A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeleine L'Engle

What a disappointment this book was. Okay, here's the premise:

The Murry family (a family of geniuses: Meg is the most normal one and she's got a phenomenal IQ; unfortunately, she's pregnant in this story and her husband is giving a lecture at a university in England, so her family is constantly sending her to bed in this story; both her parents are Phds doing research on all kinds of weird stuff and they frequently get calls from the president for advice; Meg's twin brothers Sandy and Denys are in university, studying law and medicine respectively; and Charles Wallace, the youngest is now fifteen and has an IQ that is outstandingly phenomenal even by Murry family standards and he has extra sensory perception and can read certain people's minds;) anyway, the Murry family is sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner when the president calls to alert them that the United States is on the brink of Nuclear War with the small country of Vespugia.

Charles Wallace is tasked with the saving of the world and to do it, he rides a unicorn through time and becomes an observer in all kinds of historic events in one location. Oh yeah, and he's armed with St. Patrick's Rune--a rhyme that defeats evil.

At the end of the book, the story seems to credit Charles Wallace with having changed history and saved the present, but it's very hard to tell exactly what the boy did. He observes the story of a Welsh prince who fled to North America and married a Native American woman and follows the story of this man's descendents, but he doesn't actively do anything. Apparently, he changed history by observing it.

Okay, obviously, I don't have much patience for trying to make sense of this story, maybe I'd understand it more if I did and maybe if I understood it, I'd enjoy it more. For now, though, my verdict is this: what a dumb book, I can't believe I read the whole thing.

Here are only two of my simplest problems with the story: L'Engle doesn't even discuss the moral implications of changing the past; and her characters are so spectacularly phenomenal that they're unbelievable.

Halifax Gets a Wet Willy

So, Hurricane Bill blew past us this weekend. At least, that's what the weather network says. We got some rain and wind, but nothing near as bad as what they'd predicted. As usual, it was all media hype and the real thing failed to live up to it. I was very disappointed.

Here's a photo of some waves caused by the hurricane. In the evening, we went for a walk along the water. The waves were pretty boring right next to shore, but outside the breakwater they were huge. Nothing too severe though--a lot of people went surfing. I swam in worse ones on Lake Huron.

The Heaven Shop by Deborah Ellis

Our co-worker, Ali recommended The Breadwinner by Deborah Ellis to Janelle a week or two ago, so Janelle went to the library to get it, but it was out and there were hundreds (literally) of holds on it so Janelle got The Heaven Shop instead. She enjoyed it so much that I decided (reluctantly) to read it as well.

I have never before read such a rewarding and joyful book. That may seem a little sensational, but honestly, this is one of the most remarkable books I have ever read.

Its main character, Binti Phiri lives in Blantyre, Malawi with her father, and older brother and sister. Her father owns the Heaven Shop from the title. He makes coffins. The business' slogan is, "Our coffins will take you swiftly to heaven." Binti and her siblings go to private schools. Binti's older sister, Junie, is engaged to a young man named Noel and they plan to be married when she graduates. Kwasi, her brother, is an artist. He loves to draw. Binti is a radio star: she performs as a voice actress on the radio show Story Time that is broadcast throughout Malawi.

Unfortunately, her father has AIDS and dies of pneumonia. The extended family swoops down, sells the house and business and take the children away. Junie and Binti are taken away from their brother, Kwasi and taken to live in Lilongwe with their uncle Wysom and aunt Agnes and their children. They are mistreated and made to work hard. They are not allowed to eat with their cousins or use the same dishes or utensils because their father died of AIDS.

The story is full of sorrow and joy, grace and forgiveness, and love. It is a remarkable story of victory over injustice and triumph over circumstances. The greatest injustice in this story is AIDS. Many of its characters have AIDS through no fault of their own but they choose not to let that define who they are and they live brilliantly and victoriously in spite of it. Other characters are abusive and self centered, they take advantage of others; but the story's protagonists, though often brought down, triumph graciously in spite of all the abuses they are made to suffer and learn to show grace to others.

The rampant grace demonstrated in this novel is what moved me most. I want to tell Deborah Ellis that her novel is life-changing and give her a giant hug for having written it. I hope that doesn't seem creepy.

Memories of my Father

There are three things that stick out in my mind when I think of my father. They are, a photograph of him drawing the string of his bow, ready to release the arrow; his piano, all apart and in pieces in the basement and the old twelve string guitar that he gave to my brother, Chad; and my father's Bible. These three things have become symbolic of my father in my mind, so that whenever I see them or think of them, I am flooded by some of my favourite memories of my father.

So if you'll forgive the sentimentality of this post, I'd like to tell you about my father.

My father's bow is really big. I don't remember ever being strong enough to draw the string back far enough to launch an arrow any great distance. In the photograph, my father is standing, one foot in front of the other, his right arm straight and strong, holding the bow, the other arm drawing an arrow on the string past his ear. He is wearing a leather guard on his right forearm so that the string does not strip the skin off when he releases it. He is slim and fit and very strong, quite dangerous, in fact, but good. There is something majestic about him in the photo. He is confident, proud, and strong. In another photograph, taken on the same day, he is kneeling on the ground; my brother is standing in front of him, no more than five years old and about three feet tall. My father's arms are on his arms as he tries to draw the bow.

I have never seen the old piano all in one piece. For all my life it has been all apart in the basement. I remember coming home from school once or twice to find my father working on the old piano. Inexplicably, this filled me with an incredible sense of joy. I always liked seeing my father working on the piano. I don't really remember all of what he did, but he fixed all the hammers and made all the keys hit all the strings ... Then he would sit there and play the Homecoming.

The piano is my favourite instrument. I could sit and listen to a well-played piano for hours and hours and I loved listening to my father play. He'd only play two or three songs, but I could listen to him play them over and over again.

He also had an old twelve string guitar. Some of the posts had broken, so he only used six strings on it. But, one day he gave it to Chad, and together they replaced the broken posts and strung it with all twelve strings. That was the first time I'd ever heard a twelve string guitar, and it was really impressive.

My father has an old black leather-covered Bible. It has a binding that can open and close, almost like a binder, but it doesn't look like a binder, it looks like a Bible. He can open the binding and bind his notepaper to the Bible, wherever he wants to. I always thought that was fascinating. It was really neat to leaf through it and feel the smooth, thin pages of his Bible and the rough notepaper all together. Some days he would sit in the living room arm chair, next to the front window and spend what seemed like hours reading his Bible. When we got up in the mornings, he would have already left for work, and his Bible and reading glasses always sat on the table where he had eaten his breakfast.

I remember when my father became an old man. We were playing baseball, he was running backwards to catch a fly ball and turned at the same time, tearing the cartilage in his knee. It took surgeries to fix it and he was on light duty at work after that. He couldn't be as active as he used to and he lost his slim, muscular physique. Before long, I could easily outrun him. That made me sad. While he was still far from being frail or weak, the image I had of him being invincible and powerful was permanently destroyed.

Even so, my father is still probably one of the most creative people I know. I don't think there's anything he can't fix or build. Even if it's something he probably hasn't done before, he'll find a way to fix it or build it. He seems to be a natural born problem solver. He's also a great teacher and he loves to teach, which works out just great because he can teach complicated mechanical stuff to someone like me. And he has a very witty and dry sense of humour. I like to think that I get mine from him. Most people just don't get it, but I find the weirdest things funny.

I think my father is sometimes misunderstood. He may seem severe and strict, and he can be, because he has very high standards. Also, he doesn't beat around the bush with anything--if he has something to say, he comes right out and says it. So, he may seem kind of scary sometimes. But he's not very judgemental, because if he has a problem, it's already out in the open because he's told you about it, so you don't have to worry about what he might be thinking. It also shows that he cares and that he's not quite as hard and severe as he seems.

My father likes to tell jokes with a poker face, just so you don't know how to take it, so you look at him kind of confused for a while and then his eyes start to twinkle and his mouth starts smiling and the humour of it dawns on you and you start laughing.

Hood by Stephen Lawhead

Some years ago, I read Stephen Lawhead's The Warlords of Nin. It was a well told story with memorable characters and I was curious and interested enough in the story to want to read the preceding and succeeding novels in the series. I never got around to it, though. The writing wasn't so great and it seemed, to me, like a Lord of the Rings knock off. Not that that's a bad thing, I just noticed that it seemed to have all the same elements. Maybe that's true of all fantasy novels.

Now, Lawhead has had the time to write quite a few more books and this one came recommended from Joey and Colin. So I read it. After having read Kevin Crossley-Holland, though, I found the writing of this book a little difficult to navigate. I found myself annoyed with the writing at first. But as I read more of it I enjoyed it more. I shared this with Janelle who had read the book before me and she said, "Crossley-Holland's writing is like a thick, nourishing but refreshing smoothie. It's both enjoyable and easy to consume. Lawhead's writing is like a thick juicy steak. You enjoy it tremendously and it's very nourishing, but it's difficult to consume. It takes effort." And I found this to be true. I found myself liking the writing more and more as I read further into the book.

The story is a unique and original retelling of the legend of Robin Hood. Lawhead puts Robin Hood in Wales, far from Nottingham and Sherwood Forest. Robin Hood becomes Rhi Bran--King Raven--the prince and heir to the throne of Elfael, a small Kingdom in the Welsh Marches. However, the Norman conquerors have ambitions in Wales and invade Elfael, killing its king and sending Bran into exile in the forest.

The story is very slow paced. Lawhead takes his time telling it, and goes into all the political intrigues surrounding the story. He gives all the details. It makes for a long, and sometimes tedious, but rewarding read. Also, he does a fantastic job of bringing the world of Wales and Norman England to life. And he does it subtly like by giving the French names of the conquered English places or having his characters speak French rather than English or by having his characters allude to historical events in their conversations, for example, King Harold, son of William the Conqueror, is famous for having been shot in the eye with an arrow and this event comes up again and again.

If you like history and fiction and well told stories and memorable characters, you'll love this book. I'm looking forward to reading the next in the series.

At The Crossing Places by Kevin Crossley-Holland

This brilliant sequel to The Seeing Stone continues the story of young Arthur de Caldicot, bastard son of the crusading knight, Sir William.

Having been squired to Sir Stephen de Holt, a Lord over the Middle March, Arthur moves to Holt castle to begin his training and to prepare to go on crusade. At Holt he encounters a whole new set of adventures and challenges and continues to look for his mother. All along, the seeing stone continues to show him episodes from the life of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table that strangely seem to parallel his own life.

Richly written, the stories told in this book make a wonderful continuation to those begun in The Seeing Stone. There is much feeling and its world is rich and vivid. It's just like stepping into medieval England. Crossley-Holland demonstrates a wonderful sense of humour that makes these novels such a pleasure to read. And his characters are simply unforgettable.

a newsy post

i guess its been a while since i've written a newsy post and a lot has happened.

first of all, our baby died. that was very sad and disappointing. being pregnant, we had such high hopes for the future, so not having the baby is like an ongoing disappointment. every now and again we just have to stop and grieve for a bit.

we are joyful that God gave us our little baby bean for those nine and a half weeks, though. it brought us so much joy and let us know that people really do care about us, even people we would never have thought to turn to for comfort or support. everyone was so kind and generous and we thank God for showing us that. and we still have lots of hope for the future.

we had a bit of a busy july with lots of visitors. we had angele and robb with us for a saturday and that was wonderful. we also had justin and bekah over a couple of times. they went on a honeymoon and bekah broke her knee or something while rock climbing, so she came to see us in a wheelchair. and yesterday they brought her crutches back and came to visit us, it was super nice.

we were expecting to have wens and ada with us for a week or two, but after our baby died they disappeared without a trace.

we also spent an afternoon with sarah and donald. andrew and emma joy were there too and we hung out by the lake and rode the sea-doo. it was really nice except i got a nice sunburn. donald barbequed some steaks and they were wonderful, tasty and tender.

on thursday we spent an evening at rebekah daigle's house with a few friends. jonathan and andrea were there too, they just moved to halifax from ottawa because jonathan is a rcmp officer. it was lots of fun and rebekah made some enchiladas and we consumed them with relish. and afterwards there were some left over and rebekah sent some home with us and we had them for lunch the next day and they were still delicious.

work has been getting busier and busier as we get closer to september first.

also i've got some awesome books to read.

well, i guess that's about it, though.

The Seeing Stone by Kevin Crossley-Holland

To begin with I have to say that this is a very good book.

In Children's Laureate, Anne Fine wrote, "This is astonishing ... a book that lasts has to create a world so real that you can run your fingertips over its walls, feel its morning frost bit at your throat, and remember the people who lived there for a lifetime. Crossley-Holland has done it and I am so, so jealous."

I don't think I can say it any better.

I could write on and on about how wonderful this book is but I'll just keep this short and make you curious enough that you'll want to read it yourself!

Here's a quick quote from the beginning of the book, just to give you an idea of how it goes.

"Tumber Hill! It's my clamber-and-tumble-and-beech-and-bramble hill! Sometimes, when I'm standing on the top, I fill my lungs with air and I shout. I shout."

The book is full of this kind of excited writing. Crossley-Holland makes excellent use of hyphenated words. I think that's my favourite thing, his hyphenated words, they're just so beautiful and exciting.

Also, the story and characters are so full of feeling, just bursting with emotion. It's hard to find any book or story that comes even close to being as well rounded and well written as this! I'm looking forward to devouring the sequel.

If only I could write as well.