Book Club selection for 2021-2022

  

Book Club Schedule for 2021-22  
All Book Club meetings will be on first Monday at 2 PM at Bethel Presbyterian unless noted otherwise.

September 13--The Paris Dressmaker by Kristy Cambron led by Mary Lou 

October 4--The Last Days of Night by Graham Moore led by Peggy at Peggy's home

November 1--A Burning in My Bones by Winn Collier led by Carolyn C.

December 6--Pearl Harbor Christmas by Stanley Weintraub led by Carolyn A. at Carolyn's home

January 3--This Time Next Year We'll Be Laughing by Jacqueline Winspear led by Carolyn A.

February 7--A Divided Loyalty by Charles Todd led by Cindy 

March 7--Gilead by Marilynne Robinson led by Marti 

April 4--The Ninth Hour by Alice McDermott led by Margie 

May 2--Outwitting History by Aaron Lansky led by Peggy 

Runner-ups include--The Gown by Jennifer Robson,  Good and Angry by David Powlison, 
No Surrender by Chris Edmonds

Lillian Boxfish takes a walk

Just finished "Lillian Boxfish takes a walk," by Kathleen Rooney (2017). It's a novel inspired by the life and work of Margaret Fishback who wrote ads for Macy's in mid-20th c. and was a published poet in her own right. I have no idea how old Rooney is (40-ish?), but she awfully good at speaking in the voice of an 85 year old. She's written a lot of books--I might be willing to try another one. Her method of telling Lillian's life story through a walk in Manhattan on New Year's Eve 1984 was fascinating. So if you need some more summer (or book club) reading, I recommend this title.

Wesley Snipes is an author

Today I received an offer to review Wesley Snipes' spiritual "thriller" novel. I said no (I've never read a thriller), but I think the concept and author are interesting. The pitch. "TALON OF GOD (Harper Voyager; on-sale 7/25/2017) is a high-voltage cinematic saga with strong spiritual themes. The novel centers on Lauren Jefferson, a beautiful young ER doctor and daughter of a Baptist minister, dragged into an apocalyptic battle between Heaven and Hell—and at her right hand is Talon Hunter, spirit warrior. Co-authored by writer Ray Norman, the book stands out as the Harper Voyager imprint’s biggest book of the summer."

Porch or beach reading

A neighbor brought over Fannie Flagg’s “I still Dream about You” for me to read because there is a Scotland connection in the novel and we had just traveled there. An easy porch or beach chair read for summer. I laughed and laughed although there is a serious topic, or several, wrapped up in the crazy characters that only Flagg can create. There’s a former beauty queen Maggie filled with regrets about how her life turned out, her black best friend Brenda who is always cheating on her diet, their mentor and employer Hazel who was 3’4” tall, Ethel who is 88 with purple hair, and Babs who hates everyone and is also hated by all because she’s so evil. All are real estate agents living in Birmingham, AL, growing up in the 50s and 60s working things out in 2008-2010. There are many twists and surprises, but an easy read.

http://www.southernliving.com/travel/south-central/fannie-flagg

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/11/09/AR2010110905604.html

My $2 beach read

I have a "beach reading" novel I purchased used for $2. Debbie Macomber, "Summer on Blossom Street." The author brings her characters together through a "Knit to Quit" class, where knitting helps them recover from an addiction or bad habit. Now what mother of a middle age adult can't identify with this:

"He felt protective toward his mother and, as much as possible, tried to spare her any worry. In return, she felt it was her duty to look after him, to enquire about his diet and whether he got enough sleep and had enough of a social life. In most instances Hutch didn't mind. Lately, however, she'd been on this marriage kick. She said it was because she didn't want him to repeat his father's mistakes and bury himself in work." (p. 110)

 Perhaps I don't read enough fiction to know about the tough subjects, but this book has a theme about adoption and foster care and the anxiety and trauma for older children in the system. Also step-parenting, widowhood, loss of a parent as a young adult, and an abusive fiancé with a sex addiction, and their pushy parents who still want them to get married.

Some dogs and cats in the story who seem to be well adjusted.

The article was about financial advice found in famous fiction

This was one of the comments on the article.

The greatest book of fiction has yet to be written.  That's only because its voluminous pages are still being made every single day, and appears will continue to do so daily for at least the next several years. 

In years forth, those historians whom are laboriously working to author the greatest book of fiction ever compiled from one man's public statements, will simply title the book:

"Campaign Promises and Other Guarantees Made By Barack Obama"

Denise Cantu

At the White House, by Paula Priesse

Michelle: “How did your day go dear?”

Obama: “Not good, even with a Dem Senate gun legislation went down in flames. So I threw a hissy fit.”

Michelle: “That’s too bad.”

O: “I’m just getting started. A union now wants Obamacare repealed. And co-author Sen. Max Baucus said it could be a ‘huge train wreck.’ Traitor!”

Michelle: “Well you can hardly blame him. He’s up for re-election in 2014.”

O: “I’m not done. I had to dodge my first question on Gosnell.”

Michelle: “Uh oh.”

O: “It gets even worse! CBS News reports there are now multiple whistleblowers stepping forward on Benghazi.”

Michelle: “Sorry, but you knew the truth about Obamacare & Benghazi would come out eventually.”

O: “Oh pretty please, let the Boston bombers be Tea Partiers! Dividing the nation is the only way I know how to lead. Hold me Moochie, I’m scared.”

Michelle: “Forget it, I’m taking the girls on vacation. Don’t want them to see that their father is a big LOSER!” P

The photo album

Last night I e-mailed a photographer from Wisconsin asking permission to use his photo as a reference for a painting, and he graciously responded OK (very interesting photos from all over the world). Then I decided I needed a special folder for this, because I ask and then forget where I saved them. When I changed computers about a year ago, my e-mail didn't transfer. Sooo....one thing led to another and I started moving other files--it began to take on a life of its own--like when I clean my real office. Then I came across this story, written in November 2004 for NaNoWrMo. When I write fiction, I have no middle or ending in mind, only the first sentence, so I wrote what came to mind, saved it, and didn't reopen it for five years. At this point, the inspiration is gone, but here it is.

Paula Bearfoot. I knew her the minute I saw the old photos glued to the page of the crumbling scrapbook laid out on the table at the reunion. I’d seen her photo a few times back in 1959, and the scrapbook was from the 50s--the kind with the ugly black paper. Something like a shoestring provided the flimsy binding.

How prissy the girls all looked then in black and white glossies, caught and preserved by a little Brownie Kodak. Neat, straight, pencil thin wool skirts, a short sleeve sweater with stitching on the sleeves, a white collar “dickey,” and white anklets in saddle shoes. What pride they took in their appearance. Oh, the wasted hours in front of the mirror. Leafing through the album, I realized somewhat belatedly that teen-agers weren’t fat then, they didn’t wear jeans when trying to impress guys, and they wore way too much lipstick. I looked around the room. Times had certainly changed. Fat mamas, all. Pale lips. At least no jeans.

P-B they called her. With a name like Bearfoot, she probably got a lot of questions. I mean, I would’ve asked--if I’d known her. What do you suppose she answered? Did she make up something clever or tell the truth? Did anyone ever hear the truth from PB? She was my husband's steady. Even at the reunion, he heard of yet another guy who had dated “his” girl. Even after 40 years, I felt just a little sorry for him.

No one had seen her since college. No one knew where her family had moved. Did she even finish college? Occasionally, letters were read at these every decade affairs. No one seemed to remember exactly what they said when I inquired, discreetly of course. She was a social worker. She was a lawyer. She was a secretary. She’d never married. She married three times. Her step-daughter was in the Clinton administration. Her sister had drowned in Hawaii. She lived in Maine. She lived in Arizona. The stories were told in such an off-hand, quasi-authoritative way, I just gave up.

The guy who owned the photo album looked carefully at her pictures. “I think I dated her,” he said, “or maybe her sister. June? Julie?” (371 words)

And that's all I wrote. NaNoWrMo should have been a natural for me, but it means writing on command (it's sort of a contest to write a novel in one month), and nothing will kill my inspiration like someone telling what, when, where or how to write.

Writing fiction at Lakeside

This past week I've been in a beginning fiction class here at Lakeside. I write thousands of words a week--but I rarely do fiction, or even read it unless assigned by my book club. It's been great fun, and I've become sort of attached to the character I sketched out and then developed as the week went on, Ophelia, aka Philly, Lia, or Opy, depending on which other set of characters she's with. Her nieces and nephews call her Opy. Anyway, I have no plot. Poor thing. Stuck here in quiet, lovely Lakeside plotless.

But our teacher, Martha Moody (Best Friends, The Office of Desire), is loaded with them. She also mentioned yesterday that she had recently taught in an Arab-Israeli village. So I googled her webpage, and here's that story--but it's not fiction.

Yesterday a group gathered at the Rhein Center to celebrate its 10 year anniversary. The parents, widow and extended family of C. Kirk Rhein, Jr. were there to joyously remember him, and we all thank them for this wonderful memorial.

We're in good hands

If Lakeside's young people are any indication, our nation is in good hands--or will be in 10-20 years. And our schools are perhaps doing a better job than nay sayers report. I'm in a fiction class at the Rhein Center this week and most of the class is about ages 12-15. There's only one other adult. These beautiful kids are incredibly articulate, motivated, aware, and fabulous writers. I was stunned. I'm definitely the slacker in the group when it comes to writing. I didn't meet any young people like this among my children's classmates in the 1980s (and Upper Arlington has one of the best school systems in the state), none in my generation, and none in my parents'. They are better than most of the fiction bloggers twice their age with college courses that I've read. Some of my "classmates" have been writing seriously and energetically half their lives. Admittedly, that's not a lot of years on my calendar, but it's huge on theirs. Even taking into consideration that maybe it's typical for teens to exaggerate a bit--28 novels and published poetry (which one girl reported)? True, she admitted that the novels weren't finished or polished, but when I was her age I was writing a short paragraph once or twice a week to "Dear Diary." And supportive! I think they've all been in critique classes before--they listen attentively and find something good in each piece when we share. They know the vocabulary of writing and how to use it. And when I say they are beautiful, I include physical beauty as well. Yet, most report being on the outside among their peers. Some of that I'm sure is the normal teenage angst where you ardently believe everyone else has it together, but also people who go on to become novelists, artists and screen writers probably do have a different emotional stair to climb. They are definitely on their way.

This is the Rhein Center's 10th year of offering classes. Established in a dilapitated, boarded up building in memory of C. Kirk Rhein, Jr., a son and grandson of Lakesiders lost in TWA Flight 800, it is now a pleasant, busy, humming hive of laughter and effort. I'm sure it's a joy every day to family members to see this building so well used.

In the afternoon I'm in a flower painting watercolor class. I rarely do flowers, although I have tried. I learned a new technique, and if you get even one "take away" from either a class or a sermon, it's a good day. One of my classmates is in my husband's perspective drawing class in the morning. She was so excited about it--gives me something to think about, she said. Whatever! Figuring out perspective is just frustrating for me.

Then in the evening Sue and I went to the movie theater in Lakeside (the only one in the county) to see "The Visitor," a very low key, but touching and timely film about personal loss, friendship and illegal immigration. Well worth seeing if it comes to your area. The NYT review is good, if somewhat nit-picky (but that's what they are paid to do), and this one really over reaches, as though those of us who are insulted and dismayed by an immigration law, first established by liberals in the 60s "to be fair" by limiting whites and westerners, have no heart or soul. Nonsense in wasted pixels.

2448 The Whistle Stop Pot Luck

This story is fiction; absolutely fabricated. It's wishful thinking; a fantasy. But it might just work in real life. An original story by Norma Bruce.

As I moved the dust around and spiffed up the bathrooms and mirrors in preparation for our dinner guests, my husband looked at the list of errands I'd left on the counter.

"What's this item for the party supply store?"

"Whistles."

"Why do we need whistles for a dinner party?" he asked.

"Because of our age."

"Our age? What's that got to do with anything?" he said.

"Everyone will receive a small whistle on a loop of ribbon to wear around their neck. When anyone starts to talk about the three forbidden topics, the listener blasts on the whistle to put a stop to it."

"What three topics?"

"Age. Health. Weight. Any sentence or phrase or story that mentions your age or health problems or weight."

"I don't tell people my age," he said.

"Maybe not in so many words, but these are the tips to blowing the whistle on age topics.

"At my age. . ., "

"It must be my age, but. . ., "

"I must be getting old, because. . ."

Then there are subcategories. You also can't tell any story that your spouse has heard 3 times in the past year, because that just screams you're losing it."

His face turned grey. "You mean I can't tell anyone about my wonderful grandfather or your terrific mother?"

"Exactly. We've lived here for almost 40 years. There isn't a person in central Ohio who hasn't heard about Biggie or Olive. So if I hear you starting on those dear people, I'll put the whistle to my lips."

"And no operations? Not even my rotator cuff? No emergency room visits?" he whined.

"Nope. You'll get a tweet, or will have to blast the others if they start in on an organ concert," I said.

"Well," he said, "I do OK on weight, don't I? I'm not overweight and I teach an exercise class."

"Yes, but your weight encourages others to talk about theirs, so if you hear, 'How do you stay in such good shape,' you'll just have to blast 'em. Don't even think of it as a compliment--it's a lead in for them to tell you about their sluggish metabolism, their beer belly, bad knees or when they gave up smoking."

"But honey," he said quietly, "what's left to talk about if we blow the whistle on weight, age and health."

"There's always religion and politics. These days, I think I'd prefer that to calories, class reunions and colonoscopies. Then there is literature, music, theater, movies, concerts, decorating, global warming, the war, business, China, garage sales, fashion, gardening, IPOs, energy prices, sailing, technology, travel, art, and volunteer activities to name just a few. If you're absolutely desperate, I suppose you could talk about sports or grandchildren--but I'd keep those low on the list since they tend to be gender specific."

"It might work," he sighed. "Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks."

"TWEET!"

688 State of Fear--it's fiction, or is it?

"Michael Crichton is well known for his techno-thrillers The Andromeda Strain and Jurassic Park, plus more than a dozen other novels and non-fiction works. State of Fear (HarperCollins, 603 pages, $27.95) is a little different. While constructed as a novel, it is also a guide to environmental issues and their advocates, principally the problem of climate change. It carries a message about global warming and will certainly have an important impact on the ongoing policy debate."

The message is, global warming isn’t happening.

“The scientific evidence is well presented, with numerous graphs and references, but more can be said. The climate has never been constant -- always either warming or cooling on all time scales (year-to-year, decadal, millennial, and over millions of years) -- independent of any human influence. While the observed pre-1940 warming is real and mostly natural (a recovery from the preceding Little Ice Age that terminated around 1850), the cooling from 1940 to 1975 is certainly not a greenhouse effect. The warming data reported during the past twenty-five years from surface stations (almost all of them on land) are likely contaminated by urban heat effects; we don't see such warming in the atmospheric record of weather balloons or from weather satellites that cover the whole globe on a regular basis (including the 70% covered by oceans). At most, human greenhouse effects would lead to a temperature rise by 2100 of a measly 0.8 degrees C.”

Review and comments here.

Opinion Journal: "State of Fear is, in a sense, the novelization of a speech that Mr. Crichton delivered in September 2003 at San Francisco's Commonwealth Club. He argued there that environmentalism is essentially a religion, a belief-system based on faith, not fact. To make this point, the novel weaves real scientific data and all too real political machinations into the twists and turns of its gripping story."

To no one's surprise, WaPo does not provide a positive review, instead picks at nits: "As for the footnotes and other impedimenta, now and then the author wields them arrestingly. He assembles graphs of temperature trends to show that while big U.S. cities have been getting warmer over the past seven decades, smaller ones -- Albany, N.Y.; Charleston, S.C.; and Boulder, Colo. -- have either stayed the same or cooled off some. This should be no surprise, we are told, considering that big cities are heat traps." Read it here.