It’s been two weeks since I left Nevada and one week since I arrived at my new Michigan home. All of these days have been solo; I drove alone, I arrived alone to an empty house, I spend my days here alone. There’s a theme building . . . For now!
The Way In
But husband and kitties will be joining me soon.
The Dreaded Cot(I do not love it)
A Lonely Room (but I love it!)
As an introvert, this hasn’t been particularly tough. I love people, but I also love solitude. I just got the internet yesterday, and that’s fun because now I can write and publish my writing more easily. No TV here yet. No furniture to speak of. I have one little lamp table that fit in my car, a folding camp chair, and a cot. That’s it. Everything else will come in the moving van next week. So, what do I do all day?
I clean and I read. Often, at the same time, by listening to audiobooks using the Libby library App. One of the books I’ve enjoyed so far during this extended period of solitude is aptly The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah. It’s a tough book about a tough time and a tough place, but I liked it. Alaska in the 1970s, mental illness, abuse . . . it’s got it all, but it isn’t only that, of course. It’s also a book filled with nostalgia, love, and the awesomeness of nature.
Other books I read either just prior to moving, during the drive, or since my arrival are: We All Live Here, Moyes; Sandwich, Newman; The Secret Book of Flora Lea, Henry; Remain, Spark and Shyamalan; The Missing Half, Flowers and Kiester; and currently, The Island of Sea Women, See. Each book has its merits.
I found both We All Live Here and Sandwich charming and humorous. Both are light, contemporary novels with women protagonists wrestling with life changing events and the love of family.
The Secret Book of Flora Lea took me to one of my favorite historical settings, World War II England, in the countryside and also to London in the 1960s. It’s a delightful book about sisters, families, love, and the importance of stories.
Remain and The Missing Half are mysteries, with Remain being the more entertaining of the two for me. The Missing Half helped pass the time, but Remain’s ghostly love story captivated me at times, including during several memorable scenes that made me shiver.
And now I’m listening to The Island of Sea Women. It’s taken me to a part of the world I know very little about, which I love, because I am learning so much. It’s set in Korea from the story’s beginning in the 1930s and will move through the war years and take me to the present day. It’s about women sea divers (an amazing group of female divers who earn the money for their families while their husbands care for the children), and it’s the story of two friends Mi-ja and Young-sook.
As you can see, I’ve not been alone, not really, for I’ve been traveling through time and place along with the characters created by the authors of these varied and appealing novels, carried away by their stories. It’s a kind of magic really, the way a reader lives both inside and outside of a book—simultaneously in the room, and also somewhere else far away.
I love this line about reading from Stephen Chbosky from his young adult novel, The Perks of Being a Wallflower:
“Sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book.”
My Family Spelling of the Name Has an “E” at the End: Johnstone. (candle/ image courtesy of scotstee.com)
Welcome to Billings, Montana, where I have hunkered down to avoid driving on the Interstate during one of the many reported snowstorms traveling around the US of late. If I had planned better, I would have chosen a cozier hotel to get stuck in, and I would have paid attention to where my husband stored the ice scraper in my fully packed Jeep, and I would have brought socks. And I should have planned better because Nunquam Non Paratus—Never Not Prepared—is the ancient motto of my family. I was raised under the plaid and the crest and the motto, yet here I am, sockless in Billings, Montana (not exactly sockless, but the pair I had on when I left Austin, Nevada several days ago needs a good washing, which I will give it, in the sink with my tiny bottle of shampoo. That might mean I’m a little bit prepared).
I haven’t driven much since moving to Austin over five years ago, as it is a compact town and I could walk to my part-time library job and to my beautiful historic church. Also, my guy always drives when we go “to town” to get groceries and supplies in Fallon, a mere 112 miles away. Ah, the open road!
As I mentioned in an earlier post though, Mr. P and I have sold our home in Austin and we’re moving to Michigan. Hence my solo interstate journey. Mr. P and his heroic childhood friend will be coming soon with the moving van, but they will be driving tandem (?), I guess, taking turns sleeping and driving and only stopping for gas and food. I left earlier because I am the world’s slowest driver, and I refuse to drive after dark when everything goes all fuzzy and weird, and also, I am not a morning person. So, I don’t get too far within the slow-motion window of light between say, 11 AM and 6 PM (this time of year).
The Kitties Will Be Coming to Michigan Soon!
It was a deeply emotional parting, my leaving Austin. There were library patron visits, homemade cards and cookies, a sumptuous church luncheon, and these amazing gifts (I’m keeping names private as I haven’t asked permission to share):
Book Quilt Made by Dear Friends, My photo
Saint George’s Episcopal Church Original Painting by Dear Friend
Austin Library Original Painting by Dear Friend
Flowers!
A Special Friend Luncheon in Fallon, NV
And now we’ve arrived at the Dreamy Forest Music and Afternoon Spritzers portion of the post, which is a radio station and a white wine spritzer in a plastic glass, but it is lovely, and I feel loved, and safe, and scared and excited all at the same time, because I have left a wondrous place, and I’m off to a new unknown. Wish me luck?
Cake!
Thanks for the Memories!Remember Bob Hope singing that? It always moistens the eyes. We are all so lucky, you know, to have each other and love each other for as long and as well as we can.
Be well everyone, and safe! I am so grateful for your visit. Where are you, in this wild, wild, harsh and beautiful, sweet and mixed-up world? I’d love to hear about it!
“In his witty and thought-provoking manner, Mark Twain once famously said, ‘It’s no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense.’” https://www.socratic-method.com
Sometimes, though, truth is not stranger than fiction. And thankfully, sometimes truth is kinder than fiction, too. Recently a friend and I had both just finished books that bothered us in various ways, which isn’t to say books shouldn’t bother us—it’s quite often important that they do—it was just that in the case of these books, the way we’d been bothered had less to do with subject matter and more to do with the marketing expectation that readers would respond positively to the various dastardly deeds of the protagonists, and that, indeed, there did seem to be plenty of readers out there who backed up that claim—readers who “loved” these books (and so maybe by extension that means they loved the protagonists? Maybe?).
I don’t remember the title of the book my friend was referring to; she said it was something about killers who were in love and only killed bad people—sounded like a Dexter type theme, and I know that was a highly watched television series, so I guess there’s an audience for that. I can’t claim to be someone who is above consuming questionable content. I’ve read hundreds of books in most genres and not all of them have been particularly elevating. That said, I have seldom read a novel with a less likable protagonist than the one Marisa Kashino gives us in Best Offer Wins (With the possible exception of Humbert Humbert, the protagonist/narrator of Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita).
Best Offer Wins is a Good Morning America Book Club Pick and was published by Celadon Books in 2025. From the book jacket: “…Margo will prove again and again that there’s no boundary she won’t cross to seize the dream life she’s been chasing. The most unsettling part? You’ll root for her, even as you gasp in disbelief.”
Uh. No. But let me take you back to the reason I read that blurb and took the bait. Coincidentally, on the same day my husband and I were submitting a bid on a house we wanted, Marisa Kashino’s thriller about a woman who will stop at nothing to get her dream house came across my desk at the library. It was a new purchase, and my job was to catalog it and get it ready for patron check-outs. I joked with my realtor that I hoped I wouldn’t become as obsessed with home buying as the teaser on the book jacket hinted the book’s protagonist, Margo, did.
Truth being, in this case anyway, less strange than fiction, I didn’t. Thank goodness. But I did check the book out and take it home to read over the weekend. I’m not normally inspired to write reviews about books I don’t like, but there’s something about this one that pushes me. What that tells me is that I did find it engaging, at least enough to finish it, but that, also, it troubled me. I think I kept reading to see if it would be possible to “root for her even as [I] gasped in disbelief.”
That stage never arrived. The backstory on Margo did indicate she’d had very tough breaks, enough of them, too, and that would normally soften a reader’s judgement and bring her to life in a way that would help the reader to care about her, but Margo’s behavior was so egregious that she remained not only unlikable, but monstrous. And I don’t mean monstrous in the sad way that Frankenstein was a monster because he was a victim and you felt sorry for him. Margo’s kind of monstrous is the carefully calculated kind that lacks any hint of personal responsibility or remorse.
I’m not sure what it says about me that I read the whole book anyway, and that gives me pause. I think perhaps my weird fascination with the book represents a part of contemporary America to me that I don’t understand and cannot accept, but that I still keep trying to fathom. I want people to have homes. I want people to care for each other. I want to love my neighbors as myself.
Each turn of the page offered hope, however slight, that Margo would learn some kind of moral lesson or would offer her a kernal of insight, forgiveness, or redemption, but in the end, there was none. No tenderness. No justice. Just a sad expose of a society where dreams can become as dangerous as despair, and the only thing that matters is the win.
In that way, the book is a success, I guess. A pretty good satire. Excellent social criticism, and social criticism is very much in order these days in my opinion. With Best Offer Wins out of the way, I’m happy to announce that Mr. P and I purchased a delightful home in the beautiful UP—the upper peninsula—in the lovely U.S. state of Michigan. We will be off to a new chapter there soon and leaving the awe-inspiring West and central Nevada behind with love for all we’ve learned and the friendships we treasure. By the way, we accomplished the purchase of the Michigan house without any nefarious activities nor bidding war mayhem. Sometimes, you see, truth is not stranger than fiction, and sometimes it is kinder.
Wishing you all happy days and cozy nights as we move through February and into March. Be Well!
Another goodbye. This old house, the one we have loved and labored over for the past five years, is sold and we are looking for a new place to live, spending countless hours exploring our options. We are moving primarily to get closer to health care, but it isn’t just that. There are many people who fight to remain here, in this isolated little town, even when they clearly need to get closer to a hospital and/or access to a grocery store, a home health care aide, or other support systems, but those are people with roots and years of memories and attachments to the place that I don’t have. They have always belonged here.
Sometimes I think I don’t deserve to belong, perhaps that is why I always wind up leaving. I’ve loved and left too many places. Oh, there’s always been a good reason, but still, I wonder exactly why those reasons always seem to find me so easily, almost as though I’m looking for them. Is it because my childhood was a transitory experience, one where living in different places and going to different schools and always being the new kid was a simple fact of life? I didn’t like it, but maybe I got used to it. Maybe that became my normal. Also, there was an element of adventure there, even though, honestly, the transitions were never smooth and I was perennially ill at ease.
My mom moved a lot before her marriage to my dad. My dad moved a lot after serving in the Pacific theater as a Marine during WWII. When they got together they moved a few times before I was born, and then they remained relatively stable in the town where my brother and I started school while they were together. The rented house on Sheridan Road in Kenosha, Wisconsin is the first home I remember. When they split up around the time I was in first grade, all the moving started again, first to an apartment on the other side of town and then we kids were sent to live with relatives across the country. After that we moved several times with Mom and our step dad. By the fifth grade I had lived in Wisconsin, Nevada, and Illinois and had attended five different school districts.
Then they decided to move to Minnesota. We stayed with my cousins there first. Next we moved into a little rental in North St. Paul. I think we were there less than a year, when my step dad came home and announced we were moving again, one more time—the last time—because he had found us a house to buy!
That was the smooth move, even though it meant starting over again in another new school, because it was the one that read like a story with a happy ending. It was going to be the one place we stayed forever. And I walked into that house, so much better than any other house I could imagine living in, and I fell in love. The Winslow Avenue house wasn’t too big, but it was sturdy and freshly painted, with two stories and a fireplace in the living room. It had window boxes filled with blooming red geraniums and a brass door knocker. Elms and maples and pines lined the well-kept lawns up and down the street, and the school was just a few blocks away. I walked to Frances Grass Junior High, and I met my lifelong friend and loved it all. But I was growing up, too fast, and the time slipped away, and I was drawn back time and again to another place, the first place I remembered, and to my father who lived there and to my first lifelong friend.
Lake Michigan Shore, Kenosha, WI- my photo
Meanwhile, the dream house in Minnesota was sold and my mom and stepdad moved to an apartment in Southern California. After that I moved on my own I can’t remember how many times. Minnesota, Wisconsin, California—back and forth. My longest residence was in the beautiful San Bernardino Mountain communities of Running Springs, Lake Arrowhead and Blue Jay, California, a place that I will always love.
And now it’s time to move again. I do love my home and friends here, and my church and library, and the mountains, the beautiful wild mountains and the endless trails. The silence that seeps into my soul. I’m sure moving to a place with nearby health care, groceries, water, trees, and more activities will be good—it’s just so hard to decide on the right place to go, and my heart aches as I can’t move toward my children and grandchildren, only farther away, again.
It’s overwhelming and frightening, and at our stage in life there won’t be much chance for a “do over” if we get it wrong. I think about where my parents ended up, my mom who began her life in Faribault, Minnesota and finished it in a little apartment in Anaheim, California, and my dad who started out in a large apartment in Chicago, Illinois and ended in a small condo in Brookings, Oregon. Were they happy with their choices? What drove them away from their original homes, friends, and loving families? Was it the war? I can only guess. And what called them to the various places they ran to? What wildness, what pain, what longing? Whatever it was, I clearly have felt it, too. Inherited it, I guess.
Old Methodist Church in front of our house, Austin, NV- my photo
Feeling lost and looking for solace this morning, I picked up a book—always a good idea—and I came across the following lines. I found them deeply moving. I hope you find something in them that helps you get through your day, too.
“…We are in the habit of imagining our lives to be linear, a long march from birth to death in which we mass our powers, only to surrender them again, all the while slowly losing our youthful beauty. This is a brutal untruth. Life meanders like a path through the woods. We have seasons when we flourish and seasons when the leaves fall from us, revealing our bare bones. Given time, they grow again.” Katherine May, from Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times.
“You should write because you love the shape of stories and sentences and the creation of different words on a page. Writing comes from reading, and reading is the finest teacher of how to write.” ― Annie Proulx
“One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to send it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.” -Annie Dillard
One way I manage my writing is with the free online Query Tracker (QT) service, which makes it easy for writers to search for literary agents. I love that I can narrow my search to suit my particular manuscript—by genre and length—and also by providing links to the agents’ respective agencies, where I can read extensively about the agency itself, what authors it represents, and much more. Locating an updated list of literary agents currently accepting queries and providing an organized space to keep track of who I submit to and when is immediately helpful.
Have you used Query Tracker? I’ve been using it for several years now, and I find it very useful. In the beginning I used it to research agents, looking for professionals who represented my genre of fiction. Gradually, I felt ready to send out queries and began the laborious process. I also keep a paper file where I jot down notes about the various agents’ manuscript wish lists and guidelines, as well as the dates I submitted to them. That is my messy but personalized backup, and I intend to continue the practice, but it’s also extremely helpful to use the free online Query Tracker.
Over time, I’ve found that I also greatly appreciate the features for recording the date I get a response (if ever), and the type of response. Agents request different content. Some accept only a query letter. Some want a certain number of sample pages along with the query (the number of pages varies). Some request a synopsis. Most of them have a loosely specified timeline given for responding to queries, with many of them stating that if you don’t hear from them within that time frame, it counts as a pass on your manuscript. If you get a response asking for more pages, or the full manuscript (Hallelujah!), there’s a place on QT for you to record that information as well. You can organize the submission chart alphabetically by agent or agency or by date submitted. This is just a quick overview.
Photo by Lori Pohlman
In my case, after sending out over 80 deeply researched and personally tailored queries to agents, with a couple of requests for more material that sadly didn’t bring an offer of representation, I went back to the drawing board. I revised the manuscript again on my own and then had the whole thing professionally edited. That accomplished, I felt ready to start submitting again, but this time I decided to submit the manuscript to small publishers that accept submissions without agent representation. I’ve read there is a better chance of getting traditionally published going this route.
Query Tracker has a search engine for publishers as well, so it was easy for me to search for publishers, again by genre and length, to research those who published my genre, and to begin submitting again. Currently I have 7 submissions out with these small presses, one of which contacted me within a few days. It’s currently under review there, but it could be some time before I hear anything, so I’m keeping the other submissions out there, and will continue sending out more.
It’s still early days in this process, but with the new year just hours away, I’m energized about new possibilities! I’d love to hear about your writing life journey—not only the path to publishing, but about all aspects of this beautifully messy creative life we share. With Love!
Dear Readers, Writers, Friends, Family and Artists of All Kinds,
Thank you for being here, and for all the wonder, thought, goodness, and genuine love you bring to the world. Wishing you rest, refreshment, and everything you need, today, and in the new year. You are, to me, all beloved members of the pack.
The strength of the wolf is the pack, and the strength of the pack is the wolf. Rudyard Kipling
“The strongest oak of the forest is not the one that is protected from the storm and hidden from the sun.It’s the one that stands in the open where it is compelled to struggle for its existence against the winds and rains and the scorching sun.” – Napoleon Hill
Hello, Reader and Writer Friends! I hope this post finds you well and blessed with the energy, time, and resources you need and deserve. I am grateful to you and wish you joy. The past few weeks have brought both expected and unexpected news, tasks, challenges, joys, and sorrows to my little corner of the planet, and I suspect they may have to yours also.
Changes of season, the holidays, national and world events, community and family celebrations, work, play, plans, and the shadow of illness and even death for some have been on the hearts and minds of many.
This week in my little town we’ve lost a young woman to suicide. The tragic and violent event has left many of us in shock, and the pain is palpable. And yet, standing right beside that horror, we also have grace in the shape of a group of dear people who planned and cooked and decorated our community center, and fed everyone in town who wished to come. And we had the Christmas tree lighting in the park, followed by fireworks. And we have a live nativity on Main Street coming in a few days. And I’m going to Disneyland with my grandkids next week. And yet, a friend’s cat died and one of our own adopted cats disappeared (you see how the sadness creeps back in). And yet, I got a surprisingly good medical report from my doctor. And in the netherworld of being a writer, I began another round of manuscript submissions today, sending out queries to six publishers.
The light shifts, the wind blows.
We manage as best we can, remembering that the strongest oak
the beginning of a new year for my Episcopal and many other Christian churches.
The weeks leading up to Christmas have always been my most anticipated, though I’ve probably never come close to understanding the depth of the reasons my heart finds them so.
In the beginning, it was certainly the way Mom made everything magic for my brother and I, and it was the tree and the lights and the music, Santa and the reindeer—my dad’s sweet smile. As the years went by, I learned more and went through different periods of faithfulness and failure, but I was always striving, trying to understand the magic and make it real.
According to Father Luke Gregory, OFM, “As the world enters the sacred season of Advent, a period of preparation and reflection for many Christians, we find ourselves standing at the intersection of hope and longing. This time invites us to consider not just the anticipation of Christ’s coming but also the deep desire for reconciliation and peace within our fractured world” (www.vaticannews.va).
The intersection of hope and longing—yes!
Wishing all of you, whether you subscribe to the faith of Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, or you’re Atheist or Agnostic—wishing you an unlimited experience of hope for a meaningful, hopeful, peaceful future, whatever you call this time of year.
Thank you for being a part of everything. Your presence makes everything bright and beautiful!
How I missed out on reading Lessons in Chemistryby Bonnie Garmus in the several years since its publication is a classic lesson in the old adage, Don’t judge a book by its cover, and also, a lesson in personal flexibility—that being that there are no doubt a plethora of other excellent books out there that I would love if I had bothered to read them, and sometimes that deprives me of valuable experiences. I heard Lessons in Chemistry was very good, but, eh . . . I thought. Not for me. I’m not into chemistry. The 1950s and early 60s don’t interest me as much as earlier times. It looks somehow . . . I don’t know . . . frivolous?
HardcoverEdition
I’m happy to report that I was wrong on all counts. Well, maybe not the I’m not into chemistry part, but as it turns out, that doesn’t matter. I didn’t need to be into chemistry to appreciate chemist Elizabeth Zott’s deep love of it. I just needed to appreciate Elizabeth Zott, the wonderful protagonist of this deeply funny, tragic, and ultimately affirming story. And that was easy. As for my not being interested in the 1950s-60s, I think I took that period for granted because I am a product of it. I have few memories of my earliest childhood, and of those, most are sad. Those years have not been a time I willingly wish to revisit. It appears I prefer visiting earlier and more dramatic times—times that occurred before I was able to suffer through them in person.
As for the idea that the book was probably frivolous, I definitely derived that from the cover. And I wasn’t the only one. Three years ago, a reader named Lisa Wright posted a question on Goodreads, “Am I the only one who was furious about the pink chick-lit, rom-com cover on this book? It belittles the book in exactly the same way Elizabeth Zott is belittled!”
Bonnie Garmus, the author, answered: “I have to agree–and I’m the author! All I can say is, the publisher did let me have input and I told them I thought it looked like chick-lit (nothing against chick-lit but this book isn’t that). Still, publishers have a lot of experience knowing what an audience will respond to and they thought this was the best way. They’ve been great to work with; we just didn’t see eye-to-eye on this. You can google other covers from the other nations and see you if you think anyone else got a little closer–I think Germany and the UK both did a nice job. I have hopes that this cover will change for the paperback.”
Paperback Cover
The way I fell into reading this book
I went on a trip and forgot to bring my library book. The airport gift shop’s book selection was pretty slim. I didn’t see anything from my TBR list. The cover on the paperback version was slightly less frivolous in my very unscientific opinion than the hardcover I had entered in our public library collection. At least it featured something that looked like the periodic table in the background. I picked it up, sighed, and purchased it.
The book delighted me from the first page. When I read these lines: “Fuel for learning, Elizabeth Zott wrote on a small slip of paper before tucking it into her daughter’s lunch box. Then she paused, her pencil in midair, as if reconsidering. Play sports at recess but donot automatically let the boys win, she wrote on another slip. Then she paused again, tapping her pencil against the table. It is not your imagination, she wrote on a third. Most people are awful. She placed the last two on top.”
Bonnie Garmus had my attention on page one, and she had me laughing and crying and feeling every range of emotion throughout the delicious ride through the air from Reno, Nevada to Minneapolis, Minnesota and back again. I loved this book! Highly recommended.
Have you had this experience? Purposely avoiding something, whether a book or a movie or a sport or an activity, that you later found to be good or valuable? I’m sure I’ve done it a lot!
Luckily for me, this time I was given the gift of proving myself wrong.
Welcome to a space for all moms. This is a platform where I write my experiences as a mom in her primes—sharing real-life stories, lessons learned, and the ups and downs of motherhood. My goal is to inspire, support, and connect with fellow moms who are also embracing the journey of raising a family while growing as women.
LakeArrowheadLadyWriter 
Books Get Me Through The Great Alone
It’s been two weeks since I left Nevada and one week since I arrived at my new Michigan home. All of these days have been solo; I drove alone, I arrived alone to an empty house, I spend my days here alone. There’s a theme building . . . For now!
But husband and kitties will be joining me soon.
As an introvert, this hasn’t been particularly tough. I love people, but I also love solitude. I just got the internet yesterday, and that’s fun because now I can write and publish my writing more easily. No TV here yet. No furniture to speak of. I have one little lamp table that fit in my car, a folding camp chair, and a cot. That’s it. Everything else will come in the moving van next week. So, what do I do all day?
I clean and I read. Often, at the same time, by listening to audiobooks using the Libby library App. One of the books I’ve enjoyed so far during this extended period of solitude is aptly The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah. It’s a tough book about a tough time and a tough place, but I liked it. Alaska in the 1970s, mental illness, abuse . . . it’s got it all, but it isn’t only that, of course. It’s also a book filled with nostalgia, love, and the awesomeness of nature.
Other books I read either just prior to moving, during the drive, or since my arrival are: We All Live Here, Moyes; Sandwich, Newman; The Secret Book of Flora Lea, Henry; Remain, Spark and Shyamalan; The Missing Half, Flowers and Kiester; and currently, The Island of Sea Women, See. Each book has its merits.
I found both We All Live Here and Sandwich charming and humorous. Both are light, contemporary novels with women protagonists wrestling with life changing events and the love of family.
The Secret Book of Flora Lea took me to one of my favorite historical settings, World War II England, in the countryside and also to London in the 1960s. It’s a delightful book about sisters, families, love, and the importance of stories.
Remain and The Missing Half are mysteries, with Remain being the more entertaining of the two for me. The Missing Half helped pass the time, but Remain’s ghostly love story captivated me at times, including during several memorable scenes that made me shiver.
And now I’m listening to The Island of Sea Women. It’s taken me to a part of the world I know very little about, which I love, because I am learning so much. It’s set in Korea from the story’s beginning in the 1930s and will move through the war years and take me to the present day. It’s about women sea divers (an amazing group of female divers who earn the money for their families while their husbands care for the children), and it’s the story of two friends Mi-ja and Young-sook.
As you can see, I’ve not been alone, not really, for I’ve been traveling through time and place along with the characters created by the authors of these varied and appealing novels, carried away by their stories. It’s a kind of magic really, the way a reader lives both inside and outside of a book—simultaneously in the room, and also somewhere else far away.
I love this line about reading from Stephen Chbosky from his young adult novel, The Perks of Being a Wallflower:
“Sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book.”
Exactly.
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Filed under Authors, Books, Commentary, Fiction, HIstorical Fiction, Home, Identity, Literary Fiction, Nature, Personal History, Reading, Uncategorized, Winter, World War II
Tagged as Book Review, Books, Fiction, Introvert, Michigan, Moving, Nevada, Reading, Writing