Caroline's Book Reviews

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Did you ever read a book that gave you more than you bargained for i.e. interesting syntax, nice, fast-paced plot, well-thought-out three-dimensional characters, but that left you shaking your head on the final page - mouth gaping - whining "nonononono?"

Flynn could have ended the action on a "thriller- chiller" note, leaving the reader with goose flesh and shivers. Or a little flippancy may have saved the day as the reader closed the book chuckling and nodding with a new appreciation for having enjoyed a perceived dark comedy. Also, one last clue (I saw three possibilities) could have come to light leaving us with that Christie-mystery feel.

Please enjoy Gone Girl regardless of my ideas and opinions. It was the best of the summer beach books. A notch above the rest! You will find yourself carrying it in your purse or brief case and sneaking peeks whenever possible. That's always the sign of a good read.




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Just Don't Call It Portabello!

On my facebook home page, now, right this minute, there is a circulating recipe for raw, vegan "falafel" and one for lentil "tacos."

I, myself, just finished lunch. A nice, fresh onion roll. Juicy sliced local tomato. Slivers of Georgia sweet onion. Heirloom lettuce leaves. Then, I went and ruined it.

I reached in the freezer and pulled out a soy-based "portabello" burger. Mystery ingredients. May be microwaved. (shudder)

I browned this experiment as best I could in a small saute pan. I made a luscious looking sandwich. I bit. I chewed. I frowned...added a potato chip from the pantry for crunch. I chewed. Added a little more mustard.

Why are we eating this stuff? Why am I playing around with it? Why not just grill or pan-fry a real portabello? Did Julia Child teach us nothing? Just look at this real mushroom burger....

Please don't eat that mystery food. Need soy and seeds? Why not mix up a healthy shake (or something) for breakfast. Want falafel, a taco, portabello? Sounds great to make a traditional one and enjoy! The dinner meal can be just salad!

Oh. I get it. Vegans are trying to invent ways to get protein. Sad, but that's OK. Just don't pass it off as something else. Me? I'm going to have 3 ounces of wild salmon on that dinner salad. It's sockeye season!

Caroline's Book Reviews

Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life by Richard Rohr
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I've finished reading "Falling Upward" by Fr. Rohr. Not only that but also, I am familiar with much of his research material. I’ve read Bourgeault’s "Centering Prayer;" Chodron’s "Start Where You Are;" rather much of the Jung, the Xavier, and Pearson’s "Six Archetypes We Live By." When you read a Kindle edition, you don’t usually read the bibliography until last. There isn’t a huge option for an early thumb-through.

The index of words, some explained and others neglected, is missing Taoism, but the idea of falling upward into the second life is prominent in Chinese Taoist art. Images of Ma Yaun's "Two Sages …Under a Plum Tree" and "Self-Portrait" by Shen Chou came into my mind quickly and quietly as I read.

Not only for the Taoist, but for the rest of us, life is change. There is the quick, constant change, particularly that shifting of fortune captured daily in Eastern culture by anyone who plays at the "I Ching;" the larger, seasonal,stages of life change (to everything, turn, turn, turn….), the heroic journey i.e. "The Odyssey" and "Monkey;" and finally, even our Western notion of retirement at age 65.

The premise of "Falling Upward" is that one must experience the downs of life’s first half in order to fully comprehend, contemplate, and appreciate the ups of the second half. The ups of the second half , which may never be forthcoming, calm us into a new understanding of our impending, inevitable deaths that are not extinction at all but are instead, life everlasting.

The book is not simplistic. It is I who am cramming the whole thesis into a nutshell for the sake of time and tide – which always changing, wait for no man.

I woke up an hour ago from a sound sleep remembering my friend Mohammed who is from Cairo. His father retired several years ago. Mohammed told me that in this “second” half of life, male Muslims become contemplative and studious. The burdens of living are lifted somewhat and they can pursue the Koran and the meanings of life and death. Sure enough, the old gentleman began to spend more time outside of the city in his birth village where he also owned all the land. He read, he talked, he saw a different side of himself.

You've read some of my reviews. You know how I get about research and bibliography. You know these types of works become topic papers to me and that I begin to speed read. Yet, the thesis was a good (even if not a new) one, thought provoking, well-said, and well annotated. And the book got me thinking, didn’t it? That is the sign that something is worthy of reading. It gave a new name and further meaning to a concept as old as our collective mythology and certainly well documented by the words of Jesus himself.

What sunk in was, first and foremost, that familiar line of Jesus, “Do not be afraid.” Don’t be afraid to think, to study, to reappraise, to act, or even to die. If the packaging will no longer hold you with your new thoughts, knowledge, ideas, and actions the book suggests you become a new package! Death? It’s nothing to fear, if one is prepared to look at it through the eyes of the Master.





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Caroline's Book Reviews

Hello Goodbye Hello: A Circle of 101 Remarkable Meetings by Craig Brown
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

Caroline Mathews A kind of 6 degrees of separation written in 1001 word snatches of information and using past and present tenses in the same paragraphs. I didn't need this much trivia, but will keep the Kindle edition available to pick up and read from time to time. It's like a cookbook. Start anywhere at all....marking it read since enough is enough.

Bazinga!

At four o’clock this morning, the rain was pouring straight down as hard and fast and as thick as you can possibly imagine. I came awake with a start; my mind was full of  Sheldon Cooper’s voice. “It’s raining pea soup! It’s raining pea soup!” My feet hit the floor. “Bazinga!”

I had put the book down at midnight, slept, awakened thirsty at one, and spent two o’clock in the bathroom – the result of the luncheon fried okra. After that, a short, relaxing, restful sleep! I was smiling.

The four o’clock, Bazinga dealt with, pea soup rain duly noted, and pillows fluffed, I climbed back into my cozy lair. Zzzzz. At five, on the dot, the alarm clock misfired. WFSU came pouring into my head!. It sounded like Balzac. Bazinga!

At six o’clock, I was sleeping soundly. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Leonard?”  Knock. Knock. Knock. “Leonard?’ You know the rest. Belle had overturned the bedroom trash can and was thumping it against the bedroom door. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Leonard,” my mind repeated the obligatory third time.

Now after six, the light was beginning to peep through the blinds. The rain was falling gently and I returned to a state of snoozing lightly. Heaven!

As soon as I was, again, stretched out and cozy, my alarm system beeper started beeping. That aggravating noise is the sign of a weak battery that must be replaced by a company representative. The system will beep whether on or off; each beep will be louder than the last. Bazinga! I got up and hit the button three times. That’s the signal that I have heard the beeping and will call soon. Maybe today!

It’s seven o’clock now. The thunder and lightning woke me flashing and cracking. Rain is coming down in sheets. Yes, Sheldon, in sheets. Coffee is dripping, an egg is steaming, a biscuit is baking in the toaster oven. Juice is poured.

I've been watching way too many Big Bang reruns. At least it wasn’t Dr. Who’s voice that came to me in the night. Thanks to the Doctor and Tardis, I might have ended up in some far off galaxy, sometime in the future, trying to communicate with you via a new computer chip transplanted deep into my brain.

 Bazinga!

    

Neither Black nor White, But Colorful All the Same

How many times, sitting on that Board, did I either hear these phrases or say them? “This part of the law is a grey area. The meaning of this rule is neither black nor white. The language of the passage lends itself to interpretation.”

You know what I mean if you spent this week living and breathing - same as me. Or, maybe, not! From many of the comments I've heard, I gather that perhaps you are still trying to see life in black and white.

Not me.  Nor do I tend to see in grey. Grey is a description that means nothing to me. In the optical industry, we used to call one particular shade of grey “shit brindle." Shit brindle is when you've mixed colors on a lens ad nauseam - until the result is not even grey. It is nothing.

Politically, I am a Republican in the middle of an identity crisis. I can’t support the candidates. I don’t understand the platform. I am at sea. Not many years ago, I was in the thick of it. Sigh. I believe I lost a friend this week because of my refusal to toe the party line.

Just yesterday, I supported a corporation with values diametrically opposed to my own, simply because I believe that it has the right to its own opinion and may put its money where its mouth is.  I was a businesswoman myself. I never expect bigotry. I may have lost respect from several people that I love. They saw my actions as taking sides instead of taking a stand.

I’ve read articles, this week, in several scientific journals and they did not come anywhere near threatening my religious beliefs. IMHO, life and knowledge are a mystery that will not be solved by me. Everything is everything.  Nothing is threatening. All is in order, even when I cannot see it. I believe I antagonized a small group of eating buddies this week because I can embrace opposing dogmas at once. You just cannot go there in luncheon conversation. Especially, don't mention the Taoists. Don't discuss the chi!

Spiritually, I’m one of those who has not found the perfect religion but has adopted the one closest to her beliefs. I’ve been proud, this week, of the snail-like progress of the church and its willingness to take criticism on the chin and move forward as mankind “evolves” into who knows what wonderful, loving entity.  Slow work, yes? I don’t believe my own church will lose any parishioners over it. They’ve been walking in the briar patch for a long, long time. I might get personal criticism from my not-so-immediate family, if it comes up.

I, nevertheless and in spite of everything, lovingly gave a head-nod to my pagan beginnings when August rolled around. We old souls call this holiday Lughnasadh – a Celtic celebration of life in its fullest, the bounty of the earth. My Grandmother used to say that our family evolved from before the fairies, when the dragons roamed. Never shake your head at the wizened Grandmothers. Like the babies, they are closer to heaven than we are. We don’t need to solve every mystery.

The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao. So what if I rejected party lines, this week?  I also befriended the rights of those who don’t think as I do, to have and act on their own opinions.

I, myself, believe in same-sex equality, just as I do in racial equality, human rights, and women’s rights. I believe in the holiness of people, made in God's Image.  Looking back, I remember telling you about my sit-ins of the 60’s, the optical “pantsuit revolution” of the 70’s, and my personal equal-pay-for- women battles. I admit that I have been anti-war at times (some lately), but never that as much as pro-soldier, patriot, good citizen.

I rejected bigotry this week whether it came from the Christian right or elsewhere, the political right or left, science or religion, friends or friends of friends.

Not only that! When I saw the news tonight I prayed for Muslims. I believe that God is Love. Literally! That, I realize, is the only truth that I see in total black and white.