May was autumn leaves glued to pavement by puddles. It was city commutes, train rides, vegetable soups and yarn up to my elbows.
It was contentment and faith and prayer in bucketloads. It was sunset runs by the beach, and stormy nights.
We’re both working hard, the husband and I. There’s a teamwork that flows out of what we do, as we move in and out of the house. He does some school runs and grocery shopping, I stay present and remind the kids about sports uniforms and netball training and homework.
And in the midst of it all these books:
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
This has been on my radar for years. It’s classic literature. In my Instagram post about reading this one I ponder the question of classic lit, and whether we like it because we think we should, or if it actually has merit. This one was a bit of both for me. It was a slow burn (pun totally intended). I didn’t really know the context of the story, and honestly it was not plot driven enough for me to really immerse into—but the nuance and the prophetic nature of this book were incredible. It’s set in an unidentified time (presumably the future, it was written in the 1960’s) where entire walls in people’s living rooms are televisions, and ears are constantly plugged with devices that tell stories. Basically humanity is living in an entertained stupor… sound vaguely familiar? Books are illegal, because books make people think, and firemen are employed to burn houses that have been discovered to have been hiding them. It’s a profound novel, with literary references scattered throughout. I’m glad I read it.
Untamed by Glennon Doyle
I have to admit I went into this one with a little bit of prejudice but I was internally apologising to Glennon for it after a couple of chapters. I love her writing style. She’s a lover and user of metaphors, just like me—I see metaphors in the simplest things, and the way she expresses them is beautiful. I loved the insight into her family, to the things she’s done well, to the undoing of belief systems and the questioning and doubting.
As a Christian some of it did make me feel uncomfortable. Not the gay thing, not the refering to using she and her as pronouns for God (which I actually love) but more the universality of the faith that Glennon now has. It’s a faith without a Saviour. It’s her Knowing the presence without knowing the Person. But that’s my own personal bias. There is so much I could say about this book. These are some quotes I scribbled down as I read:
“This way of life requires living in integrity. Ensuring that my inner self and outer self are integrated. Integrity means only having one self…
Diving into two selfs, the hidden self and the shown self, that is brokenness.
I do not adjust myself to please the world.
Judgement is just another cage we live in so we don’t have to feel, know and imagine. You are not here to waste your time to decide whether my life is true and beautiful enough for you, you are here to decide whether your life is true and beautiful enough for you.”
Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott
Lamott is one of my favourite authors. She brings a realness and authenticity to talking and writing about faith that is hard to find within a church context. There are f-bombs. There is death, doubt, sex, alcohol and all of it comes back around to a God that loves us regardless, to a Saviour that died for us so that we didn’t have to pretend to be perfect. They are beautiful memoirs. And God as a cat at the door is one of the best descriptions of heard about God, probably ever. It’s irreverent and spiritual all at once. It’s raw and real and full of beauty and challenges our religiosity. I don’t hold all of Lamott’s views, or share all of her beliefs, but she brings something to the table that Christianity needs, and a voice that we should listen to, if only to keep our own faith fresh and alive.
The Cuckoo’s Calling by Robert Galbraith
This was book club’s pick this month, and our discussions ranged from whether we think Cormoran Strike is attractive (the general consensus was yes, in a very rugged, largely muscular kind of way, and duh because a supermodel wanted to sleep with him) to whether Robin is smart (again, yes, but she comes across like a ditzy blonde and shouldn’t have to the extent she did) and whether we could see similarities in writing style to Harry Potter (definitely, especially in descriptions of the city itself, it reminded me of descriptions of Diagon Alley) and why we think Rowling used a male pseudonym (thus eliciting discussions about feminism). I really enjoyed this one. It was easy to read and fun.
What are you reading these days??
I’m intentionally diversifying my book choices and I’ve got a couple I’m looking forward to sharing already, in my June book list!