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This is the story of two unlikely dreamers: Sam, a man who wakes up one day to find himself growing wings, and Lilah, a woman who has lost her brother to the streets of Vancouver. Sam finds himself falling away from the world as he grows feathers from his back, while Lilah makes her own subtle and terrifying transformation as she seeks sexual penance under the harsh hand of her boss. Sam and Lilah fall deeper into their separate spiritual paths, and the two hurtle closer and closer to a dark, unknown destiny, one that changes all that they know about life and pain, love and God, and how to find light in the most unforeseen places. Re-examining the traditional roles of priest and prophet, damned and divine, and creating something monstrous and exquisite, this well-crafted novel investigates the so-called truths behind religion and explores the intersection of pleasure and pain.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2013
3 people are currently reading
410 people want to read
About the author
Amanda Leduc
13 books225 followersAmanda Leduc is the author of the novels WILD LIFE (Random House Canada, 2025), THE CENTAUR'S WIFE (Random House Canada, 2021) and the non-fiction book DISFIGURED: ON FAIRY TALES, DISABILITY, AND MAKING SPACE (Coach House Books, 2020), which was shortlisted for the 2020 Governor General’s Award in Nonfiction and longlisted for the 2020 Barbellion Prize. She is also the author of an earlier novel, THE MIRACLES OF ORDINARY MEN (ECW Press, 2013). She has cerebral palsy and lives in Hamilton, Ontario, with a very lovable dog named Sitka, who once literally tore apart and then peed on a manuscript. Because everyone's a critic, it seems.
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June 7, 2013
What would you think if one day you sprouted wings? Despite the fact that an unmanageable wingspan of at least 300 feet would be necessary to support human weight and the musculature just isn't there, surely the first thought would be, "Wings? Maybe I can fly!" But author Amanda Leduc's winged characters never so much as jump, feathers flapping, off a picnic table, which may be the point of this patchy and frustrating but nonetheless intriguing novel. Or something else may be the point. It's one of those books in which the reader is pretty much forced to manufacture a point, and those are the most fun.
MIRACLES OF ORDINARY MEN opens with its single miracle - the reanimation of his dead cat, Chickenhead, by English instructor Sam, shortly after awakening one morning with wings growing from his back. The wings, invisible to almost everybody except the cat, a couple of priests and one of his students, are an unbearable existential burden to Sam, who is still a wreck after the demise of a love affair with a woman who is now in a relationship with a Buddhist. (Since the novel's point of view reflects the author's now-jettisoned Roman Catholic background, all theological references are possibly significant, or not.) Sam's doctor sees only scars where the wings erupt from his back, and in desperation Sam seeks out the alcoholic priest of his student days, Father Jim, who sounds more like a wise old rabbi than a Catholic priest. If there is a hero in this tale, it's Father Jim, who doesn't even pretend to understand or interpret anything, but stays close beside Sam to the (maddeningly ambiguous) end.
Sam and his cohorts vaguely address the issue of "angels," seeming to have no other interpretation for winged humans, but the discourse goes nowhere. If Sam has become an angel, the experience is akin to botched chemotherapy by an incompetent doctor. Sam's hair falls out; eventually his penis disappears; even his wings decay and trail ash from their tips. He's miserable, demented, lost. Perhaps this is the imagined fate of 20 million kitschy little ceramic "angels" currently obscuring a complex theological concept? Or maybe the natural fate of one who has inadvertently stepped over the forbidden line, as Sam did when he brought his cat back to life? There is no explanation, but clearly angelhood should be avoided like the plague.
A second story comprises nearly half the book, involving the apparently guilt-ridden life of Lilah, who has the traditionally fraught relationship with her (dying) mother. Lilah (really Delilah - almost all the characters have biblical names) has misspent her youth in a series of sleazy relationships with men in demimonde world ports, now works in an office and spends all her free time searching the streets of Vancouver for her 17-year-old brother Timothy, who appears to be suffering from a tragically serious psychiatric disorder. Timothy moves about incessantly and sleeps on grates, but Lilah always finds him, bringing bags of junk food, trying to keep him alive. But when Lilah willingly becomes the bludgeoned sexual victim of her boss Israel, the handsome and impossibly wealthy lover a la 50 SHADES, in an SM affair that's sickening to read, the plot thickens. Because it becomes clear that Israel is using Lilah to find Timothy. We don't know why, only that Israel's nature is horrific and the pathetically innocent Timothy will perish hideously if Israel finds him. (Israel's chauffeur and silently devoted dogsbody is named Emmanuel, so you see what I mean about the names.)
Books that discuss "God" on every page and books that extoll the spiritual ecstasies inherent in men beating women to a pulp are books that I don't read. Curiously, this book does both and the fact that I actually kept reading is a tribute to Leduc's impressive gifts as a writer. Her prose is lyrical, seductive and courageous, opening doors to very dark (and very common although cheerily ignored) places. There is evil (Israel), and its motives are incomprehensible. (I would rank Lilah's willing subjugation to his brutality as necessary to it and therefore equally evil.) There are inexplicable events, "miracles," too. Always ephemeral and intensely personal, they happen. Sam's wings and resurrected cat are facts, to Sam and the few whose sensitivities interface with his. That Sam and the other characters attribute such events to a god whose purposes are, at best, terrible, is interesting theology. Not fuzzy-wonderful and sweet, but poetic, revealing and honest.
There are way too many dream sequences in a book that is already a dream, and of course the two story lines must join, Sam and Lilah must intersect, and they do. The conjunction seems to have been forced by an author who by then realized that that's not where their stories wanted to go, but made them go there anyway. It doesn't really matter, because the teeth-gritting, page-turning urgency of the narrative has nothing to do with the intersection of Sam and Lilah, but with a deep and oh-so-familiar hunger for answers that make sense of the shadow, the mystery, the uncanny. That Leduc provides no answers rouses at once a shiver of disappointment and a broad smile of recognition. We knew all along that there were no answers, but we definitely enjoyed the elegance of the questions!
Highly recommended for book groups because it's impossible not to want to discuss every compellingly ambiguous aspect of this peculiar and engrossing tale.
MIRACLES OF ORDINARY MEN opens with its single miracle - the reanimation of his dead cat, Chickenhead, by English instructor Sam, shortly after awakening one morning with wings growing from his back. The wings, invisible to almost everybody except the cat, a couple of priests and one of his students, are an unbearable existential burden to Sam, who is still a wreck after the demise of a love affair with a woman who is now in a relationship with a Buddhist. (Since the novel's point of view reflects the author's now-jettisoned Roman Catholic background, all theological references are possibly significant, or not.) Sam's doctor sees only scars where the wings erupt from his back, and in desperation Sam seeks out the alcoholic priest of his student days, Father Jim, who sounds more like a wise old rabbi than a Catholic priest. If there is a hero in this tale, it's Father Jim, who doesn't even pretend to understand or interpret anything, but stays close beside Sam to the (maddeningly ambiguous) end.
Sam and his cohorts vaguely address the issue of "angels," seeming to have no other interpretation for winged humans, but the discourse goes nowhere. If Sam has become an angel, the experience is akin to botched chemotherapy by an incompetent doctor. Sam's hair falls out; eventually his penis disappears; even his wings decay and trail ash from their tips. He's miserable, demented, lost. Perhaps this is the imagined fate of 20 million kitschy little ceramic "angels" currently obscuring a complex theological concept? Or maybe the natural fate of one who has inadvertently stepped over the forbidden line, as Sam did when he brought his cat back to life? There is no explanation, but clearly angelhood should be avoided like the plague.
A second story comprises nearly half the book, involving the apparently guilt-ridden life of Lilah, who has the traditionally fraught relationship with her (dying) mother. Lilah (really Delilah - almost all the characters have biblical names) has misspent her youth in a series of sleazy relationships with men in demimonde world ports, now works in an office and spends all her free time searching the streets of Vancouver for her 17-year-old brother Timothy, who appears to be suffering from a tragically serious psychiatric disorder. Timothy moves about incessantly and sleeps on grates, but Lilah always finds him, bringing bags of junk food, trying to keep him alive. But when Lilah willingly becomes the bludgeoned sexual victim of her boss Israel, the handsome and impossibly wealthy lover a la 50 SHADES, in an SM affair that's sickening to read, the plot thickens. Because it becomes clear that Israel is using Lilah to find Timothy. We don't know why, only that Israel's nature is horrific and the pathetically innocent Timothy will perish hideously if Israel finds him. (Israel's chauffeur and silently devoted dogsbody is named Emmanuel, so you see what I mean about the names.)
Books that discuss "God" on every page and books that extoll the spiritual ecstasies inherent in men beating women to a pulp are books that I don't read. Curiously, this book does both and the fact that I actually kept reading is a tribute to Leduc's impressive gifts as a writer. Her prose is lyrical, seductive and courageous, opening doors to very dark (and very common although cheerily ignored) places. There is evil (Israel), and its motives are incomprehensible. (I would rank Lilah's willing subjugation to his brutality as necessary to it and therefore equally evil.) There are inexplicable events, "miracles," too. Always ephemeral and intensely personal, they happen. Sam's wings and resurrected cat are facts, to Sam and the few whose sensitivities interface with his. That Sam and the other characters attribute such events to a god whose purposes are, at best, terrible, is interesting theology. Not fuzzy-wonderful and sweet, but poetic, revealing and honest.
There are way too many dream sequences in a book that is already a dream, and of course the two story lines must join, Sam and Lilah must intersect, and they do. The conjunction seems to have been forced by an author who by then realized that that's not where their stories wanted to go, but made them go there anyway. It doesn't really matter, because the teeth-gritting, page-turning urgency of the narrative has nothing to do with the intersection of Sam and Lilah, but with a deep and oh-so-familiar hunger for answers that make sense of the shadow, the mystery, the uncanny. That Leduc provides no answers rouses at once a shiver of disappointment and a broad smile of recognition. We knew all along that there were no answers, but we definitely enjoyed the elegance of the questions!
Highly recommended for book groups because it's impossible not to want to discuss every compellingly ambiguous aspect of this peculiar and engrossing tale.
July 15, 2013
Sometimes you pick something up without knowing much about it, and this is the case here. I will however tell you right away (in the interests of transparency) that I have a nodding Twitter acquaintance with Ms Leduc, who lives in my city. Local literary circles are really not that big, and you kinda get to know who the players are.
So based on that, and the fact that I like supporting local artists (can't let you NYers have all the fun of discovering the hot new talent), I picked up "The Miracles of Ordinary Men". A local writer, from a local publisher, in a local independently owned bookshop.
It's not my usual thing. I don't care for overt christian symbolism in my fiction. Dual narratives I'm on record for being whiny about. I could give you a fistful of reasons why I shouldn't have liked this novel.
And yet, I did.
Leduc's prose flows like a summertime creek, burbling along, in no hurry to get where it's going. The dialog is realistic and most of her characters are anchored and believable, a must for a piece like this, which is so open and airy that only the characters themselves give it weight.
We explore redemption in this thought-provoking piece, as the characters struggle with both becoming and unbecoming, with life, death, and metamorphosis. The author also manages to keep a curtain drawn on her personal beliefs, remaining ambiguous right to the last word. We are left knowing change has happened, but it is modestly left to the reader to decide where we have gone.
All in all it's a worthwhile read, but with some warnings. There is violence used in a sexual context, which may be upsetting to some readers, for various reasons. And the entire work is built on a framework of christian symbolism, so those who are uncomfortable with that will probably not find this enjoyable. Those who enjoy philosophy, armchair musing on the nature of mankind, or christian themes (minus the dogma) will find a rich platter of food for thought in this novel.
So based on that, and the fact that I like supporting local artists (can't let you NYers have all the fun of discovering the hot new talent), I picked up "The Miracles of Ordinary Men". A local writer, from a local publisher, in a local independently owned bookshop.
It's not my usual thing. I don't care for overt christian symbolism in my fiction. Dual narratives I'm on record for being whiny about. I could give you a fistful of reasons why I shouldn't have liked this novel.
And yet, I did.
Leduc's prose flows like a summertime creek, burbling along, in no hurry to get where it's going. The dialog is realistic and most of her characters are anchored and believable, a must for a piece like this, which is so open and airy that only the characters themselves give it weight.
We explore redemption in this thought-provoking piece, as the characters struggle with both becoming and unbecoming, with life, death, and metamorphosis. The author also manages to keep a curtain drawn on her personal beliefs, remaining ambiguous right to the last word. We are left knowing change has happened, but it is modestly left to the reader to decide where we have gone.
All in all it's a worthwhile read, but with some warnings. There is violence used in a sexual context, which may be upsetting to some readers, for various reasons. And the entire work is built on a framework of christian symbolism, so those who are uncomfortable with that will probably not find this enjoyable. Those who enjoy philosophy, armchair musing on the nature of mankind, or christian themes (minus the dogma) will find a rich platter of food for thought in this novel.
August 11, 2016
The Miracles of Ordinary Men begins with a feline resurrection. Sam Connor's cat is crushed by a truck. He puts his hands on his pet, and in a rush of heat, it comes back to life. The cat's name is Chickenhead and it's a miracle. How can you not read on?
The story (sort of) begins when Sam Connor wakes up one morning to find that he is growing wings. Not fairy wings, but angel wings. Like Kafka’s Gregor Samsa, Sam is changing. Unlike Gregor, his physical changes are invisible to all but three people: Emma, one of his students, and two Catholic priests. Oh, and Chickenhead sees the wings too. Sam isn’t special; he’s just a guy with a failed relationship, a job teaching high school English, and he's not terribly close to his mother. And although he thinks about God a lot, he doesn’t believe in God anymore. But now he’s growing wings and his touch can bring back the dead.
Then there’s Delilah Greene, who prefers being called Lilah. She toils at a boring office job and during her free time roams the streets of Vancouver to search for her younger brother Timothy, who has chosen to be homeless and refuses to seek help. When she finds him, Timothy sometimes will share her lunch and talk to her, but any sign that she wants to bring him back to a normal life makes him bolt. Lilah goes on a dinner date with her boss, Israel, and in doing so, enters willingly into a violent, controlling relationship.
When Sam and Lilah’s lives finally cross, it’s through Timothy, whose true affliction comes to light.
Infused with disturbingly brutal physical and emotional pain, Leduc’s prose pried me out of my comfort zone to face dirty back alleys where Lilah hunts for her brother, hospital rooms where she tries to do the right thing for her dying mother, and the realization that she may never escape from Israel. There is a growing fear in her that wonders if Israel is somehow able to remove people from her life so that she has nothing left to hold her to this world. She fears for Timothy.
Wings are no picnic it turns out. Leduc is wryly practical when it comes to Sam’s transformation. How can he sleep comfortably with wings? Or wear ordinary clothes? The wings get tangled in bed sheets, and Sam has to rip holes in the backs of his shirts to accommodate them. He has to arrange his wings when he gets in his car. Sam’s transformation is painful, anything but angelic. His hair is falling out, so are his fingernails, and the wings seem to be draining his energy as they grow. When Sam’s mother dies, he takes a road trip to fetch the family’s old priest, Father Jim, for the funeral service. On the drive back, his car hits and wounds a deer. But when Sam lays his hands on the deer, instead of healing it dies immediately.
The question ‘why?’ reverberates through the pages; it cycles through conversations between Sam and Father Jim, Lilah and her brother, Lilah and Israel. It’s an ongoing discussion that threads its way into every chapter. Both Sam and Lilah are seeking answers. Are their fates already decided or is there still room for making the right choices? And what would those choices be? Father Jim can only say there’s no point in asking him what to do when it’s Sam who is experiencing the miracle.
This novel straddles territory between magical realism, urban fantasy, and spiritual debate. I found this a dark, unnerving, uneven, and beautiful book. It’s a read that pulls you in immediately, but it’s also frustrating, not straightforward or easy. Nor should it be, with the questions it poses about fate and free will, destiny and self-determinism, good and evil. God or no God. There are no absolute answers in this novel -- or in life.
What I Learned About Writing from Reading this Book
I love the way Amanda Leduc constructs an extended metaphor that is so obvious, and then hides it in plain sight by writing around it and about it, diverting my attention and keeping me so busy thinking about other events that only after I finish reading and have time to reflect does it smack me on the head.
Those wings. Never mind why Sam is growing wings, what do they mean?
The first (and obvious) comparison is to Metamorphosis, but unlike Kafka’s story, this book does not dwell on those who can see the transformation and how they in turn are transformed in their behaviour and thinking. The wings and their difficulties are all about Sam.
If angels represent a state of grace, then according to Leduc, the road to that state of grace is full of torment. Think of all the saints who were mocked, scorned, and martyred. Think of the self-inflicted suffering of hair shirts and self-flagellation. Think of the loneliness and the isolation of holy hermits, the doubts they must’ve suffered. Sam’s young student Emma, who wants the wings to be a miracle, finally understands what an ordeal they are, not some lovely comfortable uplifting into clouds and light.
OK, I am not the most perceptive reader sometimes. I’m sure others would’ve figured it out before reaching the end, but Leduc’s story had me totally distracted and I did not even ask myself that question until it was over. And finally when I did – the impact was stronger than if I had spotted the metaphor right away.
Whether this was the author’s plan or just a consequence of her skilled prose, I am going to keep this in mind: if an extended metaphor is in danger of being heavy-handed, you can write to distract. Just hope I manage to pull it off.
The story (sort of) begins when Sam Connor wakes up one morning to find that he is growing wings. Not fairy wings, but angel wings. Like Kafka’s Gregor Samsa, Sam is changing. Unlike Gregor, his physical changes are invisible to all but three people: Emma, one of his students, and two Catholic priests. Oh, and Chickenhead sees the wings too. Sam isn’t special; he’s just a guy with a failed relationship, a job teaching high school English, and he's not terribly close to his mother. And although he thinks about God a lot, he doesn’t believe in God anymore. But now he’s growing wings and his touch can bring back the dead.
Then there’s Delilah Greene, who prefers being called Lilah. She toils at a boring office job and during her free time roams the streets of Vancouver to search for her younger brother Timothy, who has chosen to be homeless and refuses to seek help. When she finds him, Timothy sometimes will share her lunch and talk to her, but any sign that she wants to bring him back to a normal life makes him bolt. Lilah goes on a dinner date with her boss, Israel, and in doing so, enters willingly into a violent, controlling relationship.
When Sam and Lilah’s lives finally cross, it’s through Timothy, whose true affliction comes to light.
Infused with disturbingly brutal physical and emotional pain, Leduc’s prose pried me out of my comfort zone to face dirty back alleys where Lilah hunts for her brother, hospital rooms where she tries to do the right thing for her dying mother, and the realization that she may never escape from Israel. There is a growing fear in her that wonders if Israel is somehow able to remove people from her life so that she has nothing left to hold her to this world. She fears for Timothy.
Wings are no picnic it turns out. Leduc is wryly practical when it comes to Sam’s transformation. How can he sleep comfortably with wings? Or wear ordinary clothes? The wings get tangled in bed sheets, and Sam has to rip holes in the backs of his shirts to accommodate them. He has to arrange his wings when he gets in his car. Sam’s transformation is painful, anything but angelic. His hair is falling out, so are his fingernails, and the wings seem to be draining his energy as they grow. When Sam’s mother dies, he takes a road trip to fetch the family’s old priest, Father Jim, for the funeral service. On the drive back, his car hits and wounds a deer. But when Sam lays his hands on the deer, instead of healing it dies immediately.
The question ‘why?’ reverberates through the pages; it cycles through conversations between Sam and Father Jim, Lilah and her brother, Lilah and Israel. It’s an ongoing discussion that threads its way into every chapter. Both Sam and Lilah are seeking answers. Are their fates already decided or is there still room for making the right choices? And what would those choices be? Father Jim can only say there’s no point in asking him what to do when it’s Sam who is experiencing the miracle.
This novel straddles territory between magical realism, urban fantasy, and spiritual debate. I found this a dark, unnerving, uneven, and beautiful book. It’s a read that pulls you in immediately, but it’s also frustrating, not straightforward or easy. Nor should it be, with the questions it poses about fate and free will, destiny and self-determinism, good and evil. God or no God. There are no absolute answers in this novel -- or in life.
What I Learned About Writing from Reading this Book
I love the way Amanda Leduc constructs an extended metaphor that is so obvious, and then hides it in plain sight by writing around it and about it, diverting my attention and keeping me so busy thinking about other events that only after I finish reading and have time to reflect does it smack me on the head.
Those wings. Never mind why Sam is growing wings, what do they mean?
The first (and obvious) comparison is to Metamorphosis, but unlike Kafka’s story, this book does not dwell on those who can see the transformation and how they in turn are transformed in their behaviour and thinking. The wings and their difficulties are all about Sam.
If angels represent a state of grace, then according to Leduc, the road to that state of grace is full of torment. Think of all the saints who were mocked, scorned, and martyred. Think of the self-inflicted suffering of hair shirts and self-flagellation. Think of the loneliness and the isolation of holy hermits, the doubts they must’ve suffered. Sam’s young student Emma, who wants the wings to be a miracle, finally understands what an ordeal they are, not some lovely comfortable uplifting into clouds and light.
OK, I am not the most perceptive reader sometimes. I’m sure others would’ve figured it out before reaching the end, but Leduc’s story had me totally distracted and I did not even ask myself that question until it was over. And finally when I did – the impact was stronger than if I had spotted the metaphor right away.
Whether this was the author’s plan or just a consequence of her skilled prose, I am going to keep this in mind: if an extended metaphor is in danger of being heavy-handed, you can write to distract. Just hope I manage to pull it off.
August 17, 2013
I read a review of this book in the local newspaper which intrigued me, so I reserved it at the library. For one thing, I love to read new Canadian authors because they often have a perspective which is different from the bestselling international authors.
I thought The Miracles of Ordinary Men had an interesting plot once the entire story was revealed, however the finish didn't satisfy me emotionally as much as many other books have: what impacted me more was the middle of the book where I wanted to jump into the pages and tell one of the main characters to change course--perhaps something that was intended.
The references to Vancouver and area gave the book a feeling of fresh reality since I'm familiar with a number of the landscapes and neighborhoods described, and somehow gave this haunting story additional oomph.
In some ways this novel is not only about good and evil, but about control and letting go, especially within family relationships. The repetition of the phrase throughout the book, "I'm fine" is somehow very haunting. Readers who have familiarity with religion and especially the Catholic church will probably more than I did, since priests, the church and related symbols figure prominently in this story, even though it keeps these references very down to earth.
The reasons I enjoyed this book were its good pace, extremely well shaped characters, and the mixture of mystery and foreboding which pervades the pages. Perhaps it's me but the final pages of this book seemed hard to reach beyond an end to a mission which seemed too obvious, and I felt that a slightly less enigmatic finish would have served this book well.
Nevertheless, Amanda Leduc has a strong voice and I'll be watching for what comes next. This novel has a power which shouldn't be minimized and I would recommend a read.
I thought The Miracles of Ordinary Men had an interesting plot once the entire story was revealed, however the finish didn't satisfy me emotionally as much as many other books have: what impacted me more was the middle of the book where I wanted to jump into the pages and tell one of the main characters to change course--perhaps something that was intended.
The references to Vancouver and area gave the book a feeling of fresh reality since I'm familiar with a number of the landscapes and neighborhoods described, and somehow gave this haunting story additional oomph.
In some ways this novel is not only about good and evil, but about control and letting go, especially within family relationships. The repetition of the phrase throughout the book, "I'm fine" is somehow very haunting. Readers who have familiarity with religion and especially the Catholic church will probably more than I did, since priests, the church and related symbols figure prominently in this story, even though it keeps these references very down to earth.
The reasons I enjoyed this book were its good pace, extremely well shaped characters, and the mixture of mystery and foreboding which pervades the pages. Perhaps it's me but the final pages of this book seemed hard to reach beyond an end to a mission which seemed too obvious, and I felt that a slightly less enigmatic finish would have served this book well.
Nevertheless, Amanda Leduc has a strong voice and I'll be watching for what comes next. This novel has a power which shouldn't be minimized and I would recommend a read.
Read
June 27, 2013This book is tough to rate in terms of stars so I will decline--it's beautifully written and full of heart and warmth. The questions provoked in the reader are worth asking. But I found the relationship between two of the main characters too dark and too brutal to enjoy. I found myself wincing at Lila's language (although it's true to her character and the other characters are always nagging her about it) because I listened to it on audible. Reading it inside my head might have been easier to filter. And for those two reasons, I would hesitate to recommend it. Mind you, most of my reading friends are tougher than I am!
But aside from my own personal squeamishness, I must enthusiastically congratulate Amanda (I believe this is her first published novel) on her daring use of magical realism. Bravo! The style is tough to pull off and she does it so convincingly where others often fail. Also, I found so much evidence of kindred spirits in Amanda's choice of references (S. Kierkegaard, Joni Mitchell etc.) I loved loved loved the way questions about God and our place as human beings in the universe were brought up, explored, and left for the reader to ponder. There was transcendence and most important of all in stories: HOPE. I respect that kind of writing. The characters were complex and the plot was unpredictable. The descriptions of Vancouver, Victoria and the road to Tofino made me positively homesick for the West Coast (as I'm from there.) And finally, how could I resist a story in which a cat plays a major role--this is a time honoured tradition among the best writers (Think Timothy Findley, T.S. Eliot, Lewis Carroll.)
I will certainly be keeping an eye out for future novels, Amanda. Thank you very much for this one.
But aside from my own personal squeamishness, I must enthusiastically congratulate Amanda (I believe this is her first published novel) on her daring use of magical realism. Bravo! The style is tough to pull off and she does it so convincingly where others often fail. Also, I found so much evidence of kindred spirits in Amanda's choice of references (S. Kierkegaard, Joni Mitchell etc.) I loved loved loved the way questions about God and our place as human beings in the universe were brought up, explored, and left for the reader to ponder. There was transcendence and most important of all in stories: HOPE. I respect that kind of writing. The characters were complex and the plot was unpredictable. The descriptions of Vancouver, Victoria and the road to Tofino made me positively homesick for the West Coast (as I'm from there.) And finally, how could I resist a story in which a cat plays a major role--this is a time honoured tradition among the best writers (Think Timothy Findley, T.S. Eliot, Lewis Carroll.)
I will certainly be keeping an eye out for future novels, Amanda. Thank you very much for this one.
July 4, 2013
this book starts off strong but about two thirds in it flounders. while the premise is interesting & Timothy & Sam are compelling characters i had compassion for, i didn't find that the character of Delilah added much to the story other than added conflict. she reminded me of Serena Van der Woodsen in Gossip Girl: too passive, rather vacuous, willing to be manipulated, not really taking any responsibility for her own choices. her abusive relationship with Israel is sad & horrible. typical of most mainstream literary portraits of people who are into BDSM, he's a mad man who batters his lovers. what is missing from that portrayal is trust & of course, the safe, sane, consensual guidelines. but in literary fiction BDSM is used to show villainy. he is a character with great potential. i liked the metaphysical musings in the book & the possibilities of the presence of both God & the Devil. this book had many challenges to surmount, the whole concept that people could turn into angels was the most challenging. the author handled that challenge well, but there were problems with both the pacing & the balance of the characters. i liked how the Timothy/Sam storylines fit together, but i knew from the beginning that they would. i found the characters of Father Jim, Julie, Sam's friend etc to be limp & not really adding much to the book. Emma was an intriguing character who was painted well. i had great compassion for her.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 27, 2013
Thank you, dear author, for not feeling compelled to write with neatly tucked corners and a smile face for a period. I enjoyed the development of your angelic character, with the humans as a sub-plot. Your disclosure, uh, cultivation of a horrendously abusive relationship lacked redemption. It, the abusive relationship, became the shadow of your God- character who was cruel and crafty, a jealous lover and stalker. I found the authors ability to unravel her characters a more interesting endeavor than their personhood; commentary on how the accretions of the past make "me" who I think I am. The end left me thinking there will be a sequel and I hope not. it remains more interesting for what is left unsaid -- the God who never saves the day and priests who remain eloquently perplexed and drunk.
July 7, 2013
A quiet, contemplative story about a man who grows wings, that hardly anyone can see, and a woman who long ago lost hope in herself. Chapter by chapter their lives are drawn together towards the ineffable. Amanda Leduc writes with confidence while playing with great themes: angels, salvation, god, damnation, the devil. One of the coolest elements of the story is that it basically takes place in our back-yard: Vancouver, with short trips to the island: Tofino, & Victoria. It's nice to read a novel and know the setting, not only because it's described well, but because you too have been there, stepped on those stones either before or after an angel did. Whether you believe in something greater, god and all his minions, or not this story is of the real human journey: living life, making mistakes, fully tasting the consequences, and beginning again.
July 1, 2013
Among its many bittersweet delights, Amanda Leduc’s The Miracles of Ordinary Men makes me miss Peter Falk. One of Falk’s most unforgettable roles was playing himself – but that self as a lapsed angel – in the haunting 1987 film Wings of Desire. While they take different approaches, both the film and the book turn the tables on a spiritual concept that we perhaps all take for granted: that angels are benevolent celestial beings that look out for us, perhaps intercede between us and our higher being of choice … and are happy to do so, with no troubles, desires, anguish or emotions of their own.
Read my complete review here: http://bookgagabooks.ca/2013/07/01/th...
Read my complete review here: http://bookgagabooks.ca/2013/07/01/th...
May 3, 2018
I read this book because Amanda Leduc lives in my city (Hamilton) and as someone else wrote in a goodreads review, "local literary circles are really not that big, and you kinda get to know who the players are"... and I hope to see Ms. Leduc this weekend at FOLD (the Festival of Literary Diversity - where she works).
Having said all of that, I am not sure I totally grasp all of the higher concepts at play in this book (about redemption and angels and god and pain), and I was a little uncomfortable in some of the scenes of sexual violence (yeah you are supposed to feel uncomfortable in those scenes)... but this author can write! The dialogue, the character development, the story, the descriptions... it is very compelling. I will definitely be looking for this author's upcoming publications. Well done. (And like I said, I am not even going to get into the deeper meanings of things... for now, this is just a great story, imagining the "what if" if you woke up to discover that you have grown wings, that no one else can see....).
Having said all of that, I am not sure I totally grasp all of the higher concepts at play in this book (about redemption and angels and god and pain), and I was a little uncomfortable in some of the scenes of sexual violence (yeah you are supposed to feel uncomfortable in those scenes)... but this author can write! The dialogue, the character development, the story, the descriptions... it is very compelling. I will definitely be looking for this author's upcoming publications. Well done. (And like I said, I am not even going to get into the deeper meanings of things... for now, this is just a great story, imagining the "what if" if you woke up to discover that you have grown wings, that no one else can see....).
May 15, 2025
This was an interesting, but confusing book. I stumbled upon it while looking for another book, and this one showed up as a recommendation based on the book I was searching for. The premise intrigued me...a man wakes up one day and finds he is sprouting wings. I liked the story of Sam and the parallel story of Lilah and Timothy, although Lilah's relationship with Israel was disturbing and creepy. I thought the writing was very good and the story held my interest, but I got to the end and really had no clear idea what had actually happened. I thought the character of Lilah was under-developed...why was she so angry at her mother and life in general? Why was she so lost...traveling abroad for awhile? Timothy and Sam were entirely sympathetic characters, but I was not clear what/who they actually were and what their message was meant to be? Israel made my skin crawl. Although I was intrigued by the first 2/3 of the book, I found it less satisfying toward the end and was left feeling confused about the entire book : (
May 1, 2018
I really enjoyed the beautiful writing style of this author. She writes with a poetic elegance that captures the audiences attention right from the first page. I enjoyed the characters immensely. Sam was relatable and you could not help but like him. Lilah presented as a disturbed soul but you could not help but feel sorry for her. Both characters spoke to me, reminding me that people are complex and you can never really understand a persons history as you can never walk a mile in their shoes. Oh, and I loved the priest. I grew up catholic and this character reminded me of my priest, humorous but also warm, gentle and understanding. I hope Amanda writes another book because she has talent and has captured my attention.
July 29, 2021
A combination of Spider-Man and 50 shades of grey with an attempt at some Catholic/modern philosophy. Also, half of the book is the phrase “I’m fine”. As a story it seems unfinished but I think it unintentionally is a perfect example of where modern literature is in today’s world: opened-minded with an attempt to sink into something solid but instead the brain falls out. Throw in some Catholic-bashing (not all of it, the priest in the story is portrayed very well) and some descriptive rough sex and BAM, a book for 2021.
July 5, 2018
A little on the fence about this ending... it was a great story about the doubts of faith, the belief in faith, and the transformation of two into angels. A bit horrid regarding the dark side of heaven, a hellish being; THE hellish being?? and his treatment of someone he wanted. It was a compelling story nonetheless.
January 11, 2021
3.5 from me. It was very readable and I enjoyed Leduc's facility with language: never overdone, always understated. The story itself is a magical realist fable of good versus evil in a post-modernist world in which absolutes don't exist. So this book isn't for you if you're looking for certainty, or for clear and decisive endings.
July 21, 2022
very confusing, took me a while to finish it. i don’t like multiple povs with two different stories at the same time. however, if that’s your thing, you do you and go right ahead and read it.
i would rate the plot a 2/5 for not being consistent with the other pov, but would rate the language a 3/5. not a totally bad book, was just very hard to get through in my opinion.
i would rate the plot a 2/5 for not being consistent with the other pov, but would rate the language a 3/5. not a totally bad book, was just very hard to get through in my opinion.
December 12, 2018
Touching, heart-breaking, and healing. The story, strong characters, and narrative voice carried me through the novel, and I resented having to put it down to deal with life. Compelling and enriching.
February 22, 2021
At the end, I wanted to give the book a 5* but also a 1* so I gave it a 3*. I like my endings to make sense and this one didn’t for me. The entire book left me wanting to keep reading but also confused and then unhappy with the end.
I clicked on spoilers just in case my review revealed anything.
I clicked on spoilers just in case my review revealed anything.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 16, 2021
Ugh! If the book was just the Sam/ Father Jim/ Timothy storyline I would have given the book 3 stars but the Lilah storyline is just awful. So, so bad
March 15, 2017
It is hard for me to judge this book. Some ideas were interesting, but I have found them terribly long-winded. After couple of first chapters it was just the same things over and over again- wings, Lilah hating her mother (for no apparent reason), Israel beating Lilah (?!!), priest's jokes, sweet cat, some more hating, some more beating, wings, god. The end. There, it is literally all that is going on all the time. What a bizarre book!
March 20, 2019
I'll preface this review by saying Amanda is a friend of mine. I read this book with bias.
This book is largely successful. Despite having read an early draft of the book, the book's pacing was for the most part so well managed that I kept turning the pages. The book is structured in this "countdown to what??!!" format, and it works. You do want to know why the chapters count down instead of up, you do want to know how Lilah and Sam are going to intersect.
Leduc writes beautifully. She makes the mundane activities of Lilah and Sam's lives—boring jobs, having drinks with friends, walking the neighbourhood—enjoyable to read. And there's enough death to satisfy anyone who likes reading books with dying people in them. Plenty of whiskey, also. There's a lot of almost sex (see below).
Lastly, the book has a noir, fantastical element I'm into right now. Angels. The Devil. A cat with at least two of her nine lives. All in the seemingly ordinary, very real vistas of Victoria and Vancouver, BC.
About two-thirds through, the book lags a little, pacing-wise. What I got hung up on most, however, is the relationship between Lilah and her boss, Isreal. Jason R. Freeman, in his Winnipeg Review review said: "Miracles is not a sexy book. In fact, the sex constitutes one of the novel’s most problematic elements." Freeman points out that, in fact, there is only one instance of sex in the whole book: "They fuck quickly, on Roberta’s bed, with the breeze coming in from the window."
So this book is less about sex, and more about rape and violence. And Lilah endures it. For months. Israel is not just a man, of course; he symbolizes a power greater than "man." But, still, Lilah endures his violence until another higher, "male" power, God, interferes. Freeman calls the book "anti-feminist." It might be. So while I consider The Miracles of Ordinary Men a very good book, I believe it raises some very real concerns.
I encourage you to read The Miracles of Ordinary Men for yourself. It's a book that gets you thinking, gets you talking, and that, that is a testament to the fact that it's a valuable read.
This book is largely successful. Despite having read an early draft of the book, the book's pacing was for the most part so well managed that I kept turning the pages. The book is structured in this "countdown to what??!!" format, and it works. You do want to know why the chapters count down instead of up, you do want to know how Lilah and Sam are going to intersect.
Leduc writes beautifully. She makes the mundane activities of Lilah and Sam's lives—boring jobs, having drinks with friends, walking the neighbourhood—enjoyable to read. And there's enough death to satisfy anyone who likes reading books with dying people in them. Plenty of whiskey, also. There's a lot of almost sex (see below).
Lastly, the book has a noir, fantastical element I'm into right now. Angels. The Devil. A cat with at least two of her nine lives. All in the seemingly ordinary, very real vistas of Victoria and Vancouver, BC.
About two-thirds through, the book lags a little, pacing-wise. What I got hung up on most, however, is the relationship between Lilah and her boss, Isreal. Jason R. Freeman, in his Winnipeg Review review said: "Miracles is not a sexy book. In fact, the sex constitutes one of the novel’s most problematic elements." Freeman points out that, in fact, there is only one instance of sex in the whole book: "They fuck quickly, on Roberta’s bed, with the breeze coming in from the window."
So this book is less about sex, and more about rape and violence. And Lilah endures it. For months. Israel is not just a man, of course; he symbolizes a power greater than "man." But, still, Lilah endures his violence until another higher, "male" power, God, interferes. Freeman calls the book "anti-feminist." It might be. So while I consider The Miracles of Ordinary Men a very good book, I believe it raises some very real concerns.
I encourage you to read The Miracles of Ordinary Men for yourself. It's a book that gets you thinking, gets you talking, and that, that is a testament to the fact that it's a valuable read.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 2, 2014
I pretty much hated this book, but most of all I hated myself for spending an entire day reading it. I picked it up at the library because the subject intrigued me and as I began reading, I was drawn in with the character of Sam and his transforming predicament, so kept reading, curious to find out how his situation would be developed and resolved.
Then Lilah is introduced, with her family baggage, and though the reader never really discovers why she hates her mother so much,this hatred appears to drive Lilah to pursue an excruciatingly self-destructive lifestyle. I almost abandoned the book once the author introduced the story-line of the abusive and brutal relationship Lilah plunges into with her boss, Israel, because it was so graphically repugnant. I did wonder at that point if I'd picked up some nasty porn by mistake. But nauseatingly offensive details aside, I kept reading because I wanted to see how it all ended. And that's the biggest problem with this book--there is absolutely no resolution for any of the characters, ever. What will happen to Sam as his angel persona evolves? What's with Father Jim and his drinking? Why does Lilah keep hanging out with a man who beats the crap out of her and sexually assaults her? Will she wise up and kill him or leave him? What happens to her brother, Tim? The author has him simply disappear on page 292, which is certainly one way to deal with a bothersome character I suppose. But she might as well have done that with all the characters in the entire book, as far as I'm concerned, since she offers them no actual solutions or conclusions once all is said and done. Although possibilities are alluded to, after reading 321 pages, to the very last word of the book, you get no real closure for the characters or the plot. Perhaps that was Ms. Leduc's intention, but I found it incredibly annoying and disappointing.
While I agree with other reviewers that the author's prose is lyrical and some of the questions raised were thought-provoking and worthy of discussion, these aspects didn't make up for what this book was missing, and that was a sense of "story". This book just doesn't have one.
Then Lilah is introduced, with her family baggage, and though the reader never really discovers why she hates her mother so much,this hatred appears to drive Lilah to pursue an excruciatingly self-destructive lifestyle. I almost abandoned the book once the author introduced the story-line of the abusive and brutal relationship Lilah plunges into with her boss, Israel, because it was so graphically repugnant. I did wonder at that point if I'd picked up some nasty porn by mistake. But nauseatingly offensive details aside, I kept reading because I wanted to see how it all ended. And that's the biggest problem with this book--there is absolutely no resolution for any of the characters, ever. What will happen to Sam as his angel persona evolves? What's with Father Jim and his drinking? Why does Lilah keep hanging out with a man who beats the crap out of her and sexually assaults her? Will she wise up and kill him or leave him? What happens to her brother, Tim? The author has him simply disappear on page 292, which is certainly one way to deal with a bothersome character I suppose. But she might as well have done that with all the characters in the entire book, as far as I'm concerned, since she offers them no actual solutions or conclusions once all is said and done. Although possibilities are alluded to, after reading 321 pages, to the very last word of the book, you get no real closure for the characters or the plot. Perhaps that was Ms. Leduc's intention, but I found it incredibly annoying and disappointing.
While I agree with other reviewers that the author's prose is lyrical and some of the questions raised were thought-provoking and worthy of discussion, these aspects didn't make up for what this book was missing, and that was a sense of "story". This book just doesn't have one.
October 21, 2013
What if you are a sort of spiritual but not religious Vancourite who wakes up one day and discovers you are sprouting wings? What if despite your doubts about religion, you find yourself selected to be God's messenger, to battle against an evil power that threatens your family? What if you learn that you, irreligious as you are, are becoming an angel? Amanda Leduc invites us into a theologically charged world of magical realism where we are asked to imagine a world in which not only do things not appear as they seem, but ordinary people discover themselves called upon to recognize the world as an ineffable mystery, whose heart is the greatest mystery of all, God. This is not a "Christian" read per se, but it works within the thematics of western angelology to explore how the lives of daily people are riddled with what Leduc wonderfully names "scintilla" -- flashes of transcendence. This was a book I couldn't put down, in part because I liked how sensibly Leduc took up themes of the relationship to faith to irreligion, and in part because the narrative is well written and spell-binding. Leduc's narrative is reminiscent for me of the tales of Charles Williams, which are similarly shot through with cosmic themes. With Williams, however, the treatment is often heavy-handed. Leduc by contrast deftly weaves her tale of faith and doubt, of transcendence and immanence. The result is a world that is believable, or at least as believable as a west coast culture which has all but abandoned to believe in anything other than the desire for self-improvement, finds itself in the grip of a wild and unpredictable God. This God, as the epigraph from Kierkegaard at the front of the book states, is the one who when s/he blesses, curses in the same breath, and does so without asking for permission first, and without worrying very much about the assent of faith, or the quality of belief. This book is amazing.
September 19, 2013
I'm not a huge fan of human turning/ changing or become Heavenly figures, however it tied together in the end. My thoughts on a Priest who really didn't serve as a TRUE spiritual teacher is quite strange. Nonetheless, that's the harsh reality for some.
This genera of reading is not my norm but I wanted to expand my reading horizons and boy did this expand. There are so true sads and happy of the reality of someone's life. We can ad will never know how, if, or when God chooses to reveal himself to us but because he God he is very well capable.
My favorite line in the book was when the Priest said, the devil will seduce you any way he can to make you an offer you can't refuse. Because the reality of it is fire and brimstone is not a selling point. (Hope I got that right). But such a true statement no one can deny regardless of their religion or the lack thereof.
This genera of reading is not my norm but I wanted to expand my reading horizons and boy did this expand. There are so true sads and happy of the reality of someone's life. We can ad will never know how, if, or when God chooses to reveal himself to us but because he God he is very well capable.
My favorite line in the book was when the Priest said, the devil will seduce you any way he can to make you an offer you can't refuse. Because the reality of it is fire and brimstone is not a selling point. (Hope I got that right). But such a true statement no one can deny regardless of their religion or the lack thereof.
October 1, 2015
In this dual narrative, Sam wakes to find that he is sprouting wings, and Delilah searches the streets of Vancouver for her homeless younger brother. Both of these characters struggle with a crisis of faith, feelings of guilt and loss, a desire for redemption, and personal transformation. Amanda Leduc has written a beautiful novel that tackles the big philosophical questions of life and death. It made me question my own beliefs and left me feeling euphoric. I was haunted by this book and had to return for a reread; I am glad that I did because the rewards are greater the second time around.
June 29, 2014
I would have rated this higher but I found the Lilah/Emmanual storyline too difficult to read and understand. I found the questions about God, evil, angels, religion intriguing and was even okay with the ambiguous ending. Catholics can be cremated so that was one detail the author did not get right. What she did get was the difficulty of talking about the mysteries of faith, belief, why bad things happen and how it is impossible to not sound banal and downright ridiculous. I liked Fr. Jim for his less than satisfying but humble attempts to try to grasp the ungraspable.
March 16, 2023
Picked this up again bc I couldn’t remember if I’d read it until I saw my review here / read the first few pages so that should tell you something
The writing is cool and I like the ambiguity of it all but bumped it down to 2 stars from my original 3 in my quick skim because I haaaate the trope of a
Also I just want the cat to be okay :( pls tell me someone looks after the cat :(((((
The writing is cool and I like the ambiguity of it all but bumped it down to 2 stars from my original 3 in my quick skim because I haaaate the trope of a
Also I just want the cat to be okay :( pls tell me someone looks after the cat :(((((
August 7, 2013
A curious novel about a man who wakes up with wings. A few priests, a high school student and a street kid are the only ones who see them, oh and a cat, which makes their purpose a bit of mystery. Then again, isn't God a mystery? There are two storylines that intersect, that of Sam with the wings and Timothy the street kid whose sister is dating an abusive, power hungry man. Bit of a dark force who's the counterbalance to the mediocre, weak angel that is Sam.
October 17, 2013
The Miracles of Ordinary Men is a compelling read that works on so many levels, both literal and metaphorical. It makes one think about the battle between good and evil in our own lives, as well as makes one question the people that are societal castaways. This is a dark book, but not one that leaves one feeling hopeless or helpless.
January 12, 2015
Amanda Leduc has captured thoughts and emotions from our society in her novel The Miracles of Ordinary Men that perhaps haven’t been fully expressed by us all yet. Her characters fumble and struggle with life unsure on how to move forward with it. This is one of those reads that needs to be savoured and pondered over. Not one that is read quickly and forgotten about.
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