It’s that time of the month again (and I don’t mean the time that makes all men retreat in fear [as they well should if it were that time]).

This month’s round-up of my nightstand.

(You know, this exercise is good for clearing out the old from my headboard.)

I read so many brilliant books this month. They deserve their own treatments, so I’ll give you hints of what is to come. Oddly, the fiction I read the past couple weeks reflect much the same question: what is home?

1. Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo: I couldn’t drag this one out as long as I would’ve liked to. I told myself to put the book down, leave some for tomorrow, but alas. I don’t listen so well. In his epic style, Russo follows the lives of three classmates through 50 years, examining choices v. destiny. More on this later.

2. Home by Marilynne Robinson: Glory and Jack have returned to their childhood home, Glory to care for her ailing father (mixed with a good measure of retreating from lost love and disappointment), Jack to escapes his debts and a lifestyle in and out of jail. Home is not a retelling of the prodigal son; it picks up where the Bible left off. How do you knit these familial relationships together again? How do you forgive? Can love redeem? And what is the nature of home? Robinson’s characters develop through subtlety and small movements, and meaning is revealed in layers. The richness of her writing lends the sacred to the ordinary. The beauty of Robinson’s deep and
overt theological conversations is not that they set forth a particular belief
but allow the reader to work through these difficult issues with the characters
and, indeed, with the author.

3. Home Another Way by Christa Parrish: I finished this book last night. This debut novel is the story of city-girl Sarah Graham, who broke and with no where else to go, agrees to stay in a small, off-the-map (literally) mountain town for six months in order to claim her inheritance from her estranged father. While there, the story of her father unfolds, and the townspeople work their love over Sarah. 

Parrish’s style is similar to Charles Martin’s: beautiful word pictures, prose traipsing like a stream. I wouldn’t describe it as lush in the Victorian-adorned sort of way, but its beauty is more like fine dark chocolate than M&Ms. 

About half-way through, I thought I knew the end of the story. I was pleased to discover I didn’t. No spoilers here, but the ending was gorgeous and exactly what it needed to be.

Parrish structures the story around the winter and spring seasons, the inward awakening paralleling the spring awakening, and she references the Jonah story–God’s child running away and spending time in the belly repenting.

As an extra treat, Sarah is a violin player. Her interaction and relationship with music echoed my own: raw and vulnerable when alone, stilted and distant in performance. Music is a way she works through her emotions.

The only weakness was the myriad of point-of-views. It wasn’t confusing, but several of them were superfluous (including Memory’s, Maggie’s, and probably even Beth’s). Further, outside of Memory’s POV, the others didn’t have their own voice.

I must admit, I stayed up until three a.m. last night (or this morning) finishing the book. You konw the drill: one more chapter. Christa Parrish is a strong writer, and I look forward to more of her writing.

4. God in the Gallery: A Christian Embrace of Modern Art (Cultural Exegesis) by Daniel Siedell: This is one of those books that I like to read slowly, stopping every chapter (which are more like separate essays) to consider the author’s point. Currently, I’m reading the chapter about art criticism. Coming from the world of music criticism in my past life, while the specifics are different, the debates are the same.

5. Parting the Waters: Finding Beauty in Brokenness by Jeanne Damoff: I’m ashamed to say this, but I’ve been putting off reading this book for over a month (sorry, Jeanne!). I know it will be a book that will Play Doh my emotions. But this is the next book, to be started tonight, I expect.

6. The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak: This is my current audio book. I’m coming to the end of this. The POV is brilliant: the story is given through the eyes of death, a much more kind-hearted fellow than the Grim Reaper. Death retells the story of Liesel Meminger as he reads her account of it. He offers asides, such as times he encountered her in his collections or flash forwards to the deaths of a certain character. It combines an omniscient POV with limited in a new way, stealing the strengths of each. Set during WWII in a small German town, it follows Liesel and a small cast of characters: her neighbor and best friend, Rudy, her foster parents, and the Jewish refugee in her basement, Max. Not only a new story, it gives a fresh perspective on the time period. Zusak doesn’t hide from the atrocities, but neither does he exploit them, but tells the story of Liesel, one girl during this time.

While the reading on the audio book is beautifully done, I think I’d prefer to read this because of Zusak’s phrasing, which I’d like to linger over.

7. So Brave, Young and Handsome: A Novel by Leif Enger: This is up next for my local book club, and I’m looking forward to reading it.