fiction – Page 14 – Kristin Houlihan, Writer

Book Review: Of Mice and Fairies by A.R. Geiger

40745706

Some of you may remember that a while back I posted a mini-review of A.R. Geiger’s Birdwoman, a collection of short stories. Well, Of Mice and Fairies is a second collection–very different from the first!–of short stories put out by Geiger, and it doesn’t disappoint.

Of Mice and Fairies is a collection of inter-connected stories in which a very endearing and old-fashioned kind of narrator tells us of the adventures of her woodland friends — mice, fairies, gnomes, and the like. It’s a short, delightful read – really! I sort of laugh at myself for typing “delightful” but it’s the best word for it. The stories are fanciful and fun and contain little, not-overbearing moral lessons. It’s very light reading and was perfect for my grouchy, I’m-mad-about-being-on-bedrest mood that pervaded the last couple of days (yesterday especially). Its style is old-fashioned and charming, and I’m thinking about reading it aloud to my kids (my oldest LOVES fairies – we just had a fairy-themed 7th birthday party for her). I love that peppered in through the stories are also profound truths such as, “Lumpkin is an adventurer at heart. And an adventurer is never quite happy at home for too long (Kindle Location 479).”

I read the whole thing with a smile on my face — both for the adventures of Lumpkin, Belinda, and associates and for the beautiful way Geiger describes the scenery, giving life to such things as shadows as they dance and hide among the grasses. I should also note that I loved the illustrations! There are beautiful, black-and-white drawings throughout the stories done by Geiger’s sister, E. Noel. I couldn’t help but think that they’d make a really fun adult coloring book!

Geiger’s biography at the end says she’s working on her debut novel – I’m eagerly looking forward to it, because through these two very different collections of stories I can clearly see her talent for writing and I’m eager to read what she comes out with next!

Four stars!

Why “The Hobbit” is not just for kids – Reblog from Aleteia.org

I came across this commentary this morning and I think it’s just wonderful. While I haven’t read The Hobbit since high school, it is one of the books (along with Lord of the Rings) that I hope to introduce to my kids when they’re old enough. The author of this commentary, Tod Worner, captures, I think, the essence of why I read and what I hope my children gain from reading. I particularly love the GK Chesterton quote he includes! Please find the original piece here.

Why ‘The Hobbit’ is not just for kids

Tod Worner | Jul 03, 2018

Shutterstock

Share

22

How reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s story to his 10-year-old daughter unexpectedly stirred this father’s soul.

I have a confession to make.

I am just finishing The Hobbit for the first time. And I am almost 45.

Okay, okay. So it’s not scandalous. But to those who consider themselves well-read Catholics, not having read The Hobbit and its three-volume sequel, The Lord of the Rings, is considered perplexing if not irresponsible. After all, they are essential works of the moral imagination.

For years, I have been told how good these books are. In them, tales unfold of an extraordinary quest of unlikely heroes, unimaginable creatures and unexpected twists. Ice-capped mountains and lush valleys, barren hillsides and forbidding forests serve as terrain for a motley crew of unlikely allies who strive and suffer together towards an end much larger than themselves.

And so, earlier this year, my 10-year-old daughter and I decided to embark on reading The Hobbit together nightly as she went to bed.

And it has been extraordinary.

As we walked each night with the diminutive Bilbo Baggins from his cozy home in the Shire to the perilous wide world of Middle Earth, we encountered elves and wizards, trolls and goblins, spiders and orcs. We sensed the constant thrill of the adventure ahead mixed (paradoxically) with the forlorn homesickness for what was left behind. Again and again, we agreed with Bilbo’s skepticism about himself. He is a nimble thief? He is an indispensable member of group of dwarves trekking to reclaim a mountain and its treasure from a hell-spewing dragon? He is a hero? Right. But then, time and again, Bilbo proved he was just a little bit smarter, just a touch braver, just a smidge better than either my daughter or I expected. The little hobbit was growing. And we were growing with him.

But there were no small number of times that I wondered what the devil this hobbit thought he was doing. He had a comfortable home and an easy-going life. His books were well-ordered and his larder was full. His fire was toasty and his room warmly-lit. Why leave it all? Why walk away from the known and predictable for the wild and uncertain? Night after night, just walking with Bilbo into the greater unknown made me pull the comforter a bit tighter and snuggle a bit closer to my daughter.

But, after all, that is what these tales are all about. They remind us of our smallness, but our potential for greatness. They illustrate the peril of living dangerously, but also the risk of not living at all. They re-acquaint us with eternal verities (often considered outmoded) such as duty, loyalty and honor as well as the bright line (forever at risk of being blurred) separating right from wrong and good from evil. They instill in us a devotion to each other and a greater reason for being beyond our own selfish appetites. And they do this all in the form of a parable.

The great southern Catholic novelist Flannery O’Connor once observed,

“I tell a story because a statement would be in adequate.”

Quite right. In a world deaf to platitudes, J.R.R. Tolkien decided to shout with hideous orcs, an incinerating dragon and an intoxicating ring. But the tale isn’t a tale for the sake of telling a tale. Allegories are allegories for a reason. They speak to sins and virtues, temptations succumbed to and temptations resisted, damnation averted and grace received. As G.K. Chesterton once noted,

Fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.

Indeed.

We must remember: The dragon can be killed. The ring can be destroyed. You can endure suffering. You can return home.

Chesterton reminds us,

At the back of our brains, so to speak, there was a forgotten blaze or burst of astonishment at our own existence … The object of the artistic and spiritual life was to dig for this submerged sunrise or wonder; so that a man sitting in a chair might suddenly understand that he was actually alive, and be happy.

As I was lying there reading The Hobbit to my 10-year-old daughter, I smiled and once again understood.

I am alive.

And I am happy.

Thank you, Todd and Aleteia!

Book Review: The Simple Soul of Susan by Noel Branham

I was privileged to receive a free review copy of The Simple Soul of Susan by Noel Branham in the fall of last year. At that point I already knew I was falling behind on reviews, but I said yes because I just loved the idea of the story. And I’m so very glad I did!

Susan Combs had long ago found the love of her life. The only problem was the other party still didn’t know he had been found.

Every day Susan saw Calder Hurtz, her next door neighbor and childhood best friend. They always enjoyed the short drive to school down the dusty streets of their small Texas town. She was happy in those perfect moments, for her life at home was most imperfect. The challenging homestead she inhabited was also the favorite subject of local gossip.

But one autumn day she overhears Calder and another boy having a conversation. This occasion of accidental audience sets Susan’s life on an unforeseen path. In the seasons to come, her future will be changed by two hospitalizations, two confessions of love, and one betrayal.

Compulsively readable, The Simple Soul of Susan is an engaging, soul-endearing romance and a mesmerizing debut.

The books spans a several-year time period, going season by season, which was a really interesting way to structure it. So many books focus on a much narrower time-frame, but this really enabled the author to develop the characters. The reader has the opportunity to see Susan and Calder grow up, and deal with the corresponding life transitions. Refreshingly, no character is perfect; even Susan has her faults and the author doesn’t hide them or rationalize them away. Rather, the book tells a real coming-of-age story as we watch Susan and Calder stumble along their respective paths as they discern where they’re headed in life.

I remember talking to a therapist years ago about something that had happened when I was 18 and her telling me to “forgive the children” who were involved in the incident. At the time, I was furious: how dare she call me a child?!? After all, I met my husband when I was 18 – I was a GROWN UP!!! We see Susan struggle with that dichotomy throughout the course of the book, and reading it helped me to judge my adolescent self a little less harshly and be more willing to see adolescence for what it is: a time of incredible growth and turmoil, with a lot of lessons to be learned along the way. (Of course, much of that holds true for adulthood as well…)

Despite enjoying the length of time the book spans, I did at times feel like the book was longer than it needed to be. I can’t tell you what I’d cut out because it all feels essential, it was more of just a feeling I had from time to time while I was reading it.

That said, I highly recommend the book and I think it’s a solid debut novel. I’d love to read more of Noel Branham’s work in the future.

Four stars!