I didn't *not* love it as strongly as you did, but I did notice my ambivalence relative to others. What I'm wondering is how much our (your/my) responses have to do with the relative depth of wounds we carry over all that's happened to us personally, and our relative capacities to bear witness to experiences of goodness that are unmixed with pain. To what extent is that incapacity a right response to dishonest nostalgia (think Thomas Kinkade), and to what extent is it a kind of post-war PTSD that cannot unsee what we've seen, that others have been spared? Just questions I'm asking...
No, I think these are really good questions and need to be asked. I asked them myself MANY times over the last 3-4 months since I read it. The thing that holds me up is that I've heard the author talk about his own suffering, even if it's different than mine (though it had some similarities—we both lost our brothers). Suffering does change us and perhaps you're right, maybe we're still too close to it all to see a story like this in a more neutral way.
For me, it felt, and I want to be careful because I really DO NOT know this was the author's intentions, it felt like someone saying, "This pretty picture is reality, not the ugly one you're walking around with." I mean that was ACTUALLY what was being said in the story. But it also felt like bypassing the reality of the ugliness in a way I need acknowledged in my stories right now.
Your review is making me rethink this book...because I'm one of those who read it and loved it. It didn't strike me as a predictable, happily ever after ending. What I saw in this story (and felt encouraged by) was someone who actually saw the people around him, particularly the marginalized, who took the time to get to know strangers and extend some kindness regardless of who they are. I'm not a Hallmark book kind of reader, and in fact love every single other recommendation you made in place of TOG, so now I'm wondering what I didn't see in this book and what, if anything, it says about me. Perhaps it's the season of life that I'm in that causes this book to hit differently for me than for you or other readers who share your sentiments. Something for me to chew on for sure.
Other people said the same thing, so you're not alone =) I made this comment to someone else, but I wonder if I came at it a bit too literally, and it was really more of a parable than anything else. If that's the case, then I think it did its job well, parables are full of tropes because the point *is* the point, not the character development. Season of life could be another thing =)
Promptly went to my library apps to find it, not available. :-(
Defo not going to buy it after what you said!!
I agree we are all different, and need to like different things. But there is also something cathartic about having a good vent about something you don’t like , and others agreeing.
I hated Les Miserables, (so schmaltzy) and that completely shocked so many people…
And to completely shock you - I can’t get on with Wendell Berry. Read a few, they just don’t do anything for me.
Peace Like a River is on my top 5 favorites of all time, so I'm adding your other 3 suggestions to my "to buy" list. Is Jayber Crow the best place to start with Berry? I've only read a few of his essays.
I love Lore’s 3 recs at the end, and personally prefer Hannah Coulter over Jayber Crow. Also if you’re reading them in close succession, main characters of Jayber and Gilead are similar (old men) - Hannah is a nice different MC :)
I finished this book 3 days ago and it was a bit of a chore to get through. I am a prolific reader and have learned over the years how to filter through what I will like and what is not for me. When I saw this book blowing up everywhere and people raving it felt like a no brainer for me. I assumed I would love it too. I say that to say, it felt a bit like reading a genre I have long ago abandoned which is the Hallmarkesque "Christian" fiction category. I'll resist naming authors out of kindness but maybe you know what I am talking about. The storytelling is too on the nose and there is a lack of depth that just does not feel relatable. I initially thought that a lot of the hoopla might be from people who read differently from me. I don't know. I just know that I did not like this book either so I enjoyed your reflections on it.
I realize this is not the point of your piece today, but I am just here to say that if Survivor is wrong, I don’t want to be right 🤣 Reruns got me through 2020-2021 and season 50 is delivering all the dopamine I need right now.
Well, I do love a good dose of overly simplistic fiction from time to time. Usually that comes in the form of YA fiction. But even recently, I found myself being generally annoyed while reading one. It was just...boring.
I haven't read TOG. But I have a friend who admittedly, has a hard time reading fiction. So she read TOG and reportedly loved it, tears and all. (I just gave her Hello Beautiful to read next. We'll see :)
But I think you're on to something...
I'm halfway through listening to The Correspondant, and its already having the best affect on my real life. Which is why I love good fiction. It literally enlightens our very real lives.
I wonder about this: "objectively really good books and writing." I supposed there is a small sliver of things that most people (never all) can agree are objectively good, but says who? Anyway, a conversation for another bottle of wine.
I've never read Theo of Gold (nor, honestly, had heard of it, though I've read and loved the three books you recommend at the end). But your descriptions of it remind me of my thoughts I've had about why The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse is so popular. It's unsettling to feel on the wrong side of the in. Strangely, then, some who read your review will find themselves (if they love the book you hate) also on the wrong side of the in, since generally whoever is currently speaking is in. So you'll be united in your feelings, paradoxically. (This happened to me in church trauma. I felt betrayed by my church, and realized that in feeling that way about my church, and saying so, they felt betrayed by me. What do we do with those twin betrayals? Can we take them both to the cross?)
I liked your caption on the book and dog. Keep writing. And reading. And writing about what you're reading.
It's so funny that you mention The Boy, The Mole, the Fox, and the Horse. When I was mouthing off to my friends about TOG, two of them made the comparison to that book—which I haven't read and didn't know anything about.
Your thoughts on twin betrayals are so poignant and true. We all feel it, don't we? Even the ones who betrayed us.
On my book app, there were people who also didn’t like it. So you are not alone.
I think the flattening which leads to dehumanizing is so important for us to recognize. People are multi faceted and we all are in danger of forgetting it. Thank you for giving us this reminder and for reminding I am not the only one who sees this.
I read it right after it came out as a self published book & I did like it! I will say, I think it helps that we have family & friends who know Allen personally and he is a complex, deep man who has had his fair share of hard things happen. So even though the book was not complex (which I do tend to like) I knew from others that the author was and so I read it in a different way.
I suspect this was what carried the book along in its earliest days, that people knew the author to be a good, complex, deep, and probably kind man. And good Lord, I hope that can be said about me someday, so I fault no one that.
I knew immediately what book this was about, and have to say - like all best pieces do, while this made me think/question/introspect, admittedly it also had me belly laughing. Because I know EXACTLY what you are saying.
I feel I’m a rare bird in that I… liked it? I didn’t loathe it, and I don’t want to start sitting at a random park bench and becoming best friends with every passerby while I get misty-eyed at the sunset.
Here’s my take: you have to completely suspend your judgment of the writing to even remotely enjoy it. Like, the writing is almost not the point? I told a friend, it is most akin to what the Shack was for me. Like it opened my soul, while not necessarily opening my mind - if that makes sense.
I did in fact weep (twice), I also did absolutely cringe at certain moments that were like drinking pure sugar water, literarily.
All to say…. You are absolutely not alone! And everyone has not lost their ability to know good writing. It’s just - in my mind - a weird and rare exception.
I think my point is, you're not a rare bird! You're in good company with a LOT of people who have really great taste in literature! A few friends asked me if it was like The Shack and I thought maybe the comparison could be made. For me it felt a lot like an episode of Touched by an Angel, where we also have to suspend our judgement, but also, it's not going to be shelved with the classics. Or maybe it is. What do I know?
To be fair - with your recs of Jayber, Gilead and Peace Like a River - you actually know everything, in my book at least, about what qualifies as a great. And the howling sob that left my body over ten years ago when I first finished Gilead STILL rings through my soul, whereas Theo - while lovely to me at times - I fear is more of a passing breeze.
For what it’s worth, the things that have stuck with me about him since - and the reason I think the world wanted this book at THIS time - are:
1. His devotion and intentionality towards being light-hearted, despite (maybe even because of) being grief-informed. It was its own act of resistance, and WOW so rare in today’s world on any side of anything.
2. His complete presence to the world around him. Not one solitary mention of an app or smartphone, but just pure hunger for immersion in the physical world he occupied.
3. Friendships - and relational capacity - beyond those just like you. Perhaps the most saccharine of the three, but still something hugely to it and something, in my personal deconstruction, I have let atrophy now that I’m not making friends with anyone who might be on the brink of eternal damnation. ;)
This is helpful to read. I wonder if I was taking it all too literally? I think the thing about, say, Jayber Crow that I love is that it feels possible to live in that kind of world and be that kind of person. Whereas, for me, Theo just felt like a godlike character, impossible to be or emulate or even see in the world we live in. And I like stories that give me hope that—amidst all that's bad—I can still do good in small ways. Like it or not, I will never be in Theo's position.
So perhaps it works as a parable? Maybe that's what I'm picking up on from some of you who liked the book?
For me it was a welcome break from the grief and agony of Hamnet so that might have been part of it, but it felt warm and restful and reassuring even if it was simplistic and reductionist. I am a person of Christian faith and feel I’m engaged in a daily battle for hope over cynicism. This helped me sense hope. Also I love that the “secular” world has grabbed on to it in such an amazing way. It’s essentially a message of what people who walk in the footsteps could look like if we sat down on some of the political discourse and stood up on loving our neighbors. Maybe not great literature, but a worthy read. I’m surprised your reaction is so strong, but I respect your voice in this space.
I've heard that from a few people, that it gave them hope or bolstered what they had. And I'll never reject that. We all need hope and, as I said, whatever our nervous systems need to be calm and regulated in the world!
I didn't *not* love it as strongly as you did, but I did notice my ambivalence relative to others. What I'm wondering is how much our (your/my) responses have to do with the relative depth of wounds we carry over all that's happened to us personally, and our relative capacities to bear witness to experiences of goodness that are unmixed with pain. To what extent is that incapacity a right response to dishonest nostalgia (think Thomas Kinkade), and to what extent is it a kind of post-war PTSD that cannot unsee what we've seen, that others have been spared? Just questions I'm asking...
No, I think these are really good questions and need to be asked. I asked them myself MANY times over the last 3-4 months since I read it. The thing that holds me up is that I've heard the author talk about his own suffering, even if it's different than mine (though it had some similarities—we both lost our brothers). Suffering does change us and perhaps you're right, maybe we're still too close to it all to see a story like this in a more neutral way.
For me, it felt, and I want to be careful because I really DO NOT know this was the author's intentions, it felt like someone saying, "This pretty picture is reality, not the ugly one you're walking around with." I mean that was ACTUALLY what was being said in the story. But it also felt like bypassing the reality of the ugliness in a way I need acknowledged in my stories right now.
“I love one of the things on this bed.” Dying! LOL xoxo
Your review is making me rethink this book...because I'm one of those who read it and loved it. It didn't strike me as a predictable, happily ever after ending. What I saw in this story (and felt encouraged by) was someone who actually saw the people around him, particularly the marginalized, who took the time to get to know strangers and extend some kindness regardless of who they are. I'm not a Hallmark book kind of reader, and in fact love every single other recommendation you made in place of TOG, so now I'm wondering what I didn't see in this book and what, if anything, it says about me. Perhaps it's the season of life that I'm in that causes this book to hit differently for me than for you or other readers who share your sentiments. Something for me to chew on for sure.
Other people said the same thing, so you're not alone =) I made this comment to someone else, but I wonder if I came at it a bit too literally, and it was really more of a parable than anything else. If that's the case, then I think it did its job well, parables are full of tropes because the point *is* the point, not the character development. Season of life could be another thing =)
Promptly went to my library apps to find it, not available. :-(
Defo not going to buy it after what you said!!
I agree we are all different, and need to like different things. But there is also something cathartic about having a good vent about something you don’t like , and others agreeing.
I hated Les Miserables, (so schmaltzy) and that completely shocked so many people…
And to completely shock you - I can’t get on with Wendell Berry. Read a few, they just don’t do anything for me.
It's okay that you don't like Berry =) It's sad because I want everyone to love him but different strokes and all, yes?
Peace Like a River is on my top 5 favorites of all time, so I'm adding your other 3 suggestions to my "to buy" list. Is Jayber Crow the best place to start with Berry? I've only read a few of his essays.
I love Lore’s 3 recs at the end, and personally prefer Hannah Coulter over Jayber Crow. Also if you’re reading them in close succession, main characters of Jayber and Gilead are similar (old men) - Hannah is a nice different MC :)
Some people would say Hannah Coulter is superior. I think they're on par with one another, but I read Jayber first, so I love it more =)
Lore, you had me until the Jayber love...that is my least favorite Berry!
Noooooo! Really? Tell me why?
I finished this book 3 days ago and it was a bit of a chore to get through. I am a prolific reader and have learned over the years how to filter through what I will like and what is not for me. When I saw this book blowing up everywhere and people raving it felt like a no brainer for me. I assumed I would love it too. I say that to say, it felt a bit like reading a genre I have long ago abandoned which is the Hallmarkesque "Christian" fiction category. I'll resist naming authors out of kindness but maybe you know what I am talking about. The storytelling is too on the nose and there is a lack of depth that just does not feel relatable. I initially thought that a lot of the hoopla might be from people who read differently from me. I don't know. I just know that I did not like this book either so I enjoyed your reflections on it.
I realize this is not the point of your piece today, but I am just here to say that if Survivor is wrong, I don’t want to be right 🤣 Reruns got me through 2020-2021 and season 50 is delivering all the dopamine I need right now.
Well, I do love a good dose of overly simplistic fiction from time to time. Usually that comes in the form of YA fiction. But even recently, I found myself being generally annoyed while reading one. It was just...boring.
I haven't read TOG. But I have a friend who admittedly, has a hard time reading fiction. So she read TOG and reportedly loved it, tears and all. (I just gave her Hello Beautiful to read next. We'll see :)
But I think you're on to something...
I'm halfway through listening to The Correspondant, and its already having the best affect on my real life. Which is why I love good fiction. It literally enlightens our very real lives.
I wonder about this: "objectively really good books and writing." I supposed there is a small sliver of things that most people (never all) can agree are objectively good, but says who? Anyway, a conversation for another bottle of wine.
I had the same question about that phrase.
I know we've talked about this before and I knew you (or someone) was going to take issue with that line ;)
Shoot! I took the bait!
I've never read Theo of Gold (nor, honestly, had heard of it, though I've read and loved the three books you recommend at the end). But your descriptions of it remind me of my thoughts I've had about why The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse is so popular. It's unsettling to feel on the wrong side of the in. Strangely, then, some who read your review will find themselves (if they love the book you hate) also on the wrong side of the in, since generally whoever is currently speaking is in. So you'll be united in your feelings, paradoxically. (This happened to me in church trauma. I felt betrayed by my church, and realized that in feeling that way about my church, and saying so, they felt betrayed by me. What do we do with those twin betrayals? Can we take them both to the cross?)
I liked your caption on the book and dog. Keep writing. And reading. And writing about what you're reading.
It's so funny that you mention The Boy, The Mole, the Fox, and the Horse. When I was mouthing off to my friends about TOG, two of them made the comparison to that book—which I haven't read and didn't know anything about.
Your thoughts on twin betrayals are so poignant and true. We all feel it, don't we? Even the ones who betrayed us.
On my book app, there were people who also didn’t like it. So you are not alone.
I think the flattening which leads to dehumanizing is so important for us to recognize. People are multi faceted and we all are in danger of forgetting it. Thank you for giving us this reminder and for reminding I am not the only one who sees this.
I read it right after it came out as a self published book & I did like it! I will say, I think it helps that we have family & friends who know Allen personally and he is a complex, deep man who has had his fair share of hard things happen. So even though the book was not complex (which I do tend to like) I knew from others that the author was and so I read it in a different way.
I suspect this was what carried the book along in its earliest days, that people knew the author to be a good, complex, deep, and probably kind man. And good Lord, I hope that can be said about me someday, so I fault no one that.
My Goodreads review echoes your sentiments entirely. You’re not alone!!!
I knew immediately what book this was about, and have to say - like all best pieces do, while this made me think/question/introspect, admittedly it also had me belly laughing. Because I know EXACTLY what you are saying.
I feel I’m a rare bird in that I… liked it? I didn’t loathe it, and I don’t want to start sitting at a random park bench and becoming best friends with every passerby while I get misty-eyed at the sunset.
Here’s my take: you have to completely suspend your judgment of the writing to even remotely enjoy it. Like, the writing is almost not the point? I told a friend, it is most akin to what the Shack was for me. Like it opened my soul, while not necessarily opening my mind - if that makes sense.
I did in fact weep (twice), I also did absolutely cringe at certain moments that were like drinking pure sugar water, literarily.
All to say…. You are absolutely not alone! And everyone has not lost their ability to know good writing. It’s just - in my mind - a weird and rare exception.
I think my point is, you're not a rare bird! You're in good company with a LOT of people who have really great taste in literature! A few friends asked me if it was like The Shack and I thought maybe the comparison could be made. For me it felt a lot like an episode of Touched by an Angel, where we also have to suspend our judgement, but also, it's not going to be shelved with the classics. Or maybe it is. What do I know?
To be fair - with your recs of Jayber, Gilead and Peace Like a River - you actually know everything, in my book at least, about what qualifies as a great. And the howling sob that left my body over ten years ago when I first finished Gilead STILL rings through my soul, whereas Theo - while lovely to me at times - I fear is more of a passing breeze.
For what it’s worth, the things that have stuck with me about him since - and the reason I think the world wanted this book at THIS time - are:
1. His devotion and intentionality towards being light-hearted, despite (maybe even because of) being grief-informed. It was its own act of resistance, and WOW so rare in today’s world on any side of anything.
2. His complete presence to the world around him. Not one solitary mention of an app or smartphone, but just pure hunger for immersion in the physical world he occupied.
3. Friendships - and relational capacity - beyond those just like you. Perhaps the most saccharine of the three, but still something hugely to it and something, in my personal deconstruction, I have let atrophy now that I’m not making friends with anyone who might be on the brink of eternal damnation. ;)
This is helpful to read. I wonder if I was taking it all too literally? I think the thing about, say, Jayber Crow that I love is that it feels possible to live in that kind of world and be that kind of person. Whereas, for me, Theo just felt like a godlike character, impossible to be or emulate or even see in the world we live in. And I like stories that give me hope that—amidst all that's bad—I can still do good in small ways. Like it or not, I will never be in Theo's position.
So perhaps it works as a parable? Maybe that's what I'm picking up on from some of you who liked the book?
For me it was a welcome break from the grief and agony of Hamnet so that might have been part of it, but it felt warm and restful and reassuring even if it was simplistic and reductionist. I am a person of Christian faith and feel I’m engaged in a daily battle for hope over cynicism. This helped me sense hope. Also I love that the “secular” world has grabbed on to it in such an amazing way. It’s essentially a message of what people who walk in the footsteps could look like if we sat down on some of the political discourse and stood up on loving our neighbors. Maybe not great literature, but a worthy read. I’m surprised your reaction is so strong, but I respect your voice in this space.
I've heard that from a few people, that it gave them hope or bolstered what they had. And I'll never reject that. We all need hope and, as I said, whatever our nervous systems need to be calm and regulated in the world!