A Few Good Books

 

“A book, too, can be a star…

a living fire to lighten the darkness,

leading out into the expanding universe.”

Madeleine L’Engle

2025 was a very good year for reading…I keep a journal of the books I’ve read and this past year almost every one had a * by it, my way of saying it was exceptional. And then there were several with **! Since being retired I have tried to sit quietly with a cup of tea and a book for awhile in the afternoons, with the hope that I’d use that time to read nonfiction while saving the evenings for fiction. But due to the compelling novels I’ve chosen that hasn’t been the case. So many books, so little time!

Here are five books that I want to share with you, in hopes that one might strike your fancy. Let’s start with Scotty’s favorite.

A Croft in the Hills by Katharine Stewart. There’s a bookstore in Oban, on the west coast of Scotland, that I love. It’s a Waterstones, which is a chain, but it has a thorough selection of books about Scotland and by Scottish writers, with helpful and enthusiastic clerks. When I’m there I allow myself 2 books and they have all been winners so far. A Croft in the Hills was first published in 1960, with frequent reprints. The memoir of a couple and their daughter choosing to live on a small farming croft near Loch Ness, it talks of the beauty and hardship of making one’s own way and the effect of the rapidly changing world on their way of life. This tight little family faces hardship with a mix of kindness, curiosity and pragmatism and an undying love for the land they farm. Katherine sums it up by saying, Life is sweeter near the bone.

Leaving by Roxana Robinson. This was recommended to me by a dear friend and I could not put it down. The devastating story of a couple reconnecting later in life after a chance encounter at the opera. It asks hard questions about balancing one’s obligations to family against one’s own happiness and satisfaction. The ending disturbed me greatly and I asked the writer about it at a reading I was fortunate to attend. And I am still disturbed…

The Sea by John Banville. How did I not know of this marvelous Irish writer? He has just written a new book in the past couple of months, but The Sea is from the early 2000’s.  A timeless read, it deals with human emotions after great loss. After the death of his wife, the main character returns to a place by the sea where his family vacationed in summers. The book pivots between his childhood and his new life alone, with glimpses of his wife and daughter. It is a beautiful, slow read-a sense of poetry overlays each sentence.

Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell.  This has just been made into a movie, but please oh please read the book first. One could loosely call this historical fiction- 15th century England, the plague, a never-named character who might be Shakespeare, his near-abandonment of his wife and family, his wife’s great wisdom of the natural world and the tragic loss of their son.  It is a deep, beautifully written read. 

Song of the Lark by Willa Cather.  A reread for me.  I love this book because of Cather’s deep understanding of the musician’s soul. Her description of Thea’s first time hearing a symphony orchestra resonated deeply with my own experiences of leaving a concert hall in tears, feeling as if I had just been part of another world.

What would I do without books? They take me all over the world, introduce me to new people and ideas, and bring much comfort as our world falls apart around us.

What books might you recommend, readers?

 This year I noticed a theme in people’s responses to How was your Christmas? The most frequent comment was Quiet. Please keep in mind that I was talking to friends of a certain age, that is, ten years on either side of my own 70.

It’s certainly true that our Christmas festivities have changed over the years. Gone are the days of being with my parents in Lubbock, which in my distant memory was perfect. No more presents from Santa Claus awaiting early risers. No more little fingers clasping ornaments as they decorated the tree. And since I’m retired from a regular church job the entire season is not spent fretting over organ and choral music for Advent and Christmas services. Holidays turn out to be an excellent way of marking time.

I miss the old traditions, sometimes desperately, yet I recognize there’s no going back. As I think about this past holiday season I see new patterns emerging and old ones hanging on…

Advent and Christmas are very sacred times for me-both are what the Celts call thin places, where the boundary between earth and heaven is fluid. I await hope, light, deep joy… made all the more meaningful by the sense of expectation that Advent brings.

A tradition that Bill and I have had for most years of our marriage is the Advent wreath. We set it on our dining table and, depending on the week, light a candle or two or three or four every night at dinner. Now that we have woods around our house I cut fresh greens to lay around the candles (I love that!). It’s always a guess as to whether the first candle will last the entire season-often we have to replace it.

Working in a church or not we go to Christmas Eve services, my favorite of the year. This year we drove on icy roads to Bar Harbor and then spent the night at a friend’s, savoring wine and popcorn around her beautiful tree. The next morning we drove home in a snowstorm. But I would not have missed the carols, the beautiful church, the candles, the great sense of love and community.

I have two special Christmas brooches, both quite old. One is from my Aunt Dot, the other from a friend’s mother. During December I wear one or the other every day and love hearing the variety of comments about them. Honestly, I can tell a lot about a person based on what they say about my brooches! I would be bereft were I to lose or break one, so I am very, very careful.

Since being back in Maine (now for 3 Christmases) we have hosted a dinner party on the 26th. A belated Christmas dinner, so to speak. It’s a time to bring out the Spode, beautiful napkins, candles and good food. My mother would have been so proud of me this year-it was a delicious meal worthy to be called a holiday dinner!

We’ve had several types of trees thru the years-from buying one sort of freshly cut at the corner Boy Scout stand, to traipsing around a cut-your-own farm, to taking an artificial one out of the box(pretty convincing!)- but here in Cherryfield we have hit upon the perfect solution. We go out into our woods and cut a table-top size tree which fits perfectly in our small living room. Honestly, this year’s is one of the prettiest trees we’ve ever had.

So…this year I missed family acutely at our holiday celebrations…and I also see that these cherished traditions sustain me year after year.  As does my deep belief that there is still light in the world, still the possibility of peace, and countless numbers of us to see that it’s born again and again.

The Innkeeper’s Wife

I reckon it was the girl, 

not more than fourteen. Those eyes.

Something made him stop his talk,

hoist down the lantern and mutter out with them.

And that was one sour night-

dust and wind, things banging;

Folks still wandering the town like ghosts

and hammering the doors.

Our place was loud with coins and drink,

and this was long past midnight.

It wasn’t him that came back somehow;

that’s all I’ll say, I can’t explain.

As though he’d seen something;

as though his eyes were somewhere else.

The first spear of light next day and he was out

with that fresh pail of milk-

and he would not say where he was going.

Kenneth Stephen,  Out of the Ordinary