Bhutan: A Splendid Isolation

BHUTAN

A Splendid Isolation

by Madeline Drexler

As a fledgling practitioner of yoga and meditation, I have a deep interest in the little country of Bhutan and its focus on Buddhism as a way of life.  But there sure isn’t much fiction set in what seems to me might be a fascinating setting for a novel with themes of grief and loss, soul-searching, identity, spirituality, recovery from tragedy, or even a little intrigue.  I picked up one novel about a woman whose sister takes an international job and then disappears, either in Bhutan or is later found in Bhutan.  Can’t remember.  The story didn’t grab me and I gave up after about 50 pages.  There didn’t seem to be anything else that was calling my name.

So I turned to memoir, my next favorite genre, and decided I would try to see Bhutan through the eyes of someone traveling or living there temporarily.  A Splendid Isolation, by Madeline Drexler, seemed to fit the bill, so I ordered it from Amazon and waited anxiously, armchair traveler style, for its arrival.  I was surprised to find, upon receipt, a very slim volume that is essentially an essay, maybe a travelogue, but not really a memoir.  The writing lacked the introspection and the ultimate moment of enlightenment (pun intended) that I usually find so inspirational in a good memoir.  Instead, it was more of a long description and critique of the writer’s observations of the Bhutanese people, way of life, government, and ideologies.  I found that my assumptions and happy illusions of Bhutan were somewhat shattered by this book’s focus on rampant alcoholism, lack of spirituality, and burgeoning materialism among the Bhutanese the author met. 

Having hoped for inspiration, I was rather discouraged and frankly, glad that I could wrap it up quickly and move on to the next country on my list.  Other readers gave the essay high marks on Goodreads.com, so I'm sure that my experience of it has much to do with my own expectations, which were not met or satisfied.  I don't think I really wanted to know the downside of a political philosophy that sounds as delightful and appealing as Bhutan's Gross National Happiness, which apparently (like so many things) is not all that it's cracked up to be. 

Bhutan has been tough, blog-wise.

I will say that, having not satisfied my curiosity about my perception that Bhutan has a lot to do with Buddhism, I’ve decided to re-read Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha and to reinvigorate my efforts to learn more about the spiritual practices behind the yoga that I do twice a week just because it feels so good. So at least there’s that.

I’ve also decided to return to the original plan for this blog and read books set in countries by alphabetical order.  My departure from that interfered with my enjoyment of this endeavor, and I think it made me a lazier reader.  I just wish there was a better way to identify the kind of book I’d like to read for the smaller countries, like Bhutan, or those without their national literary works available in English translation. 

Bolivia is next … any suggestions?

So Far in 2017

So Far in 2017

So this blog is really challenging to keep up with.  I'm not exactly sure why.  Perhaps I am over-thinking it, trying to make it into something it doesn't need to be or something I don't even want it to be.  It's just a little journal of my reading, that's all.  And it's only some of my reading, not all of it.  And there's no contest, no judging, no grade, no right or wrong answer.  Right?  So here I am again, thinking I'll try to get back at it and try to keep up better.  Because like I said before, just because I'm not writing doesn't mean I'm not reading. 

Since I last wrote, I have visited Germany, Burma, Nigeria, Cuba, Hong Kong, Papua New Guinea, Italy, and France!  Plus several in the USA, of course, but I don't write about those.  That's a lot of countries and books to cover ... might not get them all in this one post.  Here we go ...

GERMANY

In the Garden of Beasts: Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler's Berlin

by Erik Larson

I really wanted to enjoy this nonfiction work about U.S. Ambassador William Dodd's time in Germany during Hitler's rise to power.  Having served the U.S. government overseas in two U.S. embassies abroad and also in Washington DC, I understand the diplomatic world and was intrigued by what it must have been like to represent the United States in Germany during that period of history.  Regrettably, this book was enormously disappointing.  I wanted insight about how ... and why ... the United States stood by and watched it all happen without intervening ... or how they missed even seeing the opportunity to intervene ... or why they believed they were not in a position to have taken action of some kind during that critical and horrific period in our world's history.  What Larson delivered, in my opinion, was primarily a dull and uninspiring litany of boring details about the Ambassador's personal life and his daughter, Martha's promiscuous and entitled behavior.  I am aware that many, many people enjoyed this book and found value in it.  I'd love to be persuaded that my impression is biased, skewed, narrow, or just flat out wrong.  Anyone?

BURMA

The Piano Tuner

by Daniel Mason

Author Daniel Mason is a magician with the English language.  His poetic and mesmerizing narrative weaves characters that jump off the page as if they are real people, sitting in your living room, telling you their stories.  This lovely novel is about a quiet and unobtrusive piano tuner, Edgar Drake, who is commissioned by the British War Office to travel to far-away Burma where he will repair a rare and costly piano.  Confused about why such a valuable musical instrument has been transported to the middle of the uncivilized jungle where heat and humidity risk damaging it beyond repair, Edgar's long, slow, and arduous journey affords him plenty of time to learn the history not only of the piano, but also of the army doctor who has won over the Burmese natives through art, poetry, and especially music.  Edgar  hears the story multiple times, told by different narrators in varying styles and with varying levels of truth.  Nothing can prepare him though for what he experiences when he arrives and finds himself feeling more alive than ever before.  The first half of the novel is stronger than the second half, and I slogged my way through a bit towards the end.  But the imagery and poetic crafting of the words make it more than worthwhile.

If you'd like to read a book set in Burma, I would strongly recommend The Art of Hearing Heartbeats, by San-Philipp Sendker, which is one of my all-time favorite novels.  I read this book in January 2013, just a little over a year after my father died.  It was the perfect book for me at that particular moment in my life.  It reads like a fairy tale that is real enough you don't have to completely suspend disbelief, but magical enough to draw you into all the beautiful hidden messages that hover just below the surface of the story.  In the novel, as in true life, all is not as it may seem.  The main character, Julia, who has also lost her father, has to come to terms with the realization that she really knew very little of who her father was.  But as she becomes caught up in the story within her story, she not only makes her peace with this reality, but also comes to understand that this is perhaps the way it's meant to be.  If you're like me, you'll find yourself thinking about love, loyalty, imagination, the meaning of life, the contract of cultures, and the importance of making the most of every second of your life.  There is definitely a spiritual feel to the book, so wait until you're in the right mood to read it ... but definitely read it.  I was enchanted. 

NIGERIA

Americanah

by Chimananda Ngozi Adichie

Okay, nothing I say here is going to adequately convey how powerful this novel is.  Another highly relevant fictional look at critical issues of our time, Americanah tackles the concept of race in the United States and contrasts the protagonist's experience of being black both here and in Nigeria, where nearly everyone is black and race is not emphasized.  The story begins in Nigeria when Ifemelu and Obinze are teenagers, falling in love just as their country comes under military rule.  They both leave ... Ifemelu to join a family member in the United States, and Obinze to London.  She goes legally, with all the necessary documents, and finds that life in America is not all what her aunt had represented.  She is poor, lonely, and forced to make unthinkable decisions in order to survive.  Meanwhile, Obinze gives up on being able to follow her to America, so he sets out for the United Kingdom.  He is without legal documentation and finds himself immersed in a world that is fraught with secrets, compromises, worry, and isolation.  Years later, Ifemelu makes her way back to Nigeria, where she once again meets Obinze, who returned long before.  Their respective experiences have changed them, shaping their understanding of the world, themselves, and each other in ways they could not have predicted.  This is an incredible, thought-provoking novel that won the 2013 National Book Critics Circle Fiction award, is a bestseller, and should be required reading for anyone who wants to dig deeper into the social construct of race.

CUBA

The German Girl

by  Armando Lucas Correa

I don't know if I want to get into anything too political here, but let's just say that this book was amazingly relevant considering the times in which we are currently living and the ongoing public debate about immigrants, particularly refugees, and whether they should be allowed to enter the United States to find safety.  It would be dishonest if I did not, however, make it clear that I am unequivocally pro-refugee and pro-immigrant, that I believe all human being are deserving of and entitled to safety and security, and that failure to respond with open arms to those seeking refuge would be the ultimate failure of our humanity.  Yeah, so maybe I do want to be a little political, although one might argue that this isn't really about politics ... it's just about being decent.

As I've watched this public debate evolve, with one side saying "let them in" and the other saying "keep them out," I have thought many times about the ship of Jewish refugees that left Germany and arrived at a port in the United States, only to be turned away without allowing a single human to disembark.  Imagine the terror those passengers must have felt upon learning that they would not be welcomed.  It is a dark spot on our history and one that should not ever be repeated.  Yet here we are, several decades later, having the Exact Same Conversation!  I am astonished and ashamed that we continue to speak from a place of fear and privilege in this manner (so many places of privilege that I won't delve into right now ... for now, just this one particular moment of incredible ugliness and arrogance that mars our history and threatens, unbelievably, to mar us again.)  

With this in the backdrop, I picked up The German Girl because of its setting in Cuba, not realizing until I was partway into the story that it is about that very ship of souls, those 937 passengers who had left Germany in 1939 to escape the Third Reich and were turned away, first from Cuba and then from the United States.  In the novel, young Hannah is aboard the St. Louis with her parents, her best friend Leo, and Leo's father.  She is confused and does not understand what is really happening, but she tries to piece it together based on bits of overheard conversations and what she can see with her own eyes.  When the ship arrives in Havana, Cuba, only a few passengers are allowed to get off and remain.  Hannah and her mother are among them ... all the rest, including her beloved father and young Leo, sail away, looking for another safe place to land.  Hannah never sees them again, and this of course, shapes and defines who she becomes.  Many years later, her great-niece Anna comes from New York to visit and to help her piece together an understanding and acceptance of what happened to her and those she loved.  Much of the novel is set in Cuba and offers a fascinating glimpse through the eyes of a young refugee of that country's transition to the totalitarian communist state that is currently is.

I wonder ... how long before someone writes a novel about those refugees left in dangerous places as a result of what is happening now?

HONG KONG

 Girl in Translation

by Jean Kwok

and

The Expatriates and The Piano Teacher

by Janice Y.K. Lee

I did not intend to read three books set in Hong Kong all in a row.  In fact, typically I would resist reading even two in a row that are set in the same place or have too much else in common.  I like to mix things up when I read, and this is probably why I don't usually enjoy series.  Even when I love the characters, I just find myself thinking that there are so many books out there, and so little time to read them, I'd rather not spend too much time in one particular world.  The first two Hong Kong books were completely accidental ... I pulled Girl in Translation off my shelf after it had been there for quite a while, then The Expatriates appeared under my Christmas tree and I wanted to dive in right away.  I enjoyed The Expatriates so much that when I remembered I had The Piano Teacher, by the same author, sitting right there on the bookshelf, I went ahead and read it right away.

Girl in Translation actually takes place primarily in New York.  Kimberly Chang and her mother have immigrated from Hong Kong to the United States with the help of an aunt, who then feels no shame about housing them in deplorable conditions and putting them to work in her husband's Chinatown sweatshop so they can work off their passage to America.  The novel offers a disconcerting look into the world of the sweatshop, right here in our country, and into the heart and mind of a bright young girl who is determined to make a better life for herself and her mother.  Kimberly makes all of her choices based on what will be best for her mother, what will help them to progress in their new lives, and what may enable them to break away from her cruel aunt.  The weight of these responsibilities impacts every facet of her life, from how hard she studies to whom she chooses for friends to whether she allows herself to fall in love.

The Expatriates follows the stories of several women who have each arrived in Hong Kong through different avenues and whose lives intersect as they try to find their footing in a strange place.  Hilary, grappling with her inability to have a child, has become attached to a little boy in a local orphanage but can't quite bring herself to move forward to adopt him.  She is immobilized by her husband's ambivalence and her own uncertainty about how strong she is and whether she could be a mother on her own.  Margaret has followed her husband to Hong Kong, where she finds unspeakable tragedy and struggles to keep going for the sake of her children.  And Mercy, a confused, young, Korean-American woman, is running away from her loneliness, finds herself in Hong Kong, where she unwittingly plays a part in Margaret's loss.  Her desperation to be forgiven is tangible and poignant.

Finally, in The Piano Teacher, we go back in time to Hong Kong during World War II.  This is the story of a British expatriate, Will Truesdale, and his love affairs with two women, ten years apart from each other in time.  Trudy, half Portuguese and half Chinese, is the great love of his life ... a beautiful and wild young woman of privilege, the one he would have married if not for the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong during the war.  As a foreigner, Will is imprisoned in a camp along with other expatriates from countries that were enemies of Japan.  On the outside of the camp, Trudy is struggling to make the best of the horror that life in Hong Kong has become.  She makes some brutally difficult choices, not necessarily good or even justifiable, but she does what she must in order to survive.

Ten years later, Claire arrives in Hong Kong with her new husband, and encounters Will, who is a completely different person after the war.  They fall into a passionate, but not romantic, relationship, and Claire unwittingly unravels a dark piece of history that involves Will and the wealthy, influential Chen family, whose daughter is her piano student.  The characters in this book are actually extremely unlikeable.  I found Trudy to be careless and spoiled; Claire, vapid and naïve; and Will, weak and malleable.  However, the historical component of this novel kept me turning the pages.  The Japanese invasion of Hong Kong is a little-mentioned episode in world history, and I found it fascinating to read about the political and military setting as well as the impact the Japanese presence had on Hong Kong's society.  There was a compelling subplot that added a little bit of mystery and psychological intrigue.  I would recommend this book to others, just don't expect too much of the characters.

Stay tuned for more...



Croatia: Girl at War

Girl at War

by Sara Novic

 

 

In 2013, I went on a European cruise with my mother and my daughter, who was then 15 years old.  It was truly an amazing journey ... we flew into Venice, stayed two days, then boarded the cruise ship and sailed to Dubrovnik, Croatia; Izmir, Turkey; Athens, Greece; and back around to Split, Croatia before returning to Venice.  Every stop was magical, but Croatia in particular touched my heart and my imagination, and ever since, I've wanted to learn more.  We spent the day in Dubrovnik with a local tour guide who knew his country's history backwards and forwards and took care to share with us not only the history of Croatia, but also its recent political upheavals.  Most important to me were the stories he told about the people of Croatia and how things we only see on television or read about briefly in our American newspapers impacted real human beings.  His telling made history and current events and media headlines stark and brutal and shockingly real, and he reminded me of how shamefully easy it is to sit in my comfortable life and forget about the world's pain and suffering. 

 

Since then, I have wanted to learn more about the civil war that led to Croatia's birth and the genocide that sadly got so little attention.  As always, I searched for a fictionalized version of those events to help it resonate in ways that nonfiction simply cannot.  Girl at War, by Sara Novic, did exactly that.  The novel does not read like historical fiction.  Rather, the details of the war are largely background and instead, Novic depicts for us the impact those events had on a young girl, her family, her country, and her sense of identity and belonging in a world that so horrifically let her down.

 

The story opens in 1991 near Zagreb, which is now Croatia's capital, and Ana is 10 years old, blissfully ignorant of the danger that surrounds her and her community.  She loves her parents, her baby sister Rahela, her best friend, school, and all of the simple routines that make being 10 a wonderful time in life.  The first couple of chapters depict this simplicity and show perfectly how a child accepts their surroundings, often without questioning or recognizing that something isn't as it should be.  Ana asks her father questions about the air raid drills and food shortages, but she readily accepts his somewhat evasive answers even while understanding that he was protecting her by offering only portions of the truth.  As I read this opening to the novel, I wondered if I had picked up a Young Adult story, but the mood and tone changed swiftly as baby Rahela's serious illness and Croatia's political environment careen out of control and push Ana head-on into the reality of the adult world.  In a whirlwind of denial and bad luck, Ana's family finds themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, with a devastating outcome that follows Ana the rest of her life.

 

Fast forward ten years to Ana in America, attending college in New York, in love and with a bright future ahead of her, except that she cannot process what happened to her or figure out how to move forward.  Ana has not lost everything, but the price of what she did lose is her sense of self and well-being, her ability to feel at home in her skin and to make sense of the world.  She decides to return to Croatia and confront her past so that she may find a way to let it go and finally move forward. 

 

It's difficult to tell much more of this story without spoiling it for those who may wish to read it, so I will stop here with the plot summary.  Much of the novel explores how trauma impacts human thought, feeling, interpersonal relationships, and all that actually makes us human.  Ana's journey is to return not only to Croatia, but also to herself. 

 

 

 



Sweden: A Man Called Ove

A Man Called Ove

by Fredrik Backman

 

Sweden

This novel gets the prize for the most charming, engaging, heart-tugging book I've read in a really long time.  Ove is a 60-year old curmudgeon, whose external demeanor is rigid, direct, intolerant, grumpy, and off-putting.  But as the narrative moves along, we quickly see that underneath his gruff exterior, Ove has a heart of gold; he just doesn't want anyone to know it.  As we get to know Ove through stories of his childhood and his relationships with others, we come to know him as a man who is honorable, loyal, kind, and deeply committed to doing the right thing.  Each chapter shows us these traits through stories about Ove's beloved wife Sonja, the start of his career with the railroads, the elderly couple down the street with whom he has a love-hate relationship, new neighbors (a clumsy man, feisty Iranian wife, and two precocious little girls), a couple of adolescent boys in need to support, and the stubborn street cat who adopts Ove as his own.  With each vignette, we see Ove's journey from hopelessness (can't say why ... have to read it yourself) to learning how to live again.

This is probably my favorite book of all that I've read this year.  From my Goodreads page:

This book has it all ... humor, wisdom, charm, poignancy, incredible character development, interesting structure, serious themes about aging and community and friendship and love, and pretty much anything else you'd want a novel to be. I laughed out loud in several places, fell completely in love with curmudgeonly Ove, came to know the characters as if they were personal friends (including Ove's deceased wife and stubborn cat), and felt heartbroken when I reached the last page.

Booklist had this to say about "A Man Called Ove" ... Readers seeking feel-good tales with a message will rave about the rantings of this solitary old man with a singular outlook. If there was an award for ''Most Charming Book of the Year,'' this first novel by a Swedish blogger-turned-overnight-sensation would win hands down.

I could not agree more.

 

 

England: Everyone Brave is Forgiven AND Little Bee

Everyone Brave is Forgiven

by Chris Cleave

 

England

 

 

 

Set in World War II London, this love story tells the tale of three young people trying to make their mark in a world that is dark and full of pain.  Mary is naïve and idealistic, but good-hearted and determined to shun her wealthy upbringing in favor of finding a way to make a difference in the world.  She volunteers to help in the war effort, but her dreams of playing a dramatic role as a spy or something similar are dashed when she is assigned to teach at a local school in place of a young male teacher who is now a soldier.  She travels with her young charges to the English countryside, part of the British elite's effort to protect their children from the risk of bombing in London, but she soon returns after witnessing the discrimination and abuse of children of color.  Fiercely determined to make her mark, Mary creates her own school in London and begins to teach the children who were left behind or treated so poorly that their parents brought them home.

 

There, she meets Tom, a school administrator, and they fall in love ... sort of.  Mary seems to be going through the motions, as if she believes she ought to be in love with Tom but isn't quite sure she really is.  Tom is a good man who had intentionally avoided enlisting in the military, and he is very distraught about his best friend Alistair's choice to volunteer as a soldier.  When Mary and Alistair meet, they are inexplicably drawn to each other and resist their feelings frantically ... to no avail.  The love triangle ends tragically, as one would expect in a story about love during wartime.

I enjoyed Everyone Brave is Forgiven, but not nearly as much as the author's other book ...

Little Bee

by Chris Cleave

 

Nigeria and England

Little Bee is the name of a young Nigerian girl who flees the violence in her country and arrives as a refugee in England, where she seeks and finds the young British couple with whom she had a chance and tragic encounter on the shore of her country a few years before.  The novel is told in Little Bee's strong and inspirational voice.  She tells us of her childhood and the constant fear that she and her sister lived with while growing up in a remote village, always under threat of an impending attack.  She tells us of the wealthy, somewhat self-absorbed journalists who come to Nigeria for a vacation, find themselves confronted with a violent example of Little Bee's daily life, and arrogantly believe they can influence the outcome, with horrific, life-altering consequences for all of them.

When they go their separate ways, they leave the Nigerian beach with the assumption they will never see each other again.  But Little Bee finds herself in a refugee holding cell in England and after escaping, makes her way to their home to ask for help.  The implications are enormous and powerful. 

This is a novel that you just have to read for yourself.  Even the Amazon description says, "We don't want to tell you too much about this book. It is a truly special story and we don't want to spoil it. ... The story starts [on an Africa beach], but the book doesn't. And it's what happens afterward that is most important. Once you have read it, you'll want to tell everyone about it. When you do, please don't tell them what happens either. The magic is in how it unfolds."

Ethiopia: Sweetness in the Belly

Sweetness in the Belly

by Camilla Gibb

Ethiopia

It's been a really long time since I've imposed my thoughts on whomever is actually reading this blog.  That does not mean, of course, that I haven't been reading though I admit my pace has slowed considerably in the past few months.  I've been distracted by life.  Our household is about to undergo a major transition as we send our youngest off to college.  I've been on quite a roller coaster ride about this, some days feeling sad and mopey, other days read for the next phase of my life's adventure, and still others just stunned that we've arrived here so quickly.  My girl is so ready for this, and honestly, I've been parenting now for more than 24 years.  And I'm tired.  And ready to focus on myself a little bit.  So while I will miss her, just as I missed my sons when they left home, I'm also looking forward to sitting back a little to watch her fly and to think about what's next for my life.  You can count on more books, and hopefully more blogging, being part of that equation.

I've heard from a few people that my posts have been missed.  I've always said that I write this for myself, but it's been nice to know that others may be deriving some enjoyment out of following along.  So let's get caught up.  I've read 16 books since I last wrote.  Five of the 16 were set in countries outside the United States.  You can follow all of my reading on Goodreads, if that interests you.  I think I actually miss reading the world in alphabetical order, and I may return to that.  If only I could find a good novel set in Bhutan.  I'm really stuck with that one.  Anyone have recommendations?

I read Sweetness in the Belly for my book club and found it to be incredibly timely.  With all that is going on in the world, and in our country, with respect to how we view and treat immigrants, especially those who are of the Islamic faith, this story of an orphaned British girl who grows up in a Muslim shrine in Morocco is very compelling for our time.  We meet Lilly at the end of her adolescence, as she is on a pilgrimage from Morocco to Ethiopia, a predominantly Christian country where tensions with the Muslim community are brewing and bubbling over.  In Ethiopia, Lilly immerses herself in the religion and culture of her faith, but she is white in a country of dark-skinned people, Muslim in a country of Christians, and orphaned in a country that prizes family above all else.  She cannot escape her personal story and is thus caught between cultures and identities, not sure where she fits in, if anywhere at all.

The novel is told in Lilly's own voice from a retrospective vantage point, many years after she left Ethiopia in 1974 to escape Haile Selassi's reign.  Dipping back in time, we experience Lilly's immersion into the holy city of Harar, the way of life of the women who cobble together their livelihood with whatever is available to them, her exposure to those rebelling against the political tides, and her all-encompassing, passionate affair with one of those rebels, a well-educated doctor with whom she knows she can never make a life.  After leaving Ethiopia, she returns to her "home" of England and again faces the dilemma of not feeling that she truly belongs. 

In London, she looks the part but does not feel connected to the world that threatens to subsume her.  In an effort to preserve her religion and the culture to which she feels she belongs, she befriends an Ethiopian immigrant, Amina, and together, they raise Amina's children and search exhaustively for the men they left behind in Ethiopia when they came to England as refugees.  Ultimately, Lilly recognizes that she must decide whether and how to let go of her assumptions and expectations for her life without abandoning the parts of herself most important to her identity.  Lilly's story is an incredible depiction of what it must be like to be a stranger in a strange land, to believe you know who you are but not to be accepted on your own terms, and to face the unimaginable choice of what parts of yourself to compromise.

This was a beautiful, poignant, and thought-provoking novel. 

 



Canada: Good to a Fault

Good to a Fault

by Marina Endicott

Set in Saskatoon, Canada, this is a novel of trying to do the right thing and not knowing where to draw the line.  Good to a Fault is a sweet story with endearing characters you find yourself cheering for ... even the ones you don't like very much.  Clara is our protagonist.  She's middle aged, unmarried and childless, dissatisfied but mostly accepting of her job at an insurance company, and mulling over the universal questions of what she wants for her future, how so much time has already passed her by, and what mistakes she wishes she could do over again.  I pictured her as eager and a little bit frumpy, prone to spending too much time on the question of her place in the universe, but ultimately likeable and someone you'd want to hug.

Enter the Gage family.  Clara, distracted with her musings while driving, hits their car, which doubles as their home.  The mother, Lorraine, goes to the hospital where she is treated for very minor scrapes and also ... diagnosed with cancer.  Clay, the floundering and unreliable father of the family, takes off, leaving Lorraine and the kids to fend for themselves in a hospital in a strange city with no resources.  Horrified and determined to help, Clara invites Lorraine's three children and their curmudgeonly grandmother to stay in her home while Lorraine is treated and tries to recover.

As Clara, on the fly, learns the ins and outs of raising children and putting their needs ahead of her own while also running back and forth to the hospital to support Lorraine and working around Grandma's self-centered nastiness, she grapples with another set of existential questions.  What does it mean to be "good" and how much do we owe those we have wronged?  While she's sorting this out, she (and we, along with her) falls in love with Dolly, Trevor, and baby Pearce, the children who have weathered poverty, homelessness, their father's alcoholism, their mother's uncertainty ... and whose spirits still shine like little reminders of hope and love in the darkest of circumstances.  She falls in love with the steadfast Episcopal priest Paul, too, and begins to imagine themselves as a little family.  Then Lorraine gets better.  Which is a good thing.  Right?

I confess that I saw a little bit of myself in Clara, which always makes the reading experience resonate.  I'm not unmarried or childless, but I am middle aged and occasionally frumpy.  And I do tend to get myself spun up about those meaning-of-life kinds of questions that leave me wondering if I'm doing all I'm meant to do with, in the words of poet Mary Oliver, my "one wild and precious life."  And in the spirit of full disclosure, I do lean a little bit too far forward at times in my efforts to be helpful.  Fortunately, I've never moved a homeless family of strangers into my home or completely remodeled my house to make it more comfortable for them, as Clara does.  And I guess I've never felt like I was obligated to do good, just that I would really like to.  I have definitely experienced feeling unappreciated or unwanted in my effort to help, and while that stings in the moment, it usually serves as a good reminder of boundaries and the limitations we have on our ability to influence another person.

Clara's story doesn't end the way she envisioned it might, but it ends as well as can be expected given the circumstances, the personalities, and the weaknesses of the human condition.  That's another good reminder ... that we don't have a crystal ball to show us the future or the outcome of our actions.  Our desire to do the right thing and the leaps of faith we often take to execute that desire ... they have to be enough to sustain us.