Happy fall, everyone! Here are some of the books I read this summer and my thoughts thereof. This is painfully late, but it's been sitting in my drafts waiting to be posted for ages, so post it I shall.

The Lady of Kingdoms by Suzannah Rowntree (Watcher of Outremer #2)
MARTA BESSARION I would do anything for you.
I am enjoying my wild Crusade roller-coaster. I have no idea where this series is going to go and I am a little concerned for everyone involved (including myself).

The Weight of Glory by C. S. Lewis
Lewis always engages me, breaks me a little, heals me a little, makes me smile and sometimes shed a tear.

The Door to Camelot by Suzannah Rowntree (Pendragon's Heir #1)
This is a portal fantasy about King Arthur's daughter growing up in 19th century England before being confronted with the role she must play in history. I was not expecting to be So! Charmed! by this story. (Although I don't really appreciate the Thing Suzannah has going on for young, rather explosive romance. I can really live without that drama.) I hope to continue this series!

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
Charming and grim by turns, this story has lingered with me. I have been known to complain about American Literature, but here is something we've gotten right: coming of age stories. Particularly slice-of-life/episodic ones written by women: Alcott, Wilder, Cather, etc. That's some top-tier stuff right there.

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
I buddy-read this with my dear Hannah (go check out her blog!). I was invested in every relationship/dynamic except the romance. I was not a fan of Mr. Thornton.

Make, Sew and Mend by Bernadette Banner
Intelligent and charming guide to hand-sewing with lots of useful visuals--there were so many nice photos inside. I already knew a good deal of the information in here, but I learned a lot, too, and I think this would be excellent to have on-hand in sewing endeavors.

Electric Lights: Poems by Seamus Heaney
Some really gorgeous and haunting works in here. Something about bilingualism in poetry makes something inside me go !!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Mild language warning)

Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy by Gary D. Schmidt
Probably my least favorite of Gary's books that I've read, but still a magnificent experience. Some of his descriptions of Malaga Island had me tearing up. And the way he depicts small town life is just exquisite. It felt less coherent than his other books, in some way, and the end had me going: But Gary, consider. Consider. Heart-crushing sadness is not always necessary or appreciated.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke
Gorgeously atmospheric; mysterious to the point of wondering--is this a horror story?; and then--beauty. Such redemptive beauty. I am in love. I have so many thoughts.
(Some scattered instances of strong language.)

Devotions by Mary Oliver
This was my constant companion this summer, and Mary Oliver pretty much never misses. She is a queen.

Anne of the Island by L. M. Montgomery
This was a gentle, lighthearted end-of-summer treat. It's so fun to read Anne's college experiences from a hundred years ago while I'm in college myself--how similar and yet how different college a hundred years ago was from today. (Although I couldn't help but noticing how much of the book took place away from college!)

What have you been reading lately? What are you looking forward to this fall?

It has come to my attention that I have been hoarding my poetry and this is not, apparently, a pleasing state of affairs. So I've decided to share some poetry here on the blog. (Gasp!) As summer is rapidly drawing to a close, I've been compiling the poetry I wrote this summer (through exchanging writing prompts with a dear mentor-friend & writing-buddy), and I noticed that some of them were (surprise, surprise) summer-themed. I decided they would make a neat little collection as we bid so long, farewell, to summer.
​
6-20
When you watch the blue waves whiten
you think, Now is the time for them
to go down, to cry, to be swallowed violently.
When the screaming seagulls circle
the widening sky you think, That's the sound
of recklessness churned into agony.
When you go down to your berth in the lost hours
of early morning you are still thinking,
The waves never die, they come back up again.

7-25
Summer roads take the pages of a book
To a crystal-bright brook with a milk-jar
Wedged between rocks, or a ring
Of conniving fairies, or a bear of very little brain
Puzzling out life.

8-1
the last glorious day was a plain old
summer scorcher
one in a long thread of
molten golden days
hard-packed clay
gnarly green-brown grass
wild flowers
wild white pink blue flowers
by the slim silver stream
and the nestlings that flew away
into the evening sun
the last evening sun at the end of the thread
and the barefoot kid has slept
since then

​That's all for today! :D

What are some of your favorite summer-themed poems?

Hello, all! I hope you are having a lovely summer. I've been tagged by the wonderful Lizzie of Starlight and Saucepans!

Let us begin with The Rules:
1. Link back to the original site.
2. Mention the one who tagged you. (Thanks awfully, Lizzie!)
3. Write an autobiography in seven words. (For this, they do not need to form a complete sentence.)
4. To make it more interesting, answer seven-word questions.
5. Tag seven other bloggers.
6. Think of seven-word questions, or use the same ones as you answered.

A Seven-Word Biography
Concerning a tree trying to grow roots

The Seven Questions

1. Have you read any 'children's literature' biographies?
I read a bunch of books in the "Childhood of Famous Americans" series when I was a child--I don't know if these really count as biographies because they are fictional-ish dramatizations of the childhoods of popular figures. That's all I'm coming up with at the moment, though.

2. Whose autobiography is on your TBR list?
*looks through my almost-200-book-long list*
I have Ulysses S. Grant's autobiography on my list. I read that he dealt with migraines during the Civil War, and that made me want to learn more about him. I also have The Worst Journey in the World by Apsley Cherry-Garrard, because doomed Antarctic expeditions sound like. Pleasant reading, I guess.

3. Have you any passed down family stories?
Stories of my parents' childhoods are rare and treasured, and stories from generations before them are . . . nonexistent, I guess. I think this generation is doing plenty to expand the Family Lore, however, and we children will have many, many stories to pass down to our children.

4. What person's biography would you enjoy writing?
Oooh, what a fun question. I have to say--my dad's! I think he's had a most interesting life and I would love to preserve it for posterity. 

5. Which author would write your biography well?
Whaaaat. Erm. I would not object to having Rosemary Sutcliff write my biography--except she's dead. I feel so pretentious answering this question. I could just write my own biography, perchance?

6. Do you prefer introspective autobiographies, or factual?
Factual, to be sure. A little introspection is alright, but it becomes too much.

7. Biographies to get people into the genre?
I always enjoy the Christian Heroes: Then and Now series by Janet and Geoff Benge. I would also recommend The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom and Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand (this one is not for the faint of heart, heh) for riveting and moving true stories that read almost like novels.

My brain is not brain-ing, and I really enjoyed Lizzie's questions, so I'm going to keep hers. I did, however, manage to come up with seven bloggers to tag!
I tag:
Cecilia
Eva
Hamlette
Hannah
Ness
Sarah Seele
The Story Sponge
...and, of course, any one else reading this is welcome to snatch this up!

In April I read a collection of American World War II poetry. It had a rather harrowing beauty, at times; at others it was downright coarse and uncomfortable. I also took a poetry class this past semester; one of the poetry books we read was Whereas by Layli Long Soldier. Reading these two books in close succession was a very thought-provoking experience.

One of the discussions we had in class was, "Why poetry?" Why did Long Soldier explore her questions and struggles through poetry, specifically? One of my classmates resented her poems (and many of the other poems we read). He believed that these poems existed to push an agenda and did not exist to be beautiful works of art. While I recognize that propaganda "art" exists--and is rather prevalent in contemporary poetry--I don't agree with him.

For the longest time I thought that I could not write poetry. It was beyond me; I didn't have the "secret sauce". I thought one had to be born a poet. (Coleridge's "secondary imagination," I suppose.) I loved reading poetry, but I did not dare touch it myself. So it struck me that in her poetry Layli Long Soldier talked of being "language poor." It struck me that she was grappling with her language poverty through her inventive and unique poetry. She was "language poor," and yet--she was writing poetry.

I think there is something very, very human in poetry--that it is, to some degree, innate to us. Poetry is a language God speaks--large portions of the Bible are poetic passages--and a language I might deem universal. Harvey Shapiro, the editor of Poets of World War II, writes in the introduction: "This is not a book of celebration, unless it is to celebrate man's ability, indeed his compulsion, to turn terror into art." That's what I found myself thinking of, reading Long Soldier: compulsion to art. But while that compulsion may reside, more or less, in all of us, not all of us act on it. Few actually choose to create. So I think it's both the most natural and the most compelling, beautiful thing that Long Soldier wrote poetry in her poverty.

I loved my poetry class, for various and sundry reasons. Reflecting upon my experience, as a part of the final assignment, what stood out most to me--and what I wanted to keep closest to my heart, after the class was over--was the joy of poetry. Proverbs 8 speaks of God's delight in Creation; in creating art I get to share in that delight. I may not be a very good poet; I might not have the "secret sauce," but I hope I'll always be writing poetry.

Have you been reading good poetry lately? Do tell!

What-ho, all! I'm pleased to announce that I have left behind my four hour life!

That is to say, I quit my job! I don't talk much about personal happenings on my blog, on account of them being, well, personal. But this has been a cause of much emotion, rumination, and reflection for me, and it felt momentous enough to record here. I am aware that two years is not long to be at a job, but when one is a youngling such as myself, two years can really feel like a long time. My job became very much a part of me, in ways rather hard to articulate, and it's dizzyingly strange that this chapter of my life is over.

I was a barista for two years at my college coffeehouse. I really cannot recommend the experience; it was highly stressful and sometimes downright horrifying. (Genuinely, one day I got off a shift and went to see my mom at her work. I sat down and just cried into her shoulder in her cubicle.) I was blessed to have some incredible co-workers; I made some friendships that grow dearer by the day; I grew a lot as an individual. It was wrenching to leave some of my coworkers, and I feel rather unmoored whenever I remember that I'm not coming back, ever. Yet I'm so glad to say that. I'm not coming back. It's strange to have so many good and bad connotations tangled up with my job experience. 

I don't really have any grand revelation or deep pondering to share. I suppose I'm just feeling grateful. This year, so far, has been a ride, and the rest of the year is looking foggy with uncertainty, and I want to capture this keen gratitude. I've been deluged with an embarrassment of riches. Some of the other surprises and changes I've experienced these past few months have been delights, and I'm learning that bends in the road can be joyful and exciting. 

This month's Inklings prompt is "a poignant moment between old friends in book or film." When I saw it, thought it was such a sweet prompt and knew immediately that I wanted to participate. But then I thought, "But . . . spoilers."
I could come up with no satisfactory response to this objection, so I decided to plow ahead. I'm sharing a scene from one of my favorite books, Twice Freed by Patricia St. John, and issuing a massive SPOILER WARNING, because herein we shall witness old friends reuniting and having a Poignant Moment that may be Significant in the development of the Story.

He heard a light footfall in the courtyard, and he looked up. A woman was standing gazing down at him, and he had seen her face before. In just this way she had stood looking down on him on that terrible night when he had thought that Archippus was dead, and she had comforted and fed him.
​"Mistress Priscilla!" he whispered, wondering whether perhaps after all he had taken leave of his senses and was seeing ghosts.
She went on staring down at him as though she, too, recognized his face and was trying to remember where they had met. But the memory eluded her, and she shook her head.
"Ephesus," said Onesimus in a weary voice. "You sheltered me and put me to sleep with your little Levi on the night that Paul the Jew left the city."
"I remember." Her face was thoughtful. "You were a poor frightened child then, looking for your master. You have greatly changed. How do you come to be in Rome?"
He had not thought out any plausible story; but he realized that he was singularly free from fear, for these Christians would not betray him behind his back.
"My master set me free," he lied. "I worked my way to Rome on a grain ship and won glory in the amphitheater."
"So you were wounded fighting. I recognized the dress of the gladiator. You had bled much. You are fortunate to be still alive."
"I wish I were dead," he blurted out. "Mistress Priscilla, last night I killed my friend. What is life or glory to me now?"
(Chapter 20)

Some time ago, I was tagged by Lizzie Hexam for this delightful little tag (thank you, Lizzie!!), and it's high time I got around to doing it! So here we go:

The Outline 
1. Link back to who tagged you.
2. Share the Graphic on your blog
3. Share the Outline on your post.
4. Share a detail you love about the season of summer into fall.
5. List at least 7 random/ specific things YOU love to read about in books, big or small.
6. Tag 7 people who would enjoy taking part/whose answers you are curious to read!

Hmmm . . . something I love about summer turning into fall is the relief from heat and humidity. I also do enjoy the anticipation of gearing up for a new school year.
Now, without further ado:

Seven Oddly Specific Things I Love in My Books

FAMILIAL RELATIONSHIPS
Give me all the familial relationships. Parents and children, siblings, cousins, uncle/aunt and nephew/niece, grandparents and grandchildren. I eat it up. Nearly every story I write has at least one familial relationship central to the story. I think this is one of the reasons I love Lord of the Rings so much. It has everything. I also love how Amy Lynn Green and Emily Hayse highlight such relationships in their books. Dickens also has some top-tier stuff, particularly in David Copperfield.

SCRIPTURAL ALLUSIONS IN PROSE
This is, I think, highly specific, and I can't quite articulate my thoughts about it. I have read many a classic author whose prose is sprinkled with literary allusions. Done judicially, allusions add layers, you know? The only author I can think of who does this with Scripture, the way I do in my own writing, is Suzannah Rowntree, and when I read Children of the Desolate I was like, "I'm not the only one! It can be done!"
I know this is not a story, but this is one of the reasons I love "Ash Wednesday" by T. S. Eliot so much. The way he weaves Biblical imagery and phrases into this poem is something to behold.

WALKING STORIES
I mean journey/pilgrimage stories, but specifically those in which Much Walking is involved. There's something--innate is the only one I can think of--about pilgrimage stories. Universal, maybe, because we are all pilgrims in this world. And something about walking heightens that experience, to me.
Again. Lord of the Rings. Tolkien just knew what he was about.

ABANDONMENT ISSUES
Is this morbid or maternal of me? I don't know, but the trauma and loneliness never fail to compel me. The Sin Eater by Gary D. Schmidt? Hooked. A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness? Instant heartstring-puller. The Lantern Bearers by Rosemary Sutcliff? Mine mine mine.

CROSS-CULTURAL FRIENDSHIPS
I think this is a product both of my own upbringing and of the many missionary stories I inhaled as a pre-teen. There's uncertainty in any new friendship, but there is a unique vulnerability to these friendships that is just so powerful. And when the relationship deepens, one sees how different cultures can enrich each other. The two missionary stories that are foremost in my mind are those of Isobel Kuhn and Bruce Olson. I am drawing a blank on fictional stories that showcase cross-cultural friendships (although I must have read some?) except for Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff.

PROTAGONISTS WHO ARE NOT YOUNG
Instant hook. Instant win. I love a good coming-of-age story, but there's so much depth and richness to be explored in a life lived. I have a deep need for more older protagonists. I have not read nearly enough such books, but some lovely ones include Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrlees (quirky and fantastical), Lady of Weeds by W. R. Gingell (soft and slow), and Epiphany by Paul McCusker (tender and a little melancholy). 

LEGENDS OR MYTHS
Small and local or large and sweeping, cultural or familial, I don't care. Just something that has been passed down generations, something that has been guarded and treasured, something that evokes oldness.

And that's it! Whoever expects me to tag seven people has very unrealistic expectations. If you are reading this and wish to snitch this tag, please do!

What are some specific things in books that delight you? Who are some of your favorite not-young protagonists? I desire to make their acquaintance!