The Confessions of Frances Godwin

by Robert Hellenga

The Confessions of Frances Godwin is the fictional memoir of a retired high school Latin teacher looking back on a life of trying to do her best amidst transgressions--starting with her affair with Paul, whom she later marries. Now that Paul is dead and she's retired, Frances Godwin thinks her story is over--but of course the rest of her life is full of surprises, including the truly shocking turn of events that occurs when she takes matters into her own hands after her daughter Stella's husband grows increasingly abusive. And though she is not a particularly pious person, in the aftermath of her actions, God begins speaking to her. Theirs is a deliciously antagonistic relationship that will compel both believers and nonbelievers alike. From a small town in the Midwest to the Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome, The Confessions of Frances Godwin touches on the great questions of human Is there something "out there" that takes an interest in us? Or is the universe ultimately indifferent?

Genres: Fiction, Literary Fiction, Religion, Contemporary, Relationships, Italy

320 pages, Paperback

First published July 8, 2014

About the author

Robert Hellenga was an American novelist, essayist, and short story author.
His eight novels included The Sixteen Pleasures, The Fall of a Sparrow, Blues Lessons, Philosophy Made Simple, The Italian Lover, Snakewoman of Little Egypt, The Confessions of Frances Godwin and Love, Death, & Rare Books. In addition to these works, he wrote a novella, Six Weeks in Verona, along with a collection of short stories in The Truth About Death and Other Stories. Hellenga also published scholarly essays and literary or travel essays in various venues, including The National Geographic Traveler, The New York Times Sophisticated Traveler, and The Gettysburg Review.
Hellenga was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and grew up in Milwaukee and Three Oaks, Michigan. He did his undergraduate work at the University of Michigan and his graduate work at the Queen’s University of Belfast, the University of North Carolina, and Princeton University. He received his Ph.D. from Princeton and began teaching English literature at Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois, in 1968. In 1973–74 he was co-director of the ACM Seminar in the Humanities at the Newberry Library in Chicago, and in 1982–83 he directed the ACM Florence programs in Florence, Italy. He also worked and studied in Bologna, Verona, and Rome. He was distinguished writer in residence and professor emeritus at Knox College. Hellenga was married and had three daughters.
Hellenga received awards for his fiction from the Illinois Arts Council and from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Sixteen Pleasures received The Society of Midland Authors Award for Fiction published in 1994. The Fall of a Sparrow was included in the Los Angeles Times list of the "Best Fiction of 1998" and the Publishers Weekly list of the "Best 98 Books." Snakewoman of Little Egypt, was included in The Washington Post's list of "The Best Novels of 2010" and Kirkus Reviews' list of "2010 Best Fiction: The Top 25." The audio version of Snakewoman was a 2011 Audie Award Winner for Literary Fiction. The Confessions of Frances Godwin received The Society of Midland Authors' Award for fiction published in 2014.
Hellenga died of neuroendocrine cancer on July 18, 2020, at his home in Galesburg, Illinois.

Reviews

[Fergus, Weaver of Autistic Webs · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are limits to liberalism. Though liberals may be of a practical cast, as with Frances, they sometimes just can’t grasp the big moral picture.

Conservatives, though, if they are impulsive can also be erratic. Their morality may therefore be likewise flawed...

So there is plenty of room for mistakes in either point of view. We have to choose our poison astutely. And sometimes a plain, dull pencil is the best option... as it often the case for me.

Frances Godwin is a broad-minded teacher of Classics in a small, liberally-oriented American college town. Her beloved husband, practical-minded and scholarly like Frances, teaches at that college and is loved both by his colleagues and by the readers of his books on Renaissance Literature.

But this is Frances’ story, and she makes a major blunder in not grasping the ethical implications of that story.

It will shock you - it shocked me so much I left it unfinished at the midpoint - and unless you draw constructive conclusions from it it may harm you.

Let me explain. I was brought up by parents and teachers of a liberal persuasion. But, probably because I was blessed from birth with Wordsworthian intimations of immortality, my religious beliefs drifted to the traditional, at an early age.

Those same intimations later landed me in a whole hockeysock full of trouble when, at the onset of adulthood, I clashed vociferously with ethical relativism. And I was sorely rebuked.

And my discipline was essential. I was in fact by nature a relativist too.

Been paying for it all my life, so I went back to my dull pencil. I just speak my mind quietly now. With plenty of erasing...

All that’s well and good, but unless like most of us grownups you’ve urged “the mind to afterthought and forethought” you may not have grasped my point here.

You see, like Pascal said, unless you have a moral foundation to your life, you’re like a “thinking reed.” You think about the wind blowing you from side to side - intellectually - but you don’t see that the wind is blowing Good - or Ill.

Evil in the 21st century is amorphous, and it only shows up, unfortunately, within the Blind Spot of our modern life’s Rear View Mirror. And accidents happen.

Frances just can’t see Enormous Evil bearing down on her. She can’t see it - because her liberalism has blurred her field of vision. Losing all common sense, she BLUNDERS BIG-TIME.

Obsessed with a roughneck’s violence, she ASSIMILATES that violence. And commits a major crime.

‘Nuff said. Her story reportedly develops in her prise de conscience over her own appalling felony...

But for myself, if someone acts in a sordidly inappropriate way with me, I simply drop out of their company, and it’s the same thing with books!

Frances should have done the same... DNF.

Because:

I understand about indecision
I don’t care if I’m left behind.
People living in competition!
All I want is to have
MY PEACE OF MIND.

So, Frances, a fond but forcibly fractured farewell. When I can still glance up at heaven, I won't entangle myself in your weeds.

[Chrissie · Rating 1 out of 5]

As you can see from the list at the end of the review, I have very much enjoyed many of Hellenga’s books. I considered giving the book two stars, but I simply cannot do that since I cannot recommend it to others. Read another one of Hellenga’s books instead.

I liked the start and I like the philosophical views presented at the story’s end, but the story told to illustrate the conclusions drawn I find ridiculous, absurd and unbelievable. The whole point of a novel is to present ideas to think about via a good story! The story failed me.

There are lines of humor. The author does present interesting tidbits of information about Italy, Catholic beliefs, constellations, literature, Shakespeare, operas and rhythm and blues music. These are topics that reoccur in just about all of Hellenga’s books. At the start, these and some well-expressed lines of prose are why I thought t would enjoy the book.

The story is about the eponymous Frances Godwin, about how she met her husband, their years spent together, her last years with her husband before he dies of lung cancer and how she is to live life after his death. The telling jumps forward decades at a time, ending in 2006. She’s a lapsed Catholic. He’s a lapsed Methodist. Their daughter Stella and her husband complicate family life. Extramarital liaisons, some heterosexual and others between those of the same sex, fill out the story; the story is set in contemporary times! A murder and a 1966 Shelby Cobra 427 roadster take center stage.

I have clarified the elements of the story. However, from this information one cannot perceive why the story fails. Doing this without telling you specifically what happens is difficult. I find the murder scarcely believable. That the 1966 Shelby Cobra 427 roadster sits in a garage with nobody recognizing its value, I find unbelievable too. Yet the worst is the way in which God enters the story in the guise of a man who tells Frances what will happen in the future. If she should so choose, she could benefit, financially and otherwise, from what she is told. God appears not just once but several times. I tried desperately to convince myself that the God apparition was to be interpreted as Frances introspectively analyzing what she should do. This is however not a feasible explanation given the words used and the way in which these episodes are drawn. I stated above that the story is absurd and unbelievable. It is!

The discussion of writings in Latin went over my head. I had difficulty following these parts, and by the end I simply gave up trying.

When a person dies, that one often regrets how one has behaved in the past is so typical that making a big point of this, as is done in the book, is just plain soppy and certainly not noteworthy or original.

At the end, I do like what the author says about the importance of appreciating beauty. I agree with his view that the universe is indifferent to an individual’s fate; each individual thinks his life is of supreme importance but in the grand scheme of things each one’s life is of little significance. I agree that as one grows older one still fails to understand where one is heading; definitive answers remain hard to get a grip on. The book summarizes these views at the very end, but the story only feebly demonstrates why these views are valid.

The audiobook is narrated by Christine Williams. I could easily follow what she says, but I do not like the manner in which she alters her intonation from strong and clear to meditative, sweet and meek. The latter I could have done without. The performance is OK, so I have given it two stars.

This book was a disappointment. I cannot recommend it to others.

************************

The Fall of a Sparrow 5 stars
The Sixteen Pleasures 4 stars
Philosophy Made Simple 4 stars
Blues Lessons 4 stars
Snakewoman of Little Egypt 2 stars
The Confessions of Frances Godwin 1 star
The Truth About Death and Other Stories TBR?

[switterbug (Betsey) · Rating 5 out of 5]

If I were to identify a book that snuck up and bit me, this would be the one. I remember, when I read Marilynne Robinson’s GILEAD, feeling immediately that I was in the presence of a great author. With Hellenga’s novel, (and this is my first by him), I was instantly engaged, but it wasn’t until the halfway point that I realized how stunning this book was, and consequential.

Frances lives with ongoing doubt regarding her faith. She’s from a strait-laced Polish Catholic family in small-town Illinois, her mother especially traditional. But Frances sought to be a scholar, which creates a more expansive intellect—and with that comes dubiety. In the 60’s,when she has an affair with her college Shakespeare professor, Paul, she tries to shake him off before her two-month trip to Rome to study spoken Latin. Later, she marries him, but not until after their daughter, Stella, was born (Paul had to get a divorce first). That’s two transgressions right there!

The first-person narrative is intimate and palpable, as if Frances is talking directly to you. It is laid out like a confessional memoir, which she calls a spiritual autobiography.

“All narrators are first-person narrators. You can’t get ironic distance from yourself, can’t see around yourself, can’t know more than you know.”

As the confessions progress, the tension rises. The erudition isn’t distracting—rather, the allusions piqued my interest, while adding texture and depth to the story. Everything from Latin, the Classics, Shakespeare, opera, classical music, and piano tuning is folded in neatly and compellingly. The events that cause colossal self-doubt, guilt about her last months with Paul, guilt about not having guilt, and concern for Stella adds piercing poignancy. Her combative conversations with God—which, in my estimation, are to be taken figuratively—buttress the weight of the novel while giving it levity.

An added bonus for me is the inclusion of Santa Maria Trastevere, a baroque church in Rome that is probably my most treasured edifice anywhere. When I visited this astonishing basilica, it poetically/spiritually brought me to my knees (and I am a secular Jew)! Hellenga’s incorporation of the church in the story stole my heart.

Finally, the most provocative theme of this book, to me, was the idea that “answers” aren’t necessarily the element you are looking for. Rather, it is the questions. Asking the germane questions.

“I was being tested, too, though I wasn’t sure exactly what the questions were.”

[Diane S ☔ · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 It is so hard for me to give Hellenga such a low rating, so let me explain why I did. His writing, as always is amazing. Although this is an introspective story, the character of Francis is a strong one. I also loved Tommy and all the forays into opera. What Frances does is so out of character, an event that will be a life changer and yet a fine portray at the lengths mothers will go to protect their children, grown or not. So up to this part I found the novel amazing. Their was even humor, her Polish die hard Catholic mother has some very amusing lines.

Where I stopped reading, and I was about 60% done, was when she started hearing God's voice and talking to him. Talking to God is of course alright, but it was the way it was done, the way it was introduced that I found off putting. Just came out of nowhere and their first conversation was a bit strange at best. Maybe I will pick this back up at some point, but for now I need to set it aside.

[Roger Brunyate · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Spiritual Autobiography

The "Confessions" of the title are both general and specific. General, in the sense of a tell-all autobiography looking back on a long life. Specific, in the Catholic sense of spiritual confession to a priest. Frances Godwin, retired Illinois Latin teacher and lapsed Catholic, makes two such confessions in the book, both in Rome, forty-three years apart. The first, at the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere, is when she is a recent graduate, trying to get over her affair with a married professor. By the time of the second, late in the book, she has been a widow for many years, and has more to confess, much more. Indeed, the formal sacrament of confessing to the priest is only the culmination of a long series of conversations with God himself (they speak in Latin, naturally) that occupy much of the middle section of the novel. Remarkably secular conversations, as it happens; God gives her everything from explanations of quantum mechanics to warnings about the coming financial crisis. Frances is happy to talk, but remains resolutely unshriven until her sudden decision to return to Rome (metaphorically as well as literally) at the end. The surname that Hellenga has given her, God-win, is no coincidence.

If this sounds excessively fanciful, be reassured. Robert Hellenga has a remarkable power of getting into the mind of his female protagonist, especially an older one, as she deals with the problems of looking after an ailing husband, widowhood, retirement, and a grown daughter who cannot seem to find her way through life. He also has sly fun with the contradictions in her personality: this dusty old Latin teacher is also working on a translation of Catullus, the most racy of Latin poets. There is much more to the novel than struggles with a dead language and conversations with God; indeed, a lot of it is surprisingly humdrum, with matters such as the move to a new apartment or refurbishment of an old car. Too humdrum, I would say; the transcendent moments are few and far between within a texture that is pretty much ordinary, though always believable.

Another reviewer has compared this to Marilynne Robinson's Gilead, and I can see why. Both authors take the religious life and make it accessible to the ordinary reader; both deal with older protagonists; both have a Midwestern setting. But there are differences too. Robinson's world is Protestant, while Hellenga's is Catholic. Her character, John Ames, is a practising Congregationalist minister who has never left the church; Hellenga's Frances Godwin is a lapsed Catholic who is fighting a return. But Robinson's chief miracle is her ability to combine the spiritual and secular in a unified view of life; I still remember a description of Ames listening to a baseball broadcast by an open window on a Saturday afternoon, and feeling the moment as a gift of God. Hellenga alternates the modes, but he can seldom combine them. All the same, in those few moments when he does, as in this reflection by Frances shortly before her husband's death, he too can touch a very special kind of grace:

And yet I was able to step back from my own sadness, as I was wiping the counters, and observe it, as if I were watching a film, or reading a novel. And as I did so, I was aware of an undercurrent of joy. The kind of undercurrent you can sometimes hear in a Chopin étude or a Bach fugue. Our little drama was playing itself out against a background of joy. Our life together had been good. Sadness wasn't the worst thing. What would have been really sad would have been if we hadn't been sad at all.

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

For the first 150 pages, I was under this book’s thrall. It had everything I love most in literary fiction: strong characters, fluid and luminous prose, thoughtful narrative, intelligent themes and stunning descriptions of Italy for good measure.

In fact, if the book had continued in that vein, it would have quickly become one of my favorites. But then the character makes an uncharacteristic decision. It’s impossible to write about without spoilers, so here it is: YOUR SPOILER ALERT.

Frances Godwin (the last name gives you a big clue where this is going) is a high school Latin teacher who marries Paul, her professor with whom she has had an affair. Together, they build a life that revolves around erudite pursuits that range from a passion for ancient studies to classic music and Shakespearean theater. Their daughter Stella, an aspiring poet, is the apple that DOES fall far from the tree: after a series of bad relationships, she ends up with a real hum-dinger, a former felon named Jimmy who is a menace to all those around him – including Stella and her parents. After Paul dies, the abuse on Stella escalates and Frances decides to take matters into her own hands and murder Jimmy. She succeeds.

Up until this point, I was reading breathlessly, devouring 150 pages at one sitting. But Jimmy’s murder was a stretch for me. Jimmy is about as one-dimensional as I’ve ever seen in a character: surly and predatory without redeeming qualities. And Stella? I know little about her (and Frances’ relationship with her) prior to her pairing with Jimmy. I do know I had a visceral reaction to her actions, which included not even attending her father’s funeral. With little sympathy or empathy for Stella, it’s hard for me to truly feel for Frances’s choice.

But even if I did empathize: Frances had other options available to her. Stella’s close friend Ruthy knows of thugs who will gladly “deliver a message” to Jimmy that he won’t soon forget. Let’s face it, it’s HARD for the vast majority of us to commit murder, even if it’s justified. It’s even harder for someone raised as a Catholic who knows the act will cause eternal damnation. Nothing about Frances’s background convinced me that she was capable of the act.

Yet, this book – this spiritual autobiography was not devoid of surprises. As Mr. Hellenga writes, “You can’t quite see everything from where you’re standing. You see a shape, you see ups and downs, conversions, turning points, reversals. But then you keep on living, you keep on driving from one bridge to the next, and every time you look down on your life, you see a different shape.” The same could be said for fictional lives. The last third of the book focuses mainly on one important question: does the universe care, in some way, about our behavior? Is there something in the center; is there meaning? Does it even matter if one lowlife is swept from the world’s tableau?

Frances Godwin’s wrestling with these essential questions is nothing short of masterful. “How many times”, she muses, “that everything in my life has been leading up to this moment or that moment only to realize, a minute later, that this is always the case, that every moment of your life is leading up to where you are now.”

So here’s my dilemma. In many ways, I loved this book – its risk-taking narrative, its fearlessness in taking on such existential questions, its sheer beauty of prose. Yet – for me – there’s a hole in the middle of it (would Frances really commit murder?) Typically, I would 4-star this book but I know that it will linger with me a long time. And since ratings ARE subjective, I’m giving it 5 stars. I confess, there are times I wish there was NOT a rating system!

[Carolyn Simmons · Rating 3 out of 5]

If I had it to do over, I would skip this book altogether. The author was too intent on letting the readers know what he knew about Latin, Romeo and Juliet, famous literary places in Europe, etc. I did a lot of skipping over parts like that.

[Claire · Rating 4 out of 5]

I received The Confessions of Frances Godwin as part of a Goodreads giveaway.

After over 40 years as a Latin teacher in small-town Illinois, Frances Godwin reflects on the life she has created for herself: the college affair that landed her college professor husband Paul, her passion for Italy (specifically Rome) that led to her career, her wayward daughter Stella and Stella's criminal, abusive husband Jimmy, and the act that altered the course of her personal and spiritual life forever. Faced with the lingering consequences of her action, Frances finds herself in an ongoing dialogue with God as she sorts out her complicated emotions and ties to move ahead with her life.

I'm not a spiritual person, so I wasn't sure how I'd react to the the "talking to God" bit in the blurb. That said, it was handled with taste and even humor. I've read several of Hellenga's books, and while his characters have seemed a bit wooden to me, I didn't find that the case with Frances. She was complex--a rebel in many ways, conventional in others, living a quiet life but wanting to be or do something greater. It was a beautifully-crafted story integrating everyday life, the arts, and the big questions that we as humans face.

[Karen A. Wyle · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm rounding up from about 3.5 stars.

Reading this novel, I realized how rarely I read literary fiction these days. I believe that's the niche in which this book belongs: the plot, what there is of it, flows almost entirely from the relationships between the characters. I found those characters, most importantly the POV character Frances, just interesting enough to keep me engaged until the first refreshingly unusual element in the story, which popped up a little more than halfway through and persisted through much of what remained. (I'm not sure whether spoilers are more or less damaging in a novel of this type, but I'm erring on the side of caution.)

It was no surprise -- and, I suppose, an appropriate decision -- that the story ended with less than complete resolution.

I did enjoy Frances' voice and her slightly skewed viewpoint.

[Annie · Rating 2 out of 5]

This one started out engaging me with a unique-enough plot and characters,and some just-right humor. Suddenly, though, about three-quarters of the way through, the tone changed and the writing became long-winded and redundant -- and ultimately disappointing. (Maybe I was expecting too much from God).

[Italo Italophiles · Rating 4 out of 5]

Frances Godwin, a fictional character, narrates her confessions, written late in life, part memoir, part mea culpa. She spends sections of her life in Italy's Florence, Rome, and Verona, and these times have a great impact on her psyche. Francis spends much of her life immersed in the Latin and Italian languages. These are the reasons I requested a review copy of this book.

The narrative style of the book is first person, ruminative, almost stream-of-consciousness. The narration is rich with detail about the place and time described.

The text is peppered with Latin and Italian words, two languages Francis speaks well. She is a Latin teacher, and she learned Italian in school and from traveling in Italy. When Francis uses Latin or Italian words and phrases, she always provides a translation.

We get hints of surprises to come, along the way, then the book takes a different turn after the halfway point. I found Francis not always convincing as a real person. Perhaps because she is so different from me. And she has a love of detail but a lack of character depth, which she acknowledges late in the book.

This is a sad book, at least in my opinion. I did not find it particularly funny, despite what the publisher's blurb says. The rambling, first-person narration lost its charm for me at a certain point, and the abundance of un-necessary detail became distracting.

Religion is a key element in the book. The protagonist veers away from her religion, and then is drawn back to it by her own conscience that was well developed by her devout mother and a religious education. In her confessions, Francis Godwin deals with life and death, and guilt and remorse. She ruminates on love, and on the meaning of life.

Please read my full, illustrated review at Italophile Book Reviews.
http://italophilebookreviews.blogspot...

[(Lonestarlibrarian) Keddy Ann Outlaw · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you are like me, you will be surprised and delighted by the deftness of this fictional "spiritual autobiography." When you pick up a book that begins with the retirement of a high school Latin teacher, you wouldn't think there is going to be a lot of suspense of any kind, yet this novel has plenty of that. I am going to be very vague because I don't want to create a spoiler effect, but believe me, widow Frances Godwin gets herself into deep trouble. Thus her soul is tortured. Readers will become quite anxious for her.

There are many other fine elements to the story: ties to Italy, memories of her marriage with a Shakespeare professor (a marriage that began as an affair when Frances was a college student), classical music, astronomy, food and friendship. Frances has a difficult relationship with her only child, Stella, a poet-turned trucker with very bad taste in men.

When Frances begins to write the story of her life on the day she retires, using a fountain pen and a fine notebook of the kind her husband fancied, I certainly could not have predicted all the dilemmas her narrative will reveal. We learn she longs for her husband's ghost to return, cooking a special meal on every anniversary of his death, speaking out loud to him, wrestling with regrets and a certain lack of closure. Later on in the narrative, Frances has some rather surrealistic, cosmic conversations with God as she sits in the pew of a Catholic church watching people on line to confess their sins to a priest who is her closest friend. Every Saturday they have a drink or two together after his confessional duties are done, speaking together in Latin, the language they both love.

I loved every minute of this very philosophical, soul-wrestling novel. At its deepest level, it asks questions about the meaning of life any thinking person can relate to. Because of its many ethical dilemmas, The Confessions of Frances Godwin would be a great title for book club discussions.

[Carol · Rating 4 out of 5]

Frances Godwin, a woman on the day of her retirement from teaching, pens her memoirs and the reader is taken on an absorbing, oten scholarly journey through her life, her long marriage, she and her husband's angst over their daughter, the ties that bind family and faith. Her desperate measure is examined against her lapsed faith, her love for her daughter and husband. Lots of universal lessons, truths, questions about our existence, our actions, the roads we take in life. There's a constant tension after we find out what she did and worry, wonder what would be the consequences, would she be found out?

But then the book takes a surprising turn with the introduction of God and I wonder if the book could have done without this part. It reminded me a bit when in the movie "Millions" the little boy grieving for his mum, keeps seeing Biblical characters and his dead mother. A bit unbelievable, but, ah, sometimes you just have to suspend disbelief. God does give excellent advice, however!

Frances is so likeable and human; I loved the little details about her, such as her Polish-Catholic heritage, her passion for Latin, yet her rejection of the Catholic Church; her reflections on marriage, her friendship with a surprising enlightened priest, her love for Italy and opera and trying to find a new way in her life after her husband dies. The others in her constellation are equally as rich and often unexpected.

A great read and it would be an excellent choice for book clubs! Lots to discuss.

[Janice · Rating 4 out of 5]

I always enjoy the characters created by Robert Hellenga in his novels, and this book about the life of Frances Godwin is no exception. Frances is a retiring Latin teacher, a lover of classical music, Italy, Shakespeare, astronomy, and languages; she has a complex love-hate relationship with the Catholic Church. Frances is also a widow, having married a college professor with whom she had an affair. They had a daughter, a young woman who is perplexing to Frances, as her choices and interests are so foreign to the life Frances and her husband had lead. I love such complex characters, with many faceted lives, that this author develops. There are some jarring, incongruent segments, but isn't that true of life, in many ways, as well? And it certainly makes for an unpredictable story line in this one.

[Marvin · Rating 4 out of 5]

In one of those interesting coincidences that happen way more often than would seem likely, I read this book immediately after Rachel Joyce’s Love Song of Queenie Hennessy, which, in tone and format is actually much more like a confession than this one. Queenie and Frances are about the same age (mid-60s, like me) but are radically different people with radically different life experiences, but both are regretting choices they’ve made and needing absolution. What’s perhaps most gratifying about both novels is that, both characters realize in the end (without getting sappy about it) that, as Frances puts it, “Even spiritual lightweights can experience joy” (278). As for this novel in particular (and most of this author’s other novels), I really like the way Robert Hellenga thinks--and the way he respects the way his readers think. (Sometimes he respects the breadth of my knowledge a little too much, but that’s flattering, after all. I realize that some would be likely to find him pretentious, but I’ don’t.) He writes about everything from Roman philosophy & poetry, French & Italian opera, astronomy, and the 12 (or so) steps that happen when you press a piano key to cooking, the blues, hog butchering, and hot cars. This is set (mostly lovingly), as some of his other novels are, in his hometown of Galesburg, Illinois, with (as in others of his novels) trips to Italy and, once or twice, to Iowa City and other places in this part of the Midwest. I always enjoy a good Hellenga novel, and this is one worth savoring.

[Penny · Rating 4 out of 5]

As I am completing this book this evening I have searched YouTube and decided on the Chopin Polonaise in A flat, listening to both the Horowitz and Rubenstein versions. I definitely like Rubenstein more but it likely corresponds to a 45 rpm record I had as a child that was entitled “Rubenstein Plays Four Encores.” It wasn’t black like most 45’s, but a clear red.

When I began reading this book, I felt rather like I might set it aside but when I reached page 33 my interest picked up. And then … about 1/3 through the book, I said, “WAIT!! WHAT???!!!” and I knew I would finish this book.

I completely understood Frances when she speaks to Paul about the last year. I remember my own mother saying the same sort of things to my step-father.

Memorable quotes from the book: “The dead, like the horizon, are forever beyond our reach.” Considering the many layers of historical Rome, “I seemed to be looking down at the strata of my life …” – my feelings exactly.

[Mary Warnement · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fountain pen features in this novel too, a Pelican Souveran 600. In a blog, Hellenga mentions always giving his characters a fountain pen. In Blues Lesson, his mother gives him one, as I recall. He didn't go to the Univ of Chicago as she ardently wished but he did take to the fountain pen. This is another academic novel, a favorite genre of mine. I know these people and while they sometimes annoy me, I recognize myself in them, familiar and comfortable. His plot takes him from the Midwest to Italy again; this time, his main character takes a spoken Latin course from a character obviously based on Reginald Foster. The main character, the Frances Godwin in the title, became a Latin teacher whose favorite author Catullus endears her to me because Jim prefers him. (Well, perhaps along side Horace.) She even publishes a translation with a Brooklyn publisher. I wonder, is the editor Hellenga describes based on a real one? He is an English professor, as is Francis's husband. Hellenga's mother was a Latin teacher, and the novel, set in the 1960s, the 1990s, and 2006 on, is chock full of quotations and even dialogue. Again, he's written from the perspective of a woman. On page 302, Francis concludes, "Whatever happens, it won't matter to the universe." Do I believe that? No. I believe small instances can have rippling, significant effects; however, I recognize the universe is huge, and I matter little.
I read this during my trip to London. Started in on the subway to work, continued on the plane to London, and read during my stay, only finishing the last couple pages my last morning there, in bed before going down to my delicious yogurt and fresh fruit breakfast at the congenial group table of the Penn Club.

[Annette · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've fallen in love with Hellenga. He weaves into his story so much to intrigue the reader while telling a meaningful tale. Riffs on music, astronomy, how to tune a piano, Cattalus, Shakespeare, trucking, God, rare sports cars and food, delicious, mouth watering food all blend into a novel unusual in the very best ways.

[Marge · Rating 3 out of 5]

A three star because the 'confessions' parts were interesting but I think the author just wanted to show off his intellect while writing this book. I mean, she was a Latin teacher which she spoke Latin to certain people (including God, which was one of the fun parts), really?! And she actually had a piano recital at 66 years old in her own apartment?! Who does these things?!

[George Ferrick · Rating 5 out of 5]

Builds up to a crescendo

Lovers of the classics, of music and piano, Chopin and fugues; things Italian; Buddhist karma; with a subplot of Catholic guilt, and dialogue with the Creator; all woven through, will find this read delightful, intriguing, and mesmerizing.

[Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

Grief. Explained.

[Selena · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this book. From Rome to Latin to antique cars to ancient pianos, this novel was en pointe. I hated to see it end!

[SusanS · Rating 3 out of 5]

About half way through it takes an unexpected twist. A little odd for me!

[Nance · Rating 2 out of 5]

Started out enjoying this book but the conversations with god, the killing were unbelievable to me. If you love Italy, enjoy Italian and Latin.....these things might make the book worthwhile for you.

[Marcia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Loved the premise, liked the writing, thought it wandered at times. More like 3.4 stars.

[Jackie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I dove into this book, enjoyed its characters, and followed the story where it led me....and that was certainly to some unexpected places! Had I read a thorough description beforehand, I might never have picked it up. However, I have read a few of Hellinga's books, admired his writing, and especially loved The Sixteen Pleasures. I have always wished I'd taken Latin. Frances magnified that feeling.

[Karen Olson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved this book!

[Cathy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the story of Frances Godwin, a high school Latin teacher, who, along with the Latin program in the school, is being phased out. The story begins at her final commencement in May of 2006. Her husband, Paul, the love of her life, had died some years earlier of cancer. Frances' job was gone, leaving her with lots of unstructured time. Before a hernia operation soon after commencement, she checked a box saying "Do not Resuscitate." She felt her story had come to an end. But when the doctors refused to operate unless she unchecked the box, she figured she had more life to live.

At that time, Frances began to write her "confessions," which began in 1963, when she had an affair with the then-married Paul. There were numerous things she did in her life which, when looking back, she found selfish or even questionably immoral, some even absolutely criminal, but she didn't know whether she should actually confess. Despite her Catholic upbringing, her love and mastery of Latin and Italy, her ties to opera and music, and her friendship with the Catholic priest, Father Vigletti, she had a somewhat strained relationship with God, with whom she converses a number of times in the book.

I really enjoyed the book, with some caveats. I had also read Hellenga's The Fall of a Sparrow and knew from that the author's love of the classics: Greek, Roman and Latin. Since I know nothing (or almost nothing) of Latin or the classic stories of mythology and history, the many references were lost on me. Also, in a somewhat annoying next-to-the-last chapter, there is a long convoluted section about piano tuning, which I found stopped the story dead in its tracks. It does tie into the final chapter, but I think it could have been shortened (& simplified) considerably. Overall though, I found the confessions of Frances compelling and fascinating.

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hellenga teaches at my alma mater, Knox College. He uses Knox and Galesburg, Illinois as setting for much of this novel, and he honors Galesburg landmarks, including Knox College's Old Main, the site of one of the Lincoln Douglas debates. His protagonist, Frances Godwin, had she actually lived, would have been a contemporary of mine on the Knox campus, and I read the book to glean insights into the Knox of 50 years ago. Not surprisingly, I noted a few discrepancies (What! Doesn't Hellenga know that back in the day all freshman women lived in Whiting Hall?, etc,) between the Knox of Frances Godwin and the actual Knox I attended, but I soon became caught up in Frances' story. Yes, she has unusual conversations with God, and she steps waaay outside her usual behavior patterns at one decisive point, but she is someone I'd like to know and visit back in Galesburg next time I return to the midwest. The novel begins with Frances' retirement from teaching, and if you have ever retired from teaching, especially high school teaching, the opening chapters are a must read.
I enjoyed this novel tremendously. I hope you will, too.

[Stacey · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the story of building a life. First, building it with someone else, and then building it some more without them. What I love (and admire) most about Hellenga's writing is his ability to make the mundane so lyrical and magical. For crying out loud, Frances Godwin is a high school Latin teacher. Not many authors could make that so captivating a launching point in such a believable way.

Hellenga tends to write about the Midwest (and Italy) and I admit to getting a big kick out of the small section which was set in Indianapolis. I also loved Frances' conversations with God. What would life be like if we acknowledged God's voice when we heard it?

I think this is the life we wish we could have. Loving someone and being loved by them, raising our children and accomodating our wishes for their lives with the reality of their wishes, having a job that makes a difference in others' lives and ultimately, taking the chance to grow.

So...read this book. By yourself, with your book group, maybe with an adult Sunday School class. Just read it.