The last word and the word after that (by Brian McLaren)

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Since I recently reread Brian McLaren’s first two ‘creative fiction’ works, ‘A new kind of Christian’ and ‘The story we find ourselves in’, I decided to continue to the last of the trilogy, ‘The last word and the word after that’. This book continues the discussions between Neo (now known as Neil) and Dan, about what they call  post-evangelical Christian faith. 

‘The last word…’ was published in 2005 and I first read it in 2013. I found it very powerful the first time round; the theme is essentially the deconstruction of the ‘traditional’ evangelical view of judgement and hell. I say ‘traditional’ in quotes because, as is pointed out, the commonly held doctrine is relatively modern. 

In the Hebrew scriptures, people who die are seen as being in the ‘world of the dead’, with little mention of the afterlife as such. In the New Testament, references to judgement are mostly directed towards the Pharisees and others who are themselves judgemental. Verses often translated as ‘hell’ mainly refer to ‘gehenna’, the place where rubbish was burned, and much of the language of torment and so on is hyperbolic or metaphorical, sometimes turning the Pharisees’ words back on themselves.

McLaren emphasises that Jesus talks a lot more about the Kingdom of God than he does about heaven, with the important point that ‘eternity’ means ‘from now on’, not ‘after we die’. We are here in God’s kingdom, to become more like Jesus, to bring love, and peace, and justice to others. Jesus told us to feed the hungry, to heal the sick, to show compassion for all. He talked about forgiveness, not just a few times, but hundreds of times every day, if necessary.

The book, like the other two in the trilogy, is mainly conversational with minimal story or character development. Other people do come into it, including a small group that Neil is part of, meeting annually to support and encourage each other. But none of these individuals is particularly memorable, and I have already forgotten their names. The point was more about the importance of having other people to share in ongoing conversation, and to have a sense of accountability, albeit low-key and relaxed.

I like the way that McLaren doesn’t criticise those who still take the mainstream modern evangelical view of hell; Dan’s wife is shown still to believe that, on the whole, while struggling at times to reconcile it with the overpowering love of God. I have always struggled with the idea of eternal conscious torment for people who lead fairly blameless lives but have been put off God, sometimes by well-meaning believers who push the message too hard. Indeed, even for those who have committed the worst, vilest of sins all their lives, eternal torment seems extreme if there is no escape. 

Many viewpoints are covered in this book, all with strong scriptural backing including some useful tables and commentaries from others. It’s a difficult topic, but as Neil says, more than once, we should be concentrating on living a Christlike life as part of the Kingdom, not worrying about what might happen to other people when they die. 

CS Lewis is quoted more than once: he is seen as somewhat heretical by fundamentalists today, but I find his beliefs reassuring. He talked about people cutting themselves off from God rather than being thrown into the flames, so to speak. McLaren suggests that judgement is related to justice - to weighing up, and removing the parts of all of us which are sinful, as we leave this life. For some, he acknowledges, there may be almost nothing left. He doesn’t pretend to have all the answers, and there are discussion questions at the back of the book to inspire and encourage individuals or small groups to research for themselves, and perhaps to ask more questions as they explore the options.

Some may find this book heretical, but I hope it will be eye-opening and inspiring to others who have been asking or pondering the same kinds of questions.

I didn’t find this as powerful as I did the first time I read it, possibly because I’ve taken on board the ideas and beliefs that Neil has been explaining. Perhaps, too, because ten years later the church has become more aware that we are already living in the Kingdom of God, even when the world around us is becoming more violent and chaotic. 

But I’m still glad I re-read it; there’s much to think about, and perhaps to discuss with others. Definitely recommended if you are interested in the many theories about hell and what it means, and if you don’t  mind the slightly unusual ‘creative non-fiction’ style. The subtitle of this book is 'A tale of faith, doubt and a new kind of Christianity', so be prepared for re-thinking some viewpoints. Even if you end up reconfirming what you already thought, it can be helpful working through other people's points of view, and checking against Scripture to see if we have really understood the context of various passages. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Far to go (by Noel Streatfeild)

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I do like re-reading my collection of books by Noel Streatfeild. Although intended for older children and younger teens, they are the kind of book that can be read and appreciated from many different perspectives. I can see adult points of view much better than I can when I first read these books fifty or more years ago, but I can still empathise with the children too. Streatfeild had a gift of characterisation and story-telling, and many of her books are re-printed regularly.

However, my edition of 'Far to go' was bought a long time ago (February 1997, according to my note at the front) in a charity shop. I last read it in 2014 and had mostly forgotten the story. Since I re-read ‘Thursday’s child’ about a month ago, it was clearly time to re-read this book, which is a direct sequel.

It begins just after ‘Thursday’s child’ left off; Margaret Thursday is appearing in a tent theatre as Little Lord Fauntleroy, where it’s clear that she’s ideal for the role, and very talented. She has a champion in Sarah Beamish, wardrobe mistress for the company. Sarah is concerned about Margaret’s education. She is also quite ambitious for her, and persuades Margaret to travel to an audition for a theatre in London.

Most of the story then takes place in London, after (unsurprisingly) Margaret is offered a role which is ideally suited to her personality and talents. We never earn what the owners of the tent company do when they realise that Sarah and Margaret have disappeared. There’s a moment, later in the book, when Margaret is worried that they have found her: it seems very surprising that they would not, since Margaret is, once again, a big success and her name is in the national newspapers.

But it’s really a character-based story. There’s a bit of excitement towards the end of the book when Margaret is kidnapped, but that’s really quite a small section. Most of the book revolves around her learning her part, and getting to know folk at the London theatre. She makes friends with a girl called Katie whose father owns the company, and they share a governess. She gets to know Liza, who understudies her, and befriends an orphan called Simon who often seems to be half-starved. 

Margaret is a feisty, determined and basically kind-hearted girl, and I liked her very much. She can be a bit tedious sometimes, telling everyone about the ‘three of everything, all of the best’ that was in her cradle on the vicarage steps when she was abandoned as a baby. I was a bit surprised, the first time I read this (and, indeed, on subsequent reads) that we never do learn who Margaret’s parents are. I wondered if Noel Streatfeild had been thinking of another sequel. 

And yet, reading it this time, I can see that it may have been left open deliberately. Margaret wants her name to be well-known, and for people to respect her as a person. Acting comes naturally to her, and she doesn’t care about being a famous actress. She wants to be independent. She turns down an offer of adoption to a life of luxury at the end of ‘Thursday’s child’, and in this book she once again makes it clear that she needs to follow her heart, and work at the details she doesn’t know about acting and performing. 

These books are set around the turn of the 20th century, in the Victorian era. Noel Streatfeild published ‘Far to go’ in 1976, so it was written as a historical novel, albeit without referring to any specific events in history. This means that London cabs are not black taxis, but horses pulling carriages. There are ‘pea-souper’ smogs, making it impossible to see even a few inches in front of one’s nose. And it’s still possible for orphan children to live on the streets, or to be taken in and treated as slaves. Books like this provide excellent social history backdrops for children that (to me, anyway) are much more memorable than a formal history lesson. 

This isn’t a long book. It’s only 128 pages in my paperback edition. But I found it enthralling, as I had entirely forgotten most of the detail. Streatfeild’s descriptions and conversations ring true, and - other than a small number of villains - her characters are delightful, kind and generous. The pace is good, my only slight gripe being the rapidity of the conclusion. But that’s a Streatfeild quirk; she doesn’t do long drawn out endings. 

Recommended if you’ve read ‘Thursday’s child’ and wonder what happened to Margaret. It’s not required to have read that first, but it helps.

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Cecily (by Clare Darcy)

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According to the front of my copy of Clare Darcy’s novel ‘Cecily’, I acquired it in 1990 and re-read it in 1997. I don’t think I have read it since then. So I had entirely forgotten the story. Clare Darcy is the only writer I’ve found whose ‘Regency romance’ books feel as authentic as Georgette Heyer’s, and I’m pleased that, at last, I’ve decided to re-read the ones on my shelves.

‘Cecily’ opens with a scene at the theatre. Mr Robert Ranleigh arrives towards the end of the second act of a play, despite having been invited to join a party that includes the eligible and attractive Miss Comerford. Mr Ranleigh, we quickly learn, is handsome, very rich, and related to many of the upper classes. 

He then goes to another box to speak to his cousin who is there with some friends, and becomes caught up in some banter about the leading lady of the piece, Miss Daingerfield-Nelson. If Mr Ranleigh does not attempt to invite her to dinner, his cousin will lose money which he can ill afford to lose. So, rather reluctantly, Mr Ranleigh issues an invitation…

Miss Daingerfield-Nelson, it turns out, is a distant relative of Mr Ranleigh’s, and has been eager to meet him. She is orphaned, without any inheritance, living simply with her aunt. She wants to know if Mr Ranleigh would be willing to recommend her to some of his friends as a governess for young children. She knows that it’s not considered respectable to be on stage, so she has adopted a stage name. 

Cecily Hadley (her real name) is taken under the wing of Mr Ranleigh’s somewhat autocratic (but basically kind) mother. And then her life takes on many changes, including running away, falling in love, and making new friends. Cecily is quite naive, but knows her own mind and she can be quite outspoken. She becomes very friendly with Mr Ranleigh’s young cousin Charlie, and gradually realises she’s becoming rather too fond of Mr Ranleigh himself.

There are plenty of twists and turns to the story, which kept me reading at every odd moment. I assumed everything would work out in the end, but had little idea how this would happen. It’s a good story. The conversation, descriptions and activities feel entirely authentic to me; perhaps the author (who was American) was inspired by Georgette Heyer, and studied her many novels; maybe she did other research. I didn’t notice any anachronisms.

On the other hand, the novel doesn’t have Heyer’s light touch of irony. Nor does it have Heyer’s gift of characterisation. I didn’t feel any chemistry between Ranleigh and Cecily, nor were there any passages that made me chuckle, or even smile. I did like young Charlie; he is believable, and very likeable. I could sympathise, too, with Cecily’s aunt and with Ranleigh’s mother. 

Indeed, I may well read this book again in another ten years; there’s nothing to dislike, and the pace is good. The plot is well done, too. But neither Ranleigh nor Cecily are entirely three-dimensional, and the conclusion, while satisfactory for all concerned, does nothing for me. I didn’t have any desire for the book to be longer, or to know what happened after the end. 

Worth reading if you like this style of light historical fiction set mainly amongst the upper classes. But don’t expect the brilliant satire or characterisation of Georgette Heyer. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

It's the little things (by Erica James)

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I’m gradually re-reading the novels by Erica James which I’ve acquired over the past twenty-four years, as well as looking forward to her new ones. The one I have just finished is ‘It’s the little things’, which was published in 2008. I first read it in December 2010 and in the intervening fourteen years had entirely forgotten the storyline and the people. Well, almost…

The main characters in this book are three (fictional) survivors of the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami in Thailand. This was a tragedy which educated most of the world about what to look for when a tsunami is about to happen. The action of the book takes place a couple of years later, but there are some descriptions and flashbacks of what these folk experienced. 

As we learn, early in the book, two couples went on holiday together. Sally and Chloë had been close friends for a long time. Sally was married to Dan, Chloë was with Paul, and hoped he was going to propose. One morning, Dan and Chloë were in the hotel gym when the room was engulfed with water. They all escaped, and Dan managed to rescue a small girl, but he was unable to save her younger brother. Even two years later, he has regular nightmares. And Paul broke up with Chloë shortly after the disaster, which left her broken-hearted. 

Chloë is a doctor, working as GP in a busy practice. She prides herself on a personal touch, rather than keeping rigidly to time. She would love a baby, and is envious of patients who are pregnant. But she hasn’t had any serious relationships since Paul. Sally works as a high-powered lawyer, and Dan stays at home to look after their son Marcus who was conceived right after the tsunami. Sally is not at all maternal, while Dan loves being with Marcus, seeing his milestones. He is also happy to do the shopping, cooking and tidying. 

At a local gym, Chloë meets a good-looking man called Seth, and they gradually become friendly. It’s clear that Seth has something he isn’t telling Chloë, and she suspects all kinds of issues - that he is secretly married, perhaps - but she doesn’t guess what the secret is. That’s the one part of the book that I suddenly remembered although I had forgotten the actual characters. Possibly because, the first time I read it, it seemed like such an odd thing to be secretive about.

Chloë and Seth have a very good rapport. But when she eventually learns his secret she’s shocked and also rather prejudiced, which is what he was afraid of. He’s a thoroughly likeable person. Indeed, in this book the three most sympathetic characters, in my opinion, are all male. Both Seth and Dan are kind, sensitive, warm and generous. The third is Marcus, who is a total delight. But Erica James has quite a talent for creating lovable, believable small children. 

However I found Chloë rather rigid in her views. We eventually learn why she is so negative and afraid of being judged. But she has a hard, unforgiving side, and I found it hard to like her. Sally is even worse. I can’t empathise at all with someone who doesn’t much like being around her own son. But even worse, she is jealous of her husband’s abilities with him. Then at work she starts taking a huge risk, doing something so damaging to her reputation and marriage that I had no sympathy at all with her. 

Still, the writing is good, even though there’s rather too much discussion of sex for my tastes. Some of it is important for the plot, but not all.  And there are some interesting conversations about relevant principles and beliefs. But for many it seems too casual, and sometimes an apparently unstoppable force, rather than being a deliberate choice in a trusting, loving relationship. 

The novel is character-based, and there are quite a few minor characters. I liked some of them very much (such as Chloë’s parents, and Rosie, the mother of Marcus’s best friend). Others are less sympathetic. I couldn’t quite believe in the ghastliness of some of Chloë’s patients and also one or two of Sally’s clients. But that doesn’t matter much. They move the story forwards and provide a backdrop for the most significant people. 

There’s quite a ‘religious’ thread running through, too. As a Christian I quite appreciated the way that the church was portrayed as a positive force for good (on the whole). Some of the negative comments made were so biased and ill-informed that they made me think less of the characters concerned. I assume that was deliberately done. There’s nothing pushy, and fundamentalists would probably see all the discussions and Christians in the book as feeble, maybe even heretical. But I found this thread quite thought-provoking, and liked the way it brings issues of faith into secular fiction. 

Essentially, it’s a book about compassion and forgiveness. It’s also about friendship and love, with some important contemporary issues that come up briefly. It’s also a typical ‘women’s fiction’ novel about misunderstandings and romance. But set in the context of believable situations which the author brings to life well, with plenty of other things going on. It doesn’t drag anywhere. 

It’s not a short book - over 400 pages in paperback - but once I’d started, I found it difficult to put down. I hadn’t remembered any of the plot itself, and didn’t know what the outcome would be for anybody. On the whole I thought the ending was positive, while not quite tidying up all the ends. 

Recommended, on the whole, if you like women’s fiction with a bit of depth. It’s not my favourite Erica James novel, but I’ll probably read it again in another decade or so.

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

The good, the bad and the aunties (by Jesse Sutanto)

(Amazon UK link)

I had not heard of Jesse Suntano. She’s a Chinese-Indonesian writer who has apparently had several books published. In our local book group we like to read a variety of books from different cultures, and we also like something fairly light-weight for December. So ‘The good, the bad and the aunties’ was chosen for this month’s read. 

I thought the title was clever, and was aware before I started that this is the third in a series about the same family. Each one has a title that’s a spoof on a famous film title. The first in the series - ‘Dial A for Aunties’ - won a comedy award and has been made into a film. I hoped it didn’t matter that I hadn’t read the first two in the series.

‘The good, the bad and the aunties’ is narrated by a young, newly-married Chinese-Indonesian woman called Meddy. She’s been on a long honeymoon with her husband Nathan, and they’ve now met up with her mother and aunts, who live in the United States. They have travelled to Jakarta (in Indonesia) to meet the extended family, and to celebrate the Chinese New Year. 

The cultural part of this novel is, I assume, authentic and based on the author’s own experience. There’s a huge extended family, and Meddy doesn’t even know all the names of her cousins’ children. Vast amounts of food are prepared for every meal, and Meddy is regularly asked when she and Nathan are going to produce a grandbaby for her mother. 

But the characterisation is, on the whole, very two-dimensional. Nathan is almost too good to be true: he isn’t at all fazed by interfering relatives, and quickly learns names. He seems to get along with everyone, and doesn’t find anything awkward or embarrassing. He’s also good-looking and muscular, and Meddy’s family all think he’s wonderful.

As for Meddy’s mother, known as Ma, and her aunts (known, bizarrely, by names such as ‘Second Aunt’ and ‘Fourth Aunt’) I couldn’t really tell them apart. The family they have come to meet are even more shadowy, only one or two of them given names, none of which I can recall despite just finishing the book a few hours ago. 

The plot of the book consists of an increasingly unlikely series of incidents. A tattooed man, apparently a gang leader who is also a businessman, arrives unexpectedly with a whole train of cars behind him. He has come to see Second Aunt whom, he says, he has been in love with for years. She becomes rather embarrassingly flirtatious and admits to having had a crush on him, too. 

His name is Abi and he’s invited in to the celebrations, where he joins in by offering baskets of red envelopes. I assume this is a Chinese custom; it’s explained that all the married people hand out red envelopes containing cash to the children and other unmarried folk. 

However, it turns out that he accidentally put an important document in one of these envelopes. There's no hint of explanation as to why he put a vital property deed in a red envelope in a basket with others. He needs it back urgently or he’ll be in trouble with a high-powered businesswoman who also appears to be a gang leader. So Meddy and her close family pile into a car (I have no idea why they all had to go) to visit this woman, known as Julia Child, and to promise that they will retrieve the document. She keeps Nathan as a hostage, which makes Meddy panic… 

And this starts a sequence of increasingly unlikely scenes, including violence, disguises, drugging guards, entering a house under false pretences, and more. I didn’t feel involved in any of it, just more and more incredulous. I realised towards the end that structure of the book felt like a children’s graphic novel without the pictures. It was like the library books my ten-year-old grandson reads, full of people getting in and out of potentially dangerous situations, as if they’re cartoon characters, with little thought of consequences and no depth of characterisation. 

The pace is good, but there’s a lot of internal monologue from Maddy which ‘tells rather than showing’ what’s going on, and thus seems rather flat. And there are so many cliches I’m surprised the editor didn’t reduce them. Some of the conversation seems to be poking fun at Maddy’s older relatives, and some of it isn’t relevant or necessary at all. And there are many references to someone whom Maddy killed (I assume in one of the earlier books) although that does not seem to be relevant at all to this story.

Possibly I’m the wrong kind of audience for this book. Maybe young adults who grew up on graphic novels would appreciate it more than I did. It’s supposed to be comic, but I didn’t find anything amusing - it just seemed rather silly to me. It wasn’t a difficult read, and I did keep going. I finished it in a couple of days. I’m glad I found it second-hand rather than paying full price for it, and have no plans to look for the two earlier books in the series.

I wouldn’t recommend this book at all. But don’t necessarily take my word for it. This series has a lot of fans, so if you liked the first two ‘aunties’ books, then you might like this one too.

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews