"Quick Lit" for March: great fiction and non-fiction

Today I'm linking up with Modern Mrs. Darcy's monthly "Quick Lit" post to share what I've been reading.  I didn't participate last month, so this post contains two months' worth of books.

 All the Light We Cannot See (Anthony Doerr).  I was surprised and excited to receive this book as a gift from a generous, thoughtful online friend.  It's such a great book that I know I won't be able to do justice to it in a couple of paragraphs, but I'll try.  

The novel focuses on two young people:  Marie-Laure, a blind Parisian girl who flees to the walled citadel of St-Malo with her father (a locksmith at a natural history museum) to escape Nazi occupation; and Werner, a German boy who, because of his mechanical skills -- particularly with radios -- ends up in a brutal training school for Hitler youth.  Their parallel stories are told in short, alternating chapters that steadily build suspense.  Werner slowly succumbs to being a cog in the Nazi machine, and Marie-Laure is wrenched away from the safe world her father has shaped for her  -- until their two stories converge in 1944 and they each seize the opportunity to act with courage and heroism.  

Doerr is an amazing writer who can show us a scene and make us feel it using just a few words:  for example,  "A vault of stars hangs overhead; the collective breath of the cadets mingles slowly, nightmarishly above the courtyard."  Although there is dread and horror in both Werner's and Marie-Laure's stories, there is magic threaded through the whole book as well.  Part of that magic has to do with a myth about a rare and coveted jewel, but beyond that fairy-tale element there are also themes of music, science, adventure, and the power of radio to communicate and connect (something we may not be able to fully appreciate in 2015).  It's a sad book, yet it's also beautiful; and it uses an original style and two unique characters to give a fresh portrayal of a time period that's already been widely written about.

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Fierce Convictions:  The Extraordinary Life of Hannah More -- Poet, Reformer, Abolitionist (Karen Swallow Prior).  Although Hannah More's name is not well known today, this biography may change that.  In 18th/19th-century England, More was an influential writer, teacher, social reformer, and participant in the battle to end the slave trade.  Although her upbringing as a schoolmaster's daughter was modest, as an adult she moved in elite literary, social, and political circles and was a friend of William Wilberforce, Samuel Johnson, and John Newton, among others.  More had the ability not only to see a need but also to use her energy, connections, and other resources at her disposal to meet it.  It is inspiring to read how More, her sisters, and her friends mentored and exhorted one another in their efforts to do God's work in practical ways such as teaching the poor to read, writing edifying books and tracts to encourage virtuous living, and advocating for the humane treatment of animals.  Swallow Prior is an engaging writer, striking the perfect balance of scholarly detail and good storytelling to bring the "winsome" More to life for the reader.  And while the hilarious foreword by Eric Metaxas will make you want to  -- ahem -- "read more," Hannah More's life and accomplishments will keep you reading.

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 Forgiving Our Fathers and Mothers (Leslie Leyland Fields).  I won this book in a draw on the author's website.  While I don't identify directly with the specific issues it addresses, I read Fields' blog regularly and always appreciate her writing.  (I was also interested in the subject matter in more general terms, having read Fields' rebuttal of a particular aspect of Desmond Tutu's writings on forgiveness.)

Drawing on her own experience with an emotionally and physically distant father, and on the stories of others, Fields explores the process of forgiving parents and moving into healing and freedom.  The book focuses on themes like honouring the dishonourable, acknowledging our common humanity, and reclaiming the past.  I appreciate how honest Fields is in sharing the messiness and uncertainty of this process:  her anger and helplessness when visiting her father, her uncertainties about what to say and how, and her regrets around her father's death.  These admissions remind us that real life is rarely tidy like the movies.  Yet the book is also empowering because it shows us that even if "they didn't" or "she can't" or "he won't," maybe we can.  Maybe we can reach out, forgive, be present, and speak words of healing -- not just to free and heal ourselves, but also to help bring restoration and hope into seemingly hopeless situations.

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The Center Cannot Hold:  My Journey Through Madness (Elyn R. Saks).  I saw this book mentioned in a post on Laura Droege's blog and was intrigued enough to get it from the library and read it.  Saks, a successful law and psychiatry professor, has lived with schizophrenia since she was about eight years old.  This engrossing memoir deals with her struggles to achieve academic and professional success, her experiences with therapists, her love-hate relationship with medication, and her social and personal challenges.  A tough book, but triumphant.

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The Sense of an Ending (Julian Barnes).  The narrator, Tony, looks back on his youthful friendship with Adrian, whom he admired, and his relationship with Veronica, whom he could never figure out.  After his breakup with Veronica and the death of Adrian, Tony moves on and, in effect, writes them out of his life for over 40 years.  But then a lawyer's letter about an unexpected inheritance brings the past back, forcing Tony to look at who he was back then and who he has become.  This novel isn't totally satisfying in terms of how it ties up plot threads; many questions are left unanswered.  But how Tony reflects on the passage of time, guilt and remorse, and the imperfection of memory is fascinating.  I read this book for my book study group; it's an excellent novel for discussion.

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