A Letter to a Book Club Organization

 A Letter; From a Group Leader

I participate in a book discussion group that operates nationwide. I decided to send out a letter to the team; it is here below, but I have removed book titles used by the group because the book lists are supposed to be protected. I've also removed the group's name for the same reason.

Dear Team at [Book Club],

Let me start out with a big "thank you." When I heard women talk about how wonderful their Book Club groups were because of the connections it gave them to other women, I thought that this group could be a good experience. I love books and relish making strong connections, so why not start a group with a dear galpal of mine to discuss great books? We promptly had three other women join us in February of 2024, and I can testify to how much this group has meant to us - and in particular to those women who have children. Getting out of the house, sharing a meal, and talking books is something we all look forward to every month!

However, I have noticed something coming up in some of our more recent conversations. We love the company, we love the food, we love the discussion - we just don't often love the book. There are usually at least a few who appreciate or really do relish the Book Club pick of the month, but others of us might have trouble finishing for various reasons. Sometimes, it could just be a difference in taste or the other usual reasons we don't quite get around to finishing a book, like being busy or not getting it started in time. But other times, it seems to be because some content hits hard when you're newly married or the mother of small children (see the loss of a spouse in *****, or the stillbirth scene in *****). Or, perhaps we do finish it. We just don't enjoy this novel that we've invested a lot of time into reading.

What I would like to ask would be a consideration of incorporating more children's classics and light-filled reads in the yearly books lists. Now, I am not asking that you decrease the level of quality of literature that is selected for Book Club. It is clear that Book Club values introducing women to classic texts of high cultural and intellectual value, and I agree with this aspiration. I know it is good for me to be pushed outside of my comfort zone when I read, and this group is pushing me to try out some of those books on my "to-read" list that I haven't picked up because of some reservation I've had. It's good to grapple with hard things sometimes in the books we read, especially because we have other women to talk with about them. However, I think it is important to have a good balance of difficult things to grapple with as well as beautiful things, enchanting and wholesome things - which can be found in children's classics and light-filled reads.

By "light-filled reads", I'm referring to those that are not just lighthearted and adventurous, but works that carry a perspective of the world that is, overall, a perspective of hope, joy, and wonder. These works do not leave the reader feeling depressed about the state of the world, or shock by the sinfulness of most of the characters. There is a time and a place for those works, but must it be most of the time? I'm looking at the books that have been on the docket this last year since my group formed: ***** , etc., *****. Of these, the only ones that I found to not lean hard into violence, depravity, a dark outlook, or very difficult-to-read topics were ***** (and that one is borderline), ***** (not well-liked in my group), and *****. Perhaps it is just the timing of when my group formed, but I feel like we haven't encountered many classic works so far that have drawn us in with their beauty and light. 

Could there be more room for works by Jane Austen? Might we accompany G. K. Chesterton on an adventurous romp that ends in a wild and surreal climax? Could we ponder with Prudencia in The Awakening of Miss Prim as she finds her preconceptions challenged by the countercultural lifestyle she witnesses? Might we receive inspiration more often from the writings of saints, or biographies about them? These works, though of a lighter feel, can still tackle "the big questions" like what it means to live virtuously, seeing the world as a work of God's creation, and finding our place as a creature in God's world.

Also well worth considering are classic children's works. I know that WRM has features some of these in the past, including *****, *****, and I think *****. These are all excellent works, and I'm especially sad that I missed the last one listed! I would encourage incorporating more of these works - not just into the family supplement, but into what the women are reading. In her book Before Austen Comes Aesop, Cheri Blomquist posits that children of our time do not read enough of the children's classics, which means that they are simply not ready for the adult classics by the time that they are required to read them in high school. I wonder if some children's works could open the way to some of these more difficult novels even for full-grown adults. Also, imagine what fun it could be if the whole family read the Book Club selection one month!

Each year, the Newbery Award is given to an American children's book published that year that is noteworthy in some way (the Carnegie Medal is the British equivalent). Not all these books would fit the WRM standard, but they might merit consideration. WRM need not fear that incorporating more children's books will automatically lower the standard of quality literature being read by the groups - as C. S. Lewis wrote, "No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally (and often far more) worth reading at the age of fifty" (Of Other Worlds: Essays and Stories). I'm not saying the next work chosen needs to be Bridge to Terabithia, but many works wrestle with hard issues and are just as carefully crafted as those penned for adults.

Several years ago, Word on Fire published a book entitled With All Her Mind: A Call to the Intellectual Life. In this collection of essays, Haley Stewart makes an analogy comparing the process of making a book selection to eating a balanced diet: "We should read books that make our hearts dance as well as ones that we know are 'good for us.'" (p. 52, "Becoming a Bibliophile"). I think that this is true. If the only book a busy mom reads in a month is on the Well Read Moms list, I would like to think that there is a healthy dose of books included to make her heart dance.

Thank you for the time you took to read this letter. I know you put a lot of thought and effort into which books are selected every year, and our group appreciates the work you do. Please consider this letter a sign that we like what you are doing, with the hope that we can love it even more in the future.

An appreciative group leader,

Jessica Gouvion

 name for the same reason.

Dear Team at [Book Club],

Let me start out with a big "thank you." When I heard women talk about how wonderful their WRM groups were because of the connections it gave them to other women, I thought that this group could be a good experience. I love books and relish making strong connections, so why not start a group with a dear galpal of mine to discuss great books? We promptly had three other women join us in February of 2024, and I can testify to how much this group has meant to us - and in particular to those women who have children. Getting out of the house, sharing a meal, and talking books is something we all look forward to every month!

However, I have noticed something coming up in some of our more recent conversations. We love the company, we love the food, we love the discussion - we just don't often love the book. There are usually at least a few who appreciate or really do relish the WRM pick of the month, but others of us might have trouble finishing for various reasons. Sometimes, it could just be a difference in taste or the other usual reasons we don't quite get around to finishing a book, like being busy or not getting it started in time. But other times, it seems to be because some content hits hard when you're newly married or the mother of small children (see the loss of a spouse in A Severe Mercy, or the stillbirth scene in Peace Like a River). Or, perhaps we do finish it. We just don't enjoy this novel that we've invested a lot of time into reading.

What I would like to ask would be a consideration of incorporating more children's classics and light-filled reads in the yearly books lists. Now, I am not asking that you decrease the level of quality of literature that is selected for WRM. It is clear that WRM values introducing women to classic texts of high cultural and intellectual value, and I agree with this aspiration. I know it is good for me to be pushed outside of my comfort zone when I read, and this group is pushing me to try out some of those books on my "to-read" list that I haven't picked up because of some reservation I've had. It's good to grapple with hard things sometimes in the books we read, especially because we have other women to talk with about them. However, I think it is important to have a good balance of difficult things to grapple with as well as beautiful things, enchanting and wholesome things - which can be found in children's classics and light-filled reads.

By "light-filled reads", I'm referring to those that are not just lighthearted and adventurous, but works that carry a perspective of the world that is, overall, a perspective of hope, joy, and wonder. These works do not leave the reader feeling depressed about the state of the world, or shock by the sinfulness of most of the characters. There is a time and a place for those works, but must it be most of the time? I'm looking at the books that have been on the docket this last year since my group formed: True Grit, A Severe Mercy, Brideshead Revisited, The Ghost Keeper, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Peace Like a River, Aeneid, My God and My All, The Pearl, and The Father's Tale. Of these, the only ones that I found to not lean hard into violence, depravity, a dark outlook, or very difficult-to-read topics were True Grit (and that one is borderline), Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (not well-liked in my group), and My God and My All. Perhaps it is just the timing of when my group formed, but I feel like we haven't encountered many classic works so far that have drawn us in with their beauty and light. 

Could there be more room for works by Jane Austen? Might we accompany G. K. Chesterton on an adventurous romp that ends in a wild and surreal climax? Could we ponder with Prudencia in The Awakening of Miss Prim as she finds her preconceptions challenged by the countercultural lifestyle she witnesses? Might we receive inspiration more often from the writings of saints, or biographies about them? These works, though of a lighter feel, can still tackle "the big questions" like what it means to live virtuously, seeing the world as a work of God's creation, and finding our place as a creature in God's world.

Also well worth considering are classic children's works. I know that WRM has features some of these in the past, including Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, and I think The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. These are all excellent works, and I'm especially sad that I missed the last one listed! I would encourage incorporating more of these works - not just into the family supplement, but into what the women are reading. In her book Before Austen Comes Aesop, Cheri Blomquist posits that children of our time do not read enough of the children's classics, which means that they are simply not ready for the adult classics by the time that they are required to read them in high school. I wonder if some children's works could open the way to some of these more difficult novels even for full-grown adults. Also, imagine what fun it could be if the whole family read the WRM selection one month!

Each year, the Newbery Award is given to an American children's book published that year that is noteworthy in some way (the Carnegie Medal is the British equivalent). Not all these books would fit the WRM standard, but they might merit consideration. WRM need not fear that incorporating more children's books will automatically lower the standard of quality literature being read by the groups - as C. S. Lewis wrote, "No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally (and often far more) worth reading at the age of fifty" (Of Other Worlds: Essays and Stories). I'm not saying the next work chosen needs to be Bridge to Terabithia, but many works wrestle with hard issues and are just as carefully crafted as those penned for adults.

Several years ago, Word on Fire published a book entitled With All Her Mind: A Call to the Intellectual Life. In this collection of essays, Haley Stewart makes an analogy comparing the process of making a book selection to eating a balanced diet: "We should read books that make our hearts dance as well as ones that we know are 'good for us.'" (p. 52, "Becoming a Bibliophile"). I think that this is true. If the only book a busy mom reads in a month is on the Well Read Moms list, I would like to think that there is a healthy dose of books included to make her heart dance.

Thank you for the time you took to read this letter. I know you put a lot of thought and effort into which books are selected every year, and our group appreciates the work you do. Please consider this letter a sign that we like what you are doing, with the hope that we can love it even more in the future.

An appreciative group leader,

Jessica Gouvion

Deep Dive: My God and My All

My God and My All, by Elizabeth Goudge

It came as a surprise to me that, after hearing Elizabeth Goudge's books recommended on lists time and time again, it would be her nonfiction work about Saint Francis' life that would be the first of her novel-length works I read. I actually expected this book to be a novelization of his life, but found it to be full of biographical and spiritual insights that even G. K. Chesterton would have been proud of. In fact, looking back at my review of Chesterton's biography on the same saint, I can say with certainty that I enjoyed this book much more. I won't go through this work chapter by chapter, but I'd still like to take the time to record the elements of this work that were most beautiful, or notable for other reasons.

Introduction

The opening page of this work was just beautiful. It's too long to quote in full here, but it was a smashing entry into the beauty of Goudge's writing. I've read beautiful prose before, but something about her manner of articulating truths was really lovely, and I could do well to read more of her works and soak up the beauty of her writing craft.

"It is never the beginning of the story to say a child is born, nor is it the end to say a man has died, for long preparation leads up to every birth, and a death leaves behind it a power for good or evil that works on in the world for longer than the span of life from which it grew." p. 1

"Perhaps"

Goudge did her research, and pulls heavily from original biographical texts throughout this book. However, there are some parts of Francis' life that we just don't know a lot about. This leads her to do a good deal of surmising in those mysterious portions, but the way in which she does it works. For these parts, she created a scene of what might have happened or been said, and the word "perhaps" becomes magical. It allows her to create a scene that the reader can imagine, while the "perhaps" admits that we don't know for sure. She draws conclusions about why some things happened or did not, and did not have great evidence to base them on, but this practice didn't bother me like it has so often in other biographical works. Perhaps it is the excellence of her storytelling that broke down my typical judgment.

Pacing

This book was hard to get into, but I realized later that was only because I was trying to read it with the TV on. This is the sort of book that takes its time and demands your full attention, but it is fully worth it. It makes me think in that way of Hannah Coulter, although I liked this book more than that one. I recommend tackling this book if you have decently long chunks of time to give to it - I think you miss something if you're reading snatches of it here and there. I finished the last half of this book in two days because I was sick with the flu and had nothing but time and no inclinations to do much other than rest in bed or sit in a chair and read.

The Discipline of Prayer

I don't think I've appreciated how much of a discipline prayer is until I read this book. I put down The Interior Castle last month because I was feeling bad about not experiencing contemplative prayer and being a saint already. However, this book has shown me, by the lives of St. Francis and his early followers, that prayer is hard work. You have to put in the time to make it happen, you have to fast, you have to be dedicated to it. As she says of one of St. Francis' followers, 

"He was a mystic...a man of heroic prayer who in his old age said he knew now that martyrdom was an easy matter and that the inner life of prayer was a harder proof of man's constancy." - p. 109.

I think this perspective could help me finish The Interior Castle if I were to pick it up again. It's not going to happen any time soon, but it helps to think that men and women who have vowed to live radically for Christ maybe have a greater chance of experiencing incredible prayer experiences because their way of life sets them up for it. I'm not condoning any lukewarm tendencies in the laity (myself), because we are all called to holiness. I am saying that perhaps I could try a little harder to be present to Jesus when I go to adoration. But, all graces and consolations of prayer come from God alone, so may His will be done.

Insights

Elizabeth Goudge did such a great job of presenting the Church and the Franciscan order that I figured, "She's got to be Catholic." I looked her up online and found out she is not, indeed, Catholic. She was Anglican. In any case, I found some of her insights to be spot on. I stalled out for a little while in the first third of the book because I was feeling uncomfortable with how radically St. Francis lived a life of poverty, feeling called out in owning many possessions myself. However, I was able to move past the discomfort in time and enjoy many beautiful thoughts that she shares.

"Christ could have been the greatest scholar the world has ever known, but he said goodbye to the scribes in the temple at Jerusalem and went home to Nazareth with his parents and was subject unto them." p. 229

This line made me pause a bit. I felt like some of St. Francis' brothers who stepped away from the attitude of radical poverty because they wanted to pursue learning and knowledge, which can lead to higher estimation in the opinions of others - and power. I think, in a way, my love of reading can be my own personal strain of this vanity. I want to be able to read whatever I want of the classics, just to know that I've read it. It feels good to report I've read many books in a month, or checked books off my to-read least, or made it through another free audiobook before my Audible deal expires again. It is good and beautiful to use the gifts God has given us, to gain knowledge, but there is a great beauty in giving up something beautiful - like ongoing learning - for God, if He asks it of us.

"It would seem that it is so often the wisdom of God to place his most devoted servants exactly where they least want to be. Their gifts and their personal preferences run counter to each other, and the discipline of being used in a way that is not of their choice preserves their humility." - p. 251

This part made me think of the "Called and Gifted" workshop my husband and I attended a few years ago, as an engaged couple. I remember thinking how cool it would be to have the gift of healing, but I also instinctively knew at the same time that it would not be good for my soul if God manifested works of healing through me. I am drawn to desire certain gifts of the Holy Spirit (hospitality, writing, healing), but how much of their appeal comes from a desire to serve God's people, and how much stems from a desire to build myself up? The saints are a beautiful example of how to serve God, wherever and however He calls us.

Passing It Along

I want to keep this book. It would be nice to know it is sitting there on my shelf, ready for me to reach for it and reread it whenever I want in the next who-knows-how-many years. However, I'd told my sister (discerning life with a Franciscan Third Order of women) that I wanted to gift this book to her convent when I was done with it, and after I'd loaned it to my sister-in-law who I think had expressed interest in reading it at some point.

I need to stick to my resolve. The book will go to my sister in due time because it needs to be in a place that it can be read and, I hope, appreciated. It didn't seem very Franciscan to send the book and then order another one for myself to replace it, so I shall offer it up as a small sacrifice. If I see it on sale at a used bookstore, I'll probably pick it up, but I won't seek it out for myself right now. It is a great book and I'm grateful to have read it.

Literary Considerations: A New Series

Testing a Different Kind of Writing 

In the first month of 2025, I hunkered down to work on my yearly reading stats. This annual project requires referencing year-old Microsoft Excel spreadsheets, pie chart graphics, and the blog posts that record the books completed over the last twelve months. As I flipped back and forth between blog posts, I also transitioned between the reader-view of the blog and the backstage version, which only I get to see. With all the clicking between screens, I noticed a little dropdown button on the upper left corner with the name of this blog. I clicked on it, and what did I find?

I found evidence of an old blog. Of course I remember having shared a blog with a few friends back in college, but long disuse and the pursuit of other adventures eventually pushed it out of active memory. I clicked on it and went through some of the posts I had composed in the midst of grad school. 

What I realized while reading old posts about Gandalf, grad school, and stress reading was that my writing used to be better. Perhaps that is not true, but regardless, my old posts had a wit and vigor to them that delights me long after I've moved on to different creative projects. I was saddened because those essays reflected a whimsy and imagination that I feel that I've lost. It's not the first time I'd had the feeling - I don't actively create scenes for an epic novel in my head anymore - but it was a moment where the feeling of regret was strong enough to lead to a resolution. I suspect that I fell into the "use it or lose it" rule that applies to some gifts, so I may never get back the fun and creative ideas that came to me in the feverish frenzy of grad school. However, there's no guarantee that such flights of fancy are forever gone, either.

What I proposed to myself was to make an effort to keep engaging in the art of writing. My brain may be laying down tracks that are too straight for another post like "Books With a Letter Missing" right now, but there's more vivacious writing to be done than writing in an online book journal. If an idea comes to me of something that I think might be fun to riff on, I'll make a note in my phone and try to tackle it eventually.

Literary Considerations

I plan to call these posts "Literary Considerations". The little blog post ideas that step outside the realm of my usual monthly Book Bracket posts and Deep Dives have to do with the craft of writing. I can string words together into sentences and paragraphs, but I've never actually sat down and studied the craft of writing in earnest. I do still harbor tiny hopes about writing books and publishing them someday, but I also recognize that I lack the prose-composition skills I'd want to have if I were to write seriously. Beyond composition, though, there are other aspects of literature that I want time to mull over myself. Why do we describe landscapes in books? What makes for a cozy tale? Perhaps there are aspects of story that I can reflect upon that will help clarify what I would need to do to create a story I'd love and feel confident in sharing. It may take a while to get something posted that heads in this new direction, but I'm already brainstorming ideas to explore.

Post Script

If you have any interest in checking out that fun blog I shared with a few close friends, you can check it out here:

https://narnianaustenites.blogspot.com/

Happy reading!

Deep Dive: For the Love of Mary

 A Deep Dive into For the Love of Mary

It's been a while since I've completed a deep dive post - it looks like the last one was in October, for The Screwtape Letters. So, what was it about this book that has me making a separate post that focuses on it? It is because it is the best book about Mary that I've read in a long time, and it is helping renew my devotion to Our Lady. It is well worth taking some time to write more extensively about this book, not only to help me remember what I like about it, but also to share with others why I think they should read it, too.

Dedication

We own a one-of-a-kind edition: this book has a special dedication that the author inscribed and personally addressed to my sister. It's so cool to think of the fact that my sister knows this friar who has published a beautiful book about Mary. The best part of the dedication is the post-script: "hope you can be a fellow TOR one day! Prayers & blessings".

Chapter 1: What's in a Name?

This may be my favorite chapter. Fr. Daniel talks about how the names we use when we talk about and to Mary matter. He points out that the people who have the strongest relationship with Mary tend to call her "Mother Mary," not just "Mary." I know that I would feel self-conscious about calling Our Lady "Mother Mary" if I were just to casually use that terminology in conversation, like I was making myself out to be overly pious. But, this chapter made me want to have the sort of relationship with Mary where calling her "mother" in conversation would feel natural. I'm going to make an effort to do so, at least in writing, at different points in this post. Take a look at this quote:

"Would you ever call your mother by her first name? No, of course not. That would seem distant, informal, and strange - a bit too avant-garde, to be sure! instead, you would use terms of endearment and familiarity." - pp. 5-6

This chapter also shows from the get-go that this author absolutely loves our Heavenly mother. It is neat to see the depth and range of his research, referencing modern Marian apparitions, the meaning of names, and, in later chapters, various saints who have cherished a great love for Our Lady.

Chapter 2: A Rose of Wondrous Beauty

This chapter challenged me. It made me realize that I don't pray or sacrifice enough for the end of abortion, a reflection prompted by an incredible personal story Fr. Daniel-Maria shares from his own life about how a beautiful baby girl was saved from abortion by prayer for Mother Mary's intercession. One of the great things about this book was that I felt I learned so much about Mother Mary and devotion to her. Notice, this sentiment is coming from a cradle Catholic, who has read numerous books about this amazing woman, and feels pretty good about her understanding of Marian doctrine. I found it incredible that I was learning so much, even about the Rosary, which I try to pray daily. I have tried to engage more with the mysteries of the Rosary as I pray since reading this book, and I'm realizing it would be good for me to revisit this chapter in particular now and then.

Chapter 3: Practicing the Presence of Mary

This chapter encouraged me to just spend time talking to Mary during the day. I've tried to practice the presence of God, but I usually remember to do it only for a time. I have noticed this being the case here, too, with me making comments to Mother Mary a few times for a few days, and then forgetting to after that. However, this practice could help me combat the sense that I don't know her well enough to call her "mother" in conversation. I have turned to her at night several times, and asked for her assistance in a more spontaneous manner. Now, I've talked in the last few paragraphs about concrete actions I've taken as a result of reading this book. Let that first of all be a testimony to how good this book is - I'm usually happy if there's just one discreet way I can tell a book has caused me to change something I do for the better. However, this book isn't just about practical practices readers can do. There's good theological explanation, too, and that comes out a lot in this chapter.

Chapter 4: Why Does Our Mother Weep?

This chapter spends some time reflecting on Our Lady of Sorrows. I admit that I've not spent much time reflecting upon our Lady of Sorrows because of her closeness to Jesus and His suffering - but we are all called to embrace crucified love. It is another challenge to me to lean into the call of my faith, that if I want to follow Christ, I must take up my cross and follow Him.

Chapter 5: The Stigmata of Mary?

Alright, this chapter blew my mind. How had I never before heard of the possibility that Mary received the stigmata? I'm not going to spend time explaining the reasoning behind why some people believe this, but I thought Fr. Daniel-Maria did a great job making his case. 

 

Chapter 6: Hearing Her Voice, Consoling Her Heart

This chapter focuses on the Marian apparitions at Fatima, and it makes me want to read more about them. I was reminded to offer up prayers and sacrifices to make reparation for sins - for the sins of others, and for my own. I read at least some of this chapter in the adoration chapel, and it was a great time and place to read it. This chapter had a passage that became a favorite for both me and my husband. It provided me with an encouraging reflection about marriage, and it helped me see my marriage in a new light - me being faithful to my husband, and working to overcome temptations and love him, is perhaps a way for me to practice working to overcome temptations for love of my Lord. Also included in this chapter was a line that gave me pause: 

"What we spend most of our time in front of becomes our tabernacle, what we worship." - p. 126

If that doesn't make me want to be better about making it to adoration and a daily Mass regularly, I don't know what will! I am also challenged to be better about fasting, whether physically from food or from time on Facebook. I don't have to wait for Lent to work on these things.

Chapter 7: Warrior Queen

This was the chapter that talked about Mother Mary's power against the demons. It was incredible to read some parts of it and feel confident in turning to her to assistance in spiritual warfare, and also unnerving to read some accounts of exorcists or people who had been possessed. I skimmed or skipped some paragraphs here and there.

Chapter 8: Sacred Inheritance

This chapter tackles the question of going to Mother Mary vs. Jesus right at the start, and Fr. Daniel-Maria handles it well. In summary, we ought to talk to our Mother - and God's Mother - because it pleases him. I can't recall having struggled with connecting with Mother Mary because I've compared myself to her, but it was a topic covered later in the chapter. Again, I felt convicted about a shortcoming that I have. I need to be better about loving Mary and teaching others to love her, too. I learned that loving Mother Mary isn't just one flavor of spirituality that Catholics can have, on par with an Ignatian spirituality or a Franciscan one; no, Mother Mary is given an honor above any saint, and it is important to have a devotion to her. A relationship with her is special.

Conclusion

To finish up, this was a great book. I told a galpal I wanted to loan this book out to her while I was in the middle of reading it...but I wouldn't pass it on to her until I finished it myself! I can tell a book is good when I'm recommending it to others. I know it's good when I know I'd like to reread it someday. And it proves it's special when it draws me in so much that I take time to reflect on it in a special blog post. This book has accomplished all these things. I don't know if it will be the best book I'll read in 2025, but I have a feeling it's going to be a strong contender.

January Book Bracket 2025

 January 2025 Bracket

I ended 2024 with 13 books in various stages of being read, read aloud, and listened to. I tried to buckle down and succeeded in getting about half of them finished, but, of course, I started multiple new ones as well.

The Hotel Balzaar, by Kate DiCamillo*

Marta misses her father as her mother cleans the hotel, but alternates between belief and disenchantment when an old countess shares seven strange stories with her.

Why I picked it up: It looked interesting, and I was able to access it as an ebook through the public library system.

My impressions: The story's beginning and end were pleasantly sparse and well-crafted, but some sections in the middle did not sit well with me. My main complaint with the book was that there was a character, who started as a nun, and then proceeded to abandon and begin serious vocations multiple times. If I were a child, and not a Catholic, I don't know that I would think much of it, but as someone who takes religious callings - either to the religious life, priesthood, or marriage - very seriously, I became uncomfortable and distracted from what I think the stories were supposed to communicate about the character or what was going on in the story. I thought the story had a lot of potential in the beginning, but by the end, I didn't feel the sense of wonder that had been hoped for at the beginning of the book. I appreciated how the story ties together by the end, and I think DiCamillo (a winner of the Newbery award several times) has excellent writing skills, but this book isn't one that really impacted me. I wouldn't recommend this one - I'm not warning against it, necessarily, but it's not one that I would feel the need to tell people, "You have to read this one!"

Mooses with Bazookas: And Other Stories Children Should Never Read, by S. D. Smith*

A hairbrained tale encompassing tales that follows letters from a writer stranded on a deserted island, his desires for rescue, and the tales he finds in caves on the island. (This book was a carryover from last year.)

Why I picked it up: I've read the Green Ember series written by the same author, and when I saw this work was on sale, my curiosity overcame me and I purchased it.

My impressions: I'm not quite sure what I was expecting with this book, and the book didn't let me down as far as expectations go - I'm still not entirely sure what it is. It is stylistically strange and, while likely to get kids to laugh out loud, was kind of painful to slog my way through. And that's coming from someone who loves puns. I think the author had a lot of fun and leaned hard into the fun of wordplay. He isn't afraid to be silly and goofy and grammatically incorrect, and I think some kids might have a heyday with this sort of book. I will say that the last 20 of the book wasn't too bad and wrapped up pretty nicely, but I can't say the work was for me. I'm not recommending it, but I am curious now about what other people think about it. (This book was a carryover from last year.)

Napoleon's Buttons: How 17 Molecules Changed History, by Jay Burreson and Penny Le Couteur**

A brief explanation of the molecular makeup of substances that have shaped our world, and the description of how they affected life at that time and today.

Why I picked it up: Welcome back to the Audible subscription! This one showed up in the app as one that was available to listen to for free, and it sounded interesting.

My impressions: Overall, an interesting read, but with some flaws, not the least of which being the notable increase in zoning out when listening to molecular structure being described. I learned a lot about scurvy, dyes, medicines, and spices, as well as other materials that have shaped the world and helped make it what it is today. I skipped two chapters, one on birth control and the next on molecules associated with witchcraft (I'm guessing it would have focused on the medicinal qualities of some plants, but I'm not sure). Based off the concluding paragraph in the former of these chapters, I believed the authors would have painted birth control pills in a very positive light, and I didn't really want to spend a lot of time learning about the pill. I'm not comfortable with witchcraft related things, period, so I can't speak to how this chapter was handled. Some other heavy topics came up, such as STDs, slavery, exploitation of nations, and others, so this is a book best suited to adults. I thought the book took a look at history from an interesting angle, even though that angle was, at times, biased. I was quite pleased to learn about a wide range of topics, but I don't necessarily think it's a book that I'd recommend. Interesting, but it has its flaws. (This book was a carryover from last year.)

Scruples and Sainthood: Accepting and Overcoming Scruples With the Help of the Saints, by Trent Beattie

This books guides the scrupulous through what scrupulosity is and how they can, through God's grace, work on accepting this cross and overcoming it.

Why I picked it up: I remembered this book being helpful before, and since I'd turned to it now and then to try to look something up, it seemed like it was a good time to reread it in its entirety.

My impressions: I think this is a really good book for scrupulous Catholics (and their loved ones), specifically those who might also have OCD. Beattie at times seemed to assume that the reader would likely also have struggles with things such as excessive hand-washing, for example, and some of his suggested remedies sound like they could apply easily to those who experience anxiety-based psychological disorders. In any case, I found this book good (and it bears an imprimatur), but I took issue with how he worded things here and there. It is a good reference, discussing issues like "when in doubt, it doesn't count," the necessity for obedience to spiritual directors, and sacraments that can be difficult for the scrupulous to participate in, such as confession and Holy Communion. This would be a good book to have in the house if one of the family suffers from scrupulosity; therapists and spiritual directors may like to have this book as well. (This book was a carryover from last year.)

A Monastery Journey to Christmas, by Brother Victor-Antoine d'Avila-Latourrette

A monk shares daily reflections for the Advent and Christmas seasons, drawing from the traditions of both the Western Church and the Eastern Church.

Why I picked it up: A dear friend has mentioned over time that this is a book that she reads every year. I was in need of an Advent book to prepare me for Christmas, and I decided that this was the time to try it out.

My impressions: This is the best daily meditation book that I've encountered for the Advent season. Many daily meditation books focus on the readings of the day, and I have never been able to tell if that makes them applicable only to that year's readings, or to every year. While other devotionals have shorter meditations, this one has meditations that take several minutes to read through. I didn't read it with as much care as I should, but it also meant that, even if all I did was read the selection for that day, I wasn't able to make it any shorter than that. I liked that some meditations took into account specific feasts, some of them being more familiar to Eastern Catholics than Latin Rite Catholics. Going off that point, one of the strengths of this work is that it incorporates prayers, texts, and practices from both the Western and the Eastern Church. I enjoyed that extra exposure to Byzantine prayers, which is something I don't encounter in my everyday life. The monk shares about practices that are specific to his monastery, but does a nice job of making those practices applicable to everyday readers of the laity, like me. All the reflections concern the spiritual life, but the author does well with including some very practical elements that work nicely with the spiritual elements. I recommend this book to anyone who is looking for a good book to help them reflect daily during the Advent and Christmas seasons. (This book was a carryover from last year.)

Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe**

This grandfather of all survival stories chronicles the long years the titular character must eke an existence out of a Caribbean island after he ignores all advice and signs to pursue a life at sea.

Why I picked it up: My interest in this story kindled after reading The Sign of the Beaver several years ago. I'd read a version of this story as a "Great Illustrated Classics" work as a child, and then tried to read the real deal maybe as a young teenager, but I lost interest in it pretty early on.

My impressions: This is one of those books where I finished it because I was stubborn and felt like I'd invested enough time to warrant finishing it. There were some appreciable aspects, including some more exciting episodes of action (capture and escape from slavery, dealing with mutineers, etc.), and especially his growth in his relationship with God. Crusoe went from being a wayward sailor and nominal Christian to an evangelist to the first non-Christian he's able to talk to. However, while his devotion grows admirably, it doesn't grow far enough. I saw some problematic attitudes towards non-white people showing up in this book, and no clear change in his views of slavery, so some of his conversion doesn't ring true. I think some of these elements were ones which The Sign of the Beaver countered, but they were not really evident until the last third of the book. The survival elements were not as exciting as I remembered them being in the Great Illustrated Classics version - so I'm surprised to admit that, at least according to memory, that version was better. I don't think it's a requirement for anyone to read this book, especially since there are so many other great survival-style adventures written since this one - I'd definitely pick up almost any of those other options first.

A New Song, by Jan Karon

In this next installment of the Mitford series, Fr. Timothy and his wife, Cynthia, begin a year or two of life on the coastal island of Whitecap, ministering to a church that has experienced division and suffering in the recent years.

Why I picked it up: I finished book 4 and wanted to read this one, which my sister-in-law had loaned to me at the same time.

My impressions: Jan Karon keeps doing her thing! This was another very enjoyable book and was coming to mind even in the days after I'd finished it. Karon did well to put the Kavanaughs in a new location, but one that, while it had a different local flavor, still enjoyed that small-town feeling she's mastered with Mitford. She still ties in with the old friends we know and love from Mitford, but introduces us to new characters to care about. She crafts her writing so well, having story arcs that can resolve within the volume, starting some that might span a book or two, and continuing some that will probably stretch for a good several books yet. There's not really a plot - just island life, the daily, seasonal, and yearly doings of a certain population - and yet, I find it immensely enjoyable. Karon isn't scared to have characters who are in very difficult circumstances, and have Fr. Tim come up against some ministry nightmares. In short, she doesn't leave out the dark side of life. However, we come to the end, and it's satisfying and neatly tied up, and yet has me ready to jump into the next book as soon as possible (which I can't, because I'm telling myself I have some books that I must finish before I get sucked into another Mitford book). This book has enough background to read by itself, but it really makes the most sense to just read it in order in the series. Those who enjoyed previous Mitford books will like this one, too.

The Catholic Guide Through Anxiety, 2nd Ed., by Catherine DiNuzzo, M.A., L.P.C.**

A Catholic therapist (who lives in Kansas) speaks about what happens neurologically when anxiety hits, as well as strategies and practices that Catholics can use to manage anxiety.

Why I picked it up: This audiobook was available for free through my Audible subscription. I also recognized the last name, having worked with the author's husband for a retreat once and even attended a talk given by the author at the Midwest Catholic Family Conference a few years ago.

My impressions: This book is a pretty good starting place for Catholics who experience anxiety and want to learn more about it. There is some hesitation in saying that, because I'd be concerned about people trying to "get by" with learning strategies out of a book when what they really need is working with a therapist - but, then again, this could be that stepping stone that gets them into therapy eventually. The work is short, and I think the author does a nice job of explaining neurological processes in layman's terms. Her writing is easy to follow and she uses helpful analogies and examples from her own life. The work sometimes felt a little disjointed because "advertisements" for her therapy practice popped up now and then. The "advertisements" were just comments about her practice, Sacred Heart Therapy, being able to help the reader implement [x] practice, etc., so in a sense, I think it was good that she had reminders throughout the book that therapy is probably going to be a part of the healing process for readers. I appreciated that Catholic beliefs are woven throughout the book, from examining a story from Scripture, to faith-connected practices that readers can use when managing anxiety. This book was fine as an audiobook, but I think that it would be better for people to have a physical copy of this work if they are planning on remembering and practicing the strategies outlined in it. This would be a good book for Catholics and, probably, other Christians who would like to learn more about anxiety from a psychological/therapeutic standpoint that stands on a religious worldview.

Mothering by the Book: The Power of Reading Aloud to Overcome Fear and Recapture Joy, by Jennifer Pepito**

A Christian homeschooling mom and missionary writes about her experiences of reading intersecting with her anxieties, and how those books she read aloud with her family taught her about life and overcoming fear.

Why I picked it up: This book-moir had been on my to-read list for a good chunk of the last year, and I decided to take the plunge and spend an Audible credit on it.

My impressions: This book was pretty solid as far as book-moirs (book-based memoirs) go, but it wasn't my favorite. Pepito does a good job of describing the struggles she or her family faced at various points, and showing how the books she read spoke to her at that point in her life. However, those same books might not "say" the same thing to all readers. While the book follows her life chronologically (for the most part), the books that spoke to her were somewhat random. She begins by talking about Pride and Prejudice, then goes through many children's books before rounding out with a few more intense works...and then concluding with another children's book. The random assortment isn't too big of an issue, but this was another book that seemed to have a lot of plus worked in for the curriculum that the author developed. The chapters ended with a little workbook-style activity, reflection, and Scripture verse to memorize, but I wasn't reading this book to reflect on how childhood books have formed me - I was reading to enjoy someone else's experience with the formative and transformative power of books! It was sometimes uncomfortable to read about how difficult things were at times, and I even skipped most of a chapter near the end because it was dealing with pretty heavy stuff. I don't know that I'd read this book again, but it could probably be enjoyed by Christian mothers. Homeschooling Christian parents would be a more defined audience for this work, but many booklovers could find something to like in this work. (This book was a carryover from last year.)

Eulalia! by Brian Jacques

This 19th book in the Redwall series follows Gorath the badger, beset by the condition known as "Blookwrath," and the creature from Redwall and Salamandastron who fight at his side.

Why I picked it up: I don't usually get the urge to pick up a specific book the way "stress reading" cravings did when I was in grad school, but I definitely hit a point this month when I felt the need to just pick up a Redwall book - and this was the one that called to me.

My impressions: This book was better than I remember it being. I wasn't sure how I'd like it, remembering that it had underwhelmed me on both previous reads, but this was the book that I was drawn to this time around, and I'm glad I was able to come at it with little memory of what happens in it. The book still has some flaws - too much focus on revenge, stronger first and second acts than third act, lack of good character development when there were opportunities (for both the hedgehog Orkwil, as well as Gorath, as he struggles to control the urge to give in to the Bloodwrath). One villain was killed off in a fitting but frustratingly anticlimactic way, almost as if the author needed him out of the story so things could happen in other places the way he wanted. And the editing! For some reason, it seemed as if every instance of a compound sentence that required the word "and" replaced that necessary conjunction with a comma. Yikes! I wonder if it was that alone that prevented me from appreciating the good qualities that this book has. For one, the story gets right down to business - no lengthy descriptions of idyllic scenes to start off the story, and introducing the big baddy and main character right away. And the Redwall intro - in the space of one chapter, we have our main Abbey hero on a rough start and kicked out for a whole season right away. There was no riddling to be solved in this work, which was fine, because there wasn't room for it; this helped prevent the story from getting bogged down in an Abbey storyline that wasn't necessary. Good action, lots of unique characters, but I must say, the characters did feel like they were fitting into types, rather than being their own unique personalities. There was a lot of potential for the big battle scene, but it felt rushed and not quite right - especially some artificially intense bickering amongst the good guy. I didn't love the wise old badger fellow because he came across as a wise guru and felt out of place in a world that seems to usually lean more into a Christian than an Eastern worldview. Well, long review for a reread...I want to end this part by saying that, previously, I wrote in a post about the eras of Jacques' writing, and stated that Eulalia! was in the last era, the worst of the lot - the stale-fails. Well, I now say it's not as bad as the three that follow it. Those who enjoy tales of anthropomorphic animals in a world of adventure will enjoy this tale - including some who may have previously written off this particular book.

Bracket Play

Oof, this ended up being a tough month to decide! Not every book was stellar, but I read some good ones this month.

The first round was easy enough to decide, with weaker books being placed with stronger ones. I gave A New Song the equivalent of a bye, easily beating Robinson Crusoe in the in-between place. I opted for the reread Scruples and Sainthood over The Catholic Guide to Anxiety, but they are both good, with different but related foci; this book also went on to beat Mothering by the Book, a book-moir that ended up being less incredible than others I've read. Unfortunately, I had to choose between the book about scrupulosity and Jan Karon's novel, and I gave the fictional title the win. I had enjoyed this book so much that, when it came up against A Monastery Journey to Christmas, I had trouble just giving the victory over, so I made a note that A New Song, although it didn't win, was a strong runner-up. In summary, there were some meh books and some decent books this month, but there were three really good books this month, too.

Books Attempted and Put Down

The Secret History of Christmas Baking, by Linda Raedisch

The author explores the history of the goodies we've come to associate with Christmas time.

Why I picked it up: I saw this title pop up on Pinterest, of all places, and it sounded interesting. I decided it would be the book to fulfill a requirement for my Advent/Christmas reading challenge, so I got it through interlibrary loan.

Why I put it down: I'm so glad I didn't buy this book myself, although I feel a bit bad making the library work to get a book I didn't even end up reading. The introduction stated that there would be lots of pagan origins, lots of witches, and even ancient Egyptian facts coming up in the rest of the book, and hints at a lot of dark content, such as injustices performed by mankind in the effort to acquire cane sugar. No, no, and no thanks. I don't think pagan origins would be too big of an issue if there was enough focus on the how or why Christians took over those practices, as shown by Fr. Francis X. Weiser in The Christmas Book, but I sensed that the interest in these facts would not tend very strongly in that direction. And, in thinking of that book, did I find any mention of the strange saga of Puritans cancelling Christmas in this work, and the connections that mincemeat pie had to such happenings? No. When scanning, I found a recipe for mincemeat cookies, but nothing in the table of contents indicated that there'd be any of that history recounted here. I was disappointed that this turned out to be a very un-Christmas-y feeling book, but I felt fine about putting it down. I did, after all, still have 13 books I was working on that were carried over from last year. I needed to get back to those.

The Interior Castle, by St. Teresa of Avila

A saint and doctor of the Church explains the different "mansions" of the soul into which we enter, through prayer, and encounter God.

Why I picked it up: The gals in one of my book clubs wanted to read it, so I grabbed a copy from my alma mater.

Why I put it down: I got bogged down in the fifth mansion with feelings of inadequacy. I've never experienced contemplative prayer, so I felt down on myself for not being as holy as I'd like to be. I found out other people can get stuck in this work, too, so I feel a little less bad about it. It's still a spiritual classic and great work, of course, but I couldn't help feeling like St. Teresa was describing the hard staircase of holiness that great saints climb, and I'm just a wee little one who needs to take the elevator of Jesus' arms to improve. (This was one of the books I had been reading last year.)