I have a couple of hours to play with on a Friday morning and some part of me remembers that Friday was for writing in a land long ago before we were stranded on this desert island and spent most days trying to survive, wait out the storms and scan the horizon to see if we are here for a while or for a few more months.
Writing anything about our lives feels way too hard at the moment, like trying to describe a walk in fog through howling winds this one is probably best left for the moment around the fireplace when we have found some shelter and respite until the journey carries on. So I shall turn to my meagre book list from the year. I think though it will be too long to wait until the end of the year as I’ve read more in these last couple of months. Here, without further ado, is the last 9 months of my reading.
‘Good Goats’ and ‘Sleeping with Bread’- Shirley, Dennis and Matthew Linn.
A couple of really beautiful books started my year off well. These healed some deep parts of how I relate to the divine, reminded me of the goodness and love of the God I have known and been known from all my life. They felt like nourishing hope. Sleeping with Bread was particularly helpful in reminding me of the value of noticing the stuff inside me without judgment, of seeing the good stuff and being able to be grateful. It’s a book which reminded me that the examen is a brilliant practise, reflecting on the day past and asking where there was life, and where there was death. Where the joy moments were and where the unsettling moments were. It’s a practise that has helped me pay attention to reality and the One who dwells in all our moments.
The Hunting Party- Lucy Foley
A fairly engaging thriller about a load of London people on a weekend away in the depths of Scotland. Someone dies, someone did it. It’s a good book for a rainy afternoon.
The Last Devil to Die- Richard Osman
I like that my January’s over the last four years have all involved a Thursday Murder Club novel. I like these characters, I like the vibes of people in their later years being mischievous and rule breaking and I like the gentle way things work out.
Man’s Search for Meaning- Victor Frankel
I read this in front of the fire as the winter cold swirled around us and we stumbled through strange days wondering if we could ever move on from a dark dark place. Looking back I find it hard to recall what I loved about this book but I think it was the sense that hope exists in the darkest places, that meaning can be found in the spaces of horror and there are ways to get through the days.
This Too Will Last- K. J. Ramsey
I found lots of this one super helpful, I couldn’t quite work out if it was memoir, a psychological understanding of what suffering does to our bodies or a theological work of what God is up to in intractable situations. Some of the language I reacted to because of past Christian hurt but I found lots of comfort in the melding of these three strands into a book which reminded me I’m not alone, that God is right here in the midst of my pain and that some stuff lasts in this life and doesn’t get taken away. It’s an agonising truth but facing the reality of it brings hope and a way to experience God beyond the frustration that they don’t seem to be doing anything about our situation. It helped me transition from shouting at God to change our world to crying in their arms knowing that the presence of the divine is the bedrock of us being able to get up and keep on walking through this agony.
Still Crazy- Adrian Plass
Lots of thoughts, ideas, writings and more from probably the greatest influence on my spiritual life. Dipping into this helped connect deep parts of me from the past to now and I felt more complete after it’s reassuring pages.
You Are Here- David Nicholls
Super beautiful novel, a story of love, friendship, walking and being yourself. Well worth a read.
All the Pieces of Me- Libby Scott and Rebecca Westcott.
Me and the youngest adore this series about a teenager who is PDA like us. We laugh and grimace and cry along with the perfect descriptions of what it feels like to be PDA and I am so grateful that this series exists. We’ve had so many good chats off the back of these books. I think we listened to this one whilst making the mini squishmallows their houses. A bright spark memory. (really read this if you want to understand our world a bit more… so so good)
The Ferryman- Justin Cronin
Dystopian Novel where you wonder what on earth is going on for most of the book. I think that should be enough to recommend it but also has huge themes of story and narrative and how we make sense of our lives. Worth a read.
Kate Morton – Homecoming
A story to lose yourself in with a big cup of tea on a rainy afternoon. Really loved this one in her classic style of past and present flipping back and forth and meeting at the end.
Grapefruit Moon- Shirley-Anne McMillan
I’m slightly biased because of knowing Shirley but this is a brilliant read exploring teen life in a Belfast School. The characters are nuanced and complicated and annoyingly imperfect. Beautiful, disturbing and hopeful all at the same time.
Paper Palace- Miranda Cowley Heller
Flip me this was gorgeous, so so well written and totally absorbing. It’s a story of a life, of the way others have influenced them, the actions done to them and the consequences on love, it’s the story of choice, of love, of maybe what it means to be human.
Impossible Creatures- Katherine Rundell
One of the best books I’ve read in a long time, a sprawling story of a world within ours, magical and fantastical. A story with all the best themes, love, fear, power which needs to be given away and the enduring power of sacrifice. I found out last night my eldest cried at the end of it, I wept through many more moments but I love that this had the power to get through the brain rot front of my beautiful boy. Nice as well to talk about something that isn’t skibbidi and def has major rizz. This line will stay with me forever: “stop expecting life to get easier, it never does; that is not where it’s goodness lies”. Oof, I could think about that forever, the rest of the book is littered with similar wonder and now I’m just sad I don’t have a sermon to turn it into. One day maybe.
The Long Walk Home 