How I met my son (by Rosalind Powell)

(Amazon UK link)

Sometimes I visit a church book sale, and pick up a handful of books that look interesting. I don’t mind paying 50 cents for experiments; if I don’t like a book, I can always donate it back for someone else. One of the books I found, three years ago, was ‘How I met my son’ by Rosalind Powell.  The subtitle is ‘ A journey through adoption’, but I must have forgotten that when I pulled it off my shelf to read, as I had been expecting a novel.

It turns out that this book was written by the author, who is a journalist, wanting to chart her experiences with adoption. She says at the start that she had read glowing accounts, and some dire accounts, but not much that gave a balanced account, positive and negative. She also wanted something that would explain the entire process from start to finish, at least as she experienced it. 

So the book is part autobiographical, and part informational. It’s extremely well-written, so even though we had never really considered adoption ourselves, I found it very interesting. The early chapters chart her life as a young woman, enjoying partying and playing around, through her marriage and the frustration of being unable to conceive. She and her husband then spend a lot of money on IVF, again with disappointing results. 

It’s not a spoiler to say these things. It’s clear from the beginning that they will eventually adopt a boy, and the story explains what they went through to achieve their goal. I knew there were extensive checks made, of course; but I had not realised how very intrusive they can be. Rosalind Powell has a friendly social worker whom they like, but even so she finds it quite draining to have to give details about every aspect of their lives, over the course of many months. She is honest about the emotional highs and lows that she experienced, sometimes in despair, sometimes hopeful, often unsure as to whether they will be able to go through with it. 

In between the biographical account that slowly moves forward, there are chapters delving into aspects of adoption: the legal processes, the history of adoption, the way it works with non-traditional families, and more. I thought I might skim some of these sections but found them so interesting that I read everything, despite being eager to read on to find out more of the author’s story. The factual chapters are peppered with anecdotes, giving examples from other people’s experiences, and that’s what makes it so very readable.

Names, of course, have been changed. Some of the situations have, too. Even the author’s own adopted son’s name has been changed, and she deliberately stops the account when he reaches the age of ten. She recounts some of her conversations with him, as a young child, and also as he matures. She’s open about his background, and tries to answer his questions. Some of the conversations show her stress, as she says things that are not necessarily helpful - this would, I’m sure, be very encouraging for others who might wish they hadn’t responded to their children a certain way. 

Theirs is an adoption that evidently works well, on the whole - the issues that come up, in many cases, are typical for children of her son’s age, rather than being specifically related to his adoptive status. But there are extra problems that may arise, some of which I had never thought of. There’s a deep trauma, it’s thought, about any child, however young, abandoned by (or taken away from) their mother. There’s a sense of being passed around, if they go to several foster homes, or are fostered for a year or two before being adopted by someone else. There are questions about birth parents, and sometimes innocent questions from those around that can cause pain or turmoil.

The needs of the child are paramount nowadays, which is as it should be. Parents are challenged to be certain that they want to do this, and that they’re capable of dealing with children who might have been neglected or abused. Some adopted children have severe learning difficulties; some have physical disabilities; some are angry and can become violent. Some may be depressed, or over-compliant. All are likely to be challenging. 

I loved reading the story, and I’ve also learned quite a bit about the process of adoption - and what a long, stressful journey it is for all involved. Of course the laws are different in different countries, and even within the UK (where this book is based) rules and requirements can vary between different parts of the country, and may change as new situations come to light. But I would recommend this highly to anyone thinking about adopting, even if your situation is quite unlike those of this family. And if you’re not considering adoption, but  like well-written, interesting biographical books, this is, in my view, an excellent and unusual one to read.

Highly recommended. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

A new kind of Christian (by Brian McLaren)

(Amazon UK link)

It’s about twelve years since I first read Brian McLaren’s semi-fictional book ‘A new kind of Christian’. I recalled liking it very much at the time, finding a lot that was inspiring and thought-provoking. It seemed like a good idea to re-read, so I’ve been reading around a chapter at a time over the past couple of weeks. 

I was interested to note that this was published in 1999, so it’s now twenty-five years old. Not that it seems dated, particularly, but I found myself wondering if anything has changed in the quarter century since McLaren first propounded these ideas, which were considered quite revolutionary, possibly shocking by many.

The style, as explained in the introduction, is that of a fictional encounter between two people - a divine encounter, perhaps. Dan, a tired pastor in an American evangelical church is wondering whether he should change careers and become a high school teacher. He asks a few questions of his daughter’s science teacher and soccer coach, a Jamaican American known as Neo. 

They first meet at a concert, and decide to have coffee together some time to explore Dan’s options. Dan has needed someone to talk to, and Neo is a good listener. But he’s not so good at answering questions. Instead, he poses more, and talks about some of his experiences and theories. Neo attends an Episcopalian church (similar to a British Anglican one) and has a deep faith, one that goes much deeper than anything denominational. And Neo’s questions are pointed, thought-provoking and sometimes mind-blowing. 

Each chapter takes Neo and Dan on a slightly different outing as backdrop for their discussions. It’s not a novel, and the story as such doesn’t really go anywhere. But as the introduction states, we shouldn’t judge it as a novel. There’s no real depth of characterisation, and the bulk of it is conversation as Neo challenges Dan to enlarge his perspectives. 

I hadn’t remembered much of the actual content, though I recalled that it was about moving the church into the 21st century. Neo talks a lot about postmodernism, and about reaching out to postmodern people. He explains why the bulk of the church (at least the Protestant church) was still working under modernist principles, and makes it clear, too, that this isn’t wrong. Just limiting. 

The enlightenment and the technological revolution, Neo explains, helped people to analyse, to make lists, to organise their thoughts. People categorised churches as high or low, liberal or evangelical, and so on and people in democratic western countries were free to attend one that matched their own preferences. But that was becoming less appropriate for most young people at the end of the 20th century; even more so, twenty-five years later. 

There are many examples in the book of a modernist line, which Neo marks on napkins or in the dirt. And they’re not wrong, he stresses, just incomplete. There’s another level, that which he believes Christians must start to observe if they are to live in the post-modern world rather than become increasingly isolated onlookers. He talks about the need for inclusion of all races, all styles of worship, all ages. He proposes that the ‘new’ kind of church will focus on reaching out to the community rather than trying to meet the needs only of those within the church. He says that there’s a need for radical rethinking, not just a few changes in style of music or liturgy. 

There are some sections which might be considered heretical by staunch evangelicals. Neo challenges Dan to think about what salvation really means. He says that evolution is something used by God. He believes that there is some value in other religions too: that Jesus is undoubtedly the way, the truth and the life, but that people may find him in non-conventional ways. And that’s part of the point of the book: to make people stop, and think, and figure out what is truly Biblical, what it means to follow Jesus, and how we can demonstrate the love of God to all. 

When I first read the book there was quite a bit of discussion online (and in real life) about the role of the local church, and whether it was of vital importance to attend a service every week or not. I’m not sure the issues were ever resolved, but there were certainly indications that people were becoming more aware of the Kingdom of God being now, rather than just in the future, and of the importance of being part of the universal church, rather than just a member of a single congregation. 

I don’t know that I agreed with every word of the book, but that’s okay. I’m more interested in wondering how many churches have started to take on these principles. The pandemic in 2020 actually forced everyone to stop, and churches adopted some new techniques such as live-streaming, to allow more people to participate without having to attend. Other churches pondered new ways of relating, and whether to make more dramatic changes in their style to attract those outside. 

The last chapter of the book contains some supposed email correspondence with a youth pastor who was asking a lot of questions about her future, and what a new kind of church would look like, in Neo’s understanding. I think that would be more useful for church leaders, although it really opens up more possibilities rather than answering any questions. I found that less useful than the rest of the book, but am already planning to re-read its sequel during the rest of the month. 

Personally I quite like the conversational pseudo-fictional style of the book. Apparently the style is sometimes known as ‘creative non-fiction’. It made it feel lighter and more readable than a non-fiction version might have done, rather than preaching. It won’t appeal to everyone, but with that caveat, I would recommend it highly.

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Thursday's child (by Noel Streatfeild)

(Amazon UK link)

I’m re-reading my collection of books by Noel Streatfeild. I discovered some of her books when I was about eight or nine, read more as a teenager, and have gradually acquired almost everything that she wrote for children. It was over ten years since I last read ‘Thursday’s child’, so that’s the one I have re-read over the past few days.

The story is about a feisty, intelligent child called Margaret who was abandoned on the steps of a vicarage when she was a baby. She was supplied with three of everything, all the best quality (as she tells everyone she knows), and each year a sum of money was left somewhere in the church for her keep. She has been living with two elderly sisters, looked after by their housekeeper Hannah - who is also not young. Margaret loves them and does what she can to help in the house, but they’re concerned that they may not be sufficient guardians for her.

Then the money stops coming. The only thing that can be done is to send Margaret to an orphanage, one that is recommended by someone known to the vicar. She’s devastated to be leaving her house and friends, but there doesn’t seem to be any other option.

Inevitably the orphanage turns out to be a dreadful place - hopefully exaggeratedly so, but this is set at the turn of the 20th century when there were fewer checks in place. The matron is greedy and cruel, and the children often go hungry. This isn’t an uncommon trope in children’s fiction, of course, but this one seems particularly unpleasant. However, Margaret makes some friends on her way there: fourteen-year-old Lavinia who is to go in service at a stately home nearby, and her younger brothers Peter and Horatio, who are also sent to the orphanage.

It’s a very well-written story with three-dimensional main characters whom I felt quite fond of by the end. I had quite forgotten the plot, although it was inevitable that Margaret was going to run away at some point. I did not recall what the trigger was, or where they went, although I did have a vague memory of another subplot running alongside, where someone thinks they may know someone else’s relatives. 

I liked Margaret very much. She’s a bit pushy, perhaps, and reminds everyone rather too often of her rather romantic origins. She’s inclined to embroider the truth, but she tells a good story so nobody really minds her exaggerations. She’s full of courage and loyalty too, and very hard-working. I liked Peter, too. He’s a bit of a dreamer; not as strong as Margaret, but very intelligent. Peter loves reading more than anything, so I could relate to him there. He finds it physically painful to be without a book to read.

Some of the minor characters are stereotypes - not just the nasty ones, but some of the nice ones, too, including the various people who look after Margaret and her friends when they manage to escape. But that doesn’t matter; it makes them easy to distinguish, and they don’t have huge roles to play.

There is lots of adventure in this book, which doesn’t feature anyone who starts out highly talented in the arts, although there’s a hint of that towards the end. And the end is really the only part that slightly disappointed me. Noel Streatfeild’s books often end rather abruptly after the climax to the story, with a few things resolved and others left open. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when reunions happen and there’s a potential happy-ever-after, with Margaret making a decision that should affect her future. And that’s the end.

I know there’s a sequel to this, ‘Far to go’, which I’ll re-read in a few weeks. But as far as I remember, the mystery of Margaret’s origin is never solved.

Recommended anyway - I thoroughly enjoyed re-reading this book. Suitable for anyone from the age of about six or seven and upwards, although some of the brutality of the orphanage might disturb a sensitive child. There are no gratuitous details, but it's clear that there are beatings, and a lot of other unpleasant punishments. I think it would make a great read-aloud too.

I'm pleased to see that this book, which used to be hard to find, has been reprinted in paperback more than one and is now readily available online. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Georgina (by Clare Darcy)

(Amazon UK link)

I recently finished re-reading the crime fiction novels by Georgette Heyer.  But before I return to re-reading her historical romances, I decided to re-read my Clare Darcy collection. She’s the only author I’ve come across who wrote high quality ‘regency era’ fiction that can even begin to compare with those by Heyer. 

It’s a very long time since I read any of them, so I decided to read them in the order they were published, and have just finished ‘Georgina’, which was originally published in 1971. Apparently Clare Darcy was a pseudonym for an American writer called Mary Deasy. I don’t know if she had read Georgette Heyer’s books, but her research, however done, seems to be very effective. The style, the conversation and the descriptions all appear to be authentically done.

I last read this book in 2002 and had entirely forgotten both the people and the plot. The story involves a young woman called Georgina, who is like one of Heyer’s feisty heroines. She has a mind of her own, and often flouts what she perceives as useless society conventions. We first meet her at her grandmother’s home in Bath, where she is turning down an offer of marriage from a highly suitable young man. Her grandmother is so annoyed about this that she decides to send her granddaughter to Ireland, to stay with a cousin on her father’s side. 

There are some complicated family dynamics mentioned; I’m not sure I ever got a complete grasp on relationships. Georgina’s mother is widowed; she was considered to have made rather a poor match, and is reduced to living with her rather overbearing mother. Her husband’s cousin Bella (also widowed) is Georgina’s host in Ireland. She has a son, Brandon, who is around Georgina’s age, and they used to get along very well. Bella would like them to get married although they see each other more as siblings than potential spouses.

To add to the confusion, another cousin of Georgina’s (whom she had never met) called Nuala made a somewhat scandalous runaway match some years previously with a man called Mr Shannon. He was considered to be a fortune-hunter, as he was the illegitimate son of an earl who employed him, but then cast him off. At least, I think that’s what happened. Nuala died within a few years of marriage, of a fever, and Mr Shannon is returning to take his place at her estate. Which is where Bella and Brandon have been living… and have not yet moved out.

Yes, it’s all a bit complicated, though I’m not sure why it felt so convoluted. It didn’t seem to matter very much, once I got involved in the story. I found it hard to understand why Mr Shannon is considered such a shocking character, and why hardly anyone in the neighbourhood is willing to receive him. However that’s how it starts - and at first Georgina is extremely rude to him, though again it’s not entirely clear why. But she also finds him oddly attractive - it was obvious this was going to happen, almost from the start, by the conventions of this kind of novel. 

The bulk of the story sees Georgina gradually discovering different facets of Mr Shannon’s personality. She also does some rather foolish things - not just riding around on her own, without a groom (although she is an excellent rider) but trying to make local people accept him. This is generally not successful.

The writing is good, and I found myself quite liking Georgina and also her cousin Brandon; he continues to be her friend, and also becomes quite friendly with Shannon, rather to his mother’s horror. Bella is a somewhat caricatured middle-aged dowager (although she can’t have been more than about forty - maybe less!) who doesn’t do a lot of thinking. Her one concern is to find a wealthy wife for Brandon. But he’s only nineteen, and wants to go to university before he thinks of settling down. 

I liked the book; I didn’t mind its inevitable predictability, and I enjoyed the light twists that the story took. And yet it’s not Heyer. There’s something missing. There’s a tad too much explanation of people’s thoughts or actions, something that Heyer shows brilliantly without any ‘telling’. And this book didn’t have the light ironic humour that pervades Heyer’s writing. 

However, it’s unfair to compare anyone to the acknowledged queen of regency romance novels. Clare Darcy’s writing is considerably superior to that of any other writer I’ve tried in this genre. So on the whole I would recommend ‘Georgina’ if you like this kind of light historical romance. 

Although Clare Darcy's books were printed several times, they don't currently seem to be in print. But this is often found second-hand, and can now be bought for the Kindle too. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Britt-Marie was here (by Fredrik Backman)

(Amazon UK link)

I very much liked the book ‘Anxious people’ by Fredrik Backman when our local reading group read it a couple of years ago. And I enjoyed ‘A man called Ove’ when I read that in the summer. So I was pleased to find that the reading group had chosen another book by this author for this month’s read: ‘Britt-Marie was here’. I was able to buy it inexpensively for my Kindle when it was on special offer.

The story is about a woman of 63 called Britt-Marie. We meet her in a job centre, being rather a nuisance to the unfortunate girl behind the counter. Britt-Marie wants a job, but she has no professional experience - or nothing recent - and she has no idea what she wants to do. It’s quickly clear that she was married but is no longer, though it takes a bit longer to learn what happened. She doesn’t need money; she seems to have plenty. But she wants a job. 

Britt-Marie has obsessive-compulsive tendencies. The author demonstrates this right at the start as we see her pondering the best - indeed, the only - way to organise a cutlery drawer. This theme recurs again, later in the book. Britt-Marie evidently likes routines, and believes that certain things (such as meals) must happen at certain times. She keeps endless lists to keep her days ordered. And she hassles the job centre worker so much that she is eventually given a job.

The job doesn’t pay very much, and is only for three weeks. It’s at run-down small town miles from anywhere; Britt-Marie is to be the caretaker for a recreation centre. The bulk of the book takes place as she tries to impose some order - including extensive cleaning - and gets to know a few locals, most of whom are as strange as she is, albeit in different ways.

But there are also forays into the past, as Britt-Marie remembers comments by her husband, putting her down. She also mentions the loss of her sister at a young age, and the circumstances surrounding it. I found myself feeling more and more in sympathy with her - her obsessive compulsive nature seems to have stemmed from childhood neglect and trauma. Then she had a husband who considered her socially awkward, and didn’t succeed in hiding the fact that he was having an affair…

Fredrik Backman is Swedish but his books are very well translated, and I thought this, like the others, was very well written. He has a dry kind of humour and an excellent writing style. In several places I smiled; more than once I almost laughed. The poignancy is well balanced by the lighter sections, and I found it a very readable book.

Having said that, I felt that it dragged a bit in the middle. That’s partly because there are quite a few young teenagers who drop into the recreation centre; they mostly had nicknames, and they all seemed rather two-dimensional. There’s rather a lot of football, too. Britt-Marie has no interest in football at first, but gradually finds herself drawn in, even getting excited at tense matches. Football (indeed, any competitive sport) leaves me cold. I could see that it was used in the book as a means of drawing the community together; that football is something of a metaphor for life, and in particular for Britt-Marie’s gradual thawing. But it’s not a metaphor that drew me in.

There are some likeable characters in the book, although none of them is explored in any great depth. There are some important issues at stake: quite apart from the emotional abuse Britt-Marie has suffered, there are children living in poverty and neglect, an older teenager who is in trouble with the police, and one who is seriously in debt. The picture of the almost abandoned former town is realistic and quite moving at times. And the ending of the book, although somewhat left open, is - I thought - quite satisfying. 

I didn’t like this quite as much as the other books I read by Fredrik Backman, but I still enjoyed it overall.

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews