Experiencing God (by Henry T Blackaby & Claude V King)

'Experiencing God' is a book is by Henry T Blackaby and Claude V King, two American authors who were perhaps reacting against the 'driving' nature of much of the Christian world as they wrote both a 'workbook' and this, a semi-devotional book with subtitle, 'How to live the full adventure of knowing and doing the will of God.'

I read it some years ago, and recently re-read it over a couple of weeks. The overall message is: God wants us primarily to develop a relationship of love with him. When he wants us to do something, he'll let us know one way or another. If we see him working, then chances are that's where he wants us to join him. What we shouldn't do is rush around wearing ourselves out in work - even Christian ministry - unless we're sure God has asked us to do so. When he does ask us to do something, we need to make adjustments and be obedient.

Which, of course, is fine - up to a point. My problems with it are (a) God is doing far more work in the world than any individual can possibly be involved in - we can't simply try to join in anywhere we see God working (b) most of the examples given in the book are of people called to leadership - Moses, Joshua, Paul, Peter, and some famous ministers of more recent years. They were given specific instructions from God - but it seems to me that they were called to ministries beyond that of most of us, so it was important that they did hear very clearly, as they had to abandon preconceived ideas or careers to do what God wanted of them. But most of us aren't called to dramatic ministries, and don't need to do a whole lot of adjusting, although of course the Christian life calls for some changes in our lives at times.

Unlike some of the critics at Amazon I don't think this book is occultic; God certainly speaks other than through Scripture. On the other hand, I didn't find it the greatly thrilling adventure and inspiration that others saw it as. I thought it started reasonably well, but became rather prescriptive and distinctly repetitive.

Worth reading, perhaps, for any Christian who's feeling a bit stale or too caught up in rules and regulations. But don't expect too much of it.

The original book does not seem to be in print any more, although widely available second-hand. There are various versions of the members' guide in print in both the UK and USA, and also a leaders' guide. I personally found the actual book (without questions and discussion points) far more useful than the members' guide, and the two Amazon links should lead to second-hand versions of it. But please check which one you're getting. The front cover looks much the same on them all.

Unless (by Carol Sheilds)

I wasn't quite sure what to expect from a novel described on the front cover as 'raw and intentful', with a title like 'Unless'. I've only previously read one book by the late Carol Shields, and thought it interesting and original in style... but didn't feel very involved with the characters.

However I enjoyed this one very much. It's the story of Reta Winters, a writer whose main work is translation from French. She has written one novel and is trying to write a sequel, while dealing with an unusual and upsetting family problem - her bright, loving daughter has dropped out of college and society, and sits on a street corner, begging.

The style of the book is unusual, sometimes using the present tense, sometimes reminiscing about the past, sometimes wondering about the future. It could have been muddling, but it wasn't. It blended well, giving an impression of someone who was confused by current circumstances, but working her way through her difficulties.

Reta seems to be a strong person who's not afraid to ask questions and take responsibility for mistakes she's made. Her attempt to balance her life is moving: continuing with everyday chores, looking after her two younger daughters and sort-of-husband, meeting with friends, writing ... and yet all the time there's the tragic undercurrent of her life, seeing her oldest daughter only once a week, with no idea if she will ever return home again.

There's another thread running through the book: a rather feminist slant, as Reta writes letters to journalists and scholars, pointing out with light irony how sad it is that they so often quote male authors and composers, but rarely - if ever - mention women whose work they have found inspiring. She thinks that part of her daughter's problem is the marginalisation of women, even in a modern society where everyone is supposed to have equal rights.

These letters don't quite fit in with the rest of the book - and yet they provide light release from the ongoing story about her writing and her daughters. They also - as I realised towards the end - give a different kind of insight into Reta's thought processes, and reveal the anger she feels despite her attempt to stay calm and in control.

The only character who is really developed through the book is Reta. This is perhaps inevitable as she's the narrator, so we see inside her head and heart while observing her family and friends from her viewpoint. I didn't find that a problem, since I found Reta very realistic, the writing often reflecting the way my mind works as it jumps around and tries to rationalise problems.

I don't know if it would appeal to someone who likes to think in a structured or step-by-step fashion, but it worked well for me. The other characters were believable, even though I didn't feel I knew any of them well, and there weren't so many that I lost track of who was who.

All in all, I'd recommend it.

Little Girl Lost (by Katie Flynn)

I quite like light historical novels, but am generally not so keen on the rather gritty ones that tend to be set in Liverpool around the turn of the 20th century. However I found this one, 'Little Girl Lost' by Katie Flynn, to get about the right balance as far as the realism goes. There was no glossing over the poverty, suffering and abuse that went on, but few details were given: none that made me wince or feel squeamish.

The plot centres firstly on Sylvie, who is walking along the banks of the Mersey trying to solve a problem: she's pregnant, but not by her husband who is in jail. Moreoever, he's a violent and possessive man. Her sister (not surprisingly) just thinks she was stupid to get herself in this position. Enter Brendan, a policeman off-duty, who startles Sylvie so much that she falls into the river, and (naturally) he rescues her.

It's a clichéd opening, and the book is rather full of such scenarios. It's also rather confusingly structured more like a soap than a novel. There are plenty of dramatic scenes and sub-plots, but it's hard to get hold of a broad theme or overall plot. Sometimes the action is in Liverpool, sometimes in Dublin. There are many minor characters, some of whom die off conveniently when no longer needed, and extras appear as necessary.

Moreover I had very little sympathy for Sylvie who is both selfish and stupid, and it was hard to believe in Brendan, who is not only handsome, brave and kind, but solves her problems easily by producing a cousin in Ireland who can look after her until the baby is born and can be adopted.

However the Irish family were much more believable and rounded, and I found their story rather more interesting than that of Sylvie. Despite a slow start, I found myself wanting to keep reading. Even though many of the outcomes to the sub-plots were predictable, they were well-written, with just enough suspense to keep me turning the pages. The conversations flowed well, with sufficient colloquial language to help me 'hear' the voices and accents - yet not so much that it became awkward to read. There was enough description to enable me to imagine the locations and people fairly clearly, but not so much that I became bored.

The ending was encouraging too, if a bit too tidy and contrived. So, all in all, recommended for anyone who likes this kind of book.

(If you're interested, you can read my longer review of 'Little Girl Lost' at The BookBag)

The River Flows On (by Maggie Craig)

I'm sometimes a little ambivalent about novels set in the Depression era of English history. Still, I picked up 'The River Flows On' very cheaply, and the cover and blurb on the back sounded interesting. I hoped it wouldn't be too sordid; some books set in this period focus so much on poverty and abuse that I find them highly disturbing, and that's not particularly useful since there's nothing that can be done about the past!

But Maggie Craig, an author I haven't read before, gets just the right balance, in my view. This novel is primarily character-based, and while the families concerned are struggling in many ways, there's plenty of love and humour amongst them.

The novel opens with 86-year-old 'Grandma Kate' watching a liner being brought into anchor, with her great-grandson Michael. She talks to him about the way his great-uncles and great-grandfather were involved in the building of such great ships, and this provides the impetus for the rest of the novel, which is a huge flashback to Kate's earlier life. She is 14 at the start, a bright and artistic teenager who longs to go to art college, but her sometimes harsh mother wants her to leave school and get a job to help the family finances.

Since Kate's father's work is specialist, and he's often out of work, she realises that it would make sense for her to find a job. Much of the book is a struggle between practicalities and dreams in Kate's mind, as she longs to reach out of the poverty trap, yet cannot leave behind those whom she cares for deeply.

The novel covers Kate's growing up, her marriage, and - almost as an epilogue - the start of World War II. It took me a little while to get into it; sometimes I feel mildly irritated with books that open with someone elderly and then take us back to their childhood, but I soon realised that it was worth reading more than just the final chapter which is back in Kate's elderly years!

After a couple of days of reading just a chapter at a time, I found myself getting involved in Kate as a person, sometimes empathising with her confusing emotions, sometimes rooting for her to solve her problems. Most of the characters are well-rounded and believable, to the extent that I had tears in my eyes in a couple of particularly moving scenes.

Once I had reached the stage of being immersed in the book, I could hardly put it down and finished the last 350 pages (out of about 400) in just two days. Definitely recommended.

Reaching Out (by Henri Nouwen)

'Reaching Out' is an excellent and thought-provoking Christian book by the late Henri Nouwen, a Dutch Roman Catholic priest. He explores three movements in spiritual growth: from loneliness to solitude, from hostility to hospitality, and from illusion to prayer. He looks at three ways in which people are often hurting - by being lonely, hostile or filled with illusions - and devotes a section of the book to each.

Nouwen looks at reasons why we tend to look inward and suffer, although his writing is gentle and there's no tone of condemnation. He then discusses ways of reaching beyond our pain to find contentment in being alone, and what it means by being truly hospitable and able to pray. I was particularly struck by his descriptions of hospitality, focusing as they did on welcoming both strangers and friends, particularly family, yet giving them the complete freedom to be themselves, not trying to manipulate or change them.

It wasn't a book to read at one sitting; although the concepts were not hard, and the language flowed well, there were a lot of thought-processes involved and I found a chapter at a time to be plenty. It's a book I shall return to frequently, I expect.

At the end of this edition of the book is a short piece, 'Beyond the Mirror', which describes in detail what happened when the author had an unexpected accident that almost killed him. Very moving and encouraging.

Highly recommended.

Lost Voices (by Gilda O'Neill)

'Lost Voices' is a newly published oral history book by Gilda O'Neill. It tells the story of the thousands of people who travelled each year from London to Kent to pick hops, from about 1920 to the late 1960s.

The author has recorded many conversations with people who remember these times. In particular there are ten women whose comments were taped, and which are transcribed throughout the book. They are quoted directly, sorted into several chapters covering different aspects of hop-picking.

O'Neill writes well, and was evidently very enthusiastic about her project. She herself was taken hop-picking by her family until she was ten, so she has some of her own memories to intersperse with those of the women she interviews. She adds some background where relevant, too, turning the rather random conversations into a kind of story, and interposing her comments on what is said with explanations where needed.

I liked learning more about something far removed from my own childhood - I knew almost nothing about hop-picking before I started the book. Somehow, though, I didn't find the stories either moving or gripping. Perhaps it was too far removed from my own childhood.

I also found some of the anecdotes repetitive, and others hard to read due to being directly transcribed from taped conversations. I actually found the introduction and conclusion more interesting than the rest of the book, as they reflected on the nature of oral history and of what we mean by 'truth'.

Mostly of interest to those who like local history, or who themselves have memories of hop-picking.

(For my longer review at The Bookbag site, see Lost Voices)