A change of pace and a new book

 I have two announcements. 1) As part of my endeavor to simplify my life and lighten the load, I have decided to post to this blog every other week. I’ve been posting weekly for the last four years. I do it with a sense of ministry and joy, and I’m learning as I go. My purpose has been to explore ways of aging with courage and humor, and exploration is the right word. I’m finding the path even as I walk it. And I’ve been doing it with you. That will continue. I hope you’ll stick with me.

By the way, I invite you to check out my website, if you haven’t already (nancyjthomas.com). You can go directly to my blogs from there. The advantage is that it’s easier to comment if you should wish to. I invite comments and would love to have conversations around the subject of each blog. Think about it.

2) This is the exciting announcement. I have a new poetry book coming out later this year. It’s called Before Our Very Eyes: Poems of the Incarnation. The poems center on the life, work, and words of Jesus. I’ve been working on some of them for years. Others are new.

Several years ago, I took on the challenge of meditating, praying, and writing poetry through all the books of the Bible. It hasn’t been an academic exercise and I certainly haven’t had publication in mind. It’s a devotional practice, a form of prayer.

Let me quote from the introduction to the book to give you some of its flavor:

This book of poems begins with a brief prophetic prologue from Isaiah, then covers the words and experiences of Jesus in the four Gospels and the first chapter of Acts. A short epilogue ends in Revelation. . . .

Essentially, the poems are my conversations with God based on Scripture. God graciously give me permission to say anything, get mad with him at times, ask any questions, take him to task, worship him, be amazed. Nothing offends. God can take it. Often the poem ends with an unanswered question and that’s OK. I can wait. We have a back-and-forth relationship. In addition, this way of reading, praying, and writing through the Bible is tremendous fun. . . .

As I ponder the whole story of Jesus, from the Old Testament prophecies, through his time in our neighborhood, and on to end of the story (and its real beginning), I am amazed and blessed. . . . I pray you will experience the same.

Right now I have the galley proofs in hand. That means the publisher (Wipf & Stock) has already type-set the book. I now get to do one last proofreading and then it’s ready to print.

Previously, before sending the completed manuscript to the publisher, I had a professional proofreader meticulously go over it. My friend, Susan Fawver, did the job beautifully, so my task now is not so hard. Nonetheless I’m finding some things in the type-setting to correct. There’s always a chance a typo will sneak in. So I’m reading it slowly out loud, not for the content, but for the nitty-gritty small stuff—consistency, matching the titles in the book to the titles in the table of contents, checking page numbers, re-reading all the Bible references, and so on. It’s hard work, but I’m motivated knowing that the end is in sight and I’ll be able to share the book with the world. With you.

In many ways, the whole process—from the conception of the idea, experiencing the initial excitement, then on to the hard labor—is like giving birth. At this point I’m anxious for the whole thing to be over. I can’t wait to introduce my new child to you.

Favorite books of 2025

This was a good year for reading and, while I can’t mention all the good books I read, I’ve put together a list of my favorites. I’m afraid the list is rather long. If necessary, forgive me. Or not. Some of these books I was able to discuss with members of the book club I belong to, a highlight of each month. In a way, I’m discussing them with you now. Please let me know your favorites from the year.

Fiction

Rachel Joyce, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (2013): This was one of my favorites, about an ordinary old man who took on an extraordinary task, that of walking the length of England under the belief that this would save his friend from dying. He suffers, makes some strange friends, and reflects on his life.  A book about transformation. I also read the sequels, The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy (2014) and Maureen   (2022).

Rachel Joyce, Miss Benson’s Beetle (2020): Similar to Harold Fry, this story features a frumpy old spinster who has a passion for beetles. She decides to journey to New Caledonia to try and discover the fabled  Golden Beetle. Her quirky traveling companion and the adventures they encounter make this a highly entertaining, and inspiring, book.

Dean Koontz, The Bad Weather Friend (2024): A combination fantasy/suspense novel about Benny Catspaw, a man who is “too nice.” He gets fired from his job, loses his girlfriend, but discovers he has been assigned a craggle, a critter with supernatural powers who is like, but not the same as, a guardian angel. They battle global injustice and try to save the world from destruction. Very entertaining.

Sara Nisha Adams, The Reading List (2021): This very good novel weaves the stories of several people who all mysteriously find a list of books “for whoever needs them.” As people read, some of whom have not before been interested in literature, they come together and their lives are touched for the better. 

Colson Whitehead, The Nickel Boys (2019): This historical novel, a Pulitzer Prize winner, tells the story of the  Nickel Academy, a juvenile reformatory in Florida, based on a real school that operated for 111 years. It deals with injustice and cruelty, focusing on two boys, one of whom escapes. The story follows him through life as he tries to recover from the trauma. Hard to read, but important.

Jennifer Ryan, The Kitchen Front (2021): I loved this book—even cried at the end. The historical background is England during World War II and a BBC radio show, “The Kitchen Front,” that gave recipes to British housewives using only the rations granted. The story revolves around four women who enter a cooking contest, with prize being co-hosting the radio show.  (I also read The Underground Library, 2024, by the same author, another WWII historical novel of the library set up in an underground shelter in London during the blitz.)

Richard Powers, Playground (2024): Fascinating tale of four people whose lives finally converge on the island of Makatea, on the verge of a decision that will determine its future. The playground is 1) the ocean, the real protagonist of the book—its vastness, beauty, life, and endless variety and 2) a brilliant AI platform named “Playground” that threatens to overpower human intelligence. In a sense the book represents the contest between artificial intelligence, humanity, and the mysteries of nature.

Barbara Kingsolver, Prodigal Summer (2000): Takes place in the farms and forests of Southern Appalachia in a humid summer when everything seems to procreating—plants, animals, and complicated human beings. Three intertwined stories of people trying to find their relationship with nature—and with each other.

Linda Sue Part, A Single Shard (2001): This Newbury Award winner is the haunting story of an orphan boy in 12^th century China, homeless and living with an older man who is crippled. The boy, Tree-ear, becomes enchanted with the beautiful celadon pottery and is apprenticed to one of the skilled artists. Shows the boy growing, maturing, taking a great risk, and being rewarded beyond his expectations.

Ariel Lawhon, The Frozen River (2023): A stunning story based on the true history of Martha Ballard, a mid-wife and healer in colonial Maine, 1789. Martha becomes involved in solving a murder mystery, fighting the injustice of men in the town who are leaders and oppressors. I loved it for the view of colonial life; a midwife’s profession; the brave, intelligent, honest heroine; and the portrayal of a good marriage. A bit of brutality, but the topic was brutal and the author did not fudge. Or exaggerate.

Marie Benedict, The Mitford Affair (2023): Historical novel based on the Mitford sisters in upper society London in the years leading up to WWII. Two of the sisters become fascists, even being drawn into Hitler’s inner circle. The political and the personal intertwine when another of the sisters has to made a decision between family and country.

Marie Benedict, The Queens of Crime (2025): Incredibly clever plot has a group of female crime writers join to solve a real crime and thus prove their worth to the male writers who don’t give them their due respect. The leader of the group is Dorothy Sayers and her cohort is Agatha Christie, which makes the book especially fun to read.

 

Non-Fiction

John Simpson, The Word Detective: Searching for the Meaning of It All in the Oxford English Dictionary: A Memoir (2016): Simpson spent over four decades working for the OED, the last 20 of those years as Chief Editor. He relates the later history of the OED, from 1976 to 2013, including its breakthrough into the age of the Internet, making it accessible to the masses (me) as never before.

Alistar McGrath, C.S. Lewis: A Life (2013): Best biography of Lewis I’ve read. Learned a lot about his relationship with Mrs. Moore, his response to the war (refusing to deal with it), his relationship to Tolkien, the conflicts with Oxford, and his relationship with Joy. A treasure.

Connie Dawson, John Wimber: His Life and Ministry (2021): I learned a lot of details about his life, and especially his struggles and the attacks against him. The book summarized the tremendous influence of his life on the church.

Carolyn Maull McKinstry While the World Watched: A Birmingham Bombing Survivor Comes of Age during the Civil Rights Movement (2011): The author was a child and a member of the Birmingham Sixteenth Street Baptist Church that was bombed on Sept. 15, 1963. She tells the story of her experience, with background of the whole civil rights movement especially in Alabama. She details aftermath of the bombing, how it affected the country and how it affected her. Excellent resource for understanding the suffering from the black point of view.

Claire Hoffman, Sister, Sinner: The Miraculous Life and Mysterious Disappearance of Aimee Semple McPherson (2025): An incredible history and a well-documented book. Tracks her rise to fame as a powerful Spirit-filled preacher and evangelist, to the point where her crusades attracted thousands. Her mysterious disappearance in 1926 and later strange reappearance sparked controversy and court cases that drug on for several years and tarnished her reputation. Good book about a complex person.

Bianca Bosker, Get the Picture: a mind-bending journey among the inspired artists and obsession art fiends who taught me how to see (2024): Bosker, a journalist, decides to dive into the contemporary art scene in NYC, trying to understand the art, and why art in general matters. Has incredible experiences in the five years she ends up spending there. In some ways it reads like an anthropological case study. Fascinating.

Safiya Sinclair, How To Say Babylon: A Memoir (2023): One of the best books I’ve read this year. Sinclair tells of growing up in the Rastafarian sect in Jamaica, a “communistic Christian commune.” Learning about the sect was fascinating, but Sinclair’s personal story griped me more. In this male dominated culture, with the father as autocrat, she was abused into believing she had no worth. This is the story of her coming to discover her identity and rise to become a recognized writer and poet. A tribute to the human spirit.

Kristin Gault, The Way We Walked: Friendship, Faith and the Camino de Santiago (2025): the book chronicles the walk Kristin (my daughter) and her friend Heather took on the famous Camino de Santiago, starting in mid-Portugal and following the coast up to the northern Spanish city of Santiago, with its famous cathedral. Details the challenges the women faced—physical, mental, spiritual— the transformation it worked, and the satisfaction on reaching the goal. Interesting description, with lots of humor, as well as inspiration.

Poetry

Nancy Thomas, editor, An Arc of Grace: selections by Quaker poets of the Pacific Northwest (2026): Maybe putting this book on the list is cheating because it isn’t published yet. But I spent a good part of the year with the poems of 14 good Quaker poets, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The book includes black-and-white photos of various Quaker photographers to match the mood of the poems. Prepare to purchase! And enjoy!

Note: I am posting this blog from a hospital bed! Much to my surprise! (Do you see how devoted I am to keeping up on my blog?) Fortunately I wrote it yesterday.

Confessions of a Lapsed Luddite

 About 30 years ago I discovered that I was a Luddite. Not really an out-and-out fanatic, I qualified as only a borderline Luddite.

It all started when Hal and I joined the 20^th century and bought a personal computer. As a writer, I quickly grew to love how it made my daily work so much more efficient (which is why I classified myself as only a borderline Luddite). To ease into our private technological revolution, we took a seminary class called “The Church and the Computer.”

My self-discovery took place during the first class session. The professor gave a brief overview of computer history. Among other interesting bits of trivia, he told us that those opposed to technological advance are known as Luddites, named after a 19^th century English protest movement against industrialization. I wrote it down in my notebook as something to look into later.

Then, somewhere along in the lecture, the professor casually mentioned that computers are making libraries obsolete. One of our textbooks amplified this, describing the use of computer library terminals in a large university. With only a title, someone can type a request on the terminal or on his personal home computer if he has a telephone hookup, and within seconds he will not only find out if the library has the book, but he can actually check it out and start the home delivery process, all this without even going near the library. The author of this textbook went on to state that one need never again waste time in a library looking for a book.

Waste time in a library! I was brought up on the value of wasting time in libraries, only back in my childhood we called it “browsing.”

I proceeded to waste some time in a library, looking up the Luddites, with whom I now felt a strange kinship. I discovered that the Luddites were a band of English working-class people who rose up in protest against a large weaving frame that was replacing man-power in the stocking industry. Masked Luddites rushed into homes that employed the frames and destroyed them. Historians differ as to where the term Luddite originated, but the version I like best concerns Ned Ludd, “a person of weak intellect” whom the other village boys made fun of. One day Ludd chased one of his young persecutors into a house that employed several of the weaving frames. When Ned couldn’t find the boy, he took out his frustration on the frames. After that, whenever a frame was broken, “Ludd did it” became the common cry.

The Luddite riots did not succeed, but the name lives on, according to my friend, Webster, in the hearts of all “who are opposed to technological change.”

I made that discovery a long time ago. Thirty years has shown that computers have not replaced libraries. Computers do help; I can now order online a book I want to read and, even though the local library may not have it stock, a computer will automatically order it from another library, then notify me by email that I can come pick it up. Very convenient.

Even so, I still love to browse. For me, spending an afternoon in the library is a sensuous experience. I enjoy looking down a row of books. The collage of colors and sizes presents a map of new territory to be explored. I imagine rivers, lakes, mountaintops, and peopled cities, all waiting for me. As I wander the rows, that subtle combination of leather, paper, cardboard, dried glue, and something else (what?) wafts like incense, a homage to the world of words and ideas. I like to take a book down from its niche and hold it, to touch the texture of the cover, run my fingers over the closed thickness of its pages, and guess what treasures I can unlock if I open it. I even like the library sounds—the varied rustlings and shushings and scufflings, a relative quiet that teems with life.

Wasting an afternoon in the library opens one to all sorts of serendipitous adventures. On my way to find one certain book, I can’t help but look at the books on either side. Often I make such delightful discoveries, I leave behind the one I came for in the first place and take home something better.

The retirement community where I live has its own library. While the holdings aren’t as large as the local library, there are still delightful discoveries to be made. Two such discoveries I made in the biography/memoir section are Will Schwalbe’s The End of Your Life Book Club and Tom Michell’s Penguin Lessons: What I Learned from a Remarkable Bird.

Schwalbe’s book, The End of Your Life Book Club, is a non-fiction memoir of Schwalbe’s time with his mother as she is dying of pancreatic cancer, a two-year process. It addresses end of life issues, the importance of reading and relationships, and provides the cohesive thread for the life stories of both Will and his mother, remarkable people. I photocopied the list of recommended reading at the end of the book.

Tom Michell in, Penguin Lessons: What I Learned from a Remarkable Bird, gives the true account of his experience as a young man on an adventure in Argentina, teaching in a British school. Over the vacation he goes to Paraguay and rescues a penguin from an oil spill. The penguin bonds with him and refuses to leave his side, so Tom has to take him back to the boarding school where he becomes a favorite of the students. The book covers themes of ecology and creation-care, plus the relationship that can exist between a person and an animal. (A film has been made of the story, but it’s not as good as the book. Hal and I read it aloud.)

I would not have even known about these books if I had not been browsing.

That said, I again confess that I am not a true Luddite. Not only do I love computers, I’ve recently been exploring the wonders of AI. Are you shuddering? Yes, there are dangers involved with this technology, but right now I’m focusing on all it lets me do and discover. (That’s a subject for a different blog.)

But nothing will ever replace a good browse in a library.

Note: For further proof that I am not a true Luddite, I am announcing that I have just launched my own author’s website. You can find it at nancyjthomas.com . Please look it up and browse awhile. This is a big deal for me.

What Harold Fry taught me about growing older

 It’s interesting to me how many contemporary novels and movies feature old people as protagonists. Within the last year I’ve read Noah’s Compass (Anne Tyler), How to Age Disgracefully (Grace Pooley), and Miss Benson’s Beetle (Rachel Joyce), among others. Even more movies, including romances, focus on the elderly. Almost always, the lead characters are portrayed as quirky but people of value and wisdom—however disguised (think of A Man Called Ove/Otto, Fredick Backman).

I’ve just been spending time with Harold Fry and I think his adventures are rubbing off on me. The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (2012), another novel by Rachel Joyce, features an older man who takes off on an adventure that is entirely out of keeping with his personality and previous experience. Harold is newly retired from a job that had grown so unsatisfactory that he left with no one even noticing. Now at home with his nagging wife, he hardly knows what to do with himself. Sound familiar? At one point in the story, he looks back over his life:

He had made a mess of being a husband, father, and friend. He had even made a mess of being a son. It wasn’t simply that he had betrayed Queenie, and that his parents did not want him. It wasn’t simply that he had made a mess of everything with his wife and son. It was rather that he had passed through his life and left no impression. He meant nothing.

Early in the story Harold receives a letter from an old friend he hasn’t heard from in years. Queenie writes to tell him that she is dying of cancer and just wants to say goodbye. That’s all. It’s a short letter, really just a note. It touches Harold and he tries to write a reply saying he’s sorry, but he struggles with the writing. He walks down to the mailbox to post the few sentences he finally came up with, but he can’t drop it in the box. So he walks to a mailbox down the street. And on the to next, etc., etc. Harold Fry never turns around to go back home. Somewhere along the way he gets the strong impression that he needs to walk to Queenie’s nursing home and give her the message in person. He’s convinced that as long as he keeps walking, Queenie won’t die. Harold lives on the southern coast of England; Queenie’s hospice home is some 700 miles away in the north of the country.

Harold would have been the first to admit that there were elements to his plan that were not finely tuned. He had no walking boots or compass, let alone a map or change of clothes. The least planned part of the journey, however, was the journey itself. He hadn’t known he was going to walk until he started.

The book is the story of his pilgrimage, the challenges he faces, the people he meets along the way, and what happens at the end. Without going into the details of the plot (read the book for yourself), I want to reflect on what I learned from this story, things Harold told me about older people without intending to, which is just like him.

--An ordinary person, even an older one, can take on an extraordinary task, even without the assurance of success. That speaks to my condition, as the Quakers say. I’ve taken on a project of writing poetry through every book of the Bible, a task that will probably take the rest of my life. It seems huge.

--It’s hard and success is not assured. Harold’s story ends strangely (but I’m not telling how). Mine may, too. Not all my poems will be good, in fact maybe most of them won’t. No matter. It’s definitely little by little, advancing everyday. If Harold kept on, so can I.

--Our bodies get in the way. Of course. Harold isn’t prepared for the blisters, the muscle aches, and the fatigue as he starts out. It gets better as he progresses, but he stays old to the very end. Sometimes fatigue and various aches and pains make me less than productive and I’m tempted to give up and just be retired—read novels, take naps, etc., etc. The challenges are real.

--Remembering is one of the tasks of old age. Somehow the walking helps Harold bring up the difficult things of the past and slowly begin to understand and face them. In a way, he’s coming to know himself. An important task for all of us.

--Harold accumulates some stuff along the way, stuff he considers necessary for survival. But at one point he realizes he’s carrying too much. So he gets rid of most of it and decides to let the needs of each day be met however that may be. He feels free again and picks up his pace. Yes to that. An ongoing process, but worth the trouble.

--This whole adventure is counter to the introverted mousey person he had been all his life. Yet the people he meets along the way begin to change him. He slowly comes out of isolation and finds community. It surprises and changes him. I need to remember that, especially as I enter different levels of care in the future. I see the temptation to isolation as fairly common. Being in life-giving community sometimes requires an effort.

--As Harold interacts with a variety of people, mainly by listening to their stories, he discovers that there are no boring ordinary people. What people carry inside—their past, their pain, their secret joys—makes each one a mysterious package to be opened. “Harold thought of the people he had already met and passed. Their stories had surprised and moved him, and none had left him untouched. Already the world had more people in it for whom he cared.” Remember that, Nancy. Here in this retirement community, there are no ordinary people; listen to the stories.

Here is one of my favorite passages:

… Harold walked with these strangers and listened. He judged no one, although as the days wore on, he couldn’t remember if the tax inspector wore no shoes or had a parrot on his shoulder. It no longer mattered. He had learned that it was the smallness of people that filled him with wonder and tenderness, and the loneliness of that too. The world was made up of people putting one foot in front of the other; and a life might appear ordinary simply because the person living it had been doing so for a long time. Harold could no longer pass a stranger without acknowledging the truth that everyone was the same, and also unique; and that this was the dilemma of being human.

He walked so surely it was as if all his life he had been waiting to get up from his chair.

--Harold finds that learning and discovering have no age limits. Once he stops looking down and feeling the pain of walking, he begins to look around. He discovers the beauties of the English countryside. “Once more, it surprised him how much was at his feet, if only he had known to look.” No matter our age, the world still invites us to explore and learn.

--Gradually, and without realizing it, Harold becomes new, while still being true to the essential person he is. Transformation happens. And not only of himself, but of his relationships. Back home, Maurine, Harold’s wife, had been going through her own time of reflection and change (but I won’t elaborate on how that turns out). We’re never too old to experience change and renewal.

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry does not aim to teach lessons or help us with self-improvement as we grow older. It tells a story, and does it well. But the characters are genuine, and so we implicitly learn as we enter into the lives of these ordinary unique people.

Sometimes the adventures we go on are through the pages of a good book.

    Now I think I’ll go out and take a walk.

“How To Age Disgracefully”

I instantly gravitated to this book, choosing it from among a tableful of other volumes. It was the title. I’m allergic to cliches, including the one about “aging gracefully.” I’m sure that’s a wise goal and that we should all learn to age gracefully. It’s just that after hearing the term so often, it loses its impact. Oh hum.

But “aging disgracefully,” well now, that’s something else. Clare Pooley’s novel, How To Age Disgracefully, is as funny as its title. For the quote at the beginning of the book, Pooley uses part of Dylan Thomas’ famous poem about aging: “Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day.” The characters in this novel burn and rave; they also bumble and stumble and trip over their arthritic feet, but they do so in a very entertaining way.

The protagonist, Daphne, a very rich lady, has lived in isolation in her tastefully decorated apartment for 15 years. Now on her 70th birthday, she decides she needs a social life, although she really doesn’t like people. She sees an ad for a small social group of seniors that meets in the local community center. She decides to give it a try, although she has serious doubts about socializing with all those old people.

And so the story begins with this motley collection of elders, each with their hilarious quirks and each hiding a secret in their past. The group eventually includes Lydia, the younger group leader who is experiencing the beginning of menopause, a shy teenage father and his adorable baby girl, a roomful of toddlers, and a geriatric, orphaned dog named Margaret Thatcher.

Daphne hates the stereotyping of old people she sees in the culture all around her, often rendering the old unattractive or invisible. But she figures out how to use the stereotypes to advantage, with hilarious results.

I’m not going to talk about the plot. Read the book for yourselves. But I will copy out here some choice quotes:

Daphne raised her hand. Nobody noticed. Daphne stood up, her hand still raised. They still ignored her.

Daphne did not like being ignored. In the early days of her career, she had been overlooked on account of her sex…. But now she was being ignored because of her age. She appeared to have jumped out of the frying pan of sexism and into the frying pan of ageism. The final frontier of isms.

Daphne thumped her walking stick several times on the wooden floorboards. She didn’t need a walking stick for actual walking. In fact, she prided herself on her mobility and flexibility, aided by twenty minutes of Pilates every morning, and an hour of yoga before bed. How many septuagenarians could do a headstand and sit for hours in the lotus position? She had, however, discovered that her age was a wonderful excuse for carrying around a stout, metal-tipped cane, which could come in handy in all sorts of circumstances. It was perfect for clearing people out of the way, for waving or thumping to attract attention, for giving the appearance of frailty when useful and, in extremis, it could be a dangerous weapon….

Daphne thumped the stick again, and everyone turned to find the source of disturbance….

  *****

“Nice day, isn’t it?” said Art to the man behind the counter, who flicked Art a cursory glance, muttered an “uh-huh,” and looked back at the phone in his hand.

Art was used to this behavior. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d become irrelevant, or invisible, even—it had crept up on him gradually over the years. He often felt like a ghost. He occupied the same world as ordinary mortals, but most of them appeared to see straight through him. It used to make him angry, but then he’d discovered that invisibility had its advantages.

Art looked down at the brightly colored array of confectionery in front of him, reached out a hand, and picked up a packet of Fruit Gums, which he slipped into the pocket of his voluminous coat. [Art’s secret is that he is a kleptomaniac. But a good-hearted one.]

*********

They walked off, back to Daphne’s apartment, the stray dog tailing a few feet behind them.

Daphne stopped and stroked him behind the ears.

“There are younger, prettier dogs you could adopt, you know, Daffy,” said Art.

“Pah. I prefer my friends to have experience, wisdom, and a few guilty secrets,” said Daphne. And the dog followed her home.

                              *********

I could add other quotes. But I won’t. Read the book for yourself. It’s not only funny. It’s wise.

Favorite books of 2024

 I read a lot of books in 2024, some poorly written, some good enough, and some excellent books that inspired me with their content and made me happy with their wonderful way with words. For me a good book combines both substance (what it says) and form (how it’s written).

It helps to be part of a good book-reading-group. I am. I hesitate to call it a club. We’re too informal for that and have no officers or protocol. We just meet regularly and have lively discussions. But, to be honest, I’d read just as much even if I were not in a group.

The following are some of the year’s favorites, not listed in any priority and being published in any year (not just 2024). I limited the list to ten fiction and ten nonfiction books. It was hard and I eliminated some good books. But, oh well. It’s interesting to see that all but one of the fiction books were written by women. The women also dominated the nonfiction and poetry categories. I wonder what that means.

Fiction

Ann Patchett, Tom Lake (2023): Patchett’s books always please me. This one tells of a mother and her three grown daughters, in the setting of a summer theater camp. It’s about telling stories and keeping secrets. How much do we really know about our parents?

Isabel Allende, The Wind Knows My Name (2023): Story of three children in three different generations, all raised in contexts of violence. Portrays well the trauma of being refugees.

Patti Callahan, Becoming Mrs. Lewis (2020): A fictional portrayal of the romance between CS Lewis and Joy Davidman. Extensive research gives this view of their relationship plausibility.

Geraldine Brooks, Horse (2023): Historical fiction that weaves the narratives of three people living in three different times whose stories eventually intersect. It circles around the sport of horse-racing and the story of one remarkable horse, Lexington. Touches on themes of racism, animal rights, relationships between animals and humans, and the relationship between science and art. Provocative. 

Bonnie Garmus, Lessons in Chemistry (2022): One of my favorites this year. A funny feminist story of a woman chemist in a world of men. When fired from her job, the protagonist applies her science to the art of cooking and becomes a popular television personality. The book treats serious subjects with humor.

Octavia Butler, Kindred (1979): Combines fantasy, realism, and time travel as a contemporary black girl finds herself back in the era of slavery, trying to understand her family story. Brings to life the suffering caused by racism, both in the past and today.

Celeste Ng, Our Missing Hearts (2023): A futurist novel about the fight against injustice set in a dystopian, totalitarian society. Again, the theme of racism is strong. Reminds me of Brave New World and Fahrenheit 451.

Kristin Hannah, The Women (2024): Story of the women who served as nurses in Vietnam, the challenges they faced in war, and those faced as they returned back home. An important book.

Barbara Kingsolver, Demon Copperhead (2022): This one is a Pulitzer Prize winner and I can see why. It’s hard to read the story of this young man who grows up with everything traumatic, violent, and wrong against him. As he progresses through young adulthood so many horrible things happen to him, it’s hard to read. Yet grace continues to show up in the people here and there who befriend and believe in him. It’s a valuable window into what so many people in our culture go through.

Niall Williams, This Is Happiness (2021): I found a new favorite author in this Irish writer. This coming-of-age story is set in a small Irish village early in the 20th century, and the setting is as much a protagonist as the people in the tale. Beautiful and insightful descriptions, both of the landscape and of human nature.

Non-fiction

David Brooks, How To Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen (2023): A good book on being an authentic, other-centered, kind person who helps the ones she’s with become more of themselves. I’m a David Brooks fan.

Judy Meliner, Working Stiff: Two Years, 262 Bodies, and the Making of a Medical Examiner (2015): Fascinating memoir of a forensic investigator’s internship in New York City. Goes into detail of all that an autopsy in a criminal cast involves. Especially gripping is the chapter on 9/11.

Sarah McCaman, The Exvangelicals: Loving, Living and Leaving the White Evangelical Church (2024): Provocative book documenting the stories of young adults, raised in evangelical churches, who are leaving, disillusioned. I identify with many of the reasons young people leave the church but I don’t agree with the totally black picture she paints. There is still much life in the church.

Barbara Mahany, The Book of Nature: The Astonishing Beauty of God’s First Sacred Text (2023): Mahany says that God speaks to us in two main ways: through Scripture and through nature. This book focuses on nature and the need to pay attention. Give specific details about different phenomena of nature. To be read slowly and reflectively.

Patrick Bringley, All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me (2023): Memoir of Bringley’s ten years as a guard at this famous museum in New York. He tells stories of the different pieces of art as well as his personal experiences and his gradual becoming an art lover himself. I especially appreciated his reflections on art and how to enjoy art.

Nancy French, Ghosted: An American Story (2024): Fascinating story of a woman who ghost-wrote biographies of political figures, especially Republicans. During the time of Trump, she began to get uneasy as she felt forced to write things she felt were untrue. When she decided to no long write these stories, she was “ghosted” by the party, loosing her career and suffering harassment. Hard to read.

Carolyn Weber, Surprised by Oxford (2013): Memoir of a young Canadian woman who won a scholarship for graduate work in Oxford. It’s a triple love story: Weber’s falling in love with England and Oxford; her relationship with a Christian young man who explained the gospel to her and eventually won her love; and her finding God for herself, the focus of the story.

Barbara Brown Taylor, Holy Envy: Finding God in the Faith of Others (2019): Brown, a Christian professor of world religion to undergraduates, tells of her experiences as she takes a positive approach to other religions and brings students to worship services in each of the traditions. She finds so much good that she identifies what she calls “holy envy,” wishing that some of the practices could be incorporated into Christianity. She says that this approach to other faiths has actually strengthened her as a Christian.

Kristin Gault, Gifts of Sight: Discovering God's Love through the Lens of Visual Impairment (2024): Probably one of the best books of the year, and I say this because I believe it, not because the author happens to be my daughter (brag, brag, brag). Kristin combines her own experience as a teacher of the visually impaired with her larger life story, sharing spiritual insights that have risen from her profession and life.

Allen Cheney, Crescendo: The Story of a Genius Who Forever Changed a Southern Town (2019): Inspiring biography of a man who grew up poor and abused, but who discovered music early on and was soon recognized as a musical genius. An amazing rags-to-riches story.

Poetry

Jessica Jacobs, Unalone (2024): Poems based on the book of Genesis by a poet who is also a Hebrew scholar. Many of the poems are wonderful (and I rarely use that word). I wish I’d written this book!

Nancy Thomas, The Language of Light: poems of wit, whimsey, and (maybe) wisdom (2024): Okay, right. It’s my book. But I’m actually pleased with it and invite you to discover it for yourself. Available on Amazon.com.

It’s almost 2025 and I look forward to lots of things in the new year. One of those is, of course, books There’s a world of books I haven’t read. I wonder what treasures I’ll discover.

Gifts of Sight

 The venue seemed to be a large room in a warehouse. Or a barn. Antique stuff on the walls around the room surrounded a spacious area with tables here and there. If it were not for the furniture, I could imagine a square dance happening. Very western and homey. A small crowd was already there when we arrived and over the next hour more people drifted in and soon the place was full.

We were there for a literary event, something I am naturally drawn to. The occasion was the launching of a new book. The author—my daughter Kristin.

At this point I am going to claim my God-inspired, constitutionally-defended bragging rights as a mother. Kristin has never considered herself a writer (although I have a bundle of interesting, funny, and well-written letters collected over the span of 30 years). This whole project has surprised her more than anyone else. Over a year ago she began sensing an inner nudge to write down certain experiences and insights that had been deeply touching her life for some time. A few friends also suggested she write them down in a book. At first the idea seemed preposterous, but the nudges didn’t stop. Kristin has learned to listen and sense from where (and from Whom) a nudge is coming.

So she said Yes and began to bring together the thoughts, stories, and memories that would be the building blocks of her book.

The beginning of any big project is chaotic and messy. And sometimes discouraging. And so it was with this huge (to her) project. But Kristin is not a lone-ranger type. From the start, she had editors and experienced writing coaches by her side, and this made a difference. She gave me the privilege of being one of her coaches. Tenacity, courage, and lots of reorganizing and rewriting went into this year of hard work. And all of it alongside her fulltime profession and involvement in family life.

And now it was time to celebrate and formally present to the public Gifts of Sight: Discovering God’s Love Through the Lens of Visual Impairment. And celebrate we did! After about 45 minutes of socializing and snacking, Kristin’s editor Jesse called the group to attention and introduced Kristin (whom everyone knew) and her new book. Enthusiastic applause. Then Kristin took the mic and told the story behind the book. With laughter and a few tears, Kristin walked us through her journey, beginning at birth actually and leading to this evening and this celebration. I found it very moving and so did everyone else.

Then followed the book signing (with a healthy line of people wishing to purchase), more snacking, and visiting. My assignment for the evening was to take as many photos as I could. Throughout the evening, Kristin couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could I.

Let me tell you a little about the book. Kristin brings together three streams -- her profession as a teacher of the visually impaired, her personal life story, and insights on life lived as followers of Jesus. She uses the science of sight and visual impairment as a metaphor for how God sees, knows, and loves us, showing how this understanding has been transforming her own life. The combination of professionalism and personal vulnerability makes this book compelling and deeply encouraging.

That’s my objective opinion, in case you’re wondering. And, yes, with a little bragging mixed in.

Those babies we hold in our arms all start out as possibilities. After years of nurturing and prayer, with a batch of mistakes thrown in, how wonderful to see those possibilities come to fruition and shine.

I’m both humbled and grateful. And I’ll probably keep on bragging.

The prodigal son stays home

Downsizing is the name of the ghost that continues to haunt our apartment. His nickname is Books. But he has a twin sister named Keepers. I frankly play favorites and I like Keepers better than Downsizing.

I am making progress. Really, I am. And along with deciding which books to recycle, I decide which books are beloved enough to keep around a while longer. This are books I will likely reread. Right now I’m rereading Cry, The Beloved Country, the wonderful novel about a changing Africa by Alan Paton. Stephen Kumalo, beloved pastor of the village of Ndotsheni in South Africa, is one of my favorite literary old men, and one day I will write about him.

But today I want to reflect on another keeper, The Return of the Prodigal Son. This is my favorite Henri Nouwen book. It details Nouwen’s discovery of Rembrandt’s painting of the same name, a depiction of Jesus’ well-known parable.

Many years ago, Nouwen saw a poster of Rembrandt’s painting and he became entranced. Then he had the opportunity to visit the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia, where the original painting is housed. The museum curator provided Nouwen with a chair and he spent hours in front of the painting, in wonder and meditation. His reflections resulted in the book that so affected me and that still sits on my shelf. One of my keepers.

I was (and am) especially moved by Nouwen’s reflections on the love of the Father and how Rembrandt had captured this in the expression on the old man’s face and in the position of his hands. Nouwen observed that one of the Father’s hands was clearly masculine, the other feminine, two aspects of love, acceptance, and nurturing. He also reflected on how we can see ourselves in each of the three main characters. I saw myself in the wayward and repentant son, in the resentful and entitled older brother, and then in the Father himself reaching out in compassion. That book fed me and I frequently gazed at its cover, a reproduction of the painting.

A few years after first reading the book, I had the opportunity to visit Russia. This was not a tourist trip but a pastoral ministry assignment sponsored by the Friends Board of Missions. We spent time with our friends who were living in the country as “Friends Serving Abroad,” Johan and Judy Maurer. Johan and Judy knew Russia and loved Russians, so our time with them was rich and educational, much more than “seeing the sights.”

A few free days were an intentional part of our schedule, and Johan and Judy gave us some options and asked us what we wanted to do. I instantly spoke up. I suggested we go to St. Petersburg and visit the Hermitage. The others readily agreed, so one morning we boarded a speed-train from Moscow to St. Petersburg, a trip that gave us a taste of the Russian country-side. On arrival we found our hostel, enjoyed some of the local cuisine, and went to bed. I could hardly contain my excitement for the next day to begin.

My time in the Hermitage was outstanding on many levels, including the huge palace itself with its winding staircases, intricate furnishings, lush drapes, and beautiful floors—each room distinct. It was thrilling to come face to face with original paintings by Renoir, Cezanne, Goya, Picasso, and many others.

But as soon as I entered the palace, I was on the look-out for Rembrandt. A guidebook directed us to the right section, but even then, the multiple passages and creative arrangement of rooms made the search challenging. I was the one who spied it first (why is that factoid important?), in the distance, at the end of a long corridor. I walked as fast as seemed appropriate in that august place.

I was not disappointed. Quite the opposite. I knew the painting was large, but I wasn’t prepared for the reality. The only painting in that particular room, it covered the wall at 8 ½ feet tall and almost 7 feet wide. The figures were larger than life and very much alive.

The Father, hands on the shoulders of his runaway son; the son in his ragged clothes, bowing in sorrow and repentance before his Father; the older son off to the side, with a look on his face that expressed the complexities of anger, frustration, resentment, and suppressed longing—all this brought to life the story Jesus told the crowds over 2000 years ago.

It brought home to me the incredible love of God and his forgiveness of any human failure we can conjure up.

I stood before the painting transfixed for just under an hour, at moments in tears. I guess that’s what great art does. It touches us at a deep level and reminds us of what it means to be human. And what it means, in this case, to be forgiven.

I bought a canvas reproduction of the painting in the museum shop, and today it occupies a space on our living room wall. It reminds me of who I am, and how loved I am, as a child of God.

Thank you, Henri Nouwen.

Thank you, Rembrandt.

Thank you, Father.

Favorite books of 2023

It’s New Year’s Day as I write this. Although it’s really just an ordinary day, following yesterday in a continuous line of 24-hour periods of time, it always feels special to me, as though new beginnings and better behaviors are ahead of me.

If I were making a list of New Year’s Resolutions, which I’m not, I would put this one on the list: to read lots of good books in 2024. But I don’t need a resolution because I already know I’ll follow through. If 2023 is any indication, 2024 will be a good reading year.

My annual list of favorites follows. It doesn’t cover all the books read in 2023, just the ones I’d recommend above others. A good number of these are the ones chosen by my book club whose meetings I look forward to every month. We always read good books which we choose ourselves once a year through a hilarious process of recommendations and decision-by-consensus. Having a good book club helps in making good choices. Plus, it’s tremendous fun.

With apologies for the length of the list, here it is:

Fiction

Colleen Oakley, The Invisible Husband of Frick Island (2021): Unusual and creative plot that kept me guessing until the end. It’s the story of a young widow who pretends her husband is still alive and the islanders who go along with it. 

Louise Penny, A World of Curiosities (2022): I always look for the latest Penny mystery. This one is about a notorious serial-killer, loose from prison and on a quest to kill Inspector Gamache. Gamache figures it out before we do, of course, and barely escapes with his life.

Abi Dare, The Girl with the Louding Voice (2020): The author is Nigerian and writes of a 14-year-old girl from a rural town who runs away to escape an arranged marriage and ends up in Lagos. The story is written from the perspective of the girl who speaks Nigerian English, and her language is one of the best features of the book. A powerful story of women in Africa and the importance of education. Loved this book. 

Louise Erdrich, The Night Watchman (2020): Pulitzer prize winner. I love anything by Erdrich, a Native American writer. This story is based on Erdrich’s grandfather and the work he did against the Congressional resolution to abrogate treaties made with American Indians. Insightful on both NA history and intercultural relations. Powerful.

Anne Tyler, Noah’s Compass (2009): Tyler is another favorite author. This novel deals with an old man who is “downsized” from his teaching job, forced into an unwilling retirement, and has a strange romance with a quirky young woman, throwing his daughters into a chaos of emotions, mostly frustration and anger. Insightful on the struggles of aging and hopeful at the same time.

Charles Williams, Descent into Hell (1937): This was a re-reading of my favorite of Williams’ theological thrillers. The story of people so ego-obsessed they find themselves damned. But also a story of conversion and substitutionary love whereby one person literally bears the burden of another. This was transformative for me the first time I read it and continues to influence my thinking and my ministry.

Marie Benedict, The Only Woman in the Room (2019): Revealing and surprising novel based on the life of iconic actress Heddy Lamar. I had no idea (nor did her contemporaries) she was such a brilliant scientist and so influential behind the scenes of World War 2. 

 

Luis Alberto Urrea, The Hummingbird’s Daughter (2005): This is definitely one of the best books I read during the year. It’s based on the true story of a young Mexican woman, Teresita Urrea, who had unusual mystical gifts of healing and became a living saint and an inspiration to indigenous peoples during the Mexican revolution of the early 1900s. Urrea writes beautifully and this book is riveting.

Jodi Picoult and Jennifer Finney Boylan, Mad Honey (2022): About the murder of a young man and told alternately by his mother and his girl-friend who is accused of the murder. It addresses difficult themes: spouse abuse, child abuse, and, especially, the struggles of transgender people. Presents a compassionate view.

Shelby Van Pelt, Remarkably Bright Creatures (2022): Loved it! About the relationship between an octopus (in an aquarium) and the cleaning lady who admires him. The octopus is intelligent (“remarkably bright”), good at solving conundrums and at escaping his tank every night to forage for better food, etc. It’s a story of friendship, loyalty, and self-giving love. A modern fairy-tale actually.  

Ann Patchett, The Patron Saint of Liars (1992): Story of a disgruntled young wife who finds herself pregnant and escapes to a rural Catholic home in Kentucky for unwed mothers (even though she is married). She plans to give her baby up for adoption but falls in love with her infant daughter and ends up staying long-term in the home. The plot develops as she deals with her past and learns to accept who she is becoming. I like everything Ann Patchett writes.

Ann Garvin, There’s No Coming Back from This (2023): A clever and quirky story of a single mother about to be imprisoned by the IRS for back taxes. She flees across the US to Hollywood and a job in the costume department of Universal Studios. Her unspoken candor and unglamorous ways clash with the movie-making culture and make for fascinating, sometimes hilarious, reading.

Non-Fiction

Hyeonseo Lee, The Girl with Seven Names: Escape from North Korea (2015): Incredible memoir of the author’s life in North Korea and her complicated escape.

Prince Harry, Spare (2023): Fascinating to hear Harry’s side of his controversial decision, made with his wife Meghan, to retire from the duties of royalty and move to North America. Good insider view of the challenges of life among the British royalty.

Emily Pennington, Feral: Losing Myself and Finding My Way in America’s National Parks (2023): Memoir of the author’s cross-country trip in a decked-out van, while she works through a romantic break-up and searches for her identity. All this is against the backdrop of America’s spectacular national parks; the author describes each one, with some of its history. 

 

Daniel Bowman Jr., On the Spectrum: Autism, Faith & the Gifts of Neurodiversity. (2021): Insightful essays by the author who didn’t realize he was autistic until becoming an adult.

Louise Aronson, Elderhood: Refining Aging, Transforming Medicine, Reimagining Life (2019): One of the most important books I read this year. The author is a geriatrician and advocate for change in the way society views aging and treats the elderly. Especially insightful when it comes to the “health industry.”

Eli Saslow, Rising out of Hatred: The Awakening of a Former White Nationalist (2018): Pulitzer Prize winner. Biography of Dereck Black, a man indoctrinated in white nationalism since childhood. Gives a scary picture of the lives, beliefs, and passions of this extreme branch of North American conservatism. Shows Black’s slow process of coming to doubt the tenets of the movement and backing away. Insightful and hopeful. An important book today.

Poetry

Andrea Cohen, Everything (2021): A delight discovery, Cohen majors in short poems that give surprise takes on cultural cliches.

Carl Phillips, My Trade is Mystery (2022): Pulitzer Prize winner in poetry, this book is a collection of essays on poetry. I found it inspiring and insightful. I also bought his prize-winning book of poems, Then the War, but I couldn’t get into it. I guess I need to read it several times and see if it connects with my spirit. Or not.

Ed Higgins, Near Truth Only (2022): I’m delighted with this collection of poems from my good friend, who is also a good poet. His images and insights often surprise me.

I read lots of other poets, mostly collections that I consider keepers, even in this stage of downsizing: ee cummings, Robert Siegel, Theodore Roethke, Luci Shaw, Mary Oliver, and many others.

I’d love to hear about your favorite books in 2023. I’m sure I’d find many to add to my to-read list. Happy reading!