Rebecca Moll's Blog, page 6

The Tea Rose by Jennifer Donnelly, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

If you like protagonists to cheer and antagonists to fear, settings that sweep cross continents, take you back in time, then The Tea Rose by Jennifer Donnelly is a novel for you.

From the old world struggles of London's East End to the rush and bust of late 19th century America, follow Fiona from poverty to fortune, love to loss, obscurity to fame.

Donnelly's characters come to life with a wicked humor, bawdy and blunt. Details root the story, everything from period costume and décor to champagne, beer and tea. The plot thickens and the story deepens. Pages fly, some more than others, depending on your taste for details, details best left to your imagination and, hopefully, not your teenage daughter's.

A big book, but an easy read, compelling story line and characters you'll love to love and love to hate.
An epic English love story.

What more could you want from Old Blighty?
A little Jack?
A little rip up the back?

Donnelly delivers on that score and more.
Tea time, you old shoe.
What are you waiting for?

Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

Every now and then a book lands in my lap that strikes a chord of truth.

Every now and then a book lands in my lap written by a true story teller.

Beginning as seamlessly as it ends, expertly crafted, passionately created, characters so real you imagine them friends and neighbors, a true story teller gives you a gift with ease and grace, just like you sat down for a good porch rocking.

Before We Were Yours strikes a chord of truth: "No one life is worth more than another."

Lisa Wingate is a true story teller. Get ready for some good rocking.

This pairing of truth and grace has you rooted page after page, your mind stalling at the thought of children as chattel. Your heart breaks for Rill, Fern, Lark, Camelia, and Gabion, the cruelty and abuse they endured, their unimaginable losses. Your ire rises at the indifference and pure meanness of Georgia Tann and the Tennessee Children's Home Society.

Told through eyes of past and present generations, the unearthing of these horrors present day speaks to wrongs that cannot, nor will ever be, righted and a sense that this is hard packed dirt, this unearthing barely scratching the surface.

Questions mount like nameless, faceless lost children. How many children? Is this still happening in our world today? How could someone who looks like your grandmother be the queen of such evil? How could so many turn a blind eye?

Georgia Tann went to her grave with her secrets. Still, we fathom answers.
Money...Power...Possession...come to mind. But these are just manifestations of a wronging of the truth that,

"No one life is worth more than another."

Every soul has equal value, no matter what. Swallow that and keep rocking.

Georgia Tann believed poor parents were of less value than rich parents, children with blonde hair more valuable, and some children of such little value, they were left to die. To even place a dollar value to a child...

Lisa Wingate wakes you up, invites you to the porch, coffee as you please, settles you in your rocker, and gets you moving. Before you even realize it, you've been out there for hours. Its a nice chair and the sun is at high noon. Smooth rocking turns the pages as Avery and Trent unearth a past that Grandma Judy can't and May fears, a search that leads to new directions for both young and old. And, back and forth you rock. As you turn the last page, a golden sun sinks in the distance, heavy with the sins of the past, a slight ting of orange, the hope of humanity, and the belief that,

"No one life is worth more than another."

Rock-a-bye, Rock-a-bye.

Many a Morn off I go by Rebecca Moll

Many a morn off I go,
Seeking the sun,
Seeking the know.

I turn the corner and head uphill,
Feet to pavement,
Eyes fulfilled.

A glorious day,
Worthy to greet,
Fortune and blessings,
My heart does beat.

Yet, I yearn for more,
Of answers to score,
Why and how,
If and when,
Mysteries of life,
I do not ken.

Through the path that John hath made,
With nature's help,
And verdant shade,
I crest a view, worthy, too.

Familiar faces do I meet,
They turn my way and say,
"Come hither, come ho,
Enjoy the show -
Behold, the dawn of day."

Lazy daisy and Columbine
Apple blossom, little white pine.
Morning fog rolling low,
Pulling skies of blue in tow.

Rabbit tails, sliding snakes,
Plopping frogs, turtle wakes.
Songs of birds within the brush,
Scuttle, scuffle, rush-a-hush,
Cheery-chirp, cheery chirp, and off they go,
I wonder –
Do they know?

I glean their faces, heed their calls,
For answers large and small,
They smile and greet along the way,
As if to say, not today, not today,
And off with ye you go!

Honeysuckle overhead,
Bush o’ berries’ thorny bed,
Rain drops fall upon my wake,
Morning dew, shimmers, shakes.

Dirt road down,
Sleeping stones,
‘Neath those brethren arms,
Lives forgotten,
Bye and bye,
Bye and bye,
Oh, ancient cairns.

Right at the road - a mile to go,
No wiser,
no more I ken,
A wave to my good friend,
She would understand,
For why and how and when.

Still the pond,
Ripple the lake,
Soar the hawk,
On the take.
A kit, a foul, goslings three,
Too young to seek life's mysteries.

Sun breaks forth above the trees,
Fog disappears on the lee.
I wonder again,
At journeys near end,
Perhaps tomorrow?
Perhaps then?

Some seek the mountains,
Some the sky,
Some the rivers flowing by,
For me the answers must be below,
Where life begins and ends the show.

Yet I suspect the curtain drawn,
Veils a show for another's morn,
All creation large and small,
Ticketed, seated, in hallowed halls.

Up the driveway there I go,
The sun a full bull score,
My home, my hearth, my true love yore,
Forevermore, forevermore.

Adieu, adieu to you and you,
And you and you, and you,
Till tomorrow my good friends,
Till tomorrow, until then,
Till tomorrow, if and when.



R.Moll 6-26-21

Postcards from the Past by Marcia Willett, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

A lovely story, setting, and scene. Characters you wish for neighbors and friends, their lives rooted in the beautiful, Cornwall countryside and sea. Gardens with rambling green and splashes of yellow, cornflower blue crockery atop stalwart walnut tabletops, and the trust and love of some very special four-legged friends.

A visitor from the past sets the cast a-kilter, resurfacing troubles of youth that appear different to their wiser minds. Old reckonings left adrift remind as their hearts wish for a simpler score.

Trish, the teenage step-brother with a wicked side returns with the bite of the past. Loose ends dangle intermingling the past and present.

The young seek the passions of love, while those at the sunset of life, contentment, in a charming story about life, it's storms and splendor, painted in prose, like Postcards from the Past.

A Good American Family by David Maraniss, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

Told with honesty, a generation removed objectivity, and the skill of a consummate journalist, this story paints a portrait of A Good American Family.

Time and place weight equally in this account of a family's love for each other and their country, the trials and tragedies that ensue, the spirit that pervades, and the defining moments that give rise to understanding of what it means to be American.

Post WWII, Spanish Civil War, Red Scare 1950s, Conservative Midwestern America, Racially Divided South, Progressive and Liberal North. Time and place texture a turgid landscape that mires and mucks the right to free speech, right to ideals, right to organize, labor, and democracy, rights we may find hard to believe so challenged. By the very government founded upon those very ideals - liberty and freedom for all.

In the foreground is Elliot Maraniss, newspaperman Ace, soldier, baseball fanatic, father, husband, grandfather.

Look closely and you'll see the colors shift. Turn the page and watch the painting come to life, the pivotal moments spiraling, like spokes of a wheel, the hub, room 740 Federal Courthouse, Detroit, 1952, Elliot Maraniss-forced to testify, refused his statement, blacklisted, spied, followed, investigated, and painted Red with fear and drama.

Rooted in reality, this account, although unsettling to our picture perfect patriotic pride, paints a canvass worth remembering. At times, we are our own worst enemy.

What does it mean to be an American? To be A Good American Family? One man's story, David gives a compelling and thought provoking account, love and pride for his father, family and country inked in every letter.

Hung upon the wall, how does your past paint your future? Do the colors bring to life what it means to be you?

Take your time and observe. Step back and take stock. There at the edges, where the frame defines and the colors bleed, what do you see? Could it be you? Shaded and faded in red, white, and blue?

Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands, by Chris Bohalian, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

From page one, voice is power in this strong and compelling novel about tragedy, loss, and redemption. Although print to page, the tone comes through loud and clear. Emily Shepherd is speaking to you, full volume, no holding back.

She is the teenage daughter expertly skilled in finding your last nerve.

Attitude, retrospect, even humor are front and center, as Emily Shephard shifts through the wreckage of her life and the world around her, reconciling loss, confidence, relationships, identity, and self-worth. The telling of her story is equally a part of her journey as the events themselves. She doesn't invite you as much as capture you, imprison you, dare you not to follow.

And listen you will. Sorrowful at times, painfully possible, this fictional tale of disaster and the ensuing fall-out hits home closer than comfortable. But, read on you will, struggle you will, right alongside this fierce teenage girl.

And when words fail, Emily Dickenson fills the void:

"Life, Death, and Giants..."

"Remembrance has a rear, and front -"

If you prefer powerful books that leave a mark, imprint upon your thoughts and dreams, then this is one for your book shelf. Save it until you're ready and when you do turn to page one, remember Emily is there, right there beside you, every step of the way.

Still not sure? Just Close your Eyes, Hold Hands.

An Invisible Thread by Laura Schroff, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

Chance encounters. Unexpected detours. Opportunities. Invisible threads. Every second of every day.

It's not if, but when. And then, what. What to you do when faced with a new road, a new encounter, especially when risk and reward are not necessarily in your favor?

Laura Schroff almost walked away. But then, she stopped and turned around.

Laura & Maurice. Two strangers in New York City. A well to-do professional and a poor little boy asking for money. A chance encounter. One never fathomed, never believed possible.

A story of compassion, love and hope. No fairy tale, there are ups and downs, heartbreak for both, and in the end and understanding that it is the invisible threads that bind us that lead us to grace.

For at both ends of the thread there must be a knot. A tethering. A promise and the commitment to keep that promise.

A lovely story that has inspired many. I would like to think I would have stopped, but how many times have I kept on walking?

Every second. Every day. Chance encounters. Invisible threads. Amazing possibilities. All we can do is stop, feel the threads and tie the knot.

Your Inner Fish: A Journey Into the 3.5-Billion-Year History of the Human Body by Neil Shubin, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

Your inner Fish, A journey into the 3.5 Billion year History of the Human Body. Wow. I'm still trying to fathom the 3.5 billion years, let alone the human body and its evolutionary past.

Big stuff. Talk about mega data.

We are literally future fossils, just one piece in the continuum - the rise of our species, heck, the rise of living things, considering who knows what we will evolve to be in the future - a new species? Hard to imagine.

But, what does this mean to us? How do the secrets of our deep evolutionary past and their unavailing impact our lives and the understanding of the world around us today? How does it integrate with our beliefs, our self-image, our very soul? Does it integrate?

For starters, connections. Just the complexity, the adaptations, adverse selections, all the steps along the way, imprinted into our DNA is enough realize, we live in a very highly organized physical world. To me, this intricate and complex web of connections suggests a hand at the helm, a creator, who is probably amused by our feeble attempts to understand.

I've heard He has a sense of humor.

Some propose that evolution defies belief in a creator. I suggest HE is chuckling this very moment. Who knows when He breathed a soul into the living things He created?
For me there is beauty in all creations, all the connections, adaptations, adverse selections, right down to the DNA nucleotides that spiral within our body's microscopic cosmos.

And as for my inner fish, well, I see it paired with loaves, on a beach by the Sea, a crowd of hungry people... Just one of many possibilities. I believe He loves us all, regardless our beliefs and I respect all faiths rooted in love.

How about your inner fish?

If you like books that leave you with questions, have you drawing parallel lines in your mega data brain, digging deep in revealing new understandings, then Your Inner Fish is a good one for you. A book well worth the read, regardless of your educational background. Just remember, as you turn the pages and find yourself understanding more and more, increasing in knowledge and self confidence, remember somewhere, someplace in or beyond this great universe, there is laughter. :)

Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion by Gregory Boyle, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

Never thought I'd get a tattoo, but I'm pretty sure that's what happened here...what I welcomed as I turned the pages of G-dog's heart-rendering and at the same time inspiring, true-life stories that permanently has altered the artwork of my heart.

At times, down-right hilarious and comedic, Father Boyle's stories bring his own humorous perspective that shines God's light on the fearsome and loathed gangbangers of LA with the message that God loves all of us and that no life is more worthy than another. Not even one. None. Zero. Zilch.

There are so many take-aways in this book and many, unique to the reader, that I will mention only one:

"Kinship is not serving the other, but being with the other."

Most volunteering is objective based; results driven. I am objective based and results driven, as I imagine are most Americans. Yet, as I reflect on my past involvement, the most meaningful outcomes have been where I just "spent time with" seniors delivering Meals on Wheels or visiting nursing homes or spending time with young adults through school and church activities. Could this be the mysteries of love? The work of the Holy Spirit? Call it what you will, this silent, backdoor, almost insidious way of reaching others goes both ways and in going both ways, a double bond is formed, strong, covalent, life-changing. Watch the ink dry and your heart take on new vistas.

Tattoos on the Heart offers up the power of boundless compassion. Enter at your own risk. You, too, may join the indigo adorned crowd. Just remember, no two tattoos are alike. Neither are two hearts.

The mysteries of love.

What's the art on your heart?

Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

"If the beating heart is pure theater, a playful, moody, extroverted organ cavorting in the chest, then the liver, sitting under the diaphragm is a figurative painting, a stolid and silent."

One of the million reasons I love this book, the beautiful and oh, so on-the-spot imagery, the metaphors that stop you in your tracks and add new dimension to understanding.

This is my second reading of Cutting for Stone, one I waited for with relish, patiently leaving ten years in-between. A natural storyteller, Abraham Verghese weaves a wonderful and lasting story between, within, and a part of two twin brothers, conjoined at birth - ShivaMarion. Told in first person, Marion roots the reader like a willow without water, his voice searching, reaching, grabbing for that elixir of life, what we all want - love and happiness.

If you love stories that bring characters to life, make you laugh and cry, cheer and jeer, and wish for more, much more than the 658 pages you have turned, then this is a story for you.

Cutting for Stone is one I will hold upon my permanent shelves.