My Mom Died

My mom died a few months ago. It was not unexpected; she was 98 years old. I knew she was going to die. Sometimes, I even hoped she would die—she was losing memory and functions, and, perhaps selfishly, I wanted her to know who I was to the end.

And she did. At least I think she did. We had gone up the week before, and my brother joined us and we ate pie, and Mom had two-thirds of her piece of lemon meringue. We talked about upcoming Mothers’ Day, and Mom said she wanted to go to the pizza place (this is in a small town, and they treat her like a queen at that pizza place).

But she died before Mothers’ Day arrived. No last final hurrah at the pizza place where she was so well-loved.

My brother and I were with her at hospice, as well as his wife (and my best friend in high school) and daughter and her daughter (with my mother’s name). Four generations. Great-granddaughter is a year and a half, gleeful and full of curiosity. It is difficult to be sad when there are young children around, my nephew said. So true. We sat and reminisced, each taking our time to talk to Mom, exchanging stories, laughing, sometimes crying.

Mom was not responsive, but my niece told me that hearing is the last sense to go, and I totally choose to believe that. And I know that Mom knew that we were there, and she heard every word and the love and the happiness, the memories and the occasional regrets (those were mostly the private conversations, at least on my part). But there was also a good amount of laughter in that room, and a lot of fond memories. In one of my last private conversations with Mom, I alluded to something—and I’m sorry to say I don’t know if it was talking about my favorite memory (the swan ride, though I must have done that earlier) or my most embarrassing (I’m pretty sure it was this) and I swear I saw a slight smile on her face.

Oh, I miss her. I used to call her at 6:30 every night. (Not for my entire life, but since my dad died, about 10 years ago.) Sometimes she was out and sometimes I was out, but most days we had our 6:30 talk.

So I totally expected the 6:30 pang, which I still have frequently. What I did not expect was all the fodder I collected for the 6:30 talk—oh, I have to tell Mom the rhubarb is coming in, or how windy it was, or a cardinal in the back yard or the two bald eagles overhead. This I did not expect; that so many things I see and experience every day, I marked to tell my mother about.

Not a pang just at 6:30. Many times throughout the day. A long-delayed chore completed, a bicycle ride, the first mosquito, Colorado peaches, paying the bills.

Another thing I miss is sharing coupons. Mom clipped coupons from forever, and so of course I picked this up as well. We’d often send coupons back and forth (if not in person). I still sometimes stop and almost clip the coupons for her favorites.

And what I haven’t missed yet but know I will is the cards. My mother was the queen of the card. She remembered birthdays and anniversaries for relatives and friends alike. Even if everyone else forgot my birthday, I always got a card from Mom. People mostly do email and Facebook birthday greetings now. It’s just not the same. I intend to continue the tradition of birthday and anniversary cards via snail mail. Also the occasional Valentine’s, Thanksgiving, and Halloween card.

My mother absolutely loved life. It didn’t take much to make her day—a trip to the grocery store, a compliment from a friend, tulips blooming, a cardinal in the backyard, a surprise visitor.

I think she instilled a little of that in me—that love of life (with a little help from her sister, my godmother). A gift that has made so much of the world interesting.

Sometimes (not often) around 7:00 p.m., I go into a kind of panic of “I haven’t called Mom for several days! WHY??? Call Now!” and then I remember she’s dead. I still miss her.

And now, when I think about her, I think about much more of her life than the day-to-day that we always focused on. I remember how she walked me to kindergarten almost every day (I hated kindergarten); and all those times we bicycled to Grandma’s (often with the dog running along).

Death does not have to be a bad thing. Even the funeral arrangements were fun in their own way—no squabbling, no disagreements of any sort. More the opposite, in fact. There were three women at the arrangements—me, my sister-in-law, and my niece. We all had a specific dress for my mom in mind, and we all said we had a specific dress in mind as soon as the first person brought it up. And we all three wanted the same dress. It was all like that. We looked at pictures, laughed about good memories.

The funeral was more of the same. People who loved my mom or my family, so much love, so many good memories. When we got back to the church after the graveside service, everyone had finished going through the line, but lots of people had stayed specifically to talk to one or the others of us. Friends from elementary and high school, cousins not often seen, old neighbors.

I left town missing Mom, but also with a buoyancy from what really was a celebration of her life. I knew she had a lot of friends, but I had no idea how many people loved her. And I also felt like I had a place to return to, even without the reason of visiting Mom.

It surprised me what a happy experience it was, in the overall scheme of things, and I felt pretty weird about it. I had written a thank-you note to my niece for her wonderful eulogy, and she wrote back. In her card, she said something along the lines of, “it feels so weird to say this, but the planning of the funeral and all of it—it was actually kind of fun. I didn’t expect that at all.”

Neither did I. It pulled us together and brought out the best in all of us. Mom would have loved it.

Water, Water Everywhere: July Reading Theme

During the hottest month of the year, it feels good to immerse yourself in water, be it lake, river, sea, or pond. So we’re immersing ourselves in “water” books for the month of July. I’ve finished three so far:

  • Dragons in the Waters, by Madeleine L’Engle. This turned out to be the second book in the O’Keefe series, and now I have the first on order from the library. I loved the Wrinkle in Time series; the O’Keefe series is showing promise as well.
  • Daughters of the Lake, by Wendy Webb. I loved this book by one of my favorite local authors. I didn’t think she’d ever write anything I loved as much as The Fate of Mercy Alban (set in the famous Glensheen Mansion in Duluth, though it isn’t Glensheen in the book of course), but Daughters of the Lake was every bit as engaging. A contemporary gothic mystery set on the shore of Lake Superior, this one had me baffled right up to the end.
  • Skinny Dipping, poetry by Suzanne Collins (what better in July?)

I have a good selection of watery fiction to choose from:

  • The Sea, John Banville
  • The Odd Sea, Frederick Reiken
  • The Shape of Water, Andrea Camilleri (first in a mystery series set in Sicily)
  • Ocean Sea, Alessandro Baricco
  • Bay of Angels, Anita Brookner
  • The Marriage of the Sea, Jane Alison
  • Rain, Kirsty Gunn
  • Madras on Rainy Days, Samina Ali
  • The Lady in the Lake, Raymond Chandler

Notice how almost all the authors’ surnames are from the start of the alphabet? I stopped looking through fiction after the letter G because I already had such bounty. (I did go search out The Odd Sea, though, because I knew I had it and I wanted to be able to pick between a regular sea and an odd sea). I think it’s a grand list and I hope to get several more books in yet this month. It is July, after all—lazy days on the front porch (or under the ceiling fan) reading. It makes me feel all happy inside just thinking about it.

Nonfiction is much skimpier:

  • St. Croix Notes, Noah Adams
  • Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea: Why the Greeks Matter, Thomas Cahill
  • When the Water Smokes, Bob Simpson
  • Water and Sky, Alan S. Kesselheim
  • Seasons on the Pacific Coast, Susan J. Tweit
  • Sippewisset, Tim Traver
  • Facing the Wave, Gretel Ehrlich

I have started the Ehrlich book, just a few pages in. But earlier today, I glanced at Seasons on the Pacific Coast, and I think it may just win out. It looks so compelling, and it is so much of my mood in a July. It’s subtitled A Naturalist’s Notebook, and it has lots of beautiful illustrations (I am a sucker for illustrations; pictures, too). It’s a singularly attractive book with a siren call.

As is usually the case, there are a number of good titles in poetry. I am most looking forward to Wade in the Water, by Tracy K. Smith (current U.S. poet laureate). Sheila and I are reading this together to discuss. It’s been awhile since we discussed a book of poetry. I’m looking forward to it. Also in the poetry stack:

  • River, Fred Chappell
  • Crossing the Same River, Patricia Goedicke
  • Waterborne, Linda Gregerson
  • The Water Carrier, Steve Straight
  • Water Becomes Bone, C. Mikal Oness
  • From Where the Rivers Come, Richard Solly
  • You and Three Others Are Approaching a Lake, Anna Moschovakis
  • White Sea, Cleopatra Mathis
  • Fleet River, James Longenbach

So many options available for long summer days. I’m picturing the front porch, a little stack of books, and a big glass of iced tea with lots of lemon.

Happy reading!

Joy in the Everyday (with haiku)

This winter I have realized how much joy I get out of everyday things. Last week I was out walking with a friend. It had been snowing at a decent clip for a few hours and there were already a couple of inches on the ground. Mind you, we don’t need any more snow; we already have 3 feet, thank you very much.

And still. It was breathtakingly beautiful. There’s just something magical about walking in a good snowfall—the soft fluffy snow, not the hard dry pellets or the wet sloppy mess. Everything is quieter; sound is muffled, even on a busy street. Our footprints will be barely visible in an hour.

The next day the sun was out and the world asparkle. You had to squint even looking away from the sun. It was that bright.

sun high in the sky
makes the snow a sparkle-fest
I squint in reply

I love watching birds year-round, but in the starkness of winter, they are especially welcome. I spend hours sitting at the little blue table in the kitchen, reading, writing, and looking out the window at the birds (also squirrels and rabbit).

The cardinals have been the standouts this winter. Every day without fail they show up, anywhere between 2 and 20 (most commonly 6 to 10). I counted 8 males after a recent snowfall. That brilliant red against the white snow—this is beauty.

The flock of robins is still around, and there were 2 in the backyard today. (I think they may have been eating the mealworms in the new birdseed blend I recently got.) And a few days ago I had a northern flicker at my ground feeder, a first (not the first flicker I’ve seen in the yard, but the first time I’ve seen one in the ground feeder). Perhaps also after the mealworms?

perched on the birdbath
glinting in the winter sun
a single robin

a sassy blue jay
hides every single peanut
tomorrow’s dinner

Blue jays, juncos, chickadees, nuthatches, house finch, goldfinch, and a variety of woodpeckers (downy, hairy, red-bellied, and even pileated), and one red-tailed hawk perched on the telephone pole by the garage.

Pure joy.

Also: Wrapping my hands around a mug of hot tea.

Seeing the cat stretched out in the sun.

After the sun sets and the plates are cleared, we settle in for a few episodes of Downton Abbey. I really had no interest, but first my niece, then my brother, and then my birding friend all gushed about Downton Abbey. With such diverse gushing, I had to check it out. My brother predicted I’d by hooked by the third episode of Season 1, but I believe I was hooked by the end of the first episode. We’ve just finished Season 4 (and Season 5 is supposed to arrive Friday).

At a recent lunch during another snowfall, my friends and I got to talking about snowshoeing, and I admitted having bought snowshoes over a decade ago and never having worn them (I got them end-of-season, it didn’t snow again, and they got put away). I found them at the back of the closet and have pulled them out, with the tags still on.

Perhaps a new source of everyday joy?

Rollout: 2019 Monthly Book Themes

Last month my friend Sheila and I set aside a special day to identify our monthly book themes for 2019. This is always a fun afternoon that we both look forward to, and this time was no different. Without further ado, here are the monthly reading themes for 2019:

January: Questions. This includes any book that has a title that’s a question, has a question mark, contains any of the usual question words (who, what, where, when, how, why), or is questionable. Fun titles from poetry include Held for Questioning, Second Guesses, and Ask. Since this theme is right around the corner, I already have a small stack of potentials. I’m most excited about Prius or Pickup? by Marc Hetherington and Jonathan Weiler (looking at the political divide). Sheila and I are reading this one together, and I think it will make for good discussion.

Other books I’m excited about in January include Where We Stand: Class Matters, by bell hooks; and What Matters? Economics for a Renewed Commonwealth, by Wendell Berry. Starting the new year with a Wendell Berry book seems like a really good idea. In the fiction realm, I was pleased to see that the next Louise Penny mystery that I’m up to fits the theme: How the Light Gets In. That will be my first fiction of the year. And I think it will be followed by How to Find Love in a Bookshop, by Veronica Henry (called “a love letter to books and the shops that sell them”—that seems like another very good start to the year).

February: Love & Death. The book can have either word in the title to qualify, but I have one top runner already, with Simone St. James’s An Inquiry into Love and Death. That just leapt off my shelves. I haven’t done any looking ahead for this theme. I wonder which will be more plentiful—love or death?

March: Geography. This one is really broad, such that common geography words like city, country, town, in a title would work; as well as proper nouns: Minnesota, Africa, Alberta. The books will be falling off the shelves for this theme. I only have two books in mind so far: The Rain in Portugal, by Billy Collins; and The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, by Margareta Magnusson, which Sheila and I have talked about maybe reading together. (Although now that I think about it, Death Cleaning could also fit into February, if we’re in a hurry (or there is a dearth of nonfiction in that theme). It will be a perfect February-March bridge book!

April: Men. This is also a very broad theme, and I expect it to be loads of fun. It encompasses books with any common male reference (men, boy, he, brother, etc.) in the title as well as books with proper male names. On my nearby shelf I find, for example, My Father’s Paradise: A Son’s Search for His Family’s Past, by Ariel Sabar; White Men: American Masculinity at the End of an Era, by Michael Kimmel; The One-in-a-Million Boy, by Monica Wood; and The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper, by Phaedra Patrick. That only skims the very surface. This will be another theme where the books fall into my hands.

May: Black & Blue. Yes, that sounds a little macabre, but we were throwing around individual colors as themes. A black theme? A blue theme? Will there be enough books with the specific colors? So we decided to combine them. Why not black and blue in May? I don’t have much in mind for this one yet, though there is a new (to me) mystery writer I want to check out, and she has two books which fit the theme: Black Water Rising (which is the first in a series set in Texas); and Bluebird, Bluebird, a stand alone—both by Attica Locke.

June: Size. Another one I’m looking forward to, it includes any reference to size: small, medium, large, giant, huge, etc. in the title. One book has jumped off the shelf for this one: The Little Giant of Aberdeen County, by Tiffany Baker. This could be the month to read Little, Big, by John Crowley (daunting in size but I’ve heard such good things). In nonfiction, I’m looking forward to Sleeping Giant: The Untapped Economic and Political Power of America’s New Working Class, by Tamara Draut.

July: Water. Titles including the word water, also lake, river, puddle, rain, ocean, bay, etc. I think this will be so easy I won’t even start looking for titles until the end of June. The one book I do have in mind is Daughters of the Lake, by Wendy Webb (a local author I’m quite fond of).

August: Women. This is the same as the April theme of men, but this time for women. The nearby shelf provides: The Alice Network, by Kate Quinn; The Girl with All the Gifts, by M.R. Carey; and Eve, by Elissa Elliott. This is a repeat theme from last year (we obviously both loved it).

September: Literary Forms. This is also a repeat theme, but from a few years ago. For this theme, the title should contain a literary form (e.g., book, letter, chapter, play, poem, verse, handbook, memoir, diary, etc.). I don’t have anything on tap for this yet, but I have so many books with the word “book” in the title that I’m covered right there. (Not that I would ever care to be that samey.)

October: Pronouns. Basically any title containing a pronoun (he, she, they, we, I, us, etc.). There will be tons of these. On tap so far: I am, I am, I am, by Maggie O’Farrell; and Republican Like Me, by Ken Stern. I’m sure books will start falling off the shelf months before October arrives.

November: Taste. Any title with a flavor/taste in it—e.g., sweet, sour, bitter, salty; but also to taste food, so any title with sip, sample, bite, savor. It’s a kind of fun heady mix, and I think it will be a great reading theme for November. I have one book on my radar so far: Umami, by Laia Jufresa. Plenty of time to grow this list!

December: Prize Winners. These are books that have won any sort of prize—Pulitzer, National Book Award, Orange, Hugo, any old award at all will do. This is also a repeat. I don’t have anything in mind for this yet but I’m sure a few good books will make themselves known by next December.

Happy New Year a little early, and I wish you many good books in the new year.

A Reading Odyssey

The reading theme for December is Journey (especially a spiritual journey). We seriously considered scrapping this theme because it seemed so narrow. But then we decided to make it personal. What book might be a spiritual journey for each of us (or just a journey in general). That opened the gates, and we decided to stick with the theme.

And then at Thanksgiving, our host was telling us about a book he had read, a memoir, Homer’s Odyssey, about a blind cat. He highly recommended it, and I realized it would be a good fit for the December theme. (Full title: Homer’s Odyssey: A Fearless Feline Tale, Or How I Learned About Love and Life with a Blind Wonder Cat, by Gwen Cooper.)

I’m about two-thirds through and it’s an absolute delight. I don’t know that I’ve ever read a book where a cat and a person seem like soul mates, but these two—well, they potentiate each other, they make each other stronger. It could just as well have been called Gwen Cooper’s Odyssey, but that’ not nearly so catchy in a title. A lovely book and a fantastic December read. If you like cats even a wee bit, I highly recommend this book.

Each chapter of Homer’s Odyssey begins with an epigraph from The Odyssey (by the Homer who is not a cat). It gave me a nudge to read it again (I read The Odyssey in college), and I went to get it off the shelf. I couldn’t find it! Iliad and Metamorphoses yes, but not The Odyssey.

Library to the rescue! But wait. There are a lot of holds on this book that is thousands of years old. What gives? Ah, a new translation. By what? A woman? A woman! Homer, translated by a woman! So I signed on. Finally, today, a copy came up for me: The Odyssey, translated by Emily Wilson.

Yikes! It’s 582 pages! Oh, but wait. The first 100 pages are intro, maps, and notes (I skip all this except the maps and the note from the translator). At the end there are 50 pages of notes, and these include a summary for each of the 24 books in The Odyssey. (I find this a nice back-up. Good to know that if I get confused about what’s going on, I can just turn to the back of the book for a bit of clarification.) I’ve only just started, but already I’m quite excited to read it.

I’ve been dawdling through Homer’s Odyssey, simply because I’m enjoying it so much. But it’s time to get a move on. There are other journeys to be had this month. I picked up another book at the library today, Subversive Sabbath: The Surprising Power of Rest in a Nonstop World, by A.J. Swoboda. Now, doesn’t that sound like a spiritual journey? Or how about Active Hope: How to Face the Mess We’re in Without Going Crazy, by Joanna Macy and Chris Johnstone? I’ve also been considering a reread of The Crone: Woman of Age, Wisdom, and Power, by Barbara G. Walker. So many options and only half the month left.

In the fiction realm, I’m going to read The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry alongside The Odyssey. And while I try to avoid reading similar books at the same time, I don’t think I’ll get confused between these two male journeys. (But wouldn’t it be funny if I did?) If there’s any time left in the month, I’m looking at After Life, by Rhian Ellis—a book I’ve had for 10 years, and I pull it off the shelf and say, “Why haven’t I read you yet?” Maybe this will be the time. Ann Patchett called it “exquisitely written and a thrill to read.”

Last month’s theme was health. My favorite book was After the Stroke, a journal by May Sarton. I have loved all her journals, but I think this is my favorite one yet (perhaps excepting Journal of a Solitude). The other best book of the month was Slow Medicine, by Victoria Sweet, M.D. This got me interested in traditional Chinese medicine, and now I’m reading a book about that. It’s complex and I’m reading it slowly, but it’s fascinating. When I know more than a gnat, I might write a post about it.

For those of you in the north, take heart—the winter solstice is only a week away, and then the days will start getting longer.

Happy reading to all!

One Thing Leads to Another

Yesterday I didn’t get much on my to-do list done, but a series of events led me down some fun memory lanes. It all started with my decision to put a few tree ornaments on the small tree growing too close to the garage, but it’s so beautiful I couldn’t bear to pull it up when it was little, and every year I told myself I should and now it’s taller than me, and still I love this tree.

So I went to look through my tree ornaments which I haven’t touched for years (I don’t do a tree but that’s a different story), and I found several that seemed they would work on an outdoor tree (though none of the garden variety shiny red balls that I was hoping for—just one or two; it’s a small tree, after all).

At the bottom of one of the boxes of ornaments, I found a book I got from my aunt when I was in 2nd grade, A Christmas Story, by Mary Chalmers. It’s a very small book—a gift book, maybe 3×4 inches. I remember being shocked at getting what I considered a picture book in 2nd grade. I was quite insulted. It was a kid’s book! I’m pretty sure I didn’t say any of these things out loud.

Here’s the thing I didn’t get at the time: The main character is named Elizabeth (which just happens to be my name), and she is a little girl (hmmm, possibly 2nd grade or so?) who has to find a star for the Christmas tree she has just decorated with her friends, Harry Dog, Alice Rabbit, and Hilary Cat. I will not ruin the story by telling you how it ends. I treasured the book more and more over the years, and used to take it out every Christmas. But I moved and traditions changed, and it got packed away. But now that I’ve found it, it’s back on display for the season.

Also while looking for ornaments, I found a large bunch of Christmas cards from the early 2000s. Thinking this would be an easy dispatch and free up space in the box, I grabbed a large stack to go through. Another trip down memory lane. Pictures of friends with their little kids (who are now adults); cards and letters from graduate school friends; cards from former coworkers and former former coworkers. I haven’t finished going through them all. So many of my parents’ generation of relatives are dead, but they were not dead in the early 2000s, and it’s nice to be running into them again. I’m keeping more of these cards than I’d thought I would, because I figure if I enjoy going through them now (not all of them—some are being repurposed as postcards, and most are getting recycled) I’ll enjoy it every bit as much 10 years from now.

Some of these cards were from the same aunt (who also happened to be my favorite aunt and my godmother) who gave me The Christmas Story. She died four years ago, and I still miss her. I’m keeping all the cards from her that include significant personal notes. And all of this made me remember the ceramic Christmas tree that she made, and gave to my mom, and my mom gave to me many years later. I decided this was the year to put up the tree again. I knew exactly where it was, and on a whim decided to get it out right that minute. But it wasn’t where I was sure it was. It wasn’t in that closet at all, which caused pause. Where could it be? I sat down to read for awhile to let my brain relax and remember. And then I remembered exactly where in the basement it was. But no. And no and no and no.

And then I remembered the closet under the stairwell. It would be right up front. It was not. Sigh. What’s that box back there? Old books (shocking). Surely not that one way in the back—I reached, I tipped—ceramic tree! I tugged it out of the box (which did not want to come out from under the stairwell), and brought it into the kitchen to plug it in. But, what? No plug, no switch. I knew it lit up; that’s why I liked it so much. Did I miss something in the box?

I did indeed miss something in the box, and it was a big something that didn’t want to come out. So I hauled the box out over the top of all the other things in front of it, and a huge pile of photographs cascaded to the closet floor. Of course.

It’s a cramped closet so I pile up the photos and stick them on the shelf outside the closet. I get out the box and the bottom portion of the ceramic tree, plug it in, and it works! While it wasn’t really like my aunt was with me, it was in a little way.

And then I grabbed a bunch of photographs off the top of the pile, and took another trip down memory lane. They were nearly all from road trips I’ve taken around Minnesota with a good friend of mine. I thought the photos would be easy to cull, but my friend is such a good photographer, and he has such a good eye for mood, that I find I’m keeping far more than I’m tossing. And I have realized that there are so many good memories here, while I will do some culling, I want to organize rather than get rid of these photos. Already categories are emerging: quirky town monuments (we have a lot of these in Minnesota—Paul Bunyan, loons, Jolly Green Giant, chicken, walleyes—this could be its own post, and maybe will); nature shots; bird shots in particular; town names (often on water towers); various kinds of signs (road signs, billboards, street signs); and that was just a handful off the top. This could be a hugely fun project.

So the little tree outside is decorated, The Christmas Story is on top of the bookshelf, the ceramic tree casts its light again, I’ve more Christmas cards from years past to look through (and mostly recycle), and an entire photograph organizing project ahead of me.

Life is good. Happy December.

Escapist Summer Reading

Last night a friend texted me, asking for some book titles for escapist summer reading, and if there were any I might lend. He cited the current news and politics, and sees hope swirling down the drain.

I asked for a bit of time to think on it. Think I did (and also scanned some bookshelves), and here is the list I came up with. It would be a different list for a different friend, but nonetheless, this is not a bad start for some escapist summer reading. Here is my emailed response, with just a few edits for privacy (I did think of deleting all the borrowing/lending notes, but thought that it might lead to an interesting comment or two on the lending and sharing of books).

Dear George,

Since you’re looking for escapist, I started with fiction, and specifically fantasy which I know you enjoy. Here are my suggestions:

(Note: All links are to Amazon, not because I like Amazon, but because you can usually click on the book and see what it looks like inside, which is a feature I really like, along with skimming the reviews.)

The Eyre Affair, by Jasper Fforde. This is probably my #1 escapist fantasy recommendation. They are set in the literary world, Thursday Next is the main character (a literary detective) and the books (there are several more) are a romp. You are welcome to borrow this (if I can find it—it isn’t where I thought it was).

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, by N.K. Jemisin. This is new (to me) and first in a trilogy. I have all three books (I finished the second one recently) but have not yet started the third. You are welcome to borrow the first if the series appeals to you. I can’t overly vouch for it because I haven’t finished it yet, but it has won several fantasy awards and she is a rising star.

The Golden Compass, by Philip Pullman. This is a YA, but it is quite brilliant and second only to Lord of the Rings, my favorite fantasy trilogy. I have this and you are welcome to borrow it. This is also highly escapist and it might actually vie with The Eyre Affair as my #1 recommend.

A Discovery of Witches, by Deborah Harkness. I read this several years ago when it first came out in paperback and absolutely loved it. But I didn’t want to buy the sequel in hardcover, and by the time it came out in paperback I lost track of it. But then I found book 2 and recently book 3 in the dollar bin, so I am interested in getting back to it. Yes, another trilogy. Obviously, I can’t vouch for the entire trilogy, but I loved the first book, which you are welcome to borrow.

Other Fiction:

Still Life, by Louise Penny. This is my favorite mystery series. It is wonderful, engaging, thoughtful, has an engaging cast of characters (including two artists, a cranky poet, a bookstore owner, and a gay couple who run a B&B), and perhaps best of all, it’s set in Canada, so it’s especially escapist. You may have read this already (but the cover of my book is different and looks like this).

The Sun Is Also a Star, by Nicole Yoon. This is the best book I have read in years. And it’s YA. But it packs a major punch and I totally loved it. I also read it in one day (even though it’s nearly 400 pages), so it would not be a book that would get you through much of the summer, but I just can’t say enough positive things about this book. Unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you because I borrowed it from the library.

And while I started with fiction, nonfiction can also be escapist (or, in some cases, soothing), and I know you read a lot of nonfiction. Here are some recommendations:

Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer. This is a book I am currently reading (subtitled “Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants) and it is beautiful. A lot of native stories, a lot of wisdom, a lot about nature, and some about history. I am only to about page 50 but am learning so much! The writing transports you into another world, and it’s starting to make me look at the world a little differently. More reverently. The author is both a Native American and a scientist, and it’s also a book about having your feet in two worlds. You can’t borrow this because I’m currently reading it (at a snail’s pace, because I like to read it in tiny segments). I would call this a highly spiritual book, but not in any sort of Christian sense of the word.

Grace (Eventually), by Anne Lamott. Anne Lamott is one of my favorite spiritual writers. Christian, yes, but also progressive and kind of cranky. I have learned quite a bit from her. Her short books are good, too. I’ve read two of them but passed both of them on because they just seemed they needed to be shared. I have not been at all impressed with her fiction, and she also has some books about being a mother that I haven’t read. But her spiritual writing is spot on (for me). I have two more of her books on my to-read shelf that I’m planning to read in the next few months. She is very good for these times.

The Hidden Life of Trees, by Peter Wohlleben. What, trees? This is another book I am currently reading and I am LOVING it. It is wild! Did you know trees communicate? By smell, and by roots touching, and by electromagnetic energy (conveyed through fungus!). This book is a total escape into a different and fascinating world. And sorry this is also unavailable as it is in my current reading pile.

Hidden Figures, by Margot Lee Shetterly. This is the book on which the movie was based. Quite different (not so humorous, more factual, more science, and a broader swath of characters) but equally interesting to the movie, which I loved. If you loved the movie, I think you will really like this book. If you haven’t seen the movie, I highly recommend it (available at the library). I am pretty sure I still have my copy of this if you want to borrow it (the book, not the movie).

And these two because I think they might appeal to your interest in art and artists:

Hold Still, by Sally Mann. This is a memoir that I haven’t read yet, but just look inside the book at the link, and you’ll see why I think it might be captivating. You can’t borrow this because I haven’t read it yet and I don’t lend out books I haven’t read because I’m selfish that way. The moment it has left the house I want to read it.

Just Kids, by Patti Smith. This is a memoir of Patti Smith’s relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe (much at the Chelsea Hotel). I’m not sure if you’re into this era or not, but I thought I’d include these last two kind of as wild cards. You can’t borrow this because it’s on someone else’s reading pile. It will be available somewhere down the road, but probably not before the next (presidential) election.

Whew! Hope you find something in here that appeals.

Happy Reading!

Liz