Merry Christmas

 

This is my second attempt at a blog this month. The first was too dark to post. So I’m rethinking and rebooting. I’ve struggled with a number of issues like I’m guessing most people right now. So I’m going to re-focus.

I can’t be with my children or grandchildren this year. To say coming to terms with this has been hard is an understatement. Then I remembered. So many people don’t have this problem because they will never have that opportunity again. As of now, I do. So.

I choose to be grateful that everyone is being careful. I choose to be grateful that everyone is happy and healthy. This is no small thing. It’s huge. I choose to be grateful there is a vaccine on the horizon. So maybe by next Christmas, hopefully sooner, they will be in my arms again.

Merry Christmas with Love.

This painting just made me happy because it looks like hope.

THE WITCH ELM- DECEMBER 2020 BOOK SELECTION

 

Tana French is definitely one of my favorite authors. I’ve read or listened to all but her most recent novel. Set in Ireland, her novels are typically police procedural thrillers centering around different detectives in The Dublin Murder Squad.

My latest read by French was The Witch Elm. This is a slow-burning, standalone novel which shows how one decision, one event, can have a life-altering effect. As a result, the main character, Toby, navigates a series of horrific, sad and morally ambiguous circumstances. The novel deftly weaves the strands of seemingly unrelated events that impact the future of all the characters. French’s novels are not known for easy endings that wrap things up in a tidy bow. Still, this one is quite somber. It explores the darker side of human nature and poses the question of what one is capable of under certain circumstances. This is not a favorite by this author, but I still admire the masterful plot.

French’s most recent novel The Searcher, is also a standalone. I look forward to it. Hopefully it will be a bit lighter.

First Lady

 

One night, before bed, I was randomly scrolling channels. I stopped on a program called First Ladies on CNN. Michelle Obama, one of my heroines, was being profiled. It spoke about the fact that she was the first in the White House to use Twitter. She recognized the power of social media and the written word. Not too long after, the President followed suit.

What I learned then, shook me to the core. First let me say, I do have a Twitter account but rarely, if ever use it. It was suggested as wise as a writer that I do so to promote my work. I also do not regularly check Twitter for the few people I follow.

So, in watching this program, I discovered the vicious, vile and horrendously racial comments that were made on Michelle Obama’s account. I’m not sure why it surprised me so completely but it did. It literally made me sick. Who are this people? What rock did they crawl out from under? What purpose did/do they have except to wound, belittle and spew venom?

I realize that politics is not for the faint of heart. But this? Innocently, I thought this was, with few exceptions, behind us as a nation, as human beings when we elected Barack Obama to the Presidency. Little did I know the poison that would ooze to the surface. President Obama recently said in an interview that he didn’t believe the current President was responsible for the present climate of hate and racism but that he simply has fanned the flame.

I try to stay out of politics on this page but during this recent election that has become impossible. I remember my first encounter with Twitter on a business trip with my husband. A woman was furiously typing on her phone. When asked about it, she said she was updating her Twitter. I asked what the difference was between texting and email. She tried to explain it was for her “followers.” I didn’t get it then. No one really understood the power of social media then. I don’t think the original purpose was to spread hate and misinformation. You would think it would be to spread the truth. Apparently, a concept lost on our current, lame-duck President.

So this is off my chest but still sits heavily on my heart. I think it is up to all of us to fight this poison in any way we can. To douse this flame of unconscionable, lack of humanity. Our votes were just the beginning.

“When they go low, we go high.”

-Michelle Obama

IN FIVE YEARS- NOVEMBER 2020 BOOK SELECTION

 

This month’s book selection was my book club’s choice. We have read several rather heavy-duty, fiction and non-fiction books in the last months and were hoping for a lighter, less serious option. On the surface, In Five Years by Rebecca Serle appeared to fit. This novel turned out to be a surprise.

Initially, the premise seemed fun. A very controlled, tightly-wound heroine falls asleep and wakes up five years in the future. Everything she knows to be true has changed. The next time she wakes, she is back in the present. This touch of magical realism was fanciful and full of promise for a light read. This was not the case.

Try as she might over the next five years, our heroine could not shake her vivid, waking/dream experience. If it was to come true and was a peek into the future, it would alter her life irrevocably.

The novel examines all relationships from friendship and romantic love, to family dynamics. It also examines quality of life, the stereotype of women in the workplace, and death. In short, what we thought would be a simple, easy read was anything but. Well written and artfully rendered. Lesson learned.

Recommend.

The Now

 

Living in the now. So wise. So hard to do. Seriously, though, what choice do we have at this point? We have never controlled the future, but that’s more true now than ever. We can’t change the past. That’s for sure. All we have is right now. Maybe that’s the big lesson in all of this.

My son recently said he was grateful, not for the pandemic, but for the opportunity he has had to be with his one-year-old daughter in a way that would have never happened otherwise. He would have missed so much. So much you can’t get it back.

Prior to the pandemic, our lives had morphed into being constantly on the go. With few exceptions, we were rarely still. I read something recently that talked about “urgent” tasks. That being, I have to go to the grocery, I have to make dinner, I have to do laundry, I have to get the kids to bed, I have to do this report, I have to get to work on time, I have to, have to, have to. The reality is, real living takes place in between these “have tos.”

This month my sister was seriously ill. She could have died. Because of a random circumstance she got help just in time. It wasn’t her time. I was able to be with her constantly for two weeks before her daughter took over. My sister and I had not seen each other in person since last Christmas. We talked frequently on the phone but how could that happen? The pandemic of course. Because I had been quarantining this whole time, I knew it was safe to stay with her. Still. I had lots of things I “had to do.” I figured it out. I chose to be with her. To be in the now. Because at the end of the day, you just don’t ever know.

I choose to be grateful for now. Now is good. I'm going with it.

WRITERS & LOVERS- PLUS TWO- OCTOBER 2020 BOOK SELECTIONS

 

The pandemic has offered time for extensive reading. This month in addition to seven short stories, I’ve read Writers & Lovers by Lily King, Witches, Midwives & Nurses by Barbara Ehrenreich & Deirdre English and City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert.

The short stories were in a series offered for free on Amazon Prime. I enjoyed the change of pace but none stood out. Witches, Midwives & Nurses traces women healers back to the thirteenth century. It would be of interest to those interested in the suppression of women in the medical profession. Eye-opening, as the suppression appears to persist to this day.

City of Girls follows a nineteen-year-old girl through her life up until her nineties in New York City. Set beginning in 1940, the main character mainly describes her sexual exploits and her life as a seamstress starting in the theatre. A self-described sensualist, we find the character, interestingly, most intriguing at the end of the novel when she meets her platonic, one true love.

Writers & Lovers is the first novel I’ve read by Lily King. Casey is a thirty-one-year-old aspiring novelist stuck in a job as a waitress and deeply grieving over the unexpected, premature death of her mother. Over the course of the story, she grapples not only with that death, but three lovers, the completion of her novel, overwhelming debt, a precarious living situation and Cancer. It’s little wonder she begins to have panic attacks. King is a lovely writer and makes you care and root for the character while wanting to shake her at the same time.

The Gifts

 

I think everyone is in need of comfort and reassurance right now. The world seems in chaos. Fires, demonstrations, deaths, a pandemic, nasty, unconscionable politics. I for one am longing for peace. Security. Quiet. Solace. A crawl-back-in-the-womb moment.

In some ways I’m just realizing that Nature is my solace. I’ve always known that other than spending time with my family, I’m happiest outside, among trees, flowers, animals, in nature. But it’s still kind of a lightning bolt. Maybe, to my deep sorrow, because I can’t be with my family right now.

Recently, I was watching a program I had taped a while ago called The Whale Detective. I realized my breathing had slowed, I was totally absorbed, fascinated and happy. The ocean, the beauty of the Humpback whales, the people studying them. Everything.  The man who was reporting the documentary had actually had a not-too-pleasant close encounter with a Humpback. One had actually breached and had fallen on his and his companion’s kayak while whale watching in Monterrey Bay. Still he wanted to study them, be near them, understand them. So, seeing whales in person is definitely on my bucket list. Always has been. I can’t imagine anything more thrilling.

Last month, I encouraged myself and you to be patient and to believe in the best outcome. I wish I had some words of wisdom, some reassurance. Something I’m having a hard time with, myself, now. So all I can say is try to find what calms you. Reading, music, video games, exercise, nature, Netflix. Your loved ones. Whatever.

Look for the lesson in this.

Look for the Gifts. They are there.

CLOCK DANCE & THE DUTCH HOUSE- SEPTEMBER 2020 BOOK SELECTIONS

 Two beautifully written novels are my September book selections. I have selected both because they are written about fairly ordinary people and the influences and events that shaped their lives.

The Dutch House by Ann Patchett tells the story of a brother and sister raised in wealth and privilege whose lives are altered irrevocably with the second marriage of their father. Although this is not my favorite Patchett novel, I would not have wanted to miss reading it. What is of interest and fascination is the examination of how one event can impact choices and life direction. The brother and sister in many ways remain stuck in the past, spending many days sitting in front of their childhood home, The Dutch House. Although they were forced out, they never really leave it behind.

Another favorite author, Ann Tyler, creates a similar theme in Clock Dance. The difference is more than one event arguably shapes the main character’s life. The story is written in sections and follows Willa from childhood, through early college, middle age, then late adulthood. Deeply passive, Willa puts everyone else’s needs before her own and allows others to shape her choices and thus her future. Once, having had a gun pressed into her ribs, she even allows others to dismiss it. 

Each section reveals a moment that becomes a crossroad that dictates her path. In the last section, the character, nearing old age, finally makes a choice that dramatically alters her final days. The novel poses interesting questions about the nature of fulfillment and how we shape our destiny.

It's not the deer...

“It’s not the deer crossing the road, it’s the road crossing the forest.”

It’s up for debate who this quote is attributed to. I’ve read alternately the Dalai Lama, someone named Chiki, and also Muhammad Ali. It may be someone else altogether. It could just be Universal Mind. Regardless, I found it profound. The simple theory would be, what was there first? The road or the forest?

This has been helpful to me in this turbulent time. This virus, these fires, these hurricanes, these demonstrations, these politics are all roads crossing the forest. At the risk of sounding esoteric, it seems simple. The earth has an incredible proficiency for healing. People, too. The earth has native intelligence. People, too. The earth will survive in some form. People, too.

I have faith in the beauty, goodness and resiliency of the earth. People’s, too. I lost a good friend this week. We had to attend his service virtually through live streaming. A song was sung beautifully, a cappella. Love is here to stay.  I wept. The world turns, I go on living, as does his family. His road ended. Just this time. But his integrity, kindness and intelligence nurtured the paths he crossed and the people in it. That doesn’t disappear regardless of the tumult around us. Not all roads are bad. Keep perspective. Be patient.

THE BONE CLOCKS- AUGUST 2020 BOOK SELECTION

This is my first read (listen) by author David Mitchell, best known for Cloud Atlas. The only downside I can see in the Audible form is the difficulty of going over chapters and passages again at your leisure. It might be nice to have the written form for that purpose.

I have to say this novel was completely captivating. It was challenging, not only in its format but also in its philosophy. I’m not sure if its message is Mitchell’s or simply a brilliant fantasy premise, which speaks to the skill of his writing.

The novel is broken into six interwoven sections running from 1984 to 2043. There are five, first-person point-of-view narrators. The one thread which connects them all is the character of Holly Sykes. We meet Holly at a naive, rebellious fifteen, trying to navigate a betrayal. The second character, Hugo Lamb we meet as a shallow, unethical university student. The third, Ed Brubeck, is a war correspondent trying to balance family and his love of his work. The fourth is Crispin Hershey, a famous writer, bitter and past his popular prime. The fifth is Marinus, an ancient being whose multiple lives span centuries. The sixth and last section brings us back to Holly at age seventy-four trying to make sense of a very different world.

This masterfully plotted fantasy is unlike anything I have read before. I give it high marks. I’m a new Mitchell fan.

Highly recommend.

5 Minutes

I have been filling my days with doing laundry, dog-walking, grocery-shopping, cleaning, deleting emails, listening to books on Audible and cooking. Nights are filled with Netflix et al. and reading. Most of the daily above are essential, things-we-have-to-do-to-survive activities. Goddess forbid I should try to get in excellent physical condition or accomplish something like organizing a closet. That seems to be the frame of mind I’ve been in without realizing it. Just get through it. Do what I have to do to be safe and get through it. The minutes, hours and days just slide into one another. All looking basically the same. We are so fortunate to not have lost income. I do realize how incredibly lucky that is. But still all I think is: when will it be over, will it ever be over, when will I see my children and grandchildren again, my family, my friends. When. When. When?

My extraordinary daughter reminded me of something the other day. She reminded me that none of those activities, while essential, do not feed the soul. (Well, maybe reading.) She had read somewhere or heard that it was important to try to take just five minutes a day to do something that enriches. That feeds the soul. That expresses your creativity. How long had it been since I had done that? Except for this blog, a long, long time. It just seemed too overwhelming to try to take something on at this time. If I’m honest I felt that way before the pandemic. It felt like diving into the wave of a tsunami. But five minutes. I could do that. Anyone can do that, right? The parameters were easy. Not diving just wading for a bit.

I wrote a blog a long time ago about just showing up. That’s the same concept. Just show up. Five minutes. I can do that. My daughter is the only one who never lets me forget my creativity. She never lets me coast. She is the only one who asks. For that, I am so grateful. She is the pebble in my shoe. My extraordinary son reminds me to not let my physical being deteriorate. Both are necessary. One feeds the other. Maybe I will manage to do something to make them proud.

THE GIVER OF STARS- JULY 2020 BOOK SELECTION

British born Alice Wright marries a handsome American and moves to rural Kentucky believing she will escape the home and cloistered existence where she was never accepted. She seeks to find happiness, belonging, excitement and adventure in a new life full of endless possibility.

Set in Depression-era America, opportunities were rare and especially so for women. Alice finds she has escaped one prison for another until she hears of an organization that came to be known as The Packhorse Librarians of Kentucky.

This idea was the foster child of the indomitable Eleanor Roosevelt. It created traveling libraries populated by women who traveled by horse, mule and cart to rural areas to bring literature and thus an opportunity for education to those unable to have access any other way.

This story illuminates a previously unknown (to me) true account of the accomplishments of these women, their bravery, grit, friendship and hope.

Highly recommend.

The Giver of Stars

Hold your soul open for my welcoming.

Let the quiet of your spirit bathe me

With its clear and rippled coolness,

That, loose-limbed and weary, I find rest,

Outstretched upon your peace, as on a bed of ivory.

Let the flickering flame of your soul play all about me,

That into my limbs may come the keenness of fire,

The life and joy of tongues of flame,

And, going out from you, tightly strung and in tune,

I may rouse the blear-eyed world,

And pour into it the beauty which you have begotten.

                                             - Amy Lowell - 1874-1925

Born in 1874, Amy Lowell was deeply interested in and influenced by the Imagist movement and she received the Pulitzer Prize for her collection What's O'Clock.

Better Things Ahead

So we are still here. But so much has happened since my last post. The world is for the most part still held in the grip of this pandemic. Repeat closings follow close on the heels of premature openings as the numbers start to surge in some states. Unfortunately, I live in one of those states.

People are tired, I see that, but so foolish it’s astonishing. Why refuse to wear a mask because it infringes on your personal freedom when not wearing one will ultimately take away not just yours but everyone else’s freedom and maybe their lives? It seems to me the ultimate stupidity and selfishness. The leader of the free world is not helping on that score. Stupid and selfish and lethal.

Some people are now doing family/friend “bubbles.” Getting together with those that have quarantined for two weeks. Unfortunately, our families are so far apart it is at the moment a logistical impossibility.

The other thing that I must mention is the extraordinary marches and demonstrations for equality, LGBTQ rights, #blacklivesmatter and anti-racism that have taken place all over the world. The world’s attention is on these issues and there finally seems to be a move toward meaningful legislation. It took centuries to get to this place. The changes won’t happen overnight. It may be that none of it would have happened at this time unless we had this pandemic. Interestingly, most marchers wore masks, and they did not get sick.

The world is watching. Finally. My biggest struggle is where I can best be of use. What can I do to make a difference besides add my voice to support them. One image has stayed with me. It was a young man holding a sign saying, “Please don’t be afraid of us.”

This seems like a good place to start: Don’t be afraid. Don’t look away. Keep listening and learning.

WHISTLING PAST THE GRAVEYARD- JUNE 2020 BOOK SELECTION

This novel by Susan Crandall is another Book Club selection. From the online description I was imagining a sweet, unusual friendship story between Starla, a nine-year-old girl and Eula, a black woman she meets by chance. It was not at all what I expected. It is indeed a story of a friendship between Starla and Eula, the woman who gives her a ride. However, the rest is a surprise.

Starla is a feisty little girl living with her emotionally abusive grandmother. She desperately wants to join her mother whom she believes to be a singing star in Nashville. Working on an oil rig in the Gulf, her father has been mostly absent. 

Deeply unhappy, Starla disobeys her grandmother frequently and fearing retribution for her latest escapade, she runs away from home. Heading on foot to Nashville to join her mother, she has no plan how to find her. Eula, a stranger, stops and gives Starla a ride. Starla soon learns that Eula has another passenger, a baby she has kidnapped.

The story is an adventure for the two from beginning to end. An attempted murder, an actual murder, desperate escapes, heartbreak and resolution take the reader on a wild ride with these two unlikely heroines. Recommend.

This Rough Magic

There are so many kinds of magic. Stay with me here. I’m not sure where this is going. I recently participated with fellow actors in a zoom call with the South Carolina Shakespeare Company. We did a virtual reading of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. It’s one attempt we all are participating in to bring some semblance and order into a world of disorder and chaos. Just seeing familiar faces, joking, catching up, reading this incredible play, analyzing it, reaching out.

I’ve done similar meetings with my book group. Not a full complement of members but all sharing a common goal, a wish to connect, a love of literature and the joy of seeing familiar faces.

This is going on so much longer that we could have imagined. The hardest thing is we don’t know when it will end. Even though states and countries are beginning to open up, we don’t know, will there be a resurgence? What will the world look like when it’s over? Sorry for the drama. Even Pollyanna gets the blues. It will pass, I know.

I hate it most for the children. Will they even understand? Maybe it's actually easier. I just want them to be safe. When will I hold my loved ones again? What a joyous day that will be. We don't need the ultimate reason for why this has happened. It has. In the meantime, “this rough magic” of virtual love and connectedness will have to do.

For some extraordinary reason, it has been the most beautiful spring I can ever remember. So there’s that rough magic, too.

Be safe, All.

“But this rough magic
I here abjure, and, when I have required
Some heavenly music, which even now I do,
To work mine end upon their senses that
This airy charm is for…”

-Prospero, The Tempest

Act V, Scene 1

THE DISTANT HOURS- MAY 2020 BOOK SELECTION

In many ways Kate Morton’s novel, The Distant Hours is reminiscent of the old-fashioned gothic tales similar to Rebecca and Jane Eyre. A letter arrives after being lost for fifty years, a mother and daughter are estranged, a crumbling castle harboring ghosts and three spinster sisters with a lifetime of secrets all form the bones of an engrossing story.

Morton is a master storyteller and proves it again in her third novel. I’m a big fan of Morton’s style: twisty, winding, surprising and ultimately satisfying. The Distant Hours evokes an atmosphere and setting of time and place so beautifully written that you can feel, hear, see and smell the English countryside of Kent.

Not for the faint of heart, The Distant Hours clocks in at 576 pages. Fully worth the time for lovers of mystery and suspense. Morton artfully ties all loose threads together in overlapping tales of love, betrayal, loss and war. It’s a perfect time to dive in and lose yourself in another world.

Stopping to Look

Is it my imagination or is the Earth more beautiful than it has ever been? More robust, bountiful, glorious. Flowers rich, bursting with color. Oranges bigger, more succulent. People kinder. More considerate. For the most part:)

A funny thing happened the other day. I wore a mask to the grocery for the first time and stepped aside for an older gentleman not wearing a mask. He was blocking a very narrow aisle. I told him nicely and indicated that he was welcome to go ahead. He pretended not to understand me. Finally, he said, “I can’t hear you through the mask.” He then laughed and said, “You know, the micro-molecules of that virus will cut through that mask like a hot knife through butter.” I wonder how long he was waiting to say that to someone. I’m sure it made his day as he cackled and passed me. I guess he didn’t get the memo. I wanted to protect him. He may be correct, but shouldn’t we do everything to try to stop the spread?

Anyway, as I was saying, everything seems cleaner, clearer, kinder, more precious. I know a lot of people are going crazy with the isolation but they are trying. They are singing arias from their balconies in Italy, they are playing jazz from their porches in New Orleans, they are sending free Audible books to children, arranging virtual tours of museums, FaceTiming with their loved ones and friends. It gives me faith in the beauty not only of the Earth but the beauty, resilience, and strength of the human spirit.

There will always be the grocery cacklers (I hope he’s okay), the necessity hoarders, the scammers, but I truly believe they are in the minority. People are giving, when they don’t have to. That’s what happens, isn’t it? When we stop and look. When we let ourselves. 

Good begets Good.

 Sending love and strength out there.

AMERICAN DIRT- APRIL 2020 BOOK SELECTION

Lydia Pérez lives in Acapulco with her journalist husband and eight-year-old son, Luca. Her husband is a journalist and she owns and runs a small bookstore. She and her family have a good life, but the increasing activities of drug cartels in Mexico are becoming impossible for her husband to ignore. He begins to write of the events and corruption while others are choosing to remain silent for fear of their lives.

Meanwhile, in her bookstore, Lydia meets a charming and friendly customer. He becomes a regular customer and dear friend. She has no idea who this man is until a picture is printed in husband’s article. It is the ruthless leader of the most lethal cartel.

During a celebration at her home, her husband and entire family pay a price for her husband’s exposé. Lydia and her son escape merely by chance. So begins a harrowing ordeal as she attempts to escape to America and safety. The cartel and its influence is everywhere. She can literally trust no one. She must suppress the horror of what has happened and rely on her wits and instinct to protect her son.

American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins is breath-taking. So fast-paced and beautifully written and researched, the reader is on the journey with Lydia and Luca. It’s a novel of acute danger and survival but also of the deep reserves of strength found when safeguarding those we love.

There has been controversy surrounding the fact that Cummins is not Mexican and that there were what some considered insensitive remarks. Regardless, this is a superb work of fiction based on the experiences of real people living in fear and desperation. It’s a must read.

Highly recommend.

Holding Close

I’ve been around for a while and I have never seen anything like this in my lifetime. There are and have been so many disturbing and distressing things that have altered life as we know it. Global Warming, Wars, 9/11. But this.

Still, I refuse to believe this is the “new normal” as people are fond of saying. So as we transverse this mess and attempt to do so with some sort of grace, I’m looking for what is good.

We are faced with what is the most important to us. News flash. It’s not missing a hair appointment or having our nails done. It’s not that report that was due. It’s not those petty misunderstandings or inter-office politics. Those things will resume. Sooner rather than later. In the meantime, what?

Health. First and foremost, as it never has been before. Sure, we want to stay in shape and eat right. But now, we want to live. We want our loved ones to live. We can hold close our loved ones if we are lucky enough to be with them. Texts, emails, phone calls, if we are not. Fresher air without all the exhaust fumes. Guess what? I took a walk with my dog today and the trees and bushes and shrubs are putting on a show as if there is nothing out of the ordinary going on at all. It made me smile. I got to finish a book I wanted to read and start another one. I started to meditate again.

So treasure being present. If you have children, teach them to be present by your actions. Pick your battles. Your children are here and although I hate this for them and their future, they will learn by how you navigate this.

Expect the best. You are smart enough to handle the worst if it comes. I one hundred per cent believe we will get through this. For some it will be a sea change. For others, it won’t. I may be a Pollyanna. So what. Better than a doomsayer.

Help where you can. Breathe and hold close the beauty of every single day.

ORDINARY GRACE- MARCH 2020 BOOK SELECTION

Ordinary Grace by William Kent Krueger was a surprise. It was a surprise not only because of the writing, which was terrific, or the story, which was deceptively simple, but because I had never read anything by Krueger before. It’s always a pleasure to discover a new (to me) author.

The story takes place in small town, New Bremen, Minnesota. The narrator is a middle aged man looking back on the summer of 1961 when he was thirteen and living there. During that summer, several deaths and the mysteries surrounding them changed the life of everyone in the town, some personally, some peripherally. The narrator was a pastor’s son, living what some would characterize as an idyllic life. He was the middle of three children, an older sister and younger brother. It was a seemingly simpler time.

One of the most interesting facets of the story was the dynamic of the small town. It is a microcosm of anywhere, any size town, USA. There are the same passions, prejudices, kindnesses, unfairness and drama that you find everywhere in any time period. Human beings, doing what they do. Sometimes good. Sometimes bad. Sometimes with tragic consequences.

The story also examines the dynamic within several families and how each person navigates their circumstances and how that shapes how they navigate their communities and their lives.

Winner of several awards including The Edgar Award for best novel, this is a beautiful story.

Highly recommend.

Cold Comfort

When I was a little girl and still being bathed by my mother, she always finished the bath with a generous splashing of cold water. We always squealed with mixed portions of delight and shock. As I’ve gotten older, the water has become a little warmer, but still on the cool side. I may go back to ending with cold because as it turns out, she may have been on to something.

I recently watched an episode of Gwyneth Paltrow’s new series, Goop Lab, on Netflix called Cold Comfort. In the series, Paltrow investigates different modalities of what I will call alternative medicine and treatments. She and her staff experience these modalities first hand. I have only watched two episodes so far but say what you will about Paltrow and her methods, there is compelling science behind all of what she explores.

In Cold Comfort, we meet a Dutch athlete named Wim Hof. Hof practices a method of deep breathing and exposure to cold to help his clients treat everything from panic disorder to autoimmune disease. He himself has set numerous world records with these techniques and has had some rather amazing results with his clients. Hof is not only a vigorous and enthusiastic teacher but his claims have been studied scientifically with very positive results.

This series is definitely worth a look-see.