Category Archives: historical fiction

The First Temptation

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Have you ever thought about the conversations between Jesus and Satan when Jesus was living in a physical body on this earth? We get some hints of what this may have been like from the book of Job where a conversation between God and Satan is recorded, but other than knowing that Jesus was indeed tempted, we don’t have much to go on. Some years ago, I wrote an epic tale of the Christ and his struggle with his Adversary, Satan. And, yes, I used The Odyssey as a model for my format (not the content). Divided into “Books” (the first being an introduction) the second Book is entitled The Wilderness Temptations. Here is an excerpt which I hope you will both enjoy and will provoke some thought concerning the Christ and his earthly life.

The First Temptation

On that forty-first day, the God-Man woke

to hunger pangs and discovered his body

had become weak from that month-plus trial.

As his eyes focused to face the day,

he saw his Adversary standing at

his feet, smiling a crooked smile and shining

bright as the desert sun. “Good morning,

old friend,” he said. “Surprised to see me? But

didn’t I promise to come back? You will

find that I, unlike some others, keep all

my promises and will never forget

you or leave you for too long, for I am

concerned about you and how you’re spending

your life and squandering your potential.

I suppose with all this time to think and

consider, you’ve come to realize that you

could not possibly be the Son of God?

Since I am the one who has come to check

on you and see if your needs are being

met, it is obvious,” and his eyes swept

the horizon and the God-Man’s surroundings

and came back with a look of distaste, “that

your Heavenly Father,” and he spat the

two words out, “has not been by or if He has,”

and he smiled a sinister smile, “He has

done nothing to secure your belief that

you are His Son, has He?” Unperturbed, the

God-Man rose to his feet and answered, “Quite the

contrary. He has been here in many

wonderful ways–ways you could never see

or understand–and He has only confirmed

my belief and my profession that I Am

His Son and His Chosen.” Satan attempted

to mask the furious anger that welled up

within him with a strained smile which truly

appeared as a grimace. Then with eyes ablaze,

he said in a voice dipped in honey,

“Of course, you are. Whoever said you weren’t?

But, tell me, have you had breakfast yet?” As

if in answer, the God-Man’s fleshly insides

began to grumble, bringing delight to

his Antagonist though he tried to cover

this with a false look of concern and

pity as he waited for an answer. “No,

there’s been no breakfast here. Only rocks and

dust, as you can see.” And Satan nodded as

if in sympathy but then he appeared

to have an idea and said with great

enthusiasm, “But you are the Son

of God, remember? If you are the Son

of God, you should have no problem coming

up with a substantial meal and then we

can talk over some business.” Eyebrow arched,

the God-Man gazed at his rival and said,

“I was not aware we had any business

to discuss.” And Satan again smiled that

patient smile. “Of course, but how can you think

on an empty stomach? An empty

stomach causes the head to be light and

the heart to be weak. Come, you say you are

the Son of God, let us see you come up

with some breakfast. The Son of God shouldn’t

be out here in this wilderness where the

wild beasts are quite well-fed, yet here he is,

his guts crying out in torment, as he

stands by, as if helpless. You say you

are the Son of God but for thirty years

you have lived in practical poverty

submitting yourself to the surroundings

into which you have been thrust and now you bow

to the elements. To the things which you,

yourself, claim to have created. How can

you possibly allow yourself to be

subdued by the works of your own hands? Come,

if you are the Son of God, tell these stones

here to become bread for your breakfast. They

will be glad to be of service to their

Master, for isn’t that why they were formed?

To serve their Master and obey his commands?

In fact, I daresay that your creation

has been watching you in wonder and has

been speculating as to why you have

not called on them earlier. Can you not

see their eagerness to serve you? Come, Son

of God, call on them; exercise your power

and authority. You say God has now

anointed you to be King, so be King.

Prepare your breakfast so we can discuss

deeper matters.” Folding his arms, Satan

stood back and waited, his impatience

obvious, but the God-Man refused to

make a hasty decision knowing well

this was not as simple a matter as

his Adversary portrayed it. He

also knew the power he possessed had

been given to him by his Father, so

consideration of his Father’s will

must be made. But he was hungry and his

insides churned once more as if to remind

him of his responsibility to

them, too. He gazed on the stones and easily

imagined them as loaves and could almost

smell them baking in the sun and taste

their flaky crusts and their soft middle–

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. His

Adversary watched him intently, though

he tried to appear both nonchalant

and impatient. Impatient as in:

‘This is no big deal, you know, get on

with it.’ And nonchalant as in: ‘But then

again, it is no matter to me, one

way or the other.’ A faint smile played on

the God-Man’s lips as he read all this in

his Opponent’s face which caused that angel

to simmer. He managed to keep his

temper in check and gazed calmly back at

his prey as he waited for an answer,

a decision to be made. Then Satan recalled

another king he had tempted, that first

king of Israel whom he convinced that

waiting for God’s provisions and living

strictly by His rules was not only

unnecessary but also senseless

when you could take care of the matter

yourself. So, Israel’s first king bent the rules

of a God of no compromise–not once

but twice–and he who was to be a

great king and leader was instead a

failure and died a scorned and rejected

king and man. Satan knew he did not need

to lead this present and final king

to compromise more than once for once

would be enough. Now he almost became

excited before the deed was done, smelling

the sweet smell of such a victory, and he

trembled but caught himself when he saw the

curious look from his prey. “Come on,”

he snapped. “What’s taking you so long? You act as

if you faced a monumental decision.

I only want you to eat, so we can talk.

Sustain yourself, my friend,” he added

more gently, his words becoming

like honey at his command, causing

the God-Man to once more remember his

hunger. Again, he looked at the stones, but

this time they brought to mind days of old,

and he saw the children of Israel

led into a similar desert and

led into a similar temptation

to be taught . . . what? Obedience. Yes, that

was it–obedience. Now he recalled

they had failed their test and he reflected

on why. He remembered their grumbling

and identified their discontent as

an expression of their lack of trust

and confidence in God as their provider.

Knowing himself to be the new Israel,

he realized if he treated himself to

breakfast (as his Adversary had so

artfully suggested), he would be

expressing the same lack of confidence.

So, summoning up the Scriptures in his mind,

he recalled God’s word on it all: ‘Remember

how the Lord your God led you all the way

in the desert these forty years, to humble

you and to test you in order to know

what was in your heart, whether or not you

would keep his commands. He humbled you, causing

you to hunger and then feeding you with

manna, which neither you nor your fathers

had known, to teach you that–‘ and he stopped and

smiled as the answer was there and the

clarity in his mind shone on his face,

and Satan inwardly recoiled as he

caught a whiff of the air of defeat.

But stiffly he waited and then it came

as in a clear and steady voice the God-Man

said in his new-found strength, “It is written:

‘Man does not live on bread alone but on

every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.'”

Now Satan cringed outwardly and the

rocks trembled and the heavens smiled and the

God-Man waited, but not long for Satan

knew this was a small defeat and the day

was young with boundless opportunities

and uppermost in his mind remained the

refrain: ‘It will only take one. Once will

be enough.’ With this thought, Satan

recovered his poise and said, “Very well,

you do not wish to eat; that is your privilege.

I was only thinking of your comfort.

You are too quick with your suspicions, but

come, ‘Son of God,’ (for you have yet to prove

to me that you are such) and let us go

to Jerusalem, that ‘holy city,’ and

there you can show me whose son you truly are.”

P.M. Gilmer

Soli Deo gloria

Reading Around the World: Mexico

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I read two books from Mexico in the past few weeks for the #readtheworld21 challenge, but I am only going to review one here (I did write about both on Goodreads). The first one I enjoyed; the second I wanted to throw against the wall when I finished. I refrain from reviewing books I don’t like because I’m not interested in reading reviews of books not recommended by the reviewer. I find that a waste of time. This book has been popular and even made into a movie, so I’m doing it no harm in not recommending it.

Now on to my recommended read.

The Hummingbird’s Daughter by Luis Alberto Urrea is a story of legend combing historical fiction and magical realism. Urrea heard stories of his ancestor, Teresita Urrea, while growing up; the fantastical stories of her life and miracles. How much was true and how much legend, he set out to discover and spent some twenty years researching and writing her story.

Teresita was the illegitimate daughter of a young girl called Hummingbird and wealthy rancher, Tomas Urrea, during the late nineteenth century in Mexico, a time of unrest and the beginnings of a civil war. Abandoned by her mother, Teresita brought herself to the attention of Urrea and Huila, a curandero. Seeing Teresita’s gifts and potential, Huila teaches Teresita of herbs and healing and promises to help her cultivate her gifts. What leads to Teresita becoming the Saint of Cabora is told in dramatic fashion. Don’t be like me and miss the family tree in the front of the book until you’ve almost finished the book. I would have find this more helpful at the beginning when I was trying to keep names straight but somehow overlooked it.

In lieu of the book, I can’t recommend, let me do a repeat and make a case for one that was on my favorites’ list of 2020–The Murmur of Bees by Sofia Segovia, translated by Simon Bruni. Another story of magical realism and family, the tale begins when Nana Reja finds an abandoned baby under a bridge, covered in a blanket of bees. Though some are horrified both by the bees and the baby’s disfigured face, Simonopio is adopted by landowners who love him as their own. Simonopio soon becomes special, not only to his family but to the whole town. This one is also historical fiction taking place during the Mexican Revolution as well as the influenza of 1918.

I’m sure there are many books about and from Mexico that I need to add to my TBR. If you have any suggestions, please share!

Reading Around the World: Southeast Africa

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In February, #readtheworld21 took me to southeast Africa which includes several countries. The countries I read from were Kenya, South Africa, and Ethiopia.

First published in 1959, The Flame Trees of Thika is a memoir by Elspeth Huxley who moved to Kenya in 1913 with her parents. Huxley’s unusual childhood with her optimistic and idealistic parents is described with the eyes of a child though also with the benefit of an adult’s hindsight. Her parents’ attempts to make a go of a coffee farm was interrupted by war with Germany, but before that Elspeth grew to love the country and it became her home. She learns about the different groups of people–their customs and bits of their history–and makes friends as a child in an adult world. Huxley’s beautiful descriptions of this country, its people, and the nature surrounding them made this a classic book.

“. . . when the present stung her, she sought her antidote in the future, which was as sure to hold achievement as the dying flower to hold the fruit when its petals wither.”

Born a Crime by Trevor Noah is another memoir. Noah was born during Apartheid in South Africa. Having a white father and a black mother made his existence a crime, hence the name. I listened to Noah read the audio and found it an excellent read. I had heard this was pretty funny (he is a comedian by trade), and there is humor (I love the way he mimics his mother and grandmother), but the story is much more than humor. It is about growing up poor in a country undergoing growing pains of its own. It’s about the fierce love of a mother who works hard and does not put up with anything including Noah’s many antics.

“My mom did what school didn’t. She taught me how to think.”

“Comfort can be dangerous. Comfort provides a floor but also a ceiling.”

Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese is one of those books where you become invested in the characters, their lives and how they interact with each other and to their surroundings. I loved everything about this book which takes place in Ethiopia during a time of unrest and revolution. The story begins in 1954 when twin boys are born in a missionary hospital (known as Missing) to a British surgeon father and a mother who is a nun and a nurse from India. Their mother dies and their father disappears but the boys (Marion and Shiva) are raised in love by two other doctors and they both become fascinated with medicine. When Marion is betrayed by both his brother and the girl he loves and then is accused of a terrorist act, he flees to America where he studies medicine but also runs into his biological father. Not someone he had ever wanted to meet but life does not always take you where you want to go.

“You are an instrument of God. Don’t leave the instrument sitting in its case, my son. Play! Leave no part of your instrument unexplored. Why settle for ‘Three Blind Mice’ when you can play the ‘Gloria’? No, not Bach’s ‘Gloria.’ Yours! Your ‘Gloria’ lives within you. The greatest sin is not finding it, ignoring what God made possible in you.”

On deck: The Shadow King by Maaza Mengiste (Ethiopia) and A Guide to the Birds of East Africa by Nicholas Drayson (Kenya).

Road to Emmaus–An Easter Story

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Road to Emmaus

I could no longer bear the crowds, the sounds,

the smells. Jerusalem had become a place

where dreams were killed and hopes destroyed by

bloody Roman soldiers and godless

religious leaders. Both had lost their

humanity and become void of

compassion. Power and might were all they

desired and sought. Neither could accept

God’s gifts of love and mercy–so, love

and mercy they could never provide.

With nowhere to go and nothing to do,

my friend, Cleopas, and I took the road

back to our home in Emmaus. Our walk

took longer than usual for we were

in no hurry. Where did we need to go

after all? What did we need to do?

While we walked–we talked, we argued, we laughed,

we cried. Had we been foolish to put our

trust, our hopes, our dreams, and yes, our faith

in this one man? Had we only hoped he

had been sent by God? Had we only dreamed

he performed miracles? We marveled at

his teaching but had it all been just a

mirage? Had we been swayed by his

kindness? His mercy? His love?

For if it had all been real, how could he have

let himself be killed by such a mob? How could he have

been treated in such a cruel and shameful way?

“Jerusalem has always killed her prophets,”

Cleopas reminded me. “Yes,” I agreed.

“But didn’t we think Jesus was more than

a prophet? Didn’t he have the power

to heal? To raise the dead? How could such a

one be arrested as if he were

a common criminal? Worse than a

common criminal! More like a

dangerous lunatic! Was he mad?

Or is it we who are mad?”

So wrapped up in our thoughts, our questions,

our despair and our arguments–which all

ebbed and flowed like the Sea of Galilee–

we neither heard nor noticed a man

behind us until he caught up to us

and began to walk by our side.

“What are you talking about?” Such

impertinence coming from a stranger seem to

nettle Cleopas, but with feelings raw,

I felt compelled to share our story with

someone who might give us a new perspective.

But before I could speak, Cleopas

blurted out, “Have you not just come from

Jerusalem yourself? How could you not

know what everyone is talking about?

Perhaps you’ve been living under a rock?”

I nudged my friend and told him not to be

unkind. “Perhaps this man can’t understand

why we are so upset. After all, men

are crucified every day by the Romans.”

“Yes, but not usually innocent men.

Men like Jesus who never harmed anyone.”

“Then why was he crucified?” our new friend

asked. “What brought him to the Romans’

attention? And why are you so distraught

over his death? Were you very close to him?”

“We were more than close,” I affirmed. “We

honored him, we–yes, we worshiped him.

We thought he was truly the One, the

Messiah we have been waiting for–

but now, now he is dead.”

The man nodded as he pondered my words,

his eyes set on the horizon as if

he could see what I could not. I wondered

if he thought us foolish. Foolish to place

such hope in a mere man. Foolish to

believe in his teaching, his miracles,

his love.

Then his pace quickened. “Let me explain the

Scriptures to you. Scriptures about the

Messiah. Then perhaps you will better

understand what has happened and why.”

He then began to expound on the

Scriptures beginning with Genesis and

continuing through the Law, the Prophets,

the Psalms. He explained the prophecies

of the Messiah in a way I had

never heard before, and I felt my heart

burn within me. Even Cleopas

remained silent as we took in the words

of this stranger who now seemed both familiar

and comfortable as an old friend.

Before we knew it, we had reached my home

in Emmaus. Our new friend did not stop

walking but continued on past my door.

Neither Cleopas nor I could bear the

thought of being parted from him so soon.

Please, we begged him, stay and eat with us.

We would hear more of your teaching.

We will fix you a meal

and you can even stay the night.

There is plenty of room.

He seemed reluctant, and perhaps he

had more pressing things to do, but

when we convinced him we truly

wanted him to stay and dine with us,

he agreed, and I made haste to

go in and tell my wife of our guest

and our need for a quickly made meal.

Once seated, we served our guest and waited

to hear more of what he could teach us.

Though sorrow still enveloped our souls,

somehow this man had wrapped us in a peace

and filled us with a hope that our faith in

the man Jesus had perhaps not been in vain.

What happened next remains the most

astonishing of revelations given

to simple men such as ourselves. One

minute we were waiting for our guest, this

stranger in our midst, to further enlighten

us, and the next, our eyes were opened to the

true identity of one we had taken

to be unknown and unfamiliar

to us. When he stretched forth his hand

to pass the bread to Cleopas on

his right, we all saw the round scar–bright and

shockingly white–on his wrist. A scar

so fresh it was scarcely healed and

almost glowed there in the dusky light.

The sight of that scar caused the scales

to fall from our eyes. It was Him!

Jesus! The One we had followed and

seen crucified. The One we thought to see

no more on this earth. What Peter and John

had said was true. He had come back to life!

Then just as quick as our eyes had been

opened, he was gone–along with our

despair and grief, leaving us with joy

and excitement instead. He was alive!

Truly alive! We had seen him in the

flesh. I remembered now. How my heart

had burned within me as he spoke to us.

Spoke truth to us. Now, without

speaking, we knew we must go back to

Jerusalem. And we could not delay.

We had to go back that very night.

My wife protested. We would be tired,

she said. We had only just gotten home.

But even she knew we could never

sleep and we could almost run back to

Jerusalem. To go back and tell

our brothers and sisters the Good News.

P.M. Gilmer

Soli Deo Gloria

 

North Carolina Writers

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One of the reading challenges I have participated in this year is the 2020 #mmdchallenge (The Modern Mrs. Darcy, aka Anne Bogel) which includes twenty-four different challenges. One of these challenges is to read a book by a local author. Bogel, a Kentucky native, posted a list of Kentucky authors a few weeks ago, so I am going to present a list of North Carolina authors. Though not exhaustive (we have quite a few writers to be proud of), here’s a few of my favorites.

The book I intend to read for this challenge is Down the River by John Hart. This will be my first book by Hart though he has written several thrillers set in North Carolina. Born in Durham, Hart is also one of the many lawyers turned writer who are putting out books today. This particular book was a Barry Award nominee and an Edgar Award winner in 2008.

Robert Morgan is a poet and author with many books and awards to his credit. I’ve read Gap Creek twice which won the North Carolina Literature Award as well as the James G. Hanes Poetry Prize. This “story of a marriage” takes place in the mountains at the end of the 19th century. Julie Harmon works hard–“hard as a man” and she needs to in order for the couple to survive. Morgan is a wonderful storyteller, and two other books I can recommend are The Road from Gap Creek and Brave Enemies.

 

Wiley Cash has written several best-sellers and serves as writer-in-residence at UNC-Asheville. I wrote a review of The Last Ballad  https://pmgilmer.com/2018/01/04/wiley-cash-the-last-ballad/  a couple of years ago. The Last Ballad is also a book I’ve read twice–the second time when my library group selected it for that month’s read. The book tells the true story of woman, Ella May Wiggins, who tried to help form unions for the textile industry in 1929. Her courage and determination to help herself, her family, and others like her makes for a gripping read.

A native of Asheville, Sarah Addison Allen writes sweet, romantic family dramas with a bit of magical realism. Her first book, Garden Spells, tells the story of the Waverly women who are guardians of an apple tree that contains strange and magical properties. Drawing on her grandmother’s culinary traditions, Claire has built a successful catering business. When her sister returns home, her young daughter in tow, Claire’s quiet, ordered life is turned around–but in a good way.

I’ve loved the characters and relationships in all of Allen’s books. This quote from First Frost is a good example of their personalities. “Oh, please. Everyone in this town always says that like you have to be born here to understand things. I understand plenty. You’re only as weird as you want to be.”

Charles Frazier is best known for his first novel, Cold Mountain, the story of a Confederate soldier making his way home after the war. That story was based on stories from Frazier’s great-great-great grandfather as well as local stories and legends. It’s been several years since I read this one, but I remember the capitivating narrative told in a beautiful way.

Another book I enjoyed by Frazier was Thirteen Moons. As a “bound” boy, twelve-year old Will Cooper is sent to run an trading post in Cherokee territory. He becomes friends with Bear, a Cherokee chief, and is adopted into his tribe. Frazier writes descriptively of the time period, the scenery, and the growth and adventures of Will.

“What I wanted to do was slap him down a bit with wit and word. Grammar and vocabulary as a weapon. But what kind of world would it be if we all took every opportunity presented to us to assault the weak?”

One more author I will mention–Ron Rash, a poet, short-story writer, and novelist who was born in South Carolina and teaches at Western Carolina University. I’ve read several poems and stories by Rash as well as his novel The Cove though he is better known for his novel, Serena, which was also made into a movie.

The Cove takes place near the town of Mars Hill in the Appalachian mountains of North Carolina during the time of the Great War (or WWI). A young woman, Laurel, lives with her brother, Hank, who has recently returned from fighting in France. Laurel finds a man in the woods nearly dead from yellow jacket stings. Mute, the man carries only a silver flute and a note saying his name is Walter and he is on his way to New York. Walter also carries a secret which may prove a threat to Laurel and Hank as the war in Europe is coming to an end.

As with Frasier and Cash, Rash is able to bring you back in time and to another place and helping you to understand a little part of history.

Any other North Carolina writers you would like to recommend? Or your favorite one from another state?

 

 

Books I’m Reading–August 2020

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My book reviews have been sporadic at best. Okay, all my posts have been sporadic. Anyway, I wanted to highlight a few books I’ve read recently in no particular order.

Adorning the Dark by Andrew Peterson, a songwriter and storyteller, is part memoir and part encouragment for all who desire to imitate our Creator with their art for His glory. Peterson uses his personal story of how he persevered to establish himself as a songwriter and more specifically how he came to write the album “Behold the Lamb” to illustrate how we can use our talents and gifts for worship and to encourage the church.

“Since we were made to glorify God, worship happens when someone is doing exactly what he or she was made to do.

 

In Introverts in the Church Adam S. McHugh discusses how introverts can feel out of place in not only our extroverted world, but specifically in the extroverted church. If you’ve ever come late to church to avoid the meet and greet, you know what I’m talking about. Of course, the current pandemic has put a stop to such intrusions but there are other ways introverts can be uncomfortable or never have a chance to speak and share.

Understanding the differences in people–the way they serve and the way they worship–is important for everyone in the church. We should be careful not to think our ways are best and be dismissive of others.

The chapter on “Introverted Evangelism” highlighted several problems I’ve always had with most of the standard ways I’ve been taught on how to evangelize. “My understanding of evangelism shifted dramatically when I began to view my role not as initiating spiritual conversations but rather as responding to the ways that God is already at work in people around me.”

In many evangelical churches, entering the sanctuary is not a time of reflection and awe but more a time of greeting your friends and catching up on the past week’s events. For most introverts, a time of quiet is needed to enter into the heart of worship. “When introverts enter into worship, we are apt to come trembling before a God whose mysterious otherness often reduces us to silent awe. We want to hear God’s voice which comes to us more often in whispers than in triumphant shouts.”

Also recommend Susan Cain’s Quiet:The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking.

Pachinko by Min Jin Lee is a work of historical fiction that takes place in Korea and Japan in the early part of the twentieth century. I first read this a year or so ago, and am rereading on audio for my library book club this month. “Sprawling family dramas” that cover several generations as well as history I’m unfamiliar with make this a book I’m glad to be able to reread. Sunja is a young girl in Korea who falls for a wealthy businessman from Japan. When she refuses to become his mistress, the consequences for herself and her son follow her throughout her life. The history of Korea being occupied by Japan and how difficult it was for the Koreans both before and after the war (WWII) is a part of history I was unfamiliar with and Lee is excellent in painting the atmosphere of the time. Pachinko received several literary awards and was National Book Award Finalist for Fiction in 2017.

 

 

The Confessions of X–Book Review

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Winner of Christianity Today’s fiction award in 2017, The Confessions of X by Suzanne M. Wolfe is historical fiction based on the life of an unknown woman loved by Augustine of Hippo, an early church father. Wolfe first heard of this woman when she was only twelve, and when she asked for the woman’s name was told, “No one knows. She is lost to history.” This stayed with Wolfe through the years and with research and beautiful writing, she has brought the unnamed woman to life along with Augustine and their son.

Being of a lower social status than Augustine, he took “X” as his concubine but could not marry her. Lest you think that made her lesser in his eyes, Augustine wrote of her in Confessions: “the woman with whom I had been living was torn from my side as an obstacle to my marriage and this blow crushed my heart to bleeding because I loved her dearly.” As Wolfe explains in her author’s note, “To be labeled a concubine was not a derogatory term in the ancient world and was often inscribed on tombstones as a title to denote the status of the deceased.”

Highly recommended for anyone who enjoys historical fiction with a touch of romance.

Favorite Reads of ’18

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One of my first reads of 2018, The Snow Child is a lovely retelling of a Russian fairy tale taking place in Alaska.

The Beautiful Mystery is Louise Penny’s eighth Inspector Gamache mystery. The whole book takes place at a secluded monastery in the wilderness of Quebec.

 

 

Rabbit Cake has a ten-year old protagonist whose mother drowned while sleepwalking. Sounds depressing, I know, but this is a delightful book. Favorite quote:

“That was what her rabbit cakes were about, celebrating every small good thing in your life. I know most families don’t celebrate every new moon or every solstice and equinox, but maybe they should. You never know when someone you love will shoot themselves in the middle of their own birthday party, or be found dead in another state, caught in a river dam, so everyone might as well have their cake right now.”

Beartown: About hockey, love, hope, tragedy, friendship, and loyalty in a small town where everyone knows everybody and everyone is affected by another’s hurt. “Everyone has a thousand wishes before a tragedy, but just one afterward.

 

 

 

The Queen of Hearts: Two women who became best friends in medical school are now practicing medicine and raising their families in Charlotte, NC. A doctor from their past comes to Charlotte and secrets better left buried come to surface.

Magpie Murders: A mystery within a mystery by a writer who not only writes spy novels and mysteries but also television dramas such as “Foyle’s War” and “Midsomer Murders.”

Dissolution: First of the Matthew Shardlake historical mysteries. Henry VIII has ordered the dissolution of monasteries. Informers abound and a murder soon takes place. Well-written historical fiction as well as a mystery. Looking forward to continuing this series.

Assassin’s Quest: Third in what was originally called The Farseer Trilogy. Has since grown to several more books but start with the first: Assassin’s Apprentice. Nobody builds fantasy worlds and develops characters better than Hobb.

Sorcerer to the Crown: First in a new fantasy series. Takes place in Victorian England. Zacharias Wythe, a freed slave and the new Sorcerer Royal, must find out why England’s magic is drying up. Bonus: there’s a dragon. Second book coming out in March.

A good year for reading! Looking forward to many more in 2019. How about you? What were your favorites in ’18? Which books are you excited about in 2019?

Happy New Year!

 

Quick Book Review: Fools and Mortals by Bernard Cornwell

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Time for a random book review! I’ve read several good books already in 2018, so I’ll start my reviews with the latest from Bernard Cornwell. Cornwell is well known for his Sharpe series as well as Uthred in the Saxon Stories. Though still historical fiction, Fools and Mortals is a bit of a departure from his normal writing. Here, Cornwell gives us a behind the scenes look at Shakespeare and his company as they attempt to make a living putting on plays during the time of Queen Elizabeth I. 

Richard Shakespeare is a struggling actor, overshadowed by his older brother William. Richard is approached about stealing a manuscript from his brother (original plays are quite valuable). Since William refuses to give Richard any manly parts in his plays (Richard is quite good at playing the parts of women), this is tempting for him on several levels.

Having just learned about the page 69 test (https://killzoneblog.com/2018/03/have-you-ever-tried-the-page-69-test.html), let me read to you from page 69 and you can decide if this book is for you.

“I thought he would say more, but he went back to his writing. A red kite sailed past the window and settled on the ridge of a nearby tiled roof. I watched the bird, but it did not move. My brother’s quill scratched. ‘What are you writing?’ I asked.

‘A letter.’

‘So the new play is finished?’ I asked.

‘You heard as much from Lord Hunsdon.’ Scratch scratch.

‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream?’

‘Your memory works. Good.’

‘In which I’ll play a man?’ I asked suspiciously.

His answer was to sigh again, then look through a heap of paper to find one sheet, which he wordlessly passed to me. Then he started writing again.”

Does this excerpt from page 69 intrigue you? Since this book started a little slow for me, maybe this would have been a better place to start–but, no, I believe the beginning was necessary.

You can listen (or read) an interview from Cornwell done by the Folger Shakespeare Library on the writing of this book.

https://www.folger.edu/shakespeare-unlimited/bernard-cornwell-fools-and-mortals

Cornwell does not seem to have any plans to turn this into a series, but I, for one, would be glad to read more of Richard Shakespeare if he should changest his mind.

 

Wiley Cash: The Last Ballad

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Looking to read more from local (North Carolina or anywhere in southeast) writers, I picked up the latest from Wiley Cash a few weeks ago.

The Last Ballad tells the story of Ella May Wiggins, a woman who worked in the textile mills of North Carolina in the 1920’s. In 1929, she leaves Bessemer City to go to Gastonia to hear about the union and their plans to strike. Ella May works hard every night, having to leave her four children (the father of her children has abandoned them). Joining a union is dangerous and will probably lose her her job, but what choice does she have? Her children are hungry and she can’t afford to clothe them. Something has to change.

Wiley Cash is a writer that any writer would envy. He writes of hard times, desperate situations, evil and selfish people with poetry and grace. He takes a woman who lived in an impossible situation and shows her courage and determination. I highly recommend this book, and will be checking out the backlist for Wiley Cash.

For those of you who read ebooks, this book is available for $1.99 across the different vendors for a limited time.

How about you? Do you enjoy reading from your local authors? Who are your favorites?