I've come across books by John White once or twice in the past. He writes well, and is not afraid to tackle difficult, often controversial subjects. His background is that of a Christian psychiatrist, and he writes in clear, well-balanced way.
'When the Spirit comes with power' (subtitled: 'signs and wonders among God's people') has been sitting on our shelves for many years, but I don't think I have read it before. I picked it up a couple of weeks ago, and have read about a chapter per day.
John White basically investigates the 'Signs and wonders' phenomena that hit the churches in the 1980s, asking questions from a scientific and practical point of view. Are they caused by mass hysteria? By hypnosis? By the devil? Is there any Scriptural evidence of people behaving bizarrely when under the influence of the Holy Spirit? Do these things have any special significance in world terms?
He begins with a fairly cynical outlook, as an observer, but quickly finds that God works in His own way, in His own time. While there are undoubtedly cases of mass hysteria, or over-emotional leaders producing fake symptoms, White discovers many times when the teaching was simple and unemotional, and the people were if not cynical, at least calm and in no expectation of God doing anything unusual. Towards the end of the book, there are a few case studies, including the late John Wimber, founder of the Vineyard movement.
I found the book well-written, interesting, and sometimes challenging. I was less impressed in the final chapter when the author seems to think that worldwide revival was indicated by the many outpourings of the Holy Spirit during the 1980s.
Certainly it must have been exciting to see God at work in Communist (and former Communist) countries, as mentioned. Perhaps, at the time, it did seem as if a worldwide revival was close. History shows that this didn't happen - yet God still continues to move.
Recommended to anyone wanting to know more about the 'signs and wonders' in the church in the latter part of the 20th century.
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 28th February 2009
I'm a huge fan of Georgette Heyer. I started reading her books when I was in my late teens, and over the years have collected just about all her historical novels, as well as some of her detective fiction. I re-read them all every few years; the 'regency romance' ones are probably my favourite comfort reading.
Having said that, 'Cousin Kate' is one of my least favourite of Georgette Heyer's historical fiction novels. It starts well. The main character, Kate, is a likeable girl; she's a typical courageous and confident Heyer heroine, despite being destitute. She has a delightful and loyal old nurse, Sarah, who is always willing to come to her rescue.
The problem is that Heyer introduces two extremely unpleasant characters, Kate's Aunt Minerva, who comes - apparently - to her rescue, and Minerva's son Torquil who is totally spoilt, very bad tempered, and sometimes violent. They're not just minor caricatures in the book, but well developed people who form a significant part of the book.
Heyer has an incredible gift of characterisation for her main protagonists, usually giving them a few faults to make them more human. She also sometimes manages to produce some lovable villains with a touch of humour or a pleasant side. But these two unlikeable people seem to have no redeeming features - despite, at first, seeming friendly and affectionate.
There's more violence than I like in this book too, and a melodramatic ending which I had totally forgotten about in the twelve or more years since I last read it. I can see that it tidied everything up neatly, but it didn't seem quite believable.
It's not bad writing, of course. The story itself is quite exciting, too, albeit full of what would now be considered politically incorrect comments about someone who turns out to be mentally unstable. Somehow, I suspect Heyer was experimenting with a rather different style of novel - this was written in her later years - and it didn't really work. At least, not for me.
Still, I shall probably re-read it yet again in another ten years or so...
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 24th February 2009
I haven't ever before heard of either Roger Pearman (who is apparently the founder of two companies, as well as having written several books related to Myers-Briggs theory) or Sarah Albritton (who does not appear to have a web presence at all).
I don't even remember how I first heard of 'I'm not crazy, I'm just not you', a book with the lengthy subtitle, 'Secrets to how we can be so alike when we're so different: the real meaning of the sixteen personality types'. But someone recommended it to me, and it sat on my wishlist for a while before I was given it a couple of years ago.
It's taken me over year to read it, off and on. Which does rather indicate that it's not the most exciting reading. And, indeed, it's rather lacking human interest and anecdotes, and is somewhat heavy going. Besides which, I often forgot about it at the bottom of the pile of other books I'm currently reading.
Having finished it at last, I would consider it pretty sound as far as type and Jungian/Myers-Briggs personality theory go. There is some cognitive function theory as well, which goes rather deeper than the average pop-psychology Myers-Briggs book.
In the early chapters, the authors talk about human behaviour, and outline some of the history of type theory. They stress that all types are valuable and good, and also that type is a 'subtext' to the real individual. In other words, we are all unique individuals, made up of our genes, our gender, our culture, our upbringing, and much more. Myers-Briggs type is just one window through which we can look at ourselves and others around us. It can be a very useful window, but should never become a box for judgementalism, or for making excuses about behaviours.
There are plenty of explanations about what people of different types tend to expect, trust and appreciate, and how easy it is to get caught up in our own preconceived ideas. There are also lots of charts summarising how each of the sixteen Myers-Briggs types is most likely to react or behave under certain circumstances.
People are far more than their type, and these are not hard-and-fast rules for communication. But when there are personality clashes, it could well be worth referring to this book. It's not an easy read; if you're new to the Jungian/Myers-Briggs theories, it's probably better to start with Keirsey's 'Please Understand Me', or one of the books by Linda Berens. But for someone wanting a deeper look at what the cognitive functions mean in everyday life, this is worth dipping into.
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 23rd February 2009
I don't recall when I first came across Rebecca Shaw's books. I'm also not entirely sure why I continue collecting them when I see one in a charity shop which I don't have already..
However, I recently spotted 'Scandal in the village', and bought it. I wanted something ultra-light to read over the weekend, and decided to try it.
It's another episode on the ongoing soap that takes place in this apparently calm village. Peter (the Rector) is worried about his wife Caroline who is evidently hiding something from him. Dicky Tut is enamoured of Georgie, the wife of the barman. She seems to reciprocate, but her husband is not happy about it. Sheila Bissett breaks her leg, and nobody is quite sure whether she can manage the harvest decorations for the church, so Grandmama Charter-Plackett decides to take over.
There are other subplots too, which I have already forgotten. I didn't even remember all those names without referring to the lengthy cast list at the front of the book. I do quite like Peter and Caroline, and find their threads interesting in all the books. But I find all the other people remarkably similar and two-dimensional. I'm sure I came across them in the various other books I've read in the series - the names do seem familiar - but I don't remember any of their stories, other than that of Peter and Caroline.
I feel as if this series was intended for television rather than a book. If there were actors putting their individual stamp on the characters, each clearly distinguishable, then it might work better. As it is, I'm not entirely sure why I continue reading these books, other than mild curiosity.
I didn't find this one particularly special; it passed the time, and was no worse than any of the others. I've come to the conclusion that I just like collecting whole series of books; if I can pick them all up second-hand, so much the better.
Not particularly recommended, but if you like very light reading (and don't mind referring to the cast list every other page) these books are a reasonably pleasant way to pass the time, and popular in many circles.
To my surprise it's still in print in the UK, ten years after publication. It has also been republished in a volume with two more in the series, and of course it can often be found second-hand, online or in charity shops, along with many others in the series.
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 22nd February 2009
I first came across Gerald Durrell when one of his books was required reading at my secondary school when I was about thirteen. Thankfully that didn't put me off - indeed, it inspired me to read several more. I have mixed feelings about many of his books that focus primarily on his life as a naturalist - they're well-written but I find them rather dull. However, I come back to others to re-read at regular intervals.
'The garden of the gods' is the third of Gerald Durrell's semi autobiographical accounts of his life in Corfu as a child. It's no longer available on its own, but has recently been republished along with the earlier books, 'My Family and Other Animals' and 'Birds, Beasts and Relatives' as part of the 'Corfu Trilogy'.
As with the other two in the series, this is a series of anecdotes about Durrell's family - his long-suffering mother, his poetic brother Larry and his various friends, his gun-toting brother Leslie, and his sister Margo - and also his own passion as a naturalist, even at the age of twelve. He describes several of his expeditions alone, or with others, to observe both land and sea-life, sometimes collecting specimens for further study at home, much to the disgust of his family.
I assume the descriptions of his animal collecting trips are accurate, since he made detailed records at the time. However, I can only imagine that the conversations and anecdotes of family life are somewhat embellished, with plenty of artistic license.
Since I am not all that interested in the worlds of reptiles or sea creatures, I rather skimmed over those sections which took up a fair proportion of the book. I much prefer the descriptions of family life, even if they are somewhat apocryphal.
I didn't think this was as much fun as the first two books, but thought it worth reading all the same. If you don't want the whole trilogy, this volume can often be found second-hand.
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 20th February 2009
A couple of weeks ago, I was sent two books by Linda Gillard, to review for The Bookbag site. I enjoyed 'Emotional Geology', and looked forward to the second one, which I started this week.
I have to say, I would never have bought this book or even placed it on a wishlist. The proverb tells us that one should not judge a book by a cover, but I often (literally) do - and thought this one of the most unpleasant cover images I have seen for a while. Each evening when I stopped reading I placed the book face down so I would not catch sight of it unexpectedly.
But I'm very glad I did read the book. My curiosity was piqued right from the start. There's a prologue, related by Flora, at her own funeral. Then we go back to 1942, with the birth of Flora and her twin brother Rory. And then we leap forward to 1987. Then there's another section narrated by Flora from beyond the grave.
This style continues. At first I found it confusing. Every so often I had to check back to see what year I was in, but on the whole it works extremely well. I felt almost as if I were reading the book with Flora looking over my shoulder, filling in the gaps with her recollections.
Flora marries Hugh, an older clergyman who is likeable and generous, but they don't make each other happy. Rory marries Grace, a musician like himself. Their marriage is a little better, but still has some serious problems. There are other, more minor characters but they were all distinct and believable, and I found myself caring about them all.
The book features - among other things - unrequited love, the destruction of dreams, depression, betrayal of trust, and incestuous relationships. Linda Gillard treats these themes with amazing sensitivity. Somehow, people's actions make sense in the context of their circumstances.
The writing is excellent, the twists and turns of the plot unexpected, but not unbelievable. The prologue gives clues about what happens right the way through the novel, but the full picture is not clear until the end. As soon as I'd finished, I went back to the beginning and read the prologue and first couple of sections again.
Definitely recommended. Available in Kindle form as well as paperback.
(My longer review of 'A Lifetime Burning' can be found at The Bookbag site.)
I had never previously heard of the late Sheena Gillies, and she didn't have much of a web presence either. But she was part of the Evangelical Alliance UK board when I first researched her name.
So she was sound, theologically speaking, and knew what she's talking about. I didn't know that, however, when I bought 'Get the most out of church!' - but it was 50p, in the bargain bin of a local Christian bookshop, about ten years ago. It's sat on our shelves since then, and I thought it about time I read it.
There was very little that I disagreed with in this book. It's a fairly light read, written in the early 1990s, explaining the purpose of both the worldwide church and the local congregations.
All very sound and good. Unfortunately it makes some assumptions about the need for attending Sunday services which have no basis in Scripture, as far as I can tell, and rather misses the point of the many thousands of Christian believers who are not, currently, part of a church congregation. But perhaps that phenomenon was less obvious in 1992.
Although it was an easy read, I found it annoying since it was packed full of exclamation marks, almost every other sentence ending with one. A minor quibble, perhaps, but I thought it a pity the editor didn't spot that before it was published.
It's not a bad book for someone wondering why the church exists at all, or wanting to know what Christian fellowship and community is about. But I didn't think it much use from the perspective of those who are simply bored or fed up with local congregations and Sunday services, and have more constructive ways to meet with other believers and worship God outside of a traditional (or even non-traditional) 'church setting'.
Unsurprisingly, it's now out of print. For anyone struggling with church issues, I'd recommend either Philip Yancey's 'Church: why bother?' or - for the other side of the coin - Jake Colson's 'So you don't want to go to Church any more?'
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 12th February 2009
I only started reading Agatha Christie books a few years ago. I was pleasantly surprised - they're light, they're mostly very cleverly written, and they're not as gory as I had expected. I don't enjoy them sufficiently to buy them new, but when I see one in a charity shop which we don't already have, I usually buy it.
Hence the arrival of 'Mrs McGinty's dead' on my to-be-read bookshelf a week or so back. I wanted a short, light read a couple of days ago, so picked it up.
It's a standard mystery novel. Hercule Poirot is asked to investigate the death of a charwoman some months previously. Someone has been tried and convicted, but the police officer involved in the case is convinced that the wrong person is in prison. So Poirot gets to know the residents of the village, and - of course - eventually figures out 'whodunit'.
Agatha Christie's primary skill is in her plotting, along with the laying of false clues to lull the reader into a false sense of confidence about the perpetrator of her crimes. However, I'm always less impressed with her characters, who tend to be two-dimensional and sometimes hard to distinguish from each other.
Lack of characterisation doesn't matter in a plot-based book where there are only a few people. But in this one, there are more individuals than I could remember, and I frequently lost the train or logic when Poirot was having discussions or making deductions.
Moreover, I worked out who was the guilty party about half-way through the book. I thought I had probably followed a neatly laid false clue, only to find that I had in fact spotted a real one. I haven't read a Christie for quite some time, so was surprised to get it right.
It was all right for a light read for anyone who is a fan of this genre or author, but I wouldn't particularly recommend it. Agatha Christie has written much better books. Still, it's evidently popular with many since it's still in print, over 50 years after it was written, in several versions in both the UK and USA. There's even a new edition that's a facsimile of the original.
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 9th February 2009
I only came across of Donald Miller a few months ago, when I read and very much enjoyed 'Blue like jazz'.
So, since 'Searching for God knows what' by the same author was sitting on our shelves, I put it on my to-read shelf, and picked it up a couple of weeks ago.
I found this book riveting, although I only read a chapter or so each day, wanting to think about each one rather than moving quickly through the book. Donald Miller has a clear, chatty and almost simplistic style of writing that gets right to the heart of what many people are probably thinking. This book is partly biographical - although not as much as 'Blue like Jazz' - and partly theological and philsophical.
He uses examples such as Santa Claus, bearded ladies, spends a great deal of time thinking about Adam and Eve being unclothed, and also pulls to pieces the analogy of people in lifeboats deciding who is the most important.
These and other metaphors are used through the book, until he reaches the heart of what he's trying to say: that comparisons are pointless, and the world is shallow. That Christianity is not a religion of bullet points or formulae, but a living, loving relationship with Jesus Christ.
The familiar, almost casual writing style might annoy some theologians, and the simplicity of his message might upset or threaten those who like formulae and moral codes. But his thought-processes are clearly explained, and I very much enjoyed it.
All in all, I thought this book excellent and thought-provoking, and will probably read it again in a few years. Highly recommended.
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 9th February 2009
I hadn't read anything by Linda Gillard, or even heard of her until recently. However I have very much enjoyed several other books published by Transita. They produce novels about women in their forties that don't follow typical chick-lit or romantic fiction storylines.
So I was pleased to receive 'Emotional Geology' for review, from The Bookbag. It's the story of Rose, a textile artist who suffers with manic depression. She lives on the small island of Uist, recouping after a painful and upsetting end to a long-term relationship.
Rose meets Calum who is a teacher, and also a poet. His poetry, which is sometimes dark and moving, resonates with Rose, and inspires her. She finds him rather devastatingly attractive, too. Rose and Calum both have demons from the past; this novel explores the way they learn to forgive themselves, and to live in the present once more.
I found the style of this book rather confusing at first. The narrative switches frequently between first person and third person, interspersed with brief forays into the past. However, I soon got used to it and found the style effective.
I found the book very readable. Having said that, it was disturbing in places, and with considerably more bad language than I am comfortable with. But overall I found it moving - in a low-key way - and thought-provoking. Recommended.
(You can also read my longer review of Emotional Geology on the Bookbag site)
I've been reading books by Joanna Trollope for about ten years. I had mixed feelings at first, but over time, they seem to have grown on me - or perhaps I've matured in my tastes.
Recently I decided to re-read some of the books I read some years ago, by Joanna Trollope among others. This week it was the turn of 'Next of Kin'.
It's the story of a farming family, opening with the funeral of Caro, wife of Robin. Their marriage has never been particularly contented - they have had separate bedrooms for many years - but their daughter Judy grieves, and those around them are affected in various ways.
Judy's new flat-mate Zoe is an uncomplicated and spontaneous kind of person who seems to have few hangups. She's a photographer, and asks to visit Judy's family. She finds herself thinking about them, and returns more than once. She gets involved in various ways, and becomes a catalyst for other change including helping people to speak out about their feelings and state what they would actually like.
The relationships are complex, and the people believable. I was particularly taken with Hughie, Robin's three-year-old nephew. I had totally forgotten the plot and characters since the first time I read 'Next of Kin' in 2000, which suggests that it didn't go deeply into my consciousness, but then that made it all the more enjoyable to re-read.
It's not a particularly special novel, and I didn't find I was moved or choked up, even at the places where I probably should have been. But it was pleasant light reading with some depth, and the conclusion was hopeful, on the whole. I shall probably read it again in another eight or nine years.
Still in print in both the UK and USA, and widely available second-hand.
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 5th February 2009
I've never heard of Lloyd Jones. This isn't the kind of book I would normally have picked up. It's not in a genre I generally read, and the cover didn't particularly appeal to me. But a friend lent it to me, and every so often I do like to read something a little different from my normal light historical or women's fiction.
'Mister Pip' is set in the island of Bougainville, part of Papua New Guinea, during the civil war of the late 1980s. Mr Watts is the only white person in the district. He's an eccentric and likeable man married to Grace, one of the island's previous top students whom he met in Australia. As the book opens, we read about Mr Watts - otherwise known as Pop-eye - wearing a red nose and wheeling his wife about in a trolley. She is believed to be crazy.
Mr Watts takes on the role of teacher to the children of the district, amidst the rumours of war and threat of both 'redskins' and rebels. The story is related by Matilda, a fourteen-year-old girl, who in her turn is one of Mr Watts' current top students.
Mr Watts uses 'Great Expectations' as an introduction to literature and language, reading aloud a section each day to the class, who are totally engrossed. But it's used for more than that; the whole book uses it as a theme for the book, and Matilda becomes more and more involved with the person of Pip who stars in the story.
When the book is lost, the students are encouraged to recall 'fragments' and build up their own joint picture of the book. This theme, too, is repeated within the novel as children's parents share their fragments of wisdom with the class, and at other times when people gather together their fragments of memories about people or situations.
I suppose I learned something about this island and its people, and also about some of the horrors of the war - something which had pretty much escaped my notice. But the book was written in the kind of style that entirely failed to move me, even when it was shocking towards the end. I don't like violence of any sort, but the narration is so flat, avoiding any strong emotion, that I felt much the same.
I suspect I don't really get 'literary fiction'. This book has been highly acclaimed by critics, and was on the Man Booker prize shortlist. It is undoubtedly original. However I felt that the characterisation was poor, mainly caricatured or two-dimensional, and the descriptions are not very engaging.
Then the ending tries to tie up a lot of ends in a somewhat implausible way. I like endings to be neat and tidy, but found some of these rather disappointing.
On the whole I'm glad I read 'Mister Pip', but it's not really my kind of book and I doubt if I will read it again. But don't take my word for it. It's very popular and highly rated by many.
Review copyright Sue's Book Reviews, 1st February 2009
