But Where Will I Read?

Our family is moving. This is a really big deal. For eleven years, we've called this house home. We have brought all three of our babies from the hospital to this house; we have loved numerous pets here; we are on a first name basis not only with many neighbors, but also the neighborhood goats and donkey. So while we are excited for the opportunities in our new house, we are understandably a little sad about leaving.

Each of us is concerned about different aspects of the move. When she lets herself think about it, my daughter is devastated to be leaving her best friend across the street. My little boys are worried that they will have to leave their things behind. I've assured them that we'll take all their toys and furniture. "Even my nightstand?" "Yes, we're taking your nightstand." "Even my bookshelf?" "The bookshelf too." It has helped to read The Berenstain Bears' Moving Day and witness Brother Bear go through the same emotions. God bless Jan and Stan Berenstain for thinking of everything.

Then the moment came for me to have my own little freak out about moving. I've been concerned about the logistics: packing, cleaning, changing our mailing address with umpteen companies. Then, as I was packing books, of course, I found myself asking: WHERE WILL I READ? Will the light be right from the built-in bedside lamp? Will the brown leather recliner fit in the living room? Can I read on the back deck and still see the boys playing?WHAT HAVE WE DONE?

I didn't have a Berenstain Bear book to show me that it would be all right, but I did remind myself that all my books and favorite reading chairs are coming with us. I'm sure there will be an adjustment period, but there may be even better reading spots than here, in our happy little house. I will most likely enjoy future writing by favorite authors just as much. And thank goodness for that.

Caleb's Crossing

Historical Fiction by Geraldine Brooks

I dearly hope that Geraldine Brooks will write more books for me to enjoy in my new home. This is the last of her current books that I hadn't yet read. It isn't my favorite; People of the Book earns that place in my heart, but it is the favorite of a friend. Brooks' books are intricately researched and this is no exception. The blurbs say this is the story of the first Native American to attend Harvard in the 1700's, but I think it's the story of his friend, Bethia. The two meet on their home island of Martha's Vineyard, but their experiences of their home are vastly different. What they share is high intelligence, open hearts to learn from each other, and a curiosity about the world that leads them far from their home. I find them both a little too perfect, actually, as characters go, but I do love their relationship and their purity of heart. I expected a bit of a different ending, knowing Brooks writing and her take on women's roles, but I think that is a gift, too, to be surprised. I hope to read and enjoy many more of Brooks' novels. I wish even more to someday write as well as she does.

And the Mountains Echoed
Novel by Khaled Hosseini

From another time-tested author, Hosseini's third book is just as intricate, disturbing, and beautiful as his first two. I'm always a little reluctant to start his books because I don't know how deeply they will affect me, what nerve or emotion they will pierce with arrows of truth. That is his strength as a writer, that he may write of a different country and time but it becomes real and personal and connected to me nonetheless. This story is actually many stories by many characters, all connected to the one devastating separation of a brother and sister in Afghanistan. As a result, I felt a different piercing with each story, a different truth about mothers or friends or personal failings or unexpected beauty. It added up to a rich experience but was less jarring and unsettling for me than his other books. I'll share one small arrow of truth; a character who left Afghanistan for the U.S. as a young boy, visits his homeland as an adult, after the war, as a kind of humanitarian tourist. He meets a little girl in need of a surgery that his home hospital can perform and goes home intending to get her this surgery despite all cost. Little by little, though, he forgets how deeply he felt about her situation and eventually goes back to his complacent life without helping her at all. Who among us can't think of a time we felt to our core that we must help with something, someone, but then let the fervor slowly die without taking action? It's so easy to do when the situation isn't clearly in front of us all the time. I'm thankful for good stories and good writers that can show us these truths again and again. The little girl in India that my family prayed for every night at dinner, how quickly her face went out of our minds when I had to pack up her picture.

I'm looking forward to unpacking in my new home in a month, finding new spots to curl up with new books, but also putting back up on my fridge the picture of that little girl. Who knows what other stories that house will bring us into?