Rejoice

It's been a very long time since I have made the space to sit and simply be. Be with God. Be with myself. Be with a book. During this pandemic, I have once again attempted to renew my soul via the written word. I can think of few better books to start such a journey than "Ladysitting", the poignant memoir of caregiving for an elderly relative written so sharply and clearly by Lorene Cary.

Ms Cary has led an illustrious career as a novelist and as founder of Art Sanctuary, an African-American arts and letters organization devoted to presenting regional and national talent in the literary, visual and performing arts. Ladysitting tells the story of her sometimes tempestuous relationship with her grandmother, for whom she was main caregiver for the last year of her life until she died at age 101.

The subject matter caught my attention because as a hospice chaplain, I meet so many caregivers. Indeed, many times my visits have been not for support to the patient, who is often past the point of intelligible conversation, but to the spouse, child or grandchild who is exhausted from caring for a person who has essentially become an adult-sized infant. I hear a lot of guilt, self-doubt and second guessing from people who rarely practice good self-care because all their attention is focused on the patient. Cary is remarkably vulnerable with the reader as she shares all this and more, during her stubborn Nana's willful journey from her own home in New Jersey to living with her granddaughter's family in Philadelphia to her last stop here, an in patient unit of a hospice

The humanity of Nana is drawn so clearly by Cary, that I felt as if I personally had been visiting and had come in contact with the feisty centenarian. Cary does not sugar coat her grandmother's person, a fact I appreciate. Nana comes across by turns as fiercely independent, a role model for strong women and a very self-centered manipulative person. In other words, a normal human being. Flawed and frustrating, just as are we all. It makes her even more real to the reader. So real for me that when Cary shares her grandmother's final moments, my eyes were wet.

Part of the reason I am drawn to hospice chaplaincy is the exquisite privilege of being part of another person's life at his or her most vulnerable - as this person makes the final journey from life toward death. "Ladysitting" offers a brief glimpse into the world I step into multiple times, with multiple families and situations, every week. I highly recommend it, not only as a good read but also as a fine tribute to an unforgettable grandmother.

A good idea gone south

I realize that, once again, it's been a long time since I've offered a review. Honestly, it's been quite a while since I've taken the time to sit down and just immerse myself in fiction. I decided over this summer that I would do so once again, when I saw a spot on my employer's homepage allowing employees to offer book reviews/recommendations.

"Into the Water" begins with the drowning of a local woman at a place by the river where many women, including a 15-year-old girl earlier in the summer, have gone to 'end it all'. But was it really suicide? Was it murder? And was the girl's death actually a murder rather than the suicide it was ruled? And why are the townspeople rather relieved, joyful even, that the woman has died? And what secrets are they all hiding? And why do they hear laughter when no one is there?

The book is described as a "addictive new novel of psychological suspense about the slipperiness of the truth". What it actually turns out to be is a hodgepodge of brief glimpses into the lives of the dozen or so characters we meet in the book. None is particularly deeply drawn, but what bothered me more is that none really has enough redeeming qualities to make the reader truly care about him or her and what happens. Reminiscent of the film "Dunkirk", the reality was greatly disappointing to my expectations.

I did read through the entire book, and was only mildly satisfied with the ending, which had several unexplained untied loose ends. I suppose if it had been shorter, I might feel less let down, but at nearly 400 pages it should have been more gripping.

Life is what happens when you're making other plans....aka my first book review

This is so typical of me; I write that I don't make resolutions because I tend not to keep them, yet I am going to change that and actually set the bar higher than I should. So of course, this blog has been dormant for its first 14 months.

Since I began it, I have moved from Los Angeles back to New Orleans and am starting all over again in a city that I used to call home. Most of my books, including "A Prayer for Owen Meany", are still in storage and will be sent here later this year. I have had to opt for other books with which to start this journey. It is very fitting that I found the first entirely by chance.

Prior to starting as a full time staff chaplain at a large hospital here, I was required to go through health services and have all manner of tests performed to ascertain that I'm healthy - flu shots, blood work, etc. While I was waiting to be called in to get my flu shot, I glanced over the waiting area and among the magazines scattered across the end table was a book with an eye-catching title: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. I read the brief plot synopsis on the back and was so intrigued that when my name was called, I surreptitiously grabbed the novel and took it with me.

Christopher John Francis Boone knows all the countries of the world and their capitals and every prime number up to 7,057. He relates well to animals but has no understanding of human emotions. He cannot stand to be touched. And he detests the color yellow. This is our brief outline of the 'author' of the book, a teenage boy getting ready to take his A-levels (as an American, I have only a limited understanding of these, which I presume are similar to the ACT and SAT that we struggle through over here in the US). In the first chapter (charmingly, the chapters all begin with sequential prime numbers, so don't be confused if you think you missed a few at the start) Christopher discovers that his neighbor's dog has been killed with a garden rake and he makes it his mission to find out whodunnit.

What I liked about the book is the absolute logic with which Christopher describes every thing he does and experiences; it is a fascinating glimpse into the world of one person who doesn't happen to be on the typical end of the human spectrum. It's a good thing to live outside the box we view as the only acceptable experience, if only for a brief period of time. Unfortunately, Christopher's tendency toward logic, detail and problem solving sometimes causes distractions for the reader. Perhaps this is part of author Mark Haddon's intent, as his protagonist, in describing his enjoyment of the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, points out that most good mysteries have a few red herrings/distractions thrown in.

The story takes some surprising turns that keep the reader turning the pages, but toward the end I feel as if the detail starts being dragged out a bit too much. Perhaps I'm impatient and waiting for a denouement? I am not the type to read the last page of a novel first to make certain it ends the way I want it to, but I do admit to reaching a point where I'm tired of anticipation and I want the finale.

The ending of this novel does not tie up everything nice and neat, which I like very much because as the protagonist himself understands in his own way, life is not fixed and tidy and cannot always be neatly tucked into a box. Despite the lack of a resolution to the major issue Christopher faces, he still manages to grasp on to what is the most important thing to learn through his entire investigation: that he can take chances in life and that he'll be okay.

I rarely make New Year's resolutions. I find them a waste of time, since they're largely forgotten by the first week in February. In addition, they tend to be things that are so grandiose that we couldn't possibly hope to keep them going. However, I find that much of the time I spend on the InterNet is not fruitful, so I thought that if I change that this year by starting a new habit AND blogging about it and inviting feedback/commentary, that in some way it would engender some good habits I can actually maintain.

I enjoy a good book and have been a member of book clubs in past years, but I've had difficulty finding one since moving to the San Fernando Valley area of Los Angeles. I thought, why not read a book on my own and blog about my impressions of it? Ask questions for discussion?

The goal I've set for myself is two novels every month. I've no particular preference for genres; fiction, nonfiction, short story collections and biography are all enjoyable to me. Hey, I may even read one of those "Dummies" series books (you know, 'Blogging for Dummies').

The first book to be reviewed (in the next week or two): A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving (most widely known as author of "The World According to Garp" and "Hotel New Hampshire"). Here is the text from the back cover:

"I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice—not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother's death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany."

In the summer of 1953, two eleven-year-old boys—best friends—are playing in a Little League baseball game in Gravesend, New Hampshire. One of the boys hits a foul ball that kills the other boy's mother. The boy who hits the ball doesn't believe in accidents; Owen Meany believes he is God's instrument. What happens to Owen, after that 1953 foul ball, is extraordinary.