass was just one example of how Notre Dame gets it right more often than not.  The weekend would not have been complete for Catholic Irish fans solely due to a resounding win on the gridiron; it would only be complete if it also included the opportunity to fulfill our Sunday obligation and receive the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist.  It did not surprise my husband and me at all when our son told us that the local chapter of the Notre Dame Club had scheduled this Mass.  That’s the sort of thing you come to expect when you’ve spent any time at all on the Notre Dame campus, or with Notre Dame alumni and fans.

If you are a Catholic parent and you want your child to attend a college where he will have absolutely no problem finding a convenient time or place to attend Sunday Mass (and plenty of like-minded students who will attend with him), there is no better place on God’s green earth than the Notre Dame campus.  Every single dorm holds a Sunday Mass in its chapel--some of them as late as 10:00 p.m., for those students who may have been traveling that day or who sleep through their alarms in the morning.  The Basilica has a full schedule of Masses, including anticipated Masses planned around football games on fall Saturdays.  Everywhere you look as you walk around that beautiful slice of Heaven in Indiana, there are many reminders of its Catholicity.  My goodness, have you been to the Grotto, a faithful replica of the original one at Lourdes?  Your soul can’t help but be touched there.  And of course the most iconic image of all is the statue of Mary, Notre Dame (which of course means “Our Lady,” in French), standing there on top of that gleaming dome, right in the heart of the campus named for Her.  That’s what it’s all about, people: it’s about providing an education that is not only academically challenging, but informed by and irrevocably tied to the Catholic Faith.  Football is only a small part of Notre Dame’s raison d’etre.  And national championships are certainly not the most important items on the list of things she’ll fight for.

Football weekend in 2002, when our oldest son was a freshman at ND.

My husband’s youngest brother (ND Class of 1992) has a good friend who didn’t grow up in South Bend, but settled there after graduation and still calls it home.  We saw this family friend earlier in the season at a football weekend get-together, and he described living in close proximity to his alma mater in this way: “It’s like living in a Catholic Disneyland.”  I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty ideal to my hubby and me.

Not that long ago, our New England town boasted three thriving Catholic parishes; but due to decreased vocations and a shortage of available priests to serve as pastors, these have now been combined into one large parish.  We wonder what will happen if this newly-formed parish ever has to close its doors.  And then we think about the one place we know of that always seems to have not just enough, but more than enough, priests to serve the needs of its faithful: our dear Notre Dame (a.k.a.—“Catholic Disneyland”).  Every time we attend a special Mass there, whether for a freshman orientation, a Junior Parents Weekend, or a graduation, the altar is filled with concelebrating priests.  One day, we just might have to relocate to South Bend, if only to be assured that we will never have to worry about priest shortages.  Yes indeed, we just might have to retire near that special place where Our Lady watches over all from Her perch atop a dome of gold.

My soon-to-be second daughter-in-law snapped this photo.  I think it's exquisite.

There was a bit of a brouhaha not long ago, when Coach Brian Kelly announced that his team would no longer stand facing the student section of the stadium—after losses, that is—to join their friends and classmates in singing the school’s Alma Mater, “Notre Dame, Our Mother.”  The practice of having the team head over to sing the Alma Mater along with their most ardent supporters—those ever-faithful student-fans--after every home game, win or lose, was begun under former Coach Charlie Weis.  Many students and alumni were understandably upset by Kelly’s change in policy, because the Alma Mater is not just a run-of-the-mill secular fight song.  It is in fact a prayer to Our Lady, who watches over the university named for Her, and whom we should invoke in good times and in bad…not only when celebrating our victories, but maybe even more importantly when striving to deal graciously and bravely with our defeats.  The song that the students sing (along with so many other loyal fans in the stands) at the end of each game, as they sway back and forth with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, is not sung in praise of a mere academic institution or a popular football program, no matter how storied; it is sung in praise of and with love for the most holy Mother of God.

Notre Dame, Our Mother [Alma Mater]

Notre Dame, our Mother
Tender, strong and true
Proudly in the heavens,
Gleams thy gold and blue.

Glory's mantle cloaks thee
Golden is thy fame,
And our hearts forever,
Praise thee, Notre Dame.

And our hearts forever,
Love thee, Notre Dame.

Every time my husband hears this song, he gets choked up and his eyes fill with tears.  And trust me, you don’t need to have graduated from Notre Dame to experience that very same reaction.

Love thee, Notre Dame.  Forever and ever.  Amen.

Sporting blue and gold--of course!--during one of our recent trips to one of my favorite places.

Written by the wife of an alumnus (Class of 1980), as well as the mother of three alumni sons (2006, 2009, and 2010), one son who spent two of his undergraduate years matriculating at Our Lady's university, and another son who is slated to graduate in 2015.

Happy Veterans Day (and a Movie Recommendation)

On this day when we remember all the brave men and women in uniform who selflessly serve the United States of America--and even sometimes make the ultimate sacrifice, giving their lives for the sake of their country and its citizens--I thought I'd share this picture of some fine upstanding future Army officers.

These three boys are Army ROTC cadets who are undergrads at the University of Notre Dame--proud members of the Fighting Irish Battalion that trains there on campus.  They signed up, they gave their pledge,  knowing that in the years after graduation, they will have to put the training they've received into practice in the real world as leaders in the US Army.  They may one day be called to deploy to dangerous regions all over the globe and be separated from their loved ones for months and months at a time, and yet they wanted to sign up anyway.  God bless them, and all the others like them.

That tall, handsome cadet in the middle?  That one is my baby.

On Friday, my husband and I went on a spur-of-the-moment date, and we had a late lunch out at Uno's, followed by an early evening matinee.  We decided to see the movie "Captain Phillips," intrigued because it was based upon true events that we can remember watching as they unfolded in real time on the news.  It tells the story of the 2009 hijacking of a US merchant ship called the Maersk Alabama by a small band of Somali pirates.  The ship's captain, a mild-mannered VT native named Rich Phillips, ends up being taken hostage by the pirates aboard one of the ship's tiny lifeboats.  With a story like that (not to mention the talented and always watchable Tom Hanks in the title role), we figured it would be an edge-of-your-seat, action-packed thrill ride.  We were not disappointed.

Toward the end of the movie, just as the action was reaching a climax and it seemed that Captain Phillips would never come out of his horrifying ordeal alive, my eyes filled with tears.  But they were not tears of pity for this poor innocent American (whose ship, ironically, was carrying among other things some aid in the form of food and water for the people of Somalia); in part they were, but not totally.  I mean, you would have to have a pretty hard heart not to find yourself immensely moved by the captain's bravery and decency.  This ordinary-turned-extraordinary man never lost his humanity, no matter how brutally he was treated--indeed, his actions toward his kidnappers, despite their brutality toward him, were heroic and even at times saintly.  But the thing that really got the waterworks going was the sight of three US Navy ships--three giant ships!--and a Navy Seal team, rushing to the scene and carefully coordinating a rescue plan, all to save the life of a single American soul.  All those resources were called upon--the very best the US military has to offer--to save one man's life.  The realization that that is what we do, what we always do--that we never leave one of ours behind, that we risk life and limb for our countrymen in harm's way--is what brought tears to my eyes.

What I took away from "Captain Phillips" is this: OUR MILITARY IS AWESOME!  OUR COUNTRY IS AWESOME!  WHERE ELSE IN THE WORLD WOULD SO MUCH MONEY BE SPENT, SO MANY ASSETS BE DEPLOYED...ALL FOR THE SAKE OF ONE MAN?

Nowhere, that's where.  And when the US military is called upon to get a job done--look out, bad guys.

I repeat: OUR MILITARY IS AWESOME!

HAPPY VETERANS DAY, TO ALL THOSE WHO SERVE OR HAVE SERVED (OR WHO HAVE PLEDGED TO ONE DAY SERVE) THIS COUNTRY.  WE SALUTE YOU!

An Ode to a Favorite Teacher

Our second oldest son is living with us for the year.  He's trying to combine paying for a new car with putting some money away--something that would have been difficult to do on his salary, when you factor in rent and all the other usual living expenses.  We were more than happy to open up the empty nest and let him live at home for a while, a temporary arrangement that benefits my husband and me as much as it does him.  (He's a hilarious guy and a devoted son, and just an all-around pleasure to have around.)

Our boy took a fifth year, after earning his undergraduate degree, in order to get his master's.  He's well-educated, extremely intelligent, and very good at what he does.  He has one of the noblest professions there is in all the world.  But his paycheck does not reflect the importance of the job he is doing every day.

Have you guessed yet that he is a teacher?  (You might already know this, because I've blogged about him before.)

Our son is in his third year of teaching math at a public high school about an hour from where we live.  He spent the first two years teaching mostly lower-level courses, endeavoring to get the kids who struggle and just don't "get" math to understand (and maybe even enjoy...sort of!) the subject matter.  He was very good at that.  This year, he's teaching honors courses, and he was concerned that because he likes making the light go on for those kids who hate and/or just can't grasp math, he might not enjoy teaching the more academically gifted kids.  But he does, and he's good at that, too.  He uses humor in his dealings with his students and they think Mr. Pearl is oh-so-funny; but at the same time, they know he's anything but a pushover and they better do the work.

I don't know if it's possible to be prouder than we are of our boy, who is dedicated to his profession vocation (and to the kids whose lives he has the ability to affect in a big way).  He knew going in that it's a tough job, one that will never make him a rich man, and he was ready for that.  But as much as he loves the career choice he's made, there are those days when the stresses mount and it's easy to think, "This job is for the birds--especially when it pays peanuts!"

And on days like that, it's sure nice to hear that what you're doing is making a difference.

Yesterday my son texted me not long after he'd arrived at school to tell me that in homeroom that morning, one of the other teachers had made his kids each write a letter to their favorite teacher.  One of the girls our son has in math class this year made him a very sweet card, and he included a couple of iPhone pictures he'd taken of it and sent them along with the text...because he knows his mom--he knows she LIVES for this stuff.  And she also lives to share it on her blog.  So I give you--drumroll, please!--this priceless ode to Mr. Pearl.  (I've scribbled the student's name out, using a handy Microsoft program called "paint"--perhaps you've heard of it?--for privacy's sake.)


Who in the world hearts math?  My son's students, that's who.



These are just the kind of words every teacher hopes to hear one day, I'm sure. 
And he's only in his third year of teaching!

Brag session over (for now).  Class dismissed.  TGIF!  Have a great weekend!

Small Successes to Report This Thursday

Sometimes it's too easy to view every small failure (and we're human, so there sure are lots of them) as a mountain and every small success as a molehill.  That's why I was glad to see this link-up at CatholicMom.com, one of my favorite websites.  It celebrates the small successes that don't seem all that momentous at the time but can be true game-changers, and it's a reminder of that pithy, oft-quoted saying, "life is not a sprint, it's a marathon."  (Although holy moly,  the last thing I would ever, ever, EVER do is sign up to run a marathon, so I don't really like my life being compared to one!)

I guess I tend to dwell on my failures more than I do on my successes, because when I sat down to write this post I had to think really, really hard about the events of the past week in order to come up with three small successes to share.  And just the fact that it wasn't that easy to do makes me realize that this link-up might be a good exercise for me.  Good for my outlook and good for my soul.  So here goes.

-1-

Okay this is kind of funny: I was sitting at my laptop, trying to come up with success #1 and getting stumped, so I clicked on over to the CatholicMom.com site to see if the link-up had gone live yet...and when I did, I saw that the article I submitted titled "Three Reasons I Love CatholicMatch.com" had been published yesterday!  I didn't know when it was going to be posted on the site, so it was a wonderful surprise.

Ever since the first of my five sons was born in 1983, I've been a stay-at-home-mom; the only real career aspiration I've ever had, from the time I was a young bookworm in love with the written word, was to be a writer--which always seemed like an unattainable, pipe dreamy sort of a thing. But here I am, a writer.  (And coincidentally, the article is about three successes, but they're rather huge ones: three successful on-line matches that produced three beautiful Catholic couples.)

-2-



I just found out that the flower girl dress I made for my future daughter-in-law's cousin's young daughter fits her.   Woo hoo--success!  I had to hope that the size 6 pattern I used to make the dress for this little girl--who lives down South and whom I've never laid eyes on in person--would fit the same way the off-the-rack size 6 she normally wears fits...and thanks be to God, it does.  (Phew!)  When I mailed the ivory satin frock off to her, I was so worried--especially since the wedding is now exactly one month away, and if it wasn't a good fit, that wouldn't give me much time to either do alterations on that one or just stitch up a new one.  I was able to bring a completed dress out to CO with me when my husband and I visited our wee granddaughters recently, so I knew that the twins' dresses fit them; but until today I didn't know about flower girl #3's dress.  So life is good.

When my son's soon-to-be bride asked me, shortly after their engagement back in April, if I would be willing to make these dresses, I was thrilled at the prospect--but I am now exhaling a major sigh of relief.  (Three flower girl dresses that fit: that's three darling small successes right there.)

-3- 

Successes #1 and #2 each contained three for the price of one, so I think I should be done here.  But let me see, is there anything else I can tell you about?  Well, this week I came to the realization that I might be making some progress in overcoming my vanity.

When I had to have the two back molars removed on the upper right side of my jaw this past summer (due to some weirdly twisted roots and root canals that had seemed to fix the problem for a while, but were now failing), like a great big baby I cried tears over the loss of those teeth.  I did not find out I'd contracted a serious disease.  I had not been given the awful news that I have cancer.  I merely had to have a couple of teeth extracted.  (I know--I am ashamed.)  But you see, it was a huge deal to me, because I saw that when I smiled really wide, or threw my head back in laughter, the gaping hole was extremely obvious.  It made me feel so ugly.  And so old.  And there was not going to be enough time to finish the process of getting an implant before my #3 son's wedding next month.  Woe is me.

On Monday, I had a metal "root" screwed into my jaw, which will one day hold a nice faux molar...but not in time for my son's big day.  So to tide me over, my dentist made me a clear plastic retainer that has a false tooth embedded in it.  The device is not all that noticeable, but it makes me lisp a little.  So my choice is to speak with a slight speech impediment throughout the wedding reception, or to expose the fact that I have a big black hole where my teeth should be.  It will be an excellent opportunity for me to practice humility.

You're probably asking where the success is in this story.  It's a small success, but I've finally achieved it: I've accepted the measly little cross I've been asked to carry.  And by the time I was sitting in the oral surgeon's chair on Monday as he drilled away at my jaw bone, I was finally at peace with the whole thing.  There were no silly tears this time--just a feeling of relief that modern dentistry has an answer for pretty much every situation.

Baby steps, right?  It's not a sprint.

Now if you head on over and check out this post on the CatholicMom.com website, you can read about the small successes others are having and let their stories serve to inspire you in your daily life.



WWRW: Confessions of an Easy Grader, and Two Recommendations

I have always been the type who can't stand the idea of hurting someone's feelings.  Not that I never have--I'm not that good, unfortunately.  But I try so hard not to do or say the kinds of things that will inflict pain on anyone.  Even having to discipline my boys when they were behaving like young hooligans was tough for me, as much as they might have needed it.

Perhaps, I've been wondering lately, that makes me the wrong type of person to be a book reviewer.

When I have to choose the number of stars I'll give a book, whether on Goodreads, Amazon, or CatholicFiction.net, I almost always give the maximum allowed.  I don't know if that's because I really think the books I read for review are that good, or that as a published author I know how difficult it is to hear negative comments about your work; but there's a very good chance that I'm just an easy grader, and if so, my 5-star ratings are going to stop having any credibility.

Let me just confess something right here: I am a bit of a book snob.  I tend to favor the classics, or modern novels that are written with the same degree of literary prowess as the classics, over the popular mainstream fiction you'll find on the NY Times Bestseller list most of the time.  Nothing against Nicholas Sparks and Danielle Steele (whose books I've sampled) or Stephanie Meyer and J.K. Rowling* (whose books I have not--so I suppose I shouldn't judge), but that sort of fiction just doesn't do it for me.  What I really crave is writing that is so beautiful that I need to go back and read passages over, just because of the way the author put the words together.  I get that from some modern fiction, like Ian McEwan's Atonement and David Nicholls' One Day (and shocker--both books are WAY better than their movie adaptations, even though I liked the screen versions); those novels not only tell great stories, but they tell them with the most incredibly deft employment of the English language.  Those books are not just fiction; they are literature.  They feed something in me that a pedestrian romance novel just can't fill.  (La-di-DAH-di-dah.)

I do, however, want to lend whatever support I can to books that have strong Catholic/Christian content, books that have the power to inspire readers.  And I think sometimes I am so eager to spread the word that such books are being written, even in this God-less age of ours, that my tendency is to heap stars upon them.

Not long ago, I was reading Michelle Buckman's Death Panels: A Novel of Life, Liberty, and Faith.  It was definitely a good book, and I applaud Buckman for weaving this chilling cautionary tale which is so significant, given the age in which we live (but tough to read at times, given the Brave New World-esque subject matter).  I thought about giving it 5 stars on Goodreads, but then gave gave it a 4, because as good as it was, it did not affect me quite as profoundly as Brave New World, 1984, or The Lord of the World, all older works that deal with similar themes.  That was hard for me to do, because I've met Buckman in person, and she is not only an excellent writer, but a lovely woman.  But I cherished my 4-star Amazon review from Sarah Rheinard, and I think 4 out of 5 is still an awesome grade.  I did give Buckman's Rachel's Contrition 5 stars, because I thought it was exceptional.

This essay did not start out as a "What We're Reading Wednesday" post, but I just realized that I could recommend both Atonement and One Day here for ADULT Housewifespice readers.  They are not Catholic or even Christian in any overt way.  (I find there is such a dearth of fiction featuring characters with any sort of faith, don't you?)  But they both deal with sin and redemption, they both contain sweet love stories**, and they are both so well-written and so heartbreakingly, poignantly real.

I don't even know how many times I've read this hauntingly beautiful book already,
but I'm guessing about 6 or 7 times.  And I will read it again, I'm sure.

Among the many enthusiastic endorsements for this book is Tony Parsons' comment that "Every reader will fall in love with it.  And every writer will wish they had written it."  So true!  I just love Emma and Dex--you can't help but root for them.  (This is another book I've devoured multiple times, and I'll most definitely read it again.)



 Okay now, if you're up for more WWRW bookishness, head on over to Jessica's!

*There are some real Harry Potter fans in my family, who will probably tell me I'm out to lunch if they read this.

**Warning: The characters in both of these novels engage in sexual activity outside of marriage.  However, the scenes that deal with that are not so racy or numerous that they ruin the experience of reading either book.  In Atonement, there is only one such scene, and it's a tad embarrassing to read.  In One Day, Emma is lovable, but she is no saint, and it is obvious that the extremely flawed and commitment-phobic Dex is a "player"; but the author makes these things known without including much in the way of gratuitous details about their liaisons.  Sex is not the focus of these two novels at all, the way it is in many modern works of adult fiction.

Don't blink...

...or the next thing you know, they'll be asking for the car keys.

I read a lot of blogs written by young women who are raising middle-schoolers, kindergartners, toddlers, and babies.  Sometimes when I write posts about how fast it all goes by and how [sniff, sniff] I miss having all my boys living under this roof with me (and needing me the way they used to), now that they're grown up and all in their 20's...

Oh my gosh, hold the [cell] phone!  I just remembered: my oldest son just turned 30 a little over a week ago!!  Yes, that just happened.  I am not making that up.  Hard to believe.

Anyway, sometimes when I write my tear-jerky, poignant posts--like this one, for instance--about how very, very fast your kids will go and grow up on you (the audacity!), and how hard that is to deal with at times, young moms comment that they can't imagine the day when their kids will be old enough to date or to drive.  I was once like you, young moms.  There was a time when I could not imagine that such an inconceivable thing would ever happen.  My little boys were never going to grow up; no, they were not.

But it's funny how God does seem to prepare you for all the stages you'll go through with your kids.  Because when the day did come, in late August of 2000, that our oldest son was able to chauffeur three of his brothers to school (dropping the two younger ones, who were in junior high at the time, off at their Catholic grade school on the way to the Catholic high school where he and the next oldest brother were students), I didn't cry.  Instead, I ran into the house and broke out my camera, and I made them let me take a few pictures of them sitting in the parked car in the garage right before they took off--as excited about this milestone, practically, as I was when my oldest son took his first wobbly steps back in 1984.

First they learn to walk; then before you know it, they're driving themselves to school!

I was a little giddy as I snapped away, and as you can see, the ridiculousness of turning this simple carpool drive across town into a paparazzi-worthy event made the two older boys in front start to laugh--I mean, laugh really hard.  The two in the back seat just grinned patiently and indulgently.  I'm sure all four were thinking, "Mom is so ridiculous!  Why does she have to take pictures of everything?"  But I can tell you that I'm really happy I have these pictures now.

"Oh, my gosh...really, Mom?  Really?!"
"Stop laughing at me and buckle up!"



"How cute are you twinsies in your SMA garb, with your little matching white shirts and gray pants?"
"Can we just get a move-on?  This is stupid."

Someday, young mothers, when your babies are driving off on their own (and you are at once terrified of what could happen to them out there on the mean streets and relieved that you no longer have to provide a full-time taxi service for your family), you'll know exactly how this mother-turned-grandmother felt the day she took these photos.

It was sort of sad seeing our oldest son drive away with his brothers that day, and feeling all that control I thought I had--that ability to keep them safe, as long as either their father or I was sitting in the driver's seat--slip through my fingers; but it was wonderful, too (kind of like when we celebrated that 30th birthday recently). And it's all good--every single bittersweet phase they go through.  Even when it's not.  Just don't blink, or you might miss some of the good stuff.

(As a postscript to this story: my baby was starting second grade that year, and his school day began later than the others'...so my taxi service was still in demand for a while longer.  But boy, did having another licensed driver in the house lighten the load!)