I read Christian fiction, and write it (in a way), and I like a lot of it, but I will be the first to admit that some of it is cheesy, predictable and cringe-worthy. Maybe mine is too, but I digress. Sometimes I don’t mind the cheesy stuff but sometimes all the sweet, drippy tales grate on my nerves because they lack realism. Lately, though, I’m finding authors in the Christian fiction genre who don’t sugar coat. They write nitty-gritty, raw stuff but still get a Christian message across.
Chris Fabry, who my mom introduced me to, is one of those writers. I couldn’t get into the one book my mom suggested by him but when I opened Borders of the Heart I was hooked. The writing is fantastic and the action fastpaced, as if Fabry slammed his foot on the narrative accelerator and never let up. I like books that open up in the action or hook you in the first line and this one did that and then it did it again throughout. I have not finished the book yet, but I have a feeling I will by the end of this week. The plot of the book revolves around a man escaping heartache and finding a woman on the Mexican, Arizona border who is fleeing the Mexican drug cartel. This book is not for the faint of the heart as there are many difficult topics and scenes, including some more violent than I would have liked, though none were extremely graphic. The violence was necessary for the topic, unfortunately. (Although, by the fourth death I was like – I get the point. The bad guy is bad.
I love Fabry’s writing style. He creates poetry in his prose.
Some of my favorite lines include:
- J.D. looked at Maria, her hair swirling in the hot wind. Like a vision of something that fell from heaven or crawled up from hell — he couldn’t tell which.
- Thoughts and memories flowed together in a stream through his sleep-deprived mind, trickling over rocks and cutting some new channel. Water flows where it will and thoughts will do the same. He knew the trick was to simply surrender to the torrent. That’s when he could figure things out. If he followed his instincts, the words would come out in a song — not some paint-by-number approach to life, but something real and true and resonant.
- And then she was gone. He reached for her but empty footprints filled the places where she should have walked. It was that moment he dreaded most, though he knew if she did not leave, he could not be surprised by her coming.
- If God had created a world without the possibility of choosing evil, there would have been no possibility of choosing love.
I am about halfway through the book, so if you have read it, shhh…don’t tell me how it ends. I’ll let you know next week if the ending is living up to the beginning and middle.
My family now realizes I am obsessed with Marc Martel and I think they want to stage an intervention, but I’m on to them and won’t allow it. I’ve downloaded his independent EPs on Apple Music and can’t figure out why he doesn’t have a recording deal. I also may, or may not, have played his version of Unchained Melody several times, making my poor children listen as well.
Of course, I’m going to share it here (again) for you all to enjoy as well.
I didn’t watch any movies this week, instead watching old comedies like The Dick VanDyke Show to try to distract myself from the drama that is American Politics. I needed something pure and light instead of something full of nastiness and vindictiveness. We did finish up The Mandolorian’s first season, which we have enjoyed. I’m not the Star Wars fan that the rest of my family is, but I did enjoy this series, especially the addition of Baby Yoda, who I’m sure you’ve heard about, even if you don’t watch the show.
My husband says the show is better than The Last Jedi.
In another attempt to distance myself from politics this week I had to unfollow several new blogs I had started following because they ranted in some very nasty ways about situations unfolding in our country. I escape to the blog world to get away from politics and I left social media to shut that garbage out. I’m not about to deal with it here as well.
This meme my son made and sent to me pretty much says it all about opinions and the internet these days:
I also didn’t write as much on the blog this past week, for some reason, but did manage a few posts, including:
Creatively Thinking: The Struggle of Claiming the Title Writer
The Day I Thought My Neighbor was Dead in his Backyard
Fiction Friday: A New Beginning, Chapter 15
Apparently, my family did not enjoy the cold we all had two weeks ago and left us with lingering coughs. This week they have been lining up and opening their mouths like little birds, waiting for their doses of elderberry syrup. My husband, who has never been sold on the natural remedies before this winter, has been the first in line. He discovered working 40 minutes from home and being sick is definitely not fun.
The weird weather we’ve been having has not really helped with people in our area getting sick. One week it was warm and muddy, this past week it was super cold and somewhat muddy. On Friday it was back to warm again and I’m hoping all this up and down doesn’t leave my oldest with sinus issues like it normally does.
When the weather warmed up slightly, I forced the kids outside to get some fresh air and stave off cabin fever. We currently have two small snowmen in our freezers that my daughter carried in and begged me to save.
So, how was your week? Read any good books? Watch anything good? Let me know in the comments!
With my eyes a little better I’m back to reading a little more and have added The Misadventured Summer of Tumbleweed Thompson by Glen McCarthy, an independently published book for middle school-aged children, to my reading list (again). It is so creatively written and I tried reading it to my daughter since I’m much better at Southern accents than British ones, but she rejected it and asked for Paddington again for her nighttime reading. In case you are interested in finding out a little bit more about the book, here is the blurb on Amazon: For Eugene Appleton, the summer of 1876 in Rattlesnake Junction, Colorado promises to be just as sleepy as the ones before, his only excitement provided by the pulse-pounding Dead-Eye Dan adventure novels he devours. But Eugene’s life takes an unexpected turn with the arrival of Tumbleweed Thompson, a gangly, red-haired boy who spins yarns about whaling voyages in the Atlantic and hidden stashes of gunpowder. Drawn into Tumbleweed’s orbit, Eugene soon finds himself chasing smugglers, firing rifles, and competing for the attention of the lovely Charlotte Scoggins.”
After seeing a preview for Wild Rose at one of the only movies I saw in the theater this year (Brittany Runs a Marathon, which was pretty good, but not my favorite.), I was interested to see it when it popped up on Amazon. The movie is about a young Scottish woman who wants to become a country singer in Nashville but lets her temper and her propensity for alcohol to get in her way. Her other issue is that she is a young, single mother with two children. The movie opens with her being released from jail and returning home where her mother has been raising her children for the last year.
The documentary follows the journey of a couple who starts a diverse farm in a fairly deserted area of California. Under the guidance of a consultant, they not only plant diverse crops but also begin raising various livestock, including sheep and chickens and one fat, pregnant pig. The couple started the farm to give their rescue dog a place to roam and soon learn their family dream will cost them a lot of pain, emotionally, physically and financially. There is a lot of bad (coyotes come to visit; there are other unexpected challenges) but there is also a lot of good (a booming egg business for one).
I like the predictability of the Cat Who books. I don’t always know who committed the crime but I know what the pattern will be to solve it. Qwill’s mustache is going to quiver and hum, alerting him to something that has gone amiss, but he’s still going to walk himself right into something questionable and his cat KoKo is going to help solve the crime with his uncanny ability to feel (and signal Qwill) when something is off. Also, a few women will fall all over the retired crime reporter and he will return some of that affection but he’s going to back away from the woman, choosing instead the comfort of the reserved librarian Polly Duncan from the small town of Pickax.
I’m in the middle of another book, Murder in Cherry Hills by Paige Sleuth (real name Marla Bradeen), who is another self-published author. So far the book is carrying me along quickly. It is about a woman (Katherine Harper) whose neighbor is murdered and she starts to investigate it, even though the police, including a childhood friend who has turned all hunky, are already investigating it. Katherine is a former foster child and that aspect is woven into the story as well.
First to be finished was a book by the woman called the queen of Christian fiction, Karen Kingsbury, who is a new author for me. I wish I had had some warning on what a gut-wrencher Where Yesterday Lives was going to be. It was the first book in a collection of three books that Amazon offered as a deal a couple of months ago. I have a children’s book by Kingsbury and had seen a presentation by her on Youtube so I thought, “why not? Let’s give it a try.”
Another series I enjoy before bed is the James Herriot books. They are usually light and don’t cause me to lay awake thinking too much after I turn off the Kindle. I’m currently reading the second of Herriot’s books (at least in the American version of the series), All Things Bright and Beautiful, and I like how each chapter is essentially broke into individual short stories, though the stories still tie together the whole book. I read a chapter or two at a time and it’s like having bit size treats and when I finish the entire book I feel a tinge of sadness. Luckily he wrote a series of them. Most people probably know that Herriot’s books are primarily about his adventures as a rural vet in England before, during and after World War II. Herriot’s real name, as I have mentioned here before was Alfred Wight.
