Rebecca Moll's Blog, page 12
April 7, 2019
The Secret Cord by Geraldine Brooks, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll
Like the visions of the Name that flowed through Natan and the songs of David that infused the people of Israel, there is a spirit at work in Geraldine Brooks' The Secret Chord, one that confounds, considers, enlightens.
With Brooks, one must turn the page...
With the violence of pure hatred he slays his his enemies, with the love of unabashed adoration he rewards his faithful. David forges a path, building a people, building a kingdom, building a City of God.
Turn the page...
It is a path pre-set in stone or is it? I could not help but view this fearless leader, this brilliant strategist, this glorious king as a little boy, eager, earnest, naive, his heart swelling, open, believing. As he stood a young warrior, a man of many wives, a wise king upon the throne, a dying, sick old man, his was an youthful spirit.
Turn the page...
Regardless of the foretold path, David was a man, good and bad, one that felt, fully, the embrace as well as the blow. His was a spirit that soared, a spirit that suffered. And like the visions of the Name that flowed through Natan and the songs of David that infused the people of of Israel, his spirit lives on in the inhalations and exhalations of those that choose to believe,"All things are possible with God."
Turn the page...
Geraldine Brooks has done it again. Loved this story from beginning to,
The End.
With Brooks, one must turn the page...
With the violence of pure hatred he slays his his enemies, with the love of unabashed adoration he rewards his faithful. David forges a path, building a people, building a kingdom, building a City of God.
Turn the page...
It is a path pre-set in stone or is it? I could not help but view this fearless leader, this brilliant strategist, this glorious king as a little boy, eager, earnest, naive, his heart swelling, open, believing. As he stood a young warrior, a man of many wives, a wise king upon the throne, a dying, sick old man, his was an youthful spirit.
Turn the page...
Regardless of the foretold path, David was a man, good and bad, one that felt, fully, the embrace as well as the blow. His was a spirit that soared, a spirit that suffered. And like the visions of the Name that flowed through Natan and the songs of David that infused the people of of Israel, his spirit lives on in the inhalations and exhalations of those that choose to believe,"All things are possible with God."
Turn the page...
Geraldine Brooks has done it again. Loved this story from beginning to,
The End.
March 22, 2019
Thoughts upon reading Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
I've heard it said that to sin is to fall, but I prefer a more hopeful addendum:
In the words of Victor Hugo, author of Les Miserables,
"It is a fall, but a fall on to the knees which may end in prayer."
In the words of Victor Hugo, author of Les Miserables,
"It is a fall, but a fall on to the knees which may end in prayer."
March 19, 2019
Lulu in Marrakech By DIANE JOHNSON, a Book Review by Rebecca Moll
Life is but a movie, or is it? Dreams of love and passion, the drama of culture, the secret life of espionage, wants and desires are the stuff of Lulu's life or is it? The grass is rarely greener on the other side of the fence.
Lulu in Marrakech is a wonderful story for one very obvious reason, Lulu. How could one not love Lulu? Eternally optimistic, youthfully naive, living the life of an undercover agent in the most romantic place in the world, Marrakech?
Or is it?
Lulu tells her story and yet, as the reader, you know she is painting a much nicer version, a kinder version, a more exciting version. Lulu believes the grass is really green.
At more than one point in this story, I wanted to grab Lulu by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, give her some much-needed advice, but, of course, that would ruin the story. Lulu has to find her own way.
With a wonderful, colorful, cast of characters, the unique blend of proper English and mysterious Middle Eastern cultures, and a dash of suspense (but not too much), Lulu does find her way, just as does Posy, who finds out motherhood is not all that rosy, just as does Gazi, who finds freedom a little too free, just as does Suma...
Lulu learns that even when life gets in the way of one's dreams, there is still something to look forward to, something with which to hang your hopes upon, like rhododendrons and azaleas and daffodils in spring, sunrises, and London, and well, whatever comes next.
A lovely story. Lighthearted and very entertaining. Add this one to your to-read list.
Lulu in Marrakech is a wonderful story for one very obvious reason, Lulu. How could one not love Lulu? Eternally optimistic, youthfully naive, living the life of an undercover agent in the most romantic place in the world, Marrakech?
Or is it?
Lulu tells her story and yet, as the reader, you know she is painting a much nicer version, a kinder version, a more exciting version. Lulu believes the grass is really green.
At more than one point in this story, I wanted to grab Lulu by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, give her some much-needed advice, but, of course, that would ruin the story. Lulu has to find her own way.
With a wonderful, colorful, cast of characters, the unique blend of proper English and mysterious Middle Eastern cultures, and a dash of suspense (but not too much), Lulu does find her way, just as does Posy, who finds out motherhood is not all that rosy, just as does Gazi, who finds freedom a little too free, just as does Suma...
Lulu learns that even when life gets in the way of one's dreams, there is still something to look forward to, something with which to hang your hopes upon, like rhododendrons and azaleas and daffodils in spring, sunrises, and London, and well, whatever comes next.
A lovely story. Lighthearted and very entertaining. Add this one to your to-read list.
March 7, 2019
The End.
The End.
Two very sweet words. My third full-length novel. This time, a mystery. Love, hate, revenge, and fate. The elixir of life, a distillate of the soul.
Now begins the process of editing. The whittling of little lovelies or the killings of my darlings, as someone once said. An unpleasant task that hopefully produces pleasant results.
Perhaps by the summer's end, maybe as the leaves emerge in a burst of color, I will share my latest creation.
Until then, it is the eraser that will prevail over the pencil and in an attempt allow for beauty, my heart over my head.
Your friend,
Rebecca
Two very sweet words. My third full-length novel. This time, a mystery. Love, hate, revenge, and fate. The elixir of life, a distillate of the soul.
Now begins the process of editing. The whittling of little lovelies or the killings of my darlings, as someone once said. An unpleasant task that hopefully produces pleasant results.
Perhaps by the summer's end, maybe as the leaves emerge in a burst of color, I will share my latest creation.
Until then, it is the eraser that will prevail over the pencil and in an attempt allow for beauty, my heart over my head.
Your friend,
Rebecca
February 18, 2019
Quotable Quotes by Rebecca Moll
"Facts are more valuable than dreams," ~ Winston Churchill
February 4, 2019
The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll
I believe the first and last sentence of a book should be heavy hitters. The opening, one of things to come, a reason to turn the page, a stage setter. The closing, a big beautiful bow that wraps up the story inside, holding it together in a way that makes you pause, reflect, and remember. On this, Kristin Hannah's Nightingale does not disappoint.
First: "...In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are."
and last: "Wounds heal. Loves lasts. We remain."
And in between: A lifetime, an epic of catastrophic proportions, the loss of over six million Jewish lives. The herculean, catalytic efforts of the few that provided safety, a hiding place, an escape route, crossed mountains, forded dangerous waters, risking their lives to ensure survival for what would be future generations, a people whom would otherwise not be. In war we find out who we are.
Kristin Hannah tells a story of love and hate against the backdrop of our very own history.
Yet, it is not the epic proportions, the big data that grabs your heart, renders it asunder, only to mend it back together with the only medicine that heals a wounded soul, love. It is the up-close and personal, Isabelle and Vianne, Julien and Gaetan, Sophie and Arie. It is newspaper underneath your clothing and eight hour ration lines with only bullion to spare, cold, brutal winters and wooden-soled shoes, thread-bare dresses made of old tablecloths mended over and over, and fires of furniture. It is the hateful cruelty of a single SS officer, the shocking traitorous neighbor, the cries of a child, the ring of a single gunshot, the ensuing silence. It's the surprising single-acts of kindness, the life-sustaining compassion of a friend, the risks, unbelievable risks, taken to help a stranger, to save a life. It is colorful scraps of fabric, faded, tied to a tree, blowing in the wind and all the memories invoked. And despite all the horror, it is still, in love, that we find out who we want to be.
The human spirit overcomes. Survival is not enough (Emily S. John, Station Eleven). Love is the elixir of life. Love heals. Love lasts. And because of love, we remember, we remain.
I have read many non-fiction and fiction writings set against and within WWII. In Nadia Knows, I wrote a fictional story about a woman who comes to terms with her past, her own war experiences in Budapest, Hungary, WWII. This story was seeded by personal accounts of those who lived this history, people who shared their stories with me. I wouldn't have dared to do so otherwise. Having never experienced war or genocide, it feels disrespectful to do so. In her Author's Note, Kristin Hannah writes about how The Nightingale came to light, the accounts she read, those she met, who gave their personal accounts. I was happy to read this note, even wished it was placed at the beginning of the book. This, to me, gives validity, gives truth to the story. This is the beautiful ribbon of truth that holds all things together, not only connecting the first and last sentence and everything in-between, but our hearts as well.
Even in fiction, truth matters. Why? Because in the end, when all the lives that lived to tell are gone, when all that is left is what is written, recorded, and remembered, it is all we have left.
My first to read of Hannah's repertoire, The Nightingale, is a novel now placed upon my permanent shelf.
First: "...In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are."
and last: "Wounds heal. Loves lasts. We remain."
And in between: A lifetime, an epic of catastrophic proportions, the loss of over six million Jewish lives. The herculean, catalytic efforts of the few that provided safety, a hiding place, an escape route, crossed mountains, forded dangerous waters, risking their lives to ensure survival for what would be future generations, a people whom would otherwise not be. In war we find out who we are.
Kristin Hannah tells a story of love and hate against the backdrop of our very own history.
Yet, it is not the epic proportions, the big data that grabs your heart, renders it asunder, only to mend it back together with the only medicine that heals a wounded soul, love. It is the up-close and personal, Isabelle and Vianne, Julien and Gaetan, Sophie and Arie. It is newspaper underneath your clothing and eight hour ration lines with only bullion to spare, cold, brutal winters and wooden-soled shoes, thread-bare dresses made of old tablecloths mended over and over, and fires of furniture. It is the hateful cruelty of a single SS officer, the shocking traitorous neighbor, the cries of a child, the ring of a single gunshot, the ensuing silence. It's the surprising single-acts of kindness, the life-sustaining compassion of a friend, the risks, unbelievable risks, taken to help a stranger, to save a life. It is colorful scraps of fabric, faded, tied to a tree, blowing in the wind and all the memories invoked. And despite all the horror, it is still, in love, that we find out who we want to be.
The human spirit overcomes. Survival is not enough (Emily S. John, Station Eleven). Love is the elixir of life. Love heals. Love lasts. And because of love, we remember, we remain.
I have read many non-fiction and fiction writings set against and within WWII. In Nadia Knows, I wrote a fictional story about a woman who comes to terms with her past, her own war experiences in Budapest, Hungary, WWII. This story was seeded by personal accounts of those who lived this history, people who shared their stories with me. I wouldn't have dared to do so otherwise. Having never experienced war or genocide, it feels disrespectful to do so. In her Author's Note, Kristin Hannah writes about how The Nightingale came to light, the accounts she read, those she met, who gave their personal accounts. I was happy to read this note, even wished it was placed at the beginning of the book. This, to me, gives validity, gives truth to the story. This is the beautiful ribbon of truth that holds all things together, not only connecting the first and last sentence and everything in-between, but our hearts as well.
Even in fiction, truth matters. Why? Because in the end, when all the lives that lived to tell are gone, when all that is left is what is written, recorded, and remembered, it is all we have left.
My first to read of Hannah's repertoire, The Nightingale, is a novel now placed upon my permanent shelf.
January 31, 2019
Excerpt from Nadia Knows by Rebecca Moll
"It was a good place to start.
And it was just the beginning."
Just like life, a good story must start somewhere, "In the beginning..."
Where does Nadia start? What does Nadia Know? To find out, Download your copy today. Available in paperback and e-book format.
https://www.amazon.com/Rebecca-Moll/e...
And it was just the beginning."
Just like life, a good story must start somewhere, "In the beginning..."
Where does Nadia start? What does Nadia Know? To find out, Download your copy today. Available in paperback and e-book format.
https://www.amazon.com/Rebecca-Moll/e...
January 20, 2019
Poetry to Ponder by Rebecca Moll
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
"A Psalm of Life"
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
"A Psalm of Life"
Quotable Quotes by Rebecca Moll
"Every poet is a mystic; otherwise he is not a poet, only rhymster."
~Sandor Marai, Memoir of Hungary 1944-1948
~Sandor Marai, Memoir of Hungary 1944-1948
Words Worth Their Weight by Rebecca Moll
"Only truth can be revolutionary." ~Ernest Renan
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernes...
Ernest Renan. Joseph Ernest Renan (French: [ʁənɑ̃]; 28 February 1823 – 2 October 1892) was a French expert of Semitic languages and civilizations (philology), philosopher, biblical scholar and critic, historian of religion, and writer, devoted to his native province of Brittany.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernes...
Ernest Renan. Joseph Ernest Renan (French: [ʁənɑ̃]; 28 February 1823 – 2 October 1892) was a French expert of Semitic languages and civilizations (philology), philosopher, biblical scholar and critic, historian of religion, and writer, devoted to his native province of Brittany.
