No Name by Wilkie Collins

Carrie hosts the Reading to Know Book Club each month, and there is a great line-up of children's and adult classics this year! Since I've read and enjoyed both The Woman in White (linked to my review) and The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins, when No Name was chosen for the April selection, I decided to join the fun. I did actually finish it at least a week before the end of April, but I'm late, as usual, to the party when it comes to writing my summary post. Such is life.

No Name is quite different from the other two Collins titles that I have read. Where the other novels were full of plot twists and surprises, this novel seemed overly predictable to me, at least in the overarching plot. But in spite of the fact that it wasn't too difficult to guess the characters' purposes or designs, it was very interesting to see the details of the story unfold. I still think that Collins is a masterful storyteller, and I would choose him over Dickens any day!

This story begins as a seemingly benign tale of domestic life, focusing on the Vanstone family: a benevolent and cheerful father, a weak (sickly) but loving mother, a reserved and proper older daughter Norah, and a frivolous, carefree younger daughter Magdalen. When the fortunes of the family suddenly change and leave the two daughters penniless orphans, it is not difficult to predict how the two young women will react to their reduced circumstances. Norah accepts her lot with quiet dignity and strives to make the best use of the opportunities at hand, while Magdalen starts plotting revenge on the estranged relative who took advantage of the letter of the law for his own gain.

In her quest for revenge and vindication, Magdalen unflinchingly weaves a complex web of deception, though she is always just one small circumstance away from detection. She obtains the ends she desires, but at great cost to her principles and character.* As one would expect, she does not find happiness or satisfaction. Eventually, all her tangled web unravels, leaving her in even more dire straits than before: friendless, poor, and ill. At this point, Collins reintroduces a minor character, who, predictably arrives at the opportune moment to save Magdalen from the poorhouse and from herself.

Yes, the details all fall into place a little too perfectly in both her demise and her restoration, but in spite of the predictability and idealism of a happy ending, I was struck by an overwhelming picture of grace as it drew to a close. This novel is a prime example of the point made in my previous post regarding how the wretchedness of sin is sometimes necessary for the brilliance of grace to shine forth. I don't know if this was what Collins intended, but I can't help but think that it would have been obvious to his readers in the more culturally Christian mindset of the Victorian era. Even more pointedly, I realized in retrospect, that all that predictability really served to reveal my own propensity to sin. If I could so easily predict Magdalen's thirst for revenge and the downward path she would so doggedly pursue, it clearly shows that I could be capable of the same thing. There, but for the grace of God, go I.

So, while I enjoyed Collins' well-crafted story and unique characters, this novel proved to be more than just an entertaining period piece. Once again, classic literature reveals a depth and wisdom that is rooted in a Christian worldview (whether that was Collins' personal faith or simply a product of a largely Christian culture, I don't know), that is so often lacking in more modern novels. So if you're looking for an intriguing novel, I would recommend No Name - it's easy enough for summer (or anytime) reading, but will give you plenty to ponder if you choose! (It's even available free for Kindle, which is the format in which I read it.)

*Note: This is not a typical "fallen woman" story in the sense that Magdalen loses her purity, but she certainly compromises her moral character with the lies she must propagate to work her revenge. 

Code Name Verity - Thoughts and Quotes

Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein was published about a year ago (but I'm linking to the soon to be released paperback because I like the cover so much better than last year's hardcover), and after reading several glowing reviews on other blogs, I added it to my mental TBR list and finally got to it in March. I really like WWII stories, and though that seems rather sensationalist or gruesome on the face of it, I do have more thoughtful reasons. Not only are the stories of suffering and survival amazing and often inspiring, but there are so many facets to that historical time period - so many different experiences in so many different places - that I always learn more than I expected. Perhaps that's it: there is always something unexpected to discover in every WWII account, whether fiction or non-fiction. Code Name Verity is certainly no exception to my experience of finding the unexpected and learning new things in WWII literature!

So I came to this story with just a little bit of foreknowledge since the reviews I had read were careful to avoid spoilers. All I knew as I started reading was that it was an amazing story of friendship and involved flying. To be perfectly honest, I almost gave up on it, and even told a friend who likes YA literature not to bother, because at the outset it seemed to be only a thinly veiled propaganda in support of women in combat, to which I am categorically opposed. Take this quotation, for example:

"Maddie cowered next to him, her arms over her head, listening to the hideous rattle of the gunner sucking air into blood-filled lungs. Queenie slapped her.
'Get up, girl!' she ordered. 'I won't have this. I'm your superior officer giving orders now. Get up, Brodatt. If you're scared, do something. See if you can make this gun work. Get moving!'
'The shell needs to be loaded first,' the gunner whispered, lifting a finger to point. 'The Prime Minister don't like girls firing guns.'
'Bother the Prime Minister!' exclaimed the superior officer. 'Load the...gun, Brodatt.'" (65-66)

But I kept reading, and found this rebuttal late in the book (Maddie, Brodatt, and Kittyhawk all refer to the same young female pilot):

"'It is a pity we cannot keep you, Kittyhawk,' said the man whose house it was. 'You were born to be a soldier.'
Huh. Makes me quite puffed up with pride and yet fills me with scorn all at the same time - what rubbish! I wasn't born to be a soldier. There's a war on, so I'm delivering airplanes. But I don't go looking for adventure or excitement, and I jolly well don't go around picking fights with people. I like making things work. I love flying." (270)

So my first objection was resolved. But then there were the moral dilemmas the two friends, Maddie and Queenie, faced by their involvement, however direct or indirect, in the war effort. Let me clarify that I do believe that WWII was a just and necessary war, but the atrocities of war are not meant to be faced by women. Maddie and Queenie realize this as they talk about their fears and their roles of pilot and special intelligence officer.

"'Not doing my job properly,' Maddie explained. 'Failing to live up to expectations.'
'A bit like my fear of killing someone,' Queenie said, 'but less specific.'
'It could include killing someone,' said Maddie.
'It could.' Queenie was sober now. 'Unless you were doing them a favor by killing them. Then you'd let them down if you didn't. If you couldn't make yourself. My great-uncle had horrible cancers in his throat and he'd been to America twice to have the tumors taken out and they kept coming back, and finally he asked his wife to kill him, and she did. She wasn't charged with anything - it was recorded as a shooting accident, believe it or not, but she was my grandmother's sister, and we all know the truth.'
'How horrible,' Maddie said, with feeling. 'How terrible for her! But - yes. You'd have to live with that selfishness afterward, if you couldn't make yourself do it. Yes, I'm dead afraid of that.'" (77)

"'I'm not blameless,' said Maddie. 'Every bomber I deliver goes operational and kills people. Civilians. People like my gran and grandad. Children. Just because I don't do it myself doesn't mean I'm not responsible. I deliver you.'
'Blond bombshell,' Queenie said, and sputtered with laughter at her own joke. Then she began to cry." (165)

I will try to avoid spoilers also, so I can't say more about the moral dilemmas other than the fact that they become even more intense and personal as the narrative progresses.

In spite of these initial hesitations, however, I must say that I soon became thoroughly captivated by this story. It is amazingly well-crafted - right up there with Lord Peter mysteries by Dorothy Sayers, in my mind. It's not a mystery, per se, but the truth is only revealed slowly, and there were several plot twists that I did not expect. The story-telling device is unique, but not difficult to follow. The writing style was not particularly noteworthy, but neither was it annoying (a welcome relief), and there were several passages that I found particularly moving.

"'I'm looking for verity.'...
'Truth,' I said at last, in English.
'Truth,' she agreed...
'Verity,' I said in English...Then gasped: "'Truth is the daughter of time, not authority.'" And: "'This above all, to thine own self be true.'" I gibbered a bit, I confess. 'Verity! I am the soul of verity.' I laughed so wildly then, that the Hauptsturmfuhrer had to clear his throat to remind me to control myself. 'I am the soul of verity,' I repeated. 'Je suis l'esprit de verite.'" (131)

"Now they were over the ghostly white cliffs of eastern Normandy. The Seine's loops shone like a great unwinding spool of silver mesh off the port wingtip. Maddie gasped a the river's inadvertent loveliness, and all at once she found herself spilling childish tears, not just for her own blessed island, but for all of Europe. How could everthing have come so fearfully and thoroughly unraveled?
There were no lights over France; it was as blacked out as Britain. Europe's lamps had all gone out." (157)

Then, as usual, I found fascinating bits of WWII information, such as the perpetual use of Daylight Savings Time in England during the war (apparently this was true in America, too).

"In fact Maddie didn't fly at night for a while after she'd clocked the hours and had her logbook stamped, and she had a difficult time keeping in practice because she used it so little. Since 1940 we have not come off daylight-saving at all, and in summer it is double, which means for a whole month it doesn't get dark till nearly midnight." (139)

Even with all my mixed impressions as I read this book, I would definitely recommend it to an older teen or adult reader. The moral perplexities would be too intense for a younger reader, in my opinion. Is it an amazing WWII story? Yes, absolutely! The author's research is evident, and she has written a very plausible, though fictional, tale. It is incredibly well-crafted, and I do love a well-crafted story where all the pieces fall into place one by one. Do I agree with the actions of the characters? No, on principle I don't, but I can recognize and sympathize with the impossible situations and moral conundrums with which those who opposed the evils of Nazi Germany were faced.

Catching Up Again: February 2013 Reading

Farm memoirs were the order of the day for February. I'm always hopeful that reading about gardening or farming will inspire me to be a bit more enthusiastic about outdoor endeavors, but alas, it does not seem to help. I like doing stuff with produce, but I don't like the process of getting it to my kitchen. Digging in the dirt does not satisfy something deep within me - it just dries out my hands, and makes me dirty, sweaty, and grumpy, to be perfectly honest.

Well, the farm memoirs I read were at least honest - no glossing over the dirt, sweat, and tears, and no idyllic vision of a simpler life as one might conclude from reading Laddie. Whether it was the hobby farm of Michael Perry or the all-inclusive, self-sustaining project of Essex Farm, the message was clear that work - hard, physical labor - is involved in any farming venture. And I was quite happy to be reading about it from the comfort of my couch and cozy, down blanket in February, when at least I didn't have to feel guilty for not pulling weeds!

Well, I should stop rambling and making excuses for my laziness and tell you about the books, which aside from the barn, chickens, and author's picture on the cover, are really quite different.

I really wasn't sure I would finish Coop: A Year of Poultry, Pigs, and Parenting, but various things kept stringing me along - a home birth story (told from a man's perspective, so not that interesting), an impromptu visit to our local Children's Museum with no other reading options, the death of the author's nephew, with which I empathized having had two friends lose babies last year. But all told, I didn't like the author's rambling style in writing or homesteading. Carrie had a different opinion when she reviewed it a few years ago, but I didn't quite see the model of manhood that she did. I appreciate that the author is honest with his shortcomings as a husband, father, and provider, but it came off more as false humility than true repentance, and I'm not sure that's a model worth emulating. (Sorry, Carrie - we usually see eye to eye on a lot of things, but not this one. I hope we can still be friends!)

I wasn't sure I would like The Dirty Life: A Memoir of Farming, Food, and Love either, but I turned out to be pleasantly surprised. I liked the author's writing style, and it was fascinating to hear of all that she and her fiance experienced in a year of making a rundown, neglected piece of land in upstate New York a productive farm and a home. While I didn't agree with some of the moral choices she made on her way to the altar, she didn't glory in them or present them in lurid detail. As I mentioned before, it was mostly about hard, physical work, with love and humor on the side, all giving the impression of a very full and satisfying life. If I lived near Essex, I might consider becoming a part of their CSA - it would be worth it for someone else to dig in the dirt!

Our read-aloud time somehow slipped away in February, but we did enjoy the second in Douglas Wilson's Maritime series: Susan Creek. As I mentioned before, I plan to discuss the whole series after we finish reading the third one, but for now, I'll just say that both my kids really liked Susan Creek, and I really like the values, history, and theology that are incorporated so seamlessly in a good story. Thank you, Doug Wilson!

L. M. Mongomery Challenge Completed!

This year, I actually read what I had planned, finishing both Christmas with Anne and The Story Girl in the month of January, and, wonder of wonders, I'm posting it before the end of February!

Christmas with Anne is a delightful collection of short stories which mostly focus on the Christmas season (obviously) though there are three New Year's stories at the end to round out the holiday spirit. I justified reading this in January because we didn't put up any Christmas decorations until a few days before Christmas, and they were still up into the first week of January. So at least it still looked like Christmas at my house when I started reading this!

In typical Mongomery fashion, every story has a heartwarming message, ranging from discovering happiness in giving to others, forgiveness of long-estranged family members (often through humorous mishaps), or just good, old-fashioned family values and traditions. This is one I wouldn't mind re-reading every few years, and I'm sure my daughter will enjoy it soon, too, as she loves stories about "real" people! For additional thoughts, including the interesting account of how the editor, Rea Wilmshurst, happened upon these and many other short stories of Montgomery's, see Carrie's posts on this title here and here.

I must confess that The Story Girl was a bit of a disappointment, but I suppose my expectations were pretty high. For some reason, it just didn't quite have the charm or appeal of the Anne or Emily books, I still have a long way to go before I've read all of Montgomery's novels, but I was struck at first by the fact that the narrator is a boy, simply because I hadn't encountered that in her writing before (aside from a few short stories). Granted, he's simply relating the adventures of eight children during one summer and fall, so there's really nothing gender specific about it. But while Mongomery's picturesque descriptions and quaint turns of phrase seem natural coming from Anne or Emily, it struck me a little odd that even a 19th or early 20th century teenage boy, or even a man retrospectively describing the best summer of his childhood, would describe the change of seasons in such terms as "though summer was not yet gone, her face was turned westering. The asters lettered her retreating footsteps in a purple script, and over the hills and valleys hung a faint blue smoke, as if Nature were worshipping at her woodland altar."

I also found this narrative a bit disjointed, as if it were more a collection of short stories involving the same characters without some overarching plot. Perhaps that is what Montgomery intended - just snippets of life on a Prince Edward Island farm from the perspective of young cousins and friends. Of course, by the end, I had developed a certain affection for those characters, and I do plan to read the sequel, The Golden Road, soon. I also enjoyed the fact that I was able to recall a few scenes the Road to Avonlea series that I watched a few years ago, which reminds me that I need to check that out from the library again!

Now, I must also share that I am very excited about next year's challenge due to some propitious finds through PaperBackSwap and our library's book sale (yes, we really love our library and make very good use of it!). Although many L. M. Montgomery books are free for the Kindle, and I do enjoy the portability and ease of marking favorite passages which my Kindle affords, there's still something so satisfying about opening a book, of remembering where a certain passage lies on the page, of flipping back and forth to clarify details, etc. So I'm thrilled to have found these books, and I have a feeling you'll be seeing at least a few of them on my line-up for next year.

Out of the reading funk - December 2012

Well, I'm still catching up from last year, but I got this posted just in the nick of time (one minute to spare!) to write up my December reads in January. Bear with me. I might catch up or even stay current eventually.

November found me in the grips of a serious reading funk (which I mentioned here). I thought perhaps it was the format in which I was reading, since I read several books in a row on my Kindle. But I'm currently doing that again, and it hasn't forestalled my progress, so I'm left to conclude that Three Men in a Boat is simply funk-inducing. My sincerest apologies to Jerome K. Jerome fans, but I just don't get it.

Interestingly enough, the book that jump-started my reading energies was the very book in preparation for which I read Three Men in a Boat. Oh, the irony! I loved To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis! Mystery, time travel, history (both WWII and Victorian era), lots of literary references, and a little tasteful romance - perfect! I must say that it was completely unnecessary to have read Three Men in a Boat in order to enjoy and understand this book. In fact, if any books would be helpful to understand the plot, it would be Dorothy Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries, particularly those with Harriet Vane, and those certainly are worth reading, as you can surmise from my glowing reviews here, here, here, and here!

After a homeschooling friend mentioned George MacDonald's At the Back of the North Wind, I decided to refresh my memory of this fantasy tale by one of my favorite authors. I love George MacDonald's novels because they are Scottish and full of the sovereignty of God. His adult fantasy novels are more difficult to understand and appreciate (you can read my thoughts on Lilith, for example), but his children's fantasy is generally sweet, good, and uplifting, if a bit heavy-handed in moralizing (see my reviews of The Princess and the Goblin and The Princess and Curdie). At the Back of the North Wind falls somewhere in between fantasy and fiction, for there are parts that are most certainly dream-like and mystical (and a bit weird, at times), but other parts that provide a glimpse of healthy home-life and honest good work. It has to be understood in the context in which it was written, as I don't think this would have seemed so odd or out of place to his Victorian readers, who would have most likely understood some classical references much better than I did. I will probably read this aloud to my kids in a few years, as I think I would be good to talk about some of the more unusual parts and clarify some of the symbolism. Eventually, I may also write an entire post about this one, as it certainly gave me much to think about. Note: the free Kindle version which I read omitted much of the poetry, so I had to borrow a copy from the library to fill in the blanks. I should really leave a review and a request for that error to be corrected.

Finally, sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas (probably before the previously mentioned titles, but it's less significant in my mind), I read another of the Irish Country Doctor series by Patrick Taylor. An Irish Country Girl is the 4th in the series, and I liked it best of all I've read so far (I believe there are 7 books now). As a flashback to the youth of Dr. O'Riley's housekeeper, Kitty, it seems more quaint and charming, and more essentially Irish, than the other books. I suppose I have a rather romanticized view of Ireland which this fostered, and I also enjoyed the more traditional, rural setting along with its more traditional values.

I also read Blackthorn Winter by Douglas Wilson in December in order to preview it for my daughter. She read it in January, and I plan the read the rest of the series aloud. I'll include my thoughts in a summary post once we've read them all.

For read-alouds, we enjoyed some Christmas classics, including The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson (along with the 1986 movie by the same title) and The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas: An Austin Family Story by Madeleine L'Engle. We also read plenty of Christmas picture books, of which some favorites were A Certain Small Shepherd by Rebecca Caudill, The Little Fir Tree by Margaret Wise Brown, and The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski.

L. M. Mongomery Reading Challenge 2013

Every year, I have good intentions of participating in Carrie's L. M. Mongomery Reading Challenge, but my haphazard approach to blogging doesn't lend itself well to starting and finishing a monthly project such as that.

Well, this year, although I'm still late to the party, at least I didn't fail to show up at all! In fact, I've already completed Christmas with Anne, a collection of Montgomery's short stories, and intend to start The Story Girl today or tomorrow. Who knows, I may even write a wrap-up post before February!

Thank you, Carrie, for hosting this challenge every year. Returning to Anne or finding a new character to love is always like sinking into a pile of down comforters with a sigh - immensely warm, satisfying, and comforting - and just perfect for this time of year!

April Reading...before May is all done

Time flies, and it seemed to go especially quickly in April. Nevertheless, reading continues even on busy days, so here's the monthly recap:

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
I can't recall ever reading a fictional book that I enjoyed less, and I wasn't alone in that opinion, as everyone in my book club seemed to agree. Perhaps more die-hard Anglophiles might have found something to love in it, but I thought all the characters were deplorable narcissists - truly the biggest bunch of navel-gazers ever collected between the covers of a book! Just as the book of Judges is depressing because everyone did what was right in their own eyes, so this story is very depressing because vice and vanity are relentlessly pursued in an elusive search for happiness. With that said, however, Waugh did capture the essence of sin in the most succinct and raw fashion that I have read in a novel (at least as far as my memory serves). I'll quote it here so that you have the benefit of reflecting on its accuracy, and perhaps searching your heart to see if you have pet sins of which you should repent, and you can thank me for saving you the tedium of reading the book:

     "'Living in sin, with sin, by sin, for sin, every hour, every day, year in, year out. Waking up with sin in the morning, seeing the curtains drawn on sin, bathing it, dressing it, clipping diamonds to it, feeding it, showing it round, giving it a good time, putting it to sleep at night with a tablet of Dial if it's fretful.
     'Always the same, like an idiot child carefully nursed, guarded from the world. "Poor Julia," they say, "she can't go out. She's got to take care of her little sin. A pity it ever lived," they say, "but it's so strong. Children like that always are. Julia's so good to her little, mad sin."'" (287)

Now, that's not a pretty description, nor an encouraging one, but it certainly provides much to ponder, and if it leads to repentance, then my reading of this book was not in vain.

Choosing to SEE: A Journey of Struggle and Hopeby Mary Beth Chapman
I needed something real to counter the unreality of Brideshead Revisited (although a friend reminded me that such an empty life was/is a reality for some, which is a sobering thought). I had known of the Chapman's loss of one of their adopted daughters several years ago, but didn't really know much of the story. Mary Beth Chapman writes with honesty of the fears and struggles that she has experienced throughout her life of faith, with the greatest of these being the loss of 5-year-old Maria in 2008. I used the word "raw" for the description of sin above, and it applies here, too, though the contexts are so very different. The death of a child can shake one's faith to the core, and Mary Beth writes openly of her doubts, anger, and disbelief, and of her faith, security, and hope in God and the promise of heaven. It's an emotional story, but an encouraging one, a truthful one that depicts death as the enemy, Christ as the victor, and heaven as our home and hope.

 Dangerous Journey: The Story of Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan and Oliver Hunkin
It's been a while since I've read Pilgrim's Progress, but this is an excellent children's version which retains both the language and the lessons of the original. My kids enjoyed this book, and I've already used its allegories to remind them of "fighting Apollyon" when they are having a difficult time with self-control. All too often, sin seems to be glossed over and excused rather than exposed and resisted. So while I will readily admit that all allegories have their shortcomings, I'm grateful for this tool to help my children understand some aspects of the Christian walk.

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien
I can't take credit for reading this one aloud, but I did listen while my husband, an original Tolkien fan (yes, before there were movies!), read this to our kids, ages 5 and 8. This was required reading before the Hobbit movie is released in December, but aside from the much-anticipated movie, it was delightful to share Middle Earth and Tolkien's wonderful story-telling with my family. So after you've enjoyed My Father's Dragon  (linked to my review) with your young readers, be sure to introduce them to Smaug (a not-so-nice dragon) and Bilbo Baggins!

See, this is how much of a Tolkien fan my husband is. These are bookcases that he built for our office/library a few years ago. Pretty cool, huh?

Lessons from Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

If your memories of Little Women have been muddied by watching the movie version, I highly recommend a re-read! Far from the feminist and transcendentalist overtones of the movie, this well-loved classic by Louisa May Alcott extols the virtues of home and homemaking and a simple faith in and dependence on God that is quite refreshing. I also found several gems of wisdom for mothers both in Marmee's gentle dealings with her girls and advice to her grown daughters. While some might find the moralistic tone of this novel a bit overbearing, I, for one, don't mind a bit being reminded of the ideals and virtues of a distant generation.

After re-reading Little Women, I also read Little Men and Jo's Boys recently, both of which were new to me. I enjoyed getting an expanded knowledge of the March family, although the main characters of Little Women take a secondary role to the boys at Jo & Mr. Bhaer's school. There is more emphasis on women's rights in the younger generation, but it is well-balanced with the wisdom and training of older women in home duties, as a picture of Titus 2 in action. My only complaint is that Jo and Laurie's relationship seems a bit unusual as they get older and raise families side by side. I thought some of their interchanges a bit odd, or at least a bit too chummy for sister-in-law and brother-in-law, even if they had been the best of friends as children. Let's just say that Amy was very gracious - much more so than I could ever be in a similar situation!

Here are some of my favorite passages from Little Women:

"The patience and the humility of the face she loved so well was a better lesson to Jo than the wisest lecture, the sharpest reproof. She felt comforted at once by the sympathy and confidence given her; the knowledge that her mother had a fault like hers, and tried to mend it, made her own easier to bear and strengthened her resolution to cure it; though forty years seemed rather a long time to watch and pray, to a girl of fifteen." (83, such wisdom about confessing and battling sin, in this case anger, over a lifetime.)

"'I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good; to be admired, loved, and respected; to have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman; and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience...My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world, -- marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting.'" (101)

"'I am quite satisfied with the experiment, and fancy that we shall not have to repeat it; only don't go to the other extreme, and delve like slaves. Have regular hours for work and play; make each day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of time by employing it well.'" (121)

"To outsiders, the five energetic women seemed to rule the house, and so they did in many things; but the quiet scholar, sitting among his books, was still the head of the family, the household conscience, anchor, and comforter; for to him the busy, anxious women always turned in troublous times, finding him, in the truest sense of those sacred words, husband and father." (244, nary a bit of feminism there!)

"I also doubt if any young matron ever began life with so rich a supply of dusters, holders, and piece-bags...People who hire all these things done for them never know what they lose; for the homeliest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them..." (247-248, a good reminder for one not so fond of dusting!)

"'Laurie, my lad, if you ever want to indulge in this sort of thing, get one of those little girls to help you, and I shall be perfectly satisfied,' said Mr. Laurence,settling himself in his easy chair to rest, after the excitement of [Meg's wedding in] the morning.'
   'I'll do my best to gratify you, sir,' was Laurie's unusually dutiful reply, as he carefully unpinned the posy Jo had put in his button-hole." (260-261, see, it's not all moral instruction!)

"Mrs. March knew that experience was an excellent teacher, and when it was possible she left her children to learn alone the lessons which she would gladly have made easier, if they had not objected to taking advice as much as they did salts and senna." (266)

"'Never deceive him by look or word, Meg, and he will give you the confidence you deserve, the support you need. He has a temper, not like ours, -- one flash, and then all over, -- but the white, still anger, that is seldom stirred, but once kindled, is hard to quench. Be careful, very careful, not to wake this anger against yourself, for peace and happiness depend on keeping his respect. Watch yourself, be the first to ask pardon if you both err, and guard against the little piques, misunderstandings, and hasty words that often pave the way for bitter sorrow and regret.'" (287)

"'Because they are mean is no reason why I should be. I hate such things, and though I think I've a right to be hurt, I don't intend to show it. They will feel that more than angry speeches or huffy actions, won't they, Marmee?'
   'That's the right spirit, my dear; a kiss for a blow is always best, though it's not very easy to give it sometimes,' said her mother, with the air of one who had learned the difference between preaching and practising (sic)." (310)

"'Ah, Jo, mothers may differ in their management, but the hope is the same in all, -- the desire to see their children happy. Meg is so, and I am content with her success. You I leave to enjoy your liberty till you tire of it; for only then will you find that there is something sweeter. Amy is my chief care now, but her good sense will help her. For Beth, I indulge no hopes except that she may be well.'" (339)

"The conversation was miles beyond Jo's comprehension, but she enjoyed it, though Kant and Hegel were unknown gods, the Subjective and Objective unintelligible terms; and the only thing 'evolved from here inner consciousness,' was a bad headache after it was all over. It dawned upon her gradually that the world was being picked to pieces, and put together on new, and, according to the talkers, on infinitely better principles than before; that religion was in a fair way to be reasoned into nothingness, and intellect was to be the only God...[Mr. Bhaer] bore it as long as he could; but wen he was appealed to for an opinion, he blazed up wit honest indignation, and defended religion with all the eloquence of truth...He had a hard fight, for the wise men argued well; but he didn't know when he was beaten, and stood to his colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got right again to Jo; the old beliefs, that had lasted so long, seemed better than the new; God was not a blind force, and immortality was not a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She felt as if she had solid ground under her feet again..." (361-362)

"[Beth] did not rebuke Jo with saintly speeches, only loved her better for her passionate affection, and clung more closely to the dear human love, from which our Father never means us to be weaned, but through which He draws us closer to Himself. She could not say, 'I'm glad to go,' for life was very sweet to her; she could only sob out, 'I try to be willing,' while she held fast to Jo, as the first bitter wave of this great sorrow broke over them together." (382-383)

"[Meg] was nervous and worn out with watching and worry, and in that unreasonable frame of mind which the best of mothers occasionally experience when domestic cares oppress them." (398)

[Marmee's advice to Meg as a young mother] "'I  nearly spoilt [Jo] by indulgence. You were poorly, and I worried about you till I fell sick myself. Then father came to the rescue, quietly managed everything, and made himself so helpful that I saw my mistake, and never have been able to get on without him since. That is the secret of our home happiness: he does not let business wean him from the little cares and duties that affect us all, and I try not to let domestic worries destroy my interest in his pursuits. We each do our part alone in many things, but at home we work together, always.'" (400-401)

"She had often said she wanted to do something splendid, no matter how hard; and now she had her wish, for what could be more beautiful than to devote her life to father and mother, trying to make home as happy to them as they had to her? And, if difficulties were necessary to increase the splendor of the effort, what could be harder for a restless, ambitious girl than to give up her own hopes, plans, and desires, and cheerfully live for others?" (445)

The Railway Children by Edith Nesbit

We were introduced to The Railway Children through our first grade writing curriculum in January, but a series of illnesses made it difficult for me to read aloud for several weeks and we've only just finished it now in early March. To be quite honest, it was probably a bit advanced for my children, ages 7 and almost 4, but even if they didn't understand some of the quaint vocabulary and customs of English country life at the turn of the 20th century, they followed the action pretty well and at least grasped the main storyline.

I myself was rather indifferent about the story at first - it was charming in an old-fashioned sort of way and the children were realistically portrayed, not too perfect as to be unbelievable, but not so naughty as to be bad examples - until I reached the last two chapters. There I found two passages that were so full of truth, and so foreign to most everything you will find in modern children's literature, that I can and will wholeheartedly recommend this novel to every family concerned to instill biblical values in their children. Let me show you why. 

After Peter had been tormenting his sisters with talk of blood and bones, making them queasy while their new friend was having his broken leg set, the Doctor had a little talk with him:

  "'You'll excuse my shoving my oar in, won't you? But I should like to say something to you.'

  'Now for a rowing,' thought Peter, who had been wondering how it was that he had escaped one.

  'Something scientific,' added the Doctor. . .

  'Well,' said the Doctor, 'you know men have to do the work of the world and not be afraid of anything - so they have to be hardy and brave. But women have to take care of their babies and cuddle them and nurse them and be very patient and gentle.'

  'Yes,' said Peter, wondering what was coming next.

  'Well, then, you see. Boys and girls are only little men and women. And we are much harder and hardier than they are' - (Peter liked the 'we'. Perhaps the Doctor had known he would.) - 'and much stronger, and things that hurt them don't hurt us. You know you mustn't hit a girl -'

  'I should think not, indeed,' muttered Peter, indignantly.

  'Not even if she's your own sister. That's because girls are so much softer and weaker than we are; they have to be, you know,' he added, 'because if they weren't, it wouldn't be nice for the babies. And that's why all the animals are so good to the mother animals. They never fight them, you know.'

  'I know,' said Peter, interested; 'two buck rabbits will fight all day if you let them, but they won't hurt a doe.'

  'No; and quite wild beasts - lions and elephants - they're immensely gentle with the female beasts. And we've got to be, too.'

  'I see,' said Peter.

  'And their hearts are soft, too,' the Doctor went on, 'and things that we shouldn't think anything of hurt them dreadfully. So that a man has to be very careful, not only of his fists, but of his words. They're awfully brave, you know,' he went on. 'Think of Bobbie waiting alone in the tunnel with that poor chap. It's an odd thing - the softer and more easily hurt a woman is the better she can screw herself up to do what has to be done. I've seen some brave women - your mother's one,' he ended abruptly.

  'Yes,' said Peter.

  'Well, that's all; excuse my mentioning it. But nobody knows everything without being told. And you see what I mean, don't you?'

  'Yes,' said Peter. 'I'm sorry. There!'"

I don't think I've ever heard true chivalry and femininity expressed so well for a child's understanding, encouraging boys to be gentlemen and elevating a girl's softness and weakness not as disadvantages, but as being the best for the babies, just as God intended! These values have been all but lost in the cultural wars of feminism, so it is refreshing to find them stated so clearly and beautifully.

The other passage that I love so well expresses God's providence in an equally beautiful way, and again in language that makes it easy for a child to understand.

  "'I say,' said Peter, musingly, 'wouldn't it be jolly if we all were in a book and you were writing it? Then you could make all sorts of jolly things happen, and make Jim's leg get well at once and be all right tomorrow, and Father come home soon and -'

  'Do you miss your father very much?' Mother asked, rather coldly, Peter thought.

  'Awfully,' said Peter, briefly. . .'You see,' Peter went on slowly, 'you see, it's not only him being Father, but now he's away there's no other man in the house but me - that's why I want Jim to stay so frightfully much. Wouldn't you like to be writing that book with us all in it, Mother, and make Daddy come home soon?'

  Peter's mother put her arm round him suddenly, and hugged him in silence for a minute. Then she said:

  'Don't you think it's rather nice to think that we're in a book that God's writing? If I were writing a book, I might make mistakes. But God knows how to make the story end just right - in the way that's best for us.'"

Yes, I'm glad God is writing the book of our lives, and it is wonderful to find a story that communicates that truth and that will appeal to both boys and girls. We will be adding this to our own library soon, and I hope that both my daughter and son will pick it up to read on their own in a few more years.

Be sure to check out other Read Aloud Thursday posts at Hope is the Word.