Checking My Watch Every Two Minutes

Tags

fiction, Harold Camping, Humor, Johnny Depp, Literature, rapture, short stories

I don’t know about you, but here in the Peyton household, we could barely sleep last night. I mean, we are soooo excited.

First thing we did was take a shower–in the morning no less.

It was hard to decide what to wear. We couldn’t figure out if we should wear our “Sunday best” or just regular clothes. Heck we don’t know if our clothes will be coming with us.

We settled on dressing neatly and cleanly, but without too much fuss. I have been told that glorified bodies are not fat or thin so, heck my clothes might fall off. I clipped in a few safety pins just in case.

We bathed the dogs yesterday. Boy did they NOT like that. And Brandy is none too happy about the collar either, but we figured they should be leashed. I mean it’s likely to be pretty crowded at first, and we don’t want to be separated. The cats  have already been put in carriers. You know how they can tend to “disappear” at the last minute, and we don’t want to lose track of them either.

Pastor Harold Camping was none to informative frankly about the “little things”. I mean, I have no idea what the weather will be like. I assume there will be seasons, but I don’t know for sure. It seems God would not be unkind to all those snowboarders and NEVER let them have snow again. I’m taking a sweater, and hope that will be enough.

I can’t decide whether we should take a bible or not, and really don’t know which translation! I am torn between the New Revised Standard Version or The New Jerusalem. But the Contrarian (I guess I probably won’t be calling him THAT much longer) thinks we should take the good old KJV.

The whole idea of books is quite a problem. I just hate leaving mine behind. I suppose God has quite the library though, and so maybe it won’t be so bad. But I am fussy, and well, I can only borrow.

Which brings up the whole NFL thing. I mean the Contrarian is adamant that we request a mansion with NFL cable, so he can watch the Packer’s games. I keep reminding him of course that there won’t be anymore football to watch on TV. For heaven sakes, it stands to reason that MOST of the NFL players won’t be qualifyin’ and coming up with us. And I figure trying to play football in white robes is gonna be messy. Imagine all those grass stains?

Then of course, he reminded me that the same could be said of most of my favorite actors and such. No more Desperate Housewives! And of course, given what we read in the tabloids, most of them will be “left behind” as they say. (I been praying all day that God spares Johnny Depp for me!)

As I said, we didn’t sleep much last night. Had to umm, errr, well, there isn’t gonna be any more of THAT in heaven, or so I’ve been led to believe. That is a bit of a bummer. But the alternative as they also say, is, well, let’s not go there.

So far, we haven’t heard any news of earthquakes. They are supposed to start worldwide at 6 p.m. I thought that was local time, so I figured by now there would be reports of them from the east and of course seeing people flying up into the clouds. Maybe the unfortunates are too sad to relate that they’ve been left, or too busy dodging brimstone. No doubt we’ll find out everything as soon as we land.

I assume we’ll be loaded on busses and transported to our apartments. Truthfully, I’d rather have a yard. People who bring pets might get yards. That would be nice. Do animals poop in heaven? Now that’s a question isn’t it? I don’t rightly know. Do you?

I just want to make sure I get a really nice kitchen. I so love to cook, and can’t wait to make a nice paella. I sure hope we don’t have to eat a lot of ambrosia. I mean some is okay, but frankly I prefer chocolate chip cookies.

I’m also wondering when we meet all the “loved” ones who have passed ahead of us. I guess maybe our new “mansions” will have phone books and we can just look them up. Of course, it’s gonna be a bit messy, blending these two families. I wonder how the Contrarian’s dad will like mine? And His mom? How do they do that two husbandy thing I wonder? I plan on making a big old bowl of my prize-winning (well if I ever entered it, it would have won) potato salad. I wonder if they have charcoal? Maybe everyone uses gas grills?

Oh, whew, just about forgot to get my very favorite earrings! I This is so stressful! I mean, should we take a carry-on? Or would that now be a carry-up?

I really don’t know what kind of work we will be expected to do there. I mean I guess we’ll all just automatically “know” the bible, so I can hardly do my studies any more. Nurses and doctors and folks like that are no longer needed. What will they do? I guess I could work part-time at Burger King. I prefer Burger King to McDonald’s, in case someone is keeping track.

Do we get wings? Will we have replicators? I mean on the Enterprise, they really couldn’t do without them. I don’t think we should have to either.

Well, it’s getting on to the afternoon. We are watching some movies, just in case we can’t get our favorites at the heavenly Blockbuster.

Hey, after you get settled, (assuming you are saved of course), look us up. That’s Peyton with an E. And if we don’t hear from ya, well, ya know, we will feel bad. Ya probably won’t feel a thing, at first at least. There is that eternity thing unfortunately. Trust that we will feel bad for ya on the anniversary date March 21, 2011!

Take that Mayan wannabes!

Related articles

• I didn’t make the cut 😦 (prphtprstkng.wordpress.com)
• Before there was Harold Camping, there were the Millerites…. (shortformblog.tumblr.com)
• Harold Camping: Third time’s the charm (lunkiandsika.wordpress.com)
• Harold Camping Round-up (scotteriology.wordpress.com)
• Harold has provided himself with an out – an extended Rapture (iflizwerequeen.com)
• The End Of the World (tirelessthoughts.wordpress.com)

Truth or Consequences?

Tags

fiction, James Frey, Literature, Non-fiction

Okay, so yesterday’s post was a bit of fluffery. I admit that. But I do have an excuse.

You see, our television, only two years old, blew up. Suddenly, no picture and a thick white puff of smoke floated toward the ceiling. That can really put you off your feed.

Well, yesterday we went a television hunting, and this time for a shiny new flat screen. In anticipation of our move to New Mexico, we knew we weren’t gonna lug those old-fashioned behemoths around any more.

And we got more than we bargained for. Prices have come down considerably, and we have a nice 32″ beauty that had us oohing and ahhing last night. (We shall forget the cussing and gnashing of teeth as the Contrarian went through his usual, “I can do this without any stinkin’ directions” episode, before grabbing the manual and reading what plug goes where.

Anyway, I ran yesterday’s blog up quickly before we left. Truthfully, we do watch Survivor sometimes. We have skipped seasons entirely, and we have quit mid-season a few times, bored with the field of contestants or for some other reason. But truthfully (this becomes important in a minute) Rob Mariano is a favorite of mine and we enjoyed how he manipulated the newbies. A truer Svengali was never met, nor one with a cuter smile.

Anywho, I was back on the computer, doing e-mail stuff. The television in the office was on, as it always is, and Oprah was on, as alas she usually is, given that there is freakin’ nothing else on at that time of the afternoon. Phew. I catch a bit here and there, and mostly don’t watch.

Anywho, again, she had on this dude called James Frey, whose pic is above. He had written a book called “A Million Little Pieces” of which I had never heard. He was back on Oprah after a big kerfuffle about the book. Seems it was written as a memoir and was more fiction than true story. It seems that Ms. Winfrey had named it to her “Book Club” as a selection, the book sales had gone through the roof, when all this untruthiness had come about.

It is not clear who is mostly to blame for all this. Surely Mr. Frey was aware that he was portraying his bout with drugs, alcohol and crime by stretching some facts and making up some more. Were the publishers derelict in “investigating” the truth of his story? Was Ms. Winfrey’s staff similarly derelict in their checking out the book?

Whatever, Oprah had the man back on in part it seems to make some amends for what I am told was a thoroughly excoriating interview she had with Frey after the “hoax” was uncovered.

Part Two is on today, and I suspect I’ll pay a bit more attention, since there is much to contemplate here.

Frey read some folks like Faulkner, and decided that he wanted to write, to move people as he had been moved. With apparently not much of a background to draw from, he spent some years in pretty dire circumstances, while trying to learn to write.

I’m not defending him, nor condemning anyone either. He wrote a book, and a publisher wanted to publish it as a memoir.(Given that I know a few bloggers  who write beautifully but can’t get published, while a complete cypher of a human being named Snooki who is probably not as smart as a rock, can get published, I can understand the allure to Mr. Frey)  It sold lots of copies, and tens of thousands more after Oprah pushed it. She was moved by it and claimed everyone at Harpo was as well. Hundreds of testimonials were written. Addicts galore claimed that the book had been of great help to them.

After it was determined that Frey had inflated or simply made up some of the “facts” all hell broke loose. Oprah, as we have said, publicly whipped him. People sued, claiming “emotional pain and distress”.

It all comes down to this: Is there something intrinsically different in a memoir versus a work of fiction? I mean, is there something so wildly in opposite between an experience of the body and that of the mind? Is one less “real”? Is one less valid?

Frey was all he claimed, a drug addict and an alcoholic and a criminal, albeit a very petty one. Do those who were “helped” suddenly become less “helped” by the revelation that words and scenes were not necessarily actual?  I truly don’t know.

New writers are often advised to “write about what you know.” Certainly, if I am reading about the history of my country’s foundation, I want to know of the writer’s background. A degree in religious education, for instance, is a whole lot less persuasive than a doctorate in American history from Yale might be, especially if you the author are trying to convince me of a wildly new theory of how our country formed.

But, seriously in fiction, writers write about things they don’t know all the time. Colleen McCullough writes about ancient Rome, after writing about the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church for instance. So we know that good research can make up for a lot of lack of personal experience.

And no one claims Frey didn’t experience being all the things he wrote about. He embellished them, to be sure, but does that make his conclusions less valid?

Is there a firm line between memoir and fiction? Aren’t we always interpreting actual events through our own lenses? Aren’t we putting them together in our minds with other, recognized and not, “events”. Aren’t our visceral gut feelings responses to conscious and unconscious thoughts and remembrances?

Were those helped less helped? I suspect not.

What are your thoughts? How would you feel if what had been useful to you turned out in the end to be a hoax of sorts? Have you experienced something akin to this?

I confess to being perplexed on this one.

Related articles

• James Frey Back on ‘Oprah,’ Says He Doesn’t Respect Memoir Genre (VIDEO) (tvsquad.com)
• James Frey Describes 2006 Interview with Oprah as ‘Personal Car Crash’ (genzpad.com)
• The Man Who Knew Nothing About Memoir (brevity.wordpress.com)
• James Frey’s Rematch on The Oprah Winfrey Show (thedailybeast.com)

The Wacko Right Has Lost it’s Giblets

Tags

American History, Dream Act, fiction, food politics, free press, Gunter Grass, immigration, Korea, Media, Poetry, right wing wackos, Thanksgiving

The first couple  six times I read posts about this, I ignored it as the work of some nut case in Hoboken or Alabama. But then I started seeing more, and I realized that this issue has legs!

The wacko religious right is at it again. You see, when you decide what the bible means, then you cram, twist, turn-inside-out, turn-upside-down, and otherwise thoroughly alter reality to fit your notions. Then the world is okay. See? History agrees with ME.

Not content to trying to believe that our Founding Fathers (FFs) set up a Christian Nation upon a high hill in Plymouth Massachusetts, they are now trying to involve the poor Pilgrims in their revisionist ideas of what really happened.

It should come as no surprise that Rush-me-some-Oxycoton-Limbaugh is onboard. Ditto, Glenn-bend-you-mind-around-me-Beck. Singing the praises is nutjob-wannabe, John Stossel. Soon to be climbing upon the Silly Express will no doubt be Michele-which-way-to-Bellview-Bachmann and Sarah-worshipin-my-bank-account-Palin.

It goes, (the NEW and improved history) sumpin’ like this:

For reasons unknown, the pilgrims upon landing decided to engage in socialism. So they pooled all their stuff and lived in a big old commune, takin’ from each, and givin’ to each as was their due. This, bein’ unGodly, and most unbiblical, brought the wrath of the One Truest God down upon their heads, and they was a close to starvin’ come winter time. The dear Indians came to their rescue and saved ’em.

Well, that was enough of that. The Pilgrims stopped that socialism stuff, and discovered capitalism and free market economies and they became fat, rich and sassy and lived happily ever after, until that Muslim black man came along and tried to undue all their Godly work.

That’s it in a nutshell, though why you would want it in a nutshell is not before us today and seems slightly weird. Perhaps so it could be hid away and protected from destruction from Godless socialists.

Well, none of it is true of course. In fact Stossel just changes the dates of the first Thanksgiving in an attempt to make it appear more in line with his bilge. Rush has been runnin’ this crap for some time it seems, but now it’s caught on, which just goes to show you that lies, damnable lies, have a viral impact and are catchin’.

Crooks and Liars has a fine refudiation of the urban myth and some actual facts about the earliest of our settlers, coming from actual and real historians and not the fake ones Foxy and it’s brigands unearth.

***

It is reported that the Dems will be making another attempt to pass the Dream Act during this lame duck session. Border Explorer has an excellent piece on the truth of what the Act is and is not. Please read and familiarize yourself with the facts so that you can explain it to your more limited friends and neighbors. 

***

I read a book review of Nobel Laureate Günter Grass’s latest book, The Box.  After reading what Adam Kirsch from Slate has to say, I think you might take a look. A serious book, but perhaps a very good one. You decide as usual. I seriously need to read more fiction!

***

A topic of conversation for some time now, has been the unhealthy and unfortunate state of our media. While I don’t in the least subscribe to the right-wing blather than the MSM is liberal, I do subscribe to the belief that it has become mostly awful. Newspapers and serious magazines are on the wane. Can we trust our democracy to untrained folks like me to keep people somewhat informed?

Moe over at Whatever Works has a good piece that is an eye-opener for sure. The US ranks something like 21st in having a free press. Yes, 21st. It turns out that those countries that rank highest, subsidize their free press, something we don’t. It’s worth the time to look at this and perhaps follow a few links.

***

I’ve found a new poet that is really special. I invite you to see the works of FadedRomantic.

***

I don’t know about you, but I’m watching carefully the goings on in the Korean Peninsula. It is mildly chilling to watch the cold-dead eyes of Kim Jong Il, and the even colder eyes of his chosen successor, child-man Kim Jong Un. This IS a time for Sarah to shut her damn mouth, as well as all the politics-first GOP. The situation is just too tense. So please, for once in your sorry lives put the country first.

***

Since food has been the focus of the week, I thought you might be interested in this new book, Empires of Food. You can read a review of it at History Today Magazine.

Speaking of which, oh the leftovers yesterday were sublime. Just like the original meal, and sometimes even better. Today it’s work on the sides, but we are having turkey sandwiches with (for me at least) swiss cheese, lettuce, slices of green pepper, paper-thin onion slices and mayo.

One of the best items was a new recipe for shredded Brussel sprouts. It was a surprise hit. I’ll probably write out the recipe in the next day or two. I do love to try at least one new thing every year, and this will definitely be a repeat!

Off to nosh.

Related Articles

• Stossel: Pilgrims Failed At Socialism [Video] (realestateradiousa.com)
• China must push North Korea harder: U.S. military chief (reuters.com)

Just Another Day at the Races

Tags

Campaign financing, Dana Milbank, evolution, fiction, Fox News, Glenn Beck, GOP, lifestyle, medicine, neuroscience, Nicaragua, nonconformity, OneNation Rally, Paul Krugman, the arts, US

Morning!

There is a new post over at Walking in the Shadows should you be interested. I’m keeping more of the religious stuff there rather than here, unless I think that the posting is of interest to all. This latest one, is I guess, but I posted it there anyway.

I’m back to using Foxfire Mozilla again, and finding it works fantastic. The issues I had with it and my blog are gone, as well as my reader issues. On top of that, it solved problems that were so bad on FB and Twitter, that they were getting virtually unusable for me. So hurrah!

Don’t know how much time you had to devote to the OneNation Rally this weekend. I had precious little, but I gleaned a few things: Fox gave it a lot of notice, figuring I assume that they could spin it in either direction. A big crowd = tons of progressives unhappy with Obama, or a small crowd = the progressive movement is puny.

So far, I can get no reliable numbers, but most seem to think that the crowd was smaller than the teabagger picnic. In any case, the pictures are dramatically different. Teabagger rally = old and white, while OneNation = all ages and diverse ethnicity.

***

New definitions of “ugly American” are emerging as we find out how actual military doctors from the US of A, conducted human experiments on Nicaraguans during the 40’s. All that talk about Hitler mind you was going on at the time. I just can’t think of why so many folks in other countries hate us, can you?

***

Head over to MotherJones in general and peruse. They have article after article on who gives the money, what groups give the money, what candidates are spending the most, where they get their money, who they defend on Congress and so forth. There are probably 8-10 articles in all. Worth your time to take a look.

***

A really not-to-be-missed post by Paul Krugman on the insidious and blatant take-over of the GOP by a very few ultra-rich families, including our own favorite Foxy Noise. No pretence here, just power grabbing. And the ones who are being duped? The poor teabaggers of course.

***

Sharron Angle is one of those alleged humans who just amaze you that they can walk upright. I mean the woman has the brain of a slug. Sad to say, Harry is so despised, that she still manages to hang on in the race. But really, just how much ineptitude can Nevadans tolerate before they bite the big ugly and vote for Reid? She’s caught on tape trying to talk fellow teabagger candidate Scott Ashijian to back out.  Nothing terribly wrong here, just amusing, as she touts O’Donnell and Scott from Alaska as people she thinks are “real.”

***

There’s a new book about Beck, by Dana Milbank. It might well be worth the purchase. Milbank documents how Beck uses his favorite boy Hitler to attack everyone. This time it’s Gore and the UN. Oh, I’m gonna try to get this gem! Read more from Milbank here.

***

Chris Guillebeau is a blogger and self-styled non-conformist. Read about his take on life and whatever in this 3quarksdaily interview. You can visit his blog here. He has visited 151 countries in his quest to visit them all. Lots of strategies to living your life your way.

***

Why do we like art? No, not like. Why does our heart soar, our breathing change, our pupils enlarge, why do we lose track of time? All this when something hits us deeply? Why are we captivated by a story? A song? Why did we and do we spend time, energy and money on that which is fiction? We wouldn’t do it unless there was some evolutionary benefit you know.

***

Related Articles

• Dana Milbank Says Glenn Beck Is Dangerous (newsbusters.org)
• Glenn Beck’s Hitler fetish (economist.com)

Okay, Now What?

Tags

fiction, Humor, inspiration, lifestyle, mysticism, prayer, science, spirituality, stress, writing

As I was starting through my reader today, I visited a new blog that I am so sure is exceptional, that I gave it the appellation of “never miss.” It’s called 3quarksdaily, and I invite you to take a look at it. Let’s just say, very smart people write it and very smart people read it.

I opened it this morning, and low and behold, I see that they clearly have read my first foray into the short story (featured yesterday) and have sent me a message. That message is located here. It relates to “bad writing.”

Now, some weeks ago, I decided to define myself primarily as a writer rather than blogger. And since then I’ve been rather steeped in my own glory so to speak. As such, being a writer that is, I consider myself gifted in some sense–perhaps not a Hemingway or a Tolstoy, but  talented to be sure.

I failed of course to realize that most  writers see themselves that way, and as the article continued, most of course are quite wrong. The growth of self-publishing of course only makes the matter worse, allowing for more and more really bad crap being out there, and making it harder and harder for the average person to define the brilliant from the cow poo.

Of course, one can, to a degree I suppose, relate to it as art, “I know what I like” and leave it at that, yet, with writing there are no doubt definable standards. By the way, there are some terrific links at the end of the article to sites which list the top 40 worst books, identified by those who are presumably experts in the field.

Which is all to say, that my opening salvo into the field has been less than successful. I expected, (most surely I did) to open my mail this morning and find a long list of comments on my humorous piece. I found exactly two and not much in the way of reference to the piece itself. (And please, I’m not looking for all my dear blogging and reading friends to come to my aid with them now.) I only speak to say, that writing is  perhaps harder than I think.

My feet, are, replanted firmly on the ground (terra firma would have been trite don’t you think, and ohh so obvious!). I shall continue, but with a renewed realization that talent is not enough, some blood and guts are also required to be laid at the feet of the eater of words.

If you just want to take a gander at the worst 40 books, then just follow this. But beware, this is literary snootiness at it’s highest.

***

Terry Newell, writing for HuffPo, has a great piece on the science revolution that is occurring at least in this country. No longer do we simply accept the words and explanations of the scientific community.

Science in a word has become a weapon to be wielded. A sword fight ensues between the right and left, each claiming it has the “truth.” The poor unknowledgeable public, ends up, by and large, simply following the dictates of their favorite side.

All this makes for some bad science, and worse yet, bad decisions. This also comes via 3quarksdaily. And if you think Americans are generally knowledgeable about science, read the twitter comments at the end. If I hear one more idiot saying “global warming my eye, it’s snowing outside” I’ll scream.

***

Life is tough, and it’s busy. We are all faced with trials and well, just plain more to do than we have time for. We get stressed. We can turn to prayer, meditation, sports, hobbies, or booze. But we all look for ways to take a time out.

I am sorry I can’t remember through whose blog I came upon this link, but I took it, and haven’t been sorry since.  Balance in Me is one of those sites that becomes an oasis in a busy day. Filled with concrete ideas of how to cope with life, you will surely find ideas that you can implement.

Devotees of this lifestyle try to incorporate all the suggestions, but those who aren’t giving up beer and pizza any time soon, and find more affiliation with the remote than a yoga mat, can find a thing or two that might help them too.

Do yourself a favor and take a look. The link is to her latest article.

***

I’ve recently been reminded on how precious life is, and how terribly we take it for granted. In fact, we take entirely too much for granted in our lives, and often it does come back to bite us in the most unfortunate ways.

My dear friend Jan, at Yearning for God seems always to post just the right inspiration for me, exactly when I need it. Following another of her excellent links, I came upon this site only yesterday.

Carl McColman is an author and new Catholic who has a knack for prayer and inspiration. I’ve already found his site enriching, in just a couple of visits.

If you are interested in spiritual development I would urge a look at Anamchara: The Website of Unknowing.  His latest book is on Christian Mysticism, and I’m contemplating a purchase myself.

***

Please note that most of these sites are not yet on my blogroll, so do make sure you bookmark any that you seriously like. And do have a peaceful and glorious day. Make ‘er count!

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum

Tags

fiction, Humor, life in the meadow, Literature, short stories

“You know, it’s impossible to keep your eyes open when you sneeze.” He waited expectantly for a reply.

She wondered if it was too early to just do her brow arch, that disdainful look that said without words, “you’re freakin’ nuts.”

Figuring it was way to early in the game for that, she just looked over her mug of coffee, letting the pain slowly enter her eyes, still not willing to take the bait  she saw dangling before her.

“It’s true,” he muttered. “Otherwise your eyeballs would come blowing out from the pressure. That’s just a theory of course, since no one can keep their eyes open when sneezing that is. Can’t be properly tested. You know what I mean surely, it’s like that string theory stuff you talk about. Untestable.”

A shiver ran down her back as she examined this man who kept imitating her husband, at least in look. He’d hidden this mad side of himself quite well during the courtship. Yes he had. If she had suspected, well, things would have been different. She supposed they would at least. but then maybe not.

She sat her cup down and prepared for more, all the while  hoping against all hope that perhaps he would go back to his online poker game.  But no, she could see that he was in that “mood”. She could never be quite sure what it all meant. Was he purposefully trying to drive her bat crazy? It was not like there was any inheritance to gain. So it could only be from the pure pleasure of watching her slowly lose her precious mind.

Just last night he had sat squirming in his lounger. Finally, she asked so perfectly kindly, “Dear what is the matter?”

“My bibs and my boxers are all bunched up and wanging my balls,” he moaned. She looked on in horror. “Well my God, take off your bibs then, and put on something else!” Alas the words had slipped out before her brain had caught up.
“REDRESS? Are you mad? (now that beats all doesn’t it?). It’s 8:30 at night. Do you think I’m going to redress this late? Why that would be purely crazy. Normal people don’t redress. That’s a huge chunk of time I would never get back. Just willy nilly give up precious HOURS of my life in redressing! How absurd.”

She retreated into silence and then viciously replied, “Well  just sit there quietly in your agony then, and don’t complain. Man up as they say.”

Recalling that conversation, she tried desperately to return her concentration to GMA, hoping that his string of insanity was done for the morning at least. On the screen, Robin Roberts towered over the tiny George Stephanopolous. That was a scream if there ever was one. Who in the hell made that mistake?

She shuddered thinking of Tiny George. How would you like THAT crawling up your leg at night? Much as she realized how insensitive it was, she still had trouble with smallish humans. One never knew what to call them to be politically correct these days. “Little people” she supposed.

But of course, twas not to be. He butted right into her reverie on the demerits of being unfortunately born unheighted, and continued his assault on her peace of mind. 

“Speaking of redress, prefixes are just a lazy way of creating a new word without working at it, doncha think?”

She had fallen into THIS trap before. This man was just damn lucky she was so incredibly sane and more so STABLE, that’s all. Plenty of women would have flipped out, grabbed the nearest knicky knack from the table, and battered the old goat over the head. Course, it would have passed quickly, and then the horror of the “accident” would set in, and then, well. . . .

She’s watched a lot of Law and Order and Perry Mason, and before you know it, she would have tried to make it look more accidental, and the police would surely figure it out, and then no one would believe her perfectly believable story about how he drove her over the edge, and then she would be in prison, and she had watched way to many episodes of OZ, to know she didn’t want to spend her golden years THERE.

No, she was stable and could foresee that consequence, so she wasn’t about to brain him. Given that there was no record of his eccentricities, at least.

“Take the ‘word’ PRE-DRILLED, as in “the wood is all pre drilled for you.” His face lit up in glee. Now logically speaking, there is no such thing as a pre-drilled piece of wood. It’s just a piece of wood, you see that don’t you? Before you drill it, it’s not drilled, just wood. So there is no such thing as pre drilled. It’s a fake word.” A long breath escaped as he gave a look of superb satisfaction, much as a puppy who finally “got” housebreaking. All wiggly and wanting to lick your face.

“Yes I see that,” she whispered. And slowly, ever so slowly, she realized that she might write  this down as a story. Online of course, so thousands, perhaps millions might read it and understand the torturous life she was chained to. And then maybe, just maybe, if that little accident should just happen to happen, well, then it would be like a record wouldn’t it?

She pondered that as she went to collect the laundry for washing, and plan out the dinner menu. A smile crossed her lips, ever so slightly and a little tune began to percolate and cross her vocal chords. She began to hum a happy tune.

Never Let You Go

Tags

Book Reviews, Erin Healy, fiction, Inspirational, love

I received this book from Booksnooze (look along the right sidebar) for review. I wish to extend my thanks.

This is a book that would benefit from your not knowing it is Christian fiction up front (I unfortunately read the inside pages.)

I say this for, within a very few pages in, a mystery ensued that I was eager to figure out. Knowing as I did of it’s genre, I discarded rather immediately that the heroine of the book was mentally deranged!

For indeed this is a book about angels and demons and good and yes you guessed it–evil. Yet, to say that is to give nothing away, since it is genuinely laced with plenty of suspense and intrigue.

A young, single mother, abandoned by a drugged out husband, and confronted by a past lover,  then her husband’s drug dealer who claims monies are owed, a father who has lost his mind, a sister murdered by  the old lover, and a mother who skitters around the country reviewing restaurants, contends with a convergence of all these people back into her life in one hellish few days.

Molly, the daughter, is the center of Lexi’s life, the only anchor for her in a sea of troubles. A rather precocious child, Molly seems to delight everyone she meets, and there is nothing Lexi will not do to give her daughter a better chance. Working two jobs, taking on a roommate, and doing without are all in service to giving Molly a normal and happy childhood.

Until of course all goes awry suddenly. Grant, her husband returns to town after seven years and desires to reconnect with his daughter. Lexi is opposed, still trapped in anger. Then Warden returns and badgers Lexi into testifying for her former lover Norm at his parole hearing–the very person who had murdered her sister Tara.  Grant returns with Lexi’s mother, who  abandoned Lexi’s father when he lost his mind, not being able to cope with the loss of both daughter and husband.

Warden has the uncanny and mysterious ability to appear all to often where he should not be. He knows “too much” and his threats are veiled, ultimately against Molly. Lexi finds herself questioning her own sanity at times as she tries to dodge and control all these unwanted people in her life.

The only sane, yet still confusing, element in her life is Angelo, the unexplained blond giant of a man who seems to suddenly be there whenever he is needed. He saves Molly, he saves Lexi, and works at the hospital where her father lives.

Enigmatically, Angelo, never seems to give “straight” answers to much that Lexi asks, but rather encourages her to be guided by love, rather than the hatred, anger, and despair that crowd her mind in the face of the swirling disaster that boils perilously ever closer to her quiet life with Molly.

Of course, it all comes to a head, and you begin to read faster and faster, wondering how it will all play out. Being a Christian novel, you expect of course, that the good guys will win, but how it will occur, remains a mystery that you yearn to solve.

This is not great fiction–I won’t mislead you. You won’t find the great American novel here. But, if you are looking for a good beach read this summer, this would be perfect. Not so convoluted in its plot that you are having to go back and remind yourself of who’s who, yet, satisfying in its drama, you can blissfully sip that pina colada, apply a bit more sunscreen, and relax into a world of  dark intrigue in early spring in the mountains.  

Of additional interest here is a list of questions at the end of the novel, suitable for a book club selection group. If your church has one, and you like to read some fiction now and then, you might investigate this as a choice. The relationships within the book are such that they can easily serve as topics to investigate our own relationships with loved ones who have disappointed us over the years.

Of seminal interest is the concept of love as a means to overcome anger, hatred, and painful loss. A discussion of this topic, love, is alone worth the price of the book, for it brings forth the most difficult places to retain love–abandonment, criminal victimization, and parent-child roles.

This book was provided by Booksnooze, through agreement with the publisher, Thomas Nelson. Other than receiving the book at no cost to me, there are no other stipulations. The review opinion is mine alone. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”