I’ve been getting rather behind on my aim of reading 100 books this year, because most of my reading time currently is spent reading aloud to my just-three-year-old grandson. I don’t review short pictures books that I read to young children, but he has a passion for books and likes simple chapter books so long as there are plenty of line drawings. So I bought some from the thrift shop, after a quick glance at the back, and will review them.
I recognised a few ‘young puffin’ published books, supposedly for early readers to read by themselves; but they make great read-alouds for younger children too. I hadn’t come across Margaret Gordon before, but the picture of two pigs eating jam-covered ice lollies looked exactly the kind of thing to appeal to my grandson.
‘Help’ turns out to be an amusing and well-written book comprising six short chapters featuring two young pigs called Fred and Flo. They live in a block of flats, with various relatives in other flats, and they have a baby sister whose name is not given. Their mother reminds them regularly that they should always be helpful and kind, and the two really do their best.
Fred and Flo are very kind and love to try helping, whether going to the shops to buy jam, or assisting their uncle in some decorating, or an aunt in cake-baking, or even looking after Baby for a few minutes. Unfortunately they get distracted, and things go wrong…
I read the entire book aloud at one sitting, and it probably took about fifteen minutes in all. The text is large, since it’s designed for children to read to themselves, but the flow of writing is good, and feels mostly natural. Some books of this type are awkward to read aloud, or have too much repetition. But in this, although the dialogue is simple, it’s enjoyable to read aloud, and also, apparently, to listen to.
My grandson’s favourite chapter was the one he calls ‘baby in the sink’, when Fred and Flo attempt to pacify their crying baby sister. They wonder if she’s too hot, or too cold, or hungry… unfortunately their attempts to warm, cool or feed her lead to more and more problems until they all end up playing in the sink, with the taps still running….
All in all, I was pleasantly surprised by this book, which could appeal to children up to the ages of about six or seven or even beyond.
First published in 1988, this book is now long out of print. I think that's a pity as it's a pleasant, gentle book with enough humour to make it enjoyable for both adults and children. However it may still exist in libraries, and (as we discovered) can sometimes be found second-hand.
I’ve very much appreciated the mystical, thoughtful and yet readable style of the books I’ve previously read by Richard Rohr. He’s a Franciscan priest, and I first came across his writing in relation to the Enneagram system of understanding different personalities. When I saw that he had a new book published last year, I put it on my wishlist and was delighted to receive it for my birthday a couple of months ago.
‘The Divine Dance’ is subtitled ‘the trinity and your transformation’. The book is an attempt to understand the concept of the Trinity - Father, Son and Holy Spirit - not intellectually, but relationally. It’s taken me several weeks to finish it, partly because some of it is quite heavy going and I had to have frequent pauses for thought; partly because of significant family commitments and lack of time. But it’s the kind of book that I feel I could start reading all over again, as I’m sure I’ve missed a great deal.
Much of the book, as its critics point out, refers to ‘flow’, something most often associated with water in pipes, and also the state of writing or other creativity where one is motivated and active without thought of time or physical place. Rohr and his co-author Mike Morral talk about the ‘dance’ of the Trinity, existing from before the universe existed, in a perfect love relationship. This isn’t a new thought to me, but I was struck by the idea of continual flow in ongoing creation, of seeing God in and through everything, of being a participant in the ‘divine dance’.
The book is divided into two main chapters, with several subsections in each, followed by a much shorter one, and an appendix. The first part talks about a ‘new’ paradigm, about the way that modern Christianity has lost much of the idea of the Trinity. The author criticises Protestants and Catholics equally, each focussing too much on one part of the godhead, and neglecting another. I could agree with much of what he said, although - as with so many other books - was a little surprised that the author seemed to imply that what he was suggesting was something that had been lost entirely.
The second chapter is more about the Trinity as seen by Rohr, with brief digressions into related topics such as the question of sin, and what is meant by God’s wrath. The final shorter one is about the Holy Spirit, and then the appendix focuses on what the author calls ‘practices’ for growing closer to God.
Traditional evangelicals will probably find much to criticise in this book. Rohr writes as an inclusivist, seeing God reaching out to all humankind, encircling them with love, moving in them by the Spirit when they themselves are part of the ‘dance’, whether or not they know it.
I admit I had moments of wondering whether some of the book was heresy. I like the style very much; the writing is persuasive, and encouraging, and a great deal resonated with me. But can the good news really be as good as Rohr implies? I hope so.
As the author himself says, it’s important to weigh up his words and expect the conviction of the Spirit if what he’s writing is true. It’s also vital to be open, to check Scripture for ourselves, and acknowledge that what we thought - or were taught - previously may be wrong.
Overall I liked this book very much, and would recommend it to anyone interested in knowing more about the Trinity.
A relative recommended Alexandra Raife’s novels to me many years ago, and over the years I gradually collected them. She hasn’t published anything since 2004, however, so in recent years I’ve started re-reading them.
A few weeks ago I decided to start ‘Belonging’, which I last read in 2002. With family commitments I’ve only read a chapter - sometimes less! - each evening, and it’s been an ideal novel in that sense. It’s character-driven, warm and mostly gentle, but also absorbing, enabling me to wind down after a busy day.
Rebecca is the main viewpoint character, a young and determined woman who, as the story starts, is leaving her high powered job, her flat and her nearby mother. She has recently had an encounter which has disturbed her so greatly that she needs to move away; we don’t discover what happened until much later in the book, but it leaves a trail of mystery that hooked my interest immediately.
Rebecca has decided to visit her cousin Tony’s large family hotel on the other side of Scotland. She doesn’t particularly like him, but she’s fond of his wife Una and looks forward to a break. When she arrives she discovers Una in distress, about to cancel all the bookings for the summer… and Rebecca finds herself drawn into hotel management and troubleshooting and generally making things happen.
There are many side storylines, and in part it’s a story of growth and development for Una, as well as something to take Rebecca’s mind away from her recent shock. There are many insights into the world of running a hotel and ‘survival’ courses alongside it, which feel realistic and interesting rather than over-detailed or ‘researched’.
There are brief appearances from people and places that featured in earlier novels by this author, although I don’t remember exactly who, nor was it necessary to have read any of the earlier books. But I like the sense of continuity, of feeling myself returning to a familiar place.
All in all, I liked this novel very much. I’d recommend it to anyone who likes thoughtful women’s fiction with realistic, warm characters and interesting locations.
