Ladies’ Day
Beth Sawyer has had her share of heartaches, including a runaway daughter named Julie, whose disappearance years earlier brought about her divorce. Though Beth will never give up on finding Julie, fifteen years later she has a pretty fulfilling life teaching college composition, she has begun dating again, and she has the support of her two closest friends who get together to play a round of golf each week on ladies’ day.
Beth’s life changes when she sees a newspaper photo of a promising young golfer named Sky Sawyer who looks just like her runaway daughter, Julie, setting her on a mission to find out more. Could Sky possibly be her granddaughter, and if so, will she lead Beth to finding her lost daughter, Julie?
This is the premise of Lisa Williams Kline’s compelling new novel, Ladies’ Day, a heartwarming, realistic story of four generations of women told from the viewpoints of Beth and Sky. Ladies’ Day is part romance, part mystery, part family drama, with some serious and lol funny competition taking place on the golf course. The novel drew me in with the first scene and had me attentively turning the pages to the very end, cheering for the Sawyer women to reconcile and reunite as a family. Wonderfully written and highly recommended!
An Old Favorite
Already an avid reader of children’s and young adult fiction, I first encountered Phyllis A. Whitney’s work in my early teens when I picked up a thick glossy library book my mother had just finished reading. We happened to be on a family camping trip at Juniper Springs in the Ocala National Forest and from the minute I opened the novel, I was so engrossed I went MIA from my family, ignoring all their pleas to swim, hike, or play cards. Instead, I spent my time stretched out on the bench seat in the back of our red VW van, and when the sun went down, on a camping chair by the firelight, completely absorbed in the story. At over 300 pages, it was the biggest novel I’d read to date, and when I finished I made a mental note that I would never forget the book that marked my transition from juvenile to grown up fiction, and I never did. Published in 1973, the book was called The Turquoise Mask.
The author, Phyllis A. Whitney (1903-2008), was a prolific American mystery novelist who wrote both juvenile and adult fiction with over 70 titles to her credit. Her books are full of exotic settings and contain aspects of both horror and romance leading some to classify her as a gothic novelist. Whitney preferred to say she wrote in the genre of “romantic novels of suspense.” Among various recognitions, in 1988 she received the Grand Master Award for lifetime achievement from the Mystery Writers of America.
Fast forward forty-some years—I entered my local gym and noticed a stack of books upon the front counter. Tim, one of the owners, explained that his girlfriend had cleaned off her bookshelves and these were free for the taking. Naturally, I scanned the titles, when I came across a never-been-read boxed set of Whitney’s books containing The Turquoise Mask. The moment felt serendipitous as if I was destined to read this book again, and I quickly claimed the set for my own. The book sat on my shelf a few more years until recently when, looking for an “old favorite” to read for my annual reading challenge, I picked it up.
Too many years had passed and I remembered nothing of the plot: Amanda Austin’s mother died in Santa Fe, New Mexico, when she was five years old under mysterious circumstances her father wouldn’t discuss. Living in New England years later when her father dies, Amanda receives a letter from her maternal grandfather requesting her to come. Amanda wants to get to know her mother’s side of the family who’ve been kept from her, but arriving in Santa Fe, she soon finds she is unwelcome, and not long after she learns why. Her mother was accused of murdering a man and then taking her own life. Amanda was present at the time of the incident, and as memories start to resurface, she doesn’t believe the explanation she’s been given and sets out clear her mother’s name. Like characters in a game of Clue, everyone is a suspect, and the protagonist trusts much too easily often ending up in precarious situations, but ultimately solves the mystery.
After so many years and books, here’s my assessment second time around: As genre fiction, the book is predictable and a bit formulaic, nevertheless, I can say I was once again absorbed throughout, constantly questioning the characters and their motives and trying to figure out whodunit almost as much as I had done as a young teenager. Ultimately, it was an entertaining book and so much fun to reread. After all, as I learned so many years ago, isn’t entertainment one of the top reasons we read?
Between the Sky and the Sea
I’m always curious about where authors get their ideas and this was especially true in the captivating new novel, Between the Sky and the Sea, by Lisa Williams Kline. Fascinated by the discovery of the shipwreck of the steamship Pulaski in 2018 off the coast of Wilmington, NC, Lisa began to research and uncovered a legend in the Delaware Gazette about two supposed survivors—a Miss Onslow from Savannah and a Mr. Ridge from New Orleans. The legend says the two had never met prior to the ship’s explosion and sinking, but together they survive at sea for four days on a makeshift raft, and by the time of their rescue, they are engaged.
Though the legend was never verified, and the two weren’t listed on the ship’s register, from that tiny little newspaper nugget, Lisa let her imagination run to create this vivid and compelling story set in the 1830s South. Lavinia Onslow is the strong and independent main character whose passion lies in the work she does of managing the family’s millinery shop. If and when she decides to marry, she hopes to do so for love, and not make a marriage of convenience like her younger sister, Sarah, is planning. In a case of ‘be careful what you wish for,’ Lavinia falls in love with Daniel Ridge while drifting at sea and marries him just days after their rescue. This spontaneous decision brings huge complications and heartbreaking circumstances causing Lavinia to question everything she’s ever believed.
This was a most gratifying novel and I couldn’t put it down, swept away first by the story of surviving the sinking of the Pulaski, but also by the relatable characters, the vibrant descriptions of Savannah and New Orleans, and the author’s knowledge of the history, customs, and speech of the times. I found myself crying in places, but always cheering for Lavinia and everything she endures as she gracefully navigates the impact of her decisions as well as the confines placed upon her at a time in history when women cannot own property and coverture laws are enforced.
Compelling, page-turning, and ultimately hopeful, Between the Sky and the Sea captured my attention until the very end.
From Strength to Strength
In his 2022 book From Strength to Strength, Arthur C. Brooks, a social scientist and columnist for The Atlantic, writes that half of the people who make it to 65 get happier as they age, while the other half get unhappier by clinging to past successes. His book, subtitled “finding success, happiness, and deep purpose in the second half of life,” is a practical roadmap for the second half of life and addresses seven patterns for moving the needle in the direction of happiness and fulfillment.
Early in the book, Brooks introduces what he finds are two intelligence curves: the fluid intelligence curve which is the intelligence of ideas, innovations, and creative thinking vs. the crystalized intelligence curve which is the collective wisdom of a lifetime. Fluid intelligence is the intelligence of the young, and starts to wan in one’s forties and fifties. Brooks cites many instances of ‘strivers,’ himself included, who were once at the top of their game but start to lose their edge as they age, yet can’t let go of the addiction to success and power. On the other hand, crystalized intelligence continues to grow. He compares it to a library where all the books on the shelf are the sum of our knowledge and experience…though as we age accessing it can take a while longer. Brooks posits crystalized intelligence is the more rewarding of the two curves. It’s the intelligence of maturity, of the teacher brain, it’s the ability to assemble ideas in a new way, and put our wisdom to use in service of others and in giving back.
In other chapters Brooks writes of the importance of managing our ‘wants.’ While early in our careers we spend much time accumulating the status that comes from ‘things,’ the second half should be about releasing what is unessential, which he compares to a sculptor chipping away at what isn’t the statue within the stone. He goes on to say we should ponder our death, a hard thing for many of us to do, writing that the legacies we think we’re building will wither away, as will our memories, and thinking about our lifespans puts the truly important things in perspective.
As most geriatric studies show, healthy aging includes having a rich social circle. Brooks writes we should be intentional in making friendships, and distinguishes between ‘deal’ friends and ‘real’ friends, the real friends being the ones who know us well, the people who would show up at our funerals. There is a chapter on cultivating our faith which Brooks was hesitant to include. He is a practicing Catholic, but recognizes that organized religion isn’t for everyone and suggests ways to pursue spirituality by taking time to really know what we believe, spending time in prayer and contemplation, and continuously reading and learning.
Brooks, who had a former career as the CEO of a Washington think tank, writes that his research into the subject of aging well and happily caused him to reconsider career paths. As well as writing, he now teaches what he preaches at the Harvard Business School.
Supported by lots of anecdotal as well as scholarly evidence, at 217 pages, I found the book to be highly readable and relatable. As a person well into the second half of life, so much resonated with me especially the conclusion that we have some choice in our future happiness and we shouldn’t leave it to chance.
The Maker of Swans
Paraic O’Donnell’s debut novel The Maker of Swans begins with a bang—late one night in front of a decaying English countryside estate, a chase and a shoot-out result in the death of a scorned lover at the hands of the mysterious writer/philanderer, Mr. Crowe, while trying to protect his latest muse, a singer named Arabella. Eustace, the butler/caretaker, is left to clean things up, learning that the man didn’t die from a bullet wound, but from something else, something much more sinister. Endowed with extraordinary powers, Mr. Crowe is a member of a secret society with a rule that states “they may destroy what they themselves have created…They may not destroy what is living.” Mr. Crowe has misused his powers and now must pay.
In a parallel story, Mr. Crowe has a ward named Clara, a mute girl who is given free rein to explore the estate with all its winding passageways and hidden rooms as well as the surrounding grounds. Clara communicates through writing and shares her imaginative prose with Eustace, her sole caretaker and the only one who takes any interest in her. Though latent, Clara also has the mysterious gift. She hears and sees things others don’t, and in an early fascinating scene with her mirror image, Clara makes her own magic when she gives life to a swan.
Much preparation is made by Eustace for Mr. Chastern—a college professor of English by day, in charge of the secret society by night— who envies Mr. Crowe’s wasted talents. He arrives at the estate with his thug, Navaire, to exact punishment for the killing. The punishment is the kidnapping of Clara who will only be returned when Mr. Crowe agrees to use his talent once again and write something coveted by Chastern.
As twisting and turning as the maze on the estate, The Maker of Swans is told in two parts. In the second half we learn Eustace’s backstory, including the loss of his sister and his first love, and how he comes to work for Crowe and care for Clara. It’s in the second half, while imprisoned, Clara recognizes her powers when through her writing, she brings to bloom a rose garden in winter. She is chastised by Mr. Chastern who tells her, “…one is always disquieted when such things happen other than in their natural course,” and her pen and paper are taken away. However, when Chastern returns to the estate leaving Clara in the care of Navaire, she saves herself by scratching secretive prose on the stone wall underneath her bed using a mislaid tie pin, resulting in the illness and death of Navaire, and opening the way for her escape.
Originally published in the UK in 2016, The Maker of Swans by Paraic O’Donnell, made its US debut in 2022. Gothic suspense combined with magical realism, at 361 pages, the story ultimately explores the magic of creating through the written word, how it can be used to build up as well as to destroy.
Visual, mysterious, enchanting, this was a book to savor—on any given page I was struck by the beautiful prose and O’Donnell’s use of language: “Above the orchard, as she passes, colours are seeping into the hem of the sky” and “She is blind now, and deaf also, but discovers things by other senses, by a quiet seeping of pulses.” A writer and poet who lives with his family in Wicklow, Ireland, O’Donnell has a second book called The House on Vesper Sands that I can’t wait to dive into.
2023—52 Week Reading Challenge
With the goal of getting out of our comfort zones and reading more diversely by trying out new authors, genres, and subject matters, this year’s annual challenge is to read a book a week in no particular order based upon the prompts below.
Alternatively, since not everyone has the time (or inclination) to read a book a week, in this challenge often a single book can fit into several categories at once, lessening the actual number of books to read. For example. I’m planning to read The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood which fits four categories: dystopian, classic, a book I’ve always wanted to read, and one that’s been adapted into film.
And, if that’s still too many books, just read what you can, and be sure and share your recommendations (see prompt #51).
1. A classic
2. A book you’ve always wanted to read
3. An old favorite
4. A book published in 2023
5. A short story collection
6. A novella
7. A tome (over 500 pages)
8. A novel told in stories
9. An epistolary novel
10. An essay collection
11. A translation
12. A debut novel
13. A children’s story
14. A coming-of-age novel
15. A novel with an elderly protagonist
16. A novel set in your home state
17. A novel with a foreign setting
18. A novel set on an island
19. A novel set in a place you’d like to visit
20. A novel adapted for film
21. A prize winner (Pulitzer, National Book Award, Booker)
22. A memoir
23. A biography
24. A sequel
25. A historical novel
26. A novel based on a real person
27. A book with a great title
28. A book with a great cover
29. A book with a great opening line
30. A book told from multiple points-of-view
31. A book with multiple settings
32. A book told in past and present time frames
33. A book about sisters (or brothers)
34. An intergenerational novel
35. A fiction bestseller
36. A nonfiction bestseller
37. An inspirational/spiritual book
38. A WW II novel
39. A dystopian novel
40. A fantasy or sci-fi novel
41. A retake on a myth or classic
42. A mystery
43. A police procedural
44. A true crime story
45. A book with a medical setting
46. A horror/ghost story
47. A story with magic or magical elements
48. A humorous story
49. A romance/beach read
50. A self-help book
51. A recommendation from a friend
52. A recommendation from a stranger
2022 Reading Challenge Results
“In the case of good books, the point is not to see how many you can get through, but rather how many can get through to you,” said author Mortimer J. Alder. As my favorite pastime, I happened to read a lot of books this year—some were brilliant, while others didn’t get through to me and are already forgotten. Below is my list (by author) with parenthetical notes to highlight the best and most memorable reading of 2022.
A. Alexie, Sherman—Blasphemy
Alvarez, Julia—How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents (*Delightful)
Alvarez, Julia—Yo! (*I’d read anything by Alvarez)
Alberto, Jim—Daufuskie Daze
B. Backman, Fredrik—Anxious People
Barry, Sebastian—The Secret Scripture
Bennett, Brit—The Mothers
Berg, Elizabeth—The Story of Arthur Truluv
C. Conklin, Tara—The Last Romantics
Clear, James—Atomic Habits
Campbell, Jane—Cat Brushing (*Most impressive debut—by an octogenarian!)
Conroy, Pat—The Water is Wide
Cash, Wiley—When Ghosts Come Home
D. Doyle, Roddy—Smile
De Gramont, Nina—The Christie Affair
E. Eugenides, Jeffrey—Fresh Complaint
Enright, Anne—The Green Road
Ephron, Delia—Left on Tenth
Erlick, Nikki—The Measure
F. French, Tana—The Searchers (*An author I’d read again and again)
Foley, Lucy—The Paris Apartment
G. Garcia, Gabriela—Of Women and Salt
Garmus, Bonnie—Lessons in Chemistry
H. Heller, Miranda Cowley—The Paper Palace
Hildebrand, Elin—28 Summers
Hanff, Helene—84, Charing Cross Road
Haruf, Kent—Our Souls at Night (*Most fascinating premise)
Hoover, Colleen—Verity
I. Irwin, Jennifer—A Dress the Color of the Moon
J. Jackson, Joshilyn—Never Have I Ever
Jaswal, Balli Kaur—Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows
Jin, Ha—Waiting
K. Kauffman, Rebecca—Chorus
Kelly, Martha Hall—Lilac Girls (*Best historical)
Kukafka, Danya—Notes on an Execution
Kline, Lisa Williams—The Ruby Mirror (*Favorite collection of essays)
L. Lahiri, Jhumpa—The Namesake
Lyons, Annie—The Brilliant Life of Eudora Honeysett
Luiselli, Valeria—Lost Children Archive (*Top pick—the book I most admired in 2022)
Lange, Tracey—We are the Brennans
M. Mayhew, Anna Jean—The Dry Grass of August
Moore, Liz—Long Bright River (*Favorite page-turner with an unforgettable ending)
Miller, Sue—Monogamy (One of my top 5 picks)
Martone, McCaffrey—The Rabbit in the Moon (*Best novel-in-progress)
May, Katherine—Wintering
N. Newton, Heather—Under the Mercy Trees
O. Otsuka, Julie—The Swimmers
O’Nan, Stewart—Emily, Alone
O’Connor, Nuala—Nora (*Best historical based upon a real person)
P. Powers, Richard—Bewilderment (*One of my top 5 picks)
Pawelski, Tracy—One Woman’s Camino
Pink, Daniel H.—The Power of Regret
Penner, Sarah—The Lost Apothecary
Parton, Dolly and James Patterson—Run Rose Run
Pilcher, Rosamunde—The Shell Seekers (*Best re-read/classic)
Pipher, Mary—Women Rowing North (*Most inspirational)
Q. Quindlen, Anna—Blessings
Quindlen, Anna—Write for Your Life
R. Rooney, Sally—Beautiful World, Where Are You
Reid, Taylor Jenkins—The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo
Rooney, Kathleen—Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk (*Charming and highly enjoyable)
Russell, Kate Elizabeth—My Dark Vanessa
S. Scharer, Whitney—The Age of Light
Saunders, George—A Swim in a Pond in the Rain (*Best nonfiction/educational)
Shipstead, Maggie—Great Circle
Strout, Elizabeth—Lucy by the Sea (*Favorite author)
Simsion, Graeme—The Rosie Project
Simonson, Helen—The Summer Before the War (*One of my top 5 picks)
T. Towles, Amor—The Lincoln Highway (*One of my top 5 picks)
Tyler, Anne—Dinner at the Homesick Diner
Tyler, Anne—French Braid
U. Umrigar, Thrity—Honor (*One of my top 5 picks)
V. Vonnegut, Kurt—Slaughterhouse-Five
W. Wilson, Kevin—Nothing to See Here
Wilson, Antoine—Mouth to Mouth
Wood, Monica—The One-in-a-Million Boy
X. D’ApriX Sweeney, Cynthia—Good Company
Y. Yang, Susie—White Ivy
Z. Zhang, Jenny Tinghui—Four Treasures of the Sky
Glendalough
Our last day in Ireland took us on the M11 from Wexford to Dublin with stops along the way in County Wicklow. Before going home, we wanted to revisit two places we’d last seen in 2005 on a family reunion trip to Ireland with our dad.
First stop, Avoca, where we literally pulled over on a curb to see the confluence of the Avonmore and Beg Rivers joining to form the Avoca River, better known as the Meeting of the Waters. I recall on our last visit the water was fierce and rushing, but on this day, the scene was idyllic—the rivers gently flowed together in shallow, clear pools over the river rocks, inviting enough to almost want to take off our shoes and dip in our feet. Of note is the monument erected in the small park above the rivers honoring the place where the Irish poet, Thomas Moore, wrote his famous poem “The Meeting of the Waters.”
Next stop, Glendalough, a place as pretty as it sounds. Located in the Wicklow Mountains National Park, Glendalough literally translates to “the valley of the two lakes,” and is the place of an early Christian monastic settlement founded by St. Kevin in the 6th century. The park has an upper and lower lake as well as picnic sites, plentiful walking trails, rock climbing areas, and hiking trails that lead up to a waterfall.
For the viewing of ancient ruins, the monastic settlement is a great place to visit. It includes the remains of the cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, the largest building on the site. Striking is the still intact round tower which stands about 100 feet tall and was used to see approaching visitors as well as to take refuge in times of attack. There are the remnants of multiple churches on the site, including St. Kevin’s church and the priest’s house, a Romanesque building named so because it was the place priests were interred. All these ruins stand among an ancient grave yard with unmarked and marked graves dating from as far back as the 11th century. On a walk between the lower and upper lakes are an old stone fortress and three crosses, thought to be stations on the pilgrimage route at Glendalough.
Winding down our trip, we celebrated our final night in Ireland in Malahide, a coastal town not too far from Dublin, having dinner with our cousins in a scenic restaurant overlooking Malahide Bay—a lovely way to end our journey.
Ireland, 2022—we hated to say goodbye, but will take with us memories of a lifetime. As they say in Ireland, Slan go Foill!
Wexford
Wexford is renowned for its colorful quay, its annual opera festival, and its narrow medieval streets, but it holds a special place in our hearts as the birthplace of our dad, the place our parents met, and the place they married. Located on the southeastern tip of Ireland where the River Slaney meets the Irish sea, a trip to Ireland wouldn’t have been complete without a visit.
We booked rooms on the outskirts of town at the Ferrycarrig Hotel on the River Slaney, right next to the Ferrycarrig Castle. The castle loomed large in our family lore and was a must see on our lists of places to visit—years ago, our neighbor, the artist Jens Peter Johansen, gifted our family an oil painting of the castle which, for as long as I can remember, hung on the living room wall of our childhood home for us to view every day. Ferrycarrig Castle is a rectangular tower house that sits high on the north side of the river and was built in response to the Norman invasion in the 12th century in order to keep watch over the River Slaney. It’s believed to be the first Norman fortification in Ireland.
Ferrycarrig
On the morning of our second day in Wexford, we explored Johnstown Castle, a beautiful Gothic Revival structure set among 120-acres of woodland paths, gardens, lakes, and wildlife, and beyond that, another 900+ acres of working research farmland. Johnstown Castle was built in the 12th century by the Esmondes, an Anglo-Norman family. During Cromwell’s military reign, the estate was confiscated, and later changed hands many times before being acquired by John Grogan in 1692. When Grogan’s descendants were unable to pay the taxes, a deal was made and the estate was gifted to the nation.
Johnstown Castle has undergone many additions and renovations—in fact, the left side was under construction the day of our visit. The castle tour was most interesting with secret doorways and long passageways, and a visit to the inhouse research lab where they once studied the agricultural environment and agro-ecology. Interestingly, our Uncle Frank worked in that very lab early in his career.
After the tour, we strolled through the spectacular gardens complete with three ornamental lakes, statues, towers, a cemetery, a walled garden, and arboretum. Most striking on our visit were the wild peacocks all around the property. As a symbol of prosperity, they were first imported to the castle by Esmondes family as a way to show off their wealth.
Back in town that afternoon, we took a leisurely walk visiting places that hold parts of our family’s history, like Charlotte Street where our dad’s childhood home was located, and Main Street, the narrow, cobbled street where our grandmother once lived in a four story house. Both places are gone now—our grandmother’s old house now the home of a sporting goods store. Inside the store, however, the original stairs still stand.
From there, we followed the spire to locate the Church of the Immaculate Conception on Rowe Street, where in 1954, our parents were joined in holy matrimony. Along with its twin church, The Assumption on Bride Street, the Gothic inspired church was built in the 1850s following the Catholic Emancipation. Both of the churches’ existence is notable because they were built during the time of the Irish famine, and funded by not only parishioners, but Wexford sailors and Irish exiles all over the world. The church sanctuary has beautiful features made from local as well as international artisans such as the statuary, stained glass windows, a pipe organ, carved pews and a sculpted main altar. We took a moment to light candles and have a prayer in memory of our dear parents married there sixty-eight years ago.
Our visit to Wexford wasn’t complete without time with our Irish family. That night after dinner at White’s Hotel with our aunt and cousin, we all went to an open-air production of the One Voice Festival 2022 performance of “Shadows and Street Corners,” and later popped into Mary’s Bar, one of the oldest pubs in Wexford, for a pint and a laugh. Slainte!
Slea Head
The scenic Slea Head Loop in the Dingle Peninsula on the southwestern coast in County Kerry was our destination on day seven. Part of Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way, the thirty-mile loop offers stunning views of the Atlantic, Dingle Bay, and Blasket Sound as well as heritage sites, historic ruins, museums, beaches, and mountain views.
Slea Head Loop begins and ends in the town of Dingle. We’d been advised to travel clockwise around the loop because of the narrow roads, sometimes single lanes with places with hairpin turns, and because that was the direction of the plentiful tour busses driving the route during the summer.
We set out after breakfast stopping first at The Lios, the remnants of a ringfort likely built during the Bronze age. The Lios is a circular settlement surrounded by a grassy rampart and ditch, with evidence of some huts and a subterranean passage. The stop was also a petting and feeding farm, and inside the gate, goats and sheep ran wild, jumping on us to get at the feed we’d been given with our entrance fee. One particular stubborn billy guarded the entrance to ringfort, and we had to climb around him to get inside.
Guarding the gate
As in many places we visited, there is a legend associated with The Lios that says ringforts like this one were “‘fairy forts’ imbued with ‘Druids magic,’” and that to cut the fairy trees (also known as the whitehorn) which surrounded the fort resulted in death. It’s also said a person who enters the Lios between one and five a.m. would not leave alive. Luckily we were there during the day.
Across from The Lios we went to see the remains of Dunbeg Fort, another national monument of Ireland. Dunbeg Fort is a promontory fort that overlooks Dingle Bay. It was constructed of stacked stone and is believed to have been built in the Iron Age.
Beehive hut
From there, we stopped at the Beehive Huts (“Clochain” in Irish) which are stacked stone structures that resemble beehives with rectangular entrances and apertures in the tops small enough to be closed with flagstones. Beehive Huts are typically found inside ringforts in order to keep out livestock and preditors, and are believed to have been occupied by single families and/or monks from ancient times up until 1200 AD. We were allowed to explore five of the ancient structures on our visit. The construction is unique in that there was no mortar used and the stones were stacked with a tilt that prevented water from getting inside.
Stacked stone construction and aperture of Beehive hut inside the walls of a Ringfort
Our day included many roadside stops just to take in the scenery—Blasket Island in the Blasket Sound; Skelig Michael, an island used as a filming location in three Star Wars movies; The Three Sisters, a group of three peaks at the northwestern end of the Dingle Peninsula; and The Cross at Slea Head, a giant white cross that marks the actual Slea Head.
Skelig Michael
We stopped at The Blasket Center, the halfway point of Slea Head Drive. It’s a heritage museum and cultural center focused on the story of the Blasket Islands and their people. Behind the museum we found viewing platforms with more scenic views of the Blasket Sound and the Atlantic.
The White Cross at Slea Head
On day seven, we made a few wrong turns, we were held up by a flock of sheep on some side road, and said a prayer to make it up the steep single-lane road from the pier at Brandon Creek without encountering oncoming traffic as there was no place to pull aside.
All in all, it was a day full of fresh air, sunshine, blue skies, and fantastic scenery. Well worth the visit.
The Cliffs of Moher
If you’ve ever seen travel and tourism advertisements for Ireland, you’ve most likely seen the iconic photos of the Cliffs of Moher. With approximately a million and a half visitors per year, the Cliffs are among Ireland’s most visited sites, second only to the Guinness Brewery in Dublin.
The Cliffs of Moher are located in the Burren region on the southwestern edge of County Clare. Part of the Wild Atlantic Way, they are eight miles long and rise to 702 feet at their midpoint just north of O’Brien’s Tower. The tops of the cliffs are covered in emerald green grass, the edges are undulating strata of shale and sandstone pounded into shape for centuries by the deep blue Atlantic. On a clear day you can see the Aran Islands in Galway Bay, two mountain ranges to the north, the Loop Head Island Lighthouse and the Dingle Peninsula to the south.
O’Brien’s Tower
Our return trip on the ferry from the Aran Islands included a sea level view of the Cliffs of Moher that began at the Doolin pier and took us below O’Brien’s Tower, a tower built in 1835 by Cornelius O’Brien supposedly to enjoy the fantastic view. Over millions of years, the weather and the rough waters of the Atlantic have carved the Cliffs into their distinctive undulating shape, and from sea level, we viewed caves, sea arches, and sea stacks. Our ferry ride took us to the southern point as far as Hag’s Head, an enormous rock named, some say, because of its resemblance to a hag.
Irish legend records another story of how Hag’s Head got its name. It’s said that a hag named Mal falls madly in love with the Irish superhero, Cu Chulainn, and chases him down. Cu Chulainn is repelled by Mal and runs all over Ireland trying to avoid her. Eventually Mal corners him at Loop Head, but invoking his superpowers, Cu Chulainn escapes to the Cliffs of Moher using the sea stacks as stepping stones. Mal tries to follow him, but looses her footing at Hag’s Head and falls to her death, where her blood is said to have stained the sea red.
Hag’s Head and Moher Tower
We took a walking tour the morning after our ferry ride, parking near the visitor center and heading south along the clifftop path. The path is a narrow curving dirt trail that gets precariously close to the cliff edge in places. With eight sheer headlands, the length of the walk was deceiving and several times we talked about turning back, but the day was gorgeous and we didn’t know when we would get the chance again, so we went as far as Moher Tower at Hag’s Head, about three miles from where we started. With endless views of green farmland on one side and the rugged cliffs overlooking the Atlantic on the other, we were once again surrounded by Ireland’s natural grandeur.
Looking north to O’Brien’s Tower and the sheer rockface
The Cliffs of Moher have provided fantastic backdrops in many movies, including The Princess Bride scene of the Man in Black climbing up ‘The Cliffs of Insanity’ to rescue Buttercup, as well as scenes from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
38 years in the making
Many years ago, on another trip with three of my sisters, I almost saw the Cliffs, but because we had just gotten off an all-night flight, and the need for sleep was more important to me, I stayed in the car and napped while my sisters took in the sight. Sometimes in life we get second chances, and on days five and six of our journey, I finally got to see the Cliffs of Moher and check off a thirty-eight year bucket-list item.
The Aran Islands
Inisheer, Inishmann, and Inishmore, the three islands that make up the Aran Islands, sit in the mouth of Galway Bay off the western coast of Ireland. Known not only for the popular Aran fisherman sweaters and wool products, but for the rugged terrain, on day five we went to Inishmore, the largest of the three islands, and one of Carm’s picks to visit.
To get there, we took a forty-minute scenic ferry ride from the port in Doolin, County Clare, getting a glimpse of the Cliffs of Moher as well as a lighthouse and shipwreck on the smaller islands. Though Inishmore is biker friendly, we opted for a pony and trap tour, and met our guide, John Dirrane, alongside his bright red trap as we disembarked the ferry.
Our tour guide sitting atop our conveyance
Nine miles long and just over two miles wide, Inishmore has a population of approximately 800 people, most of whom still speak Irish. Tourism and fishing are the main industries. The island is part of the Burren region and has a “karst” landscape, a topography of limestone, dolomite, and gypsum rocks with underground drainage systems that include sinkholes and caves.
There are two main roads on Inishmore—the main upper road and the low road—and (as the song goes) we took the low road along the coast, stopping while John pointed out the town of Galway across the bay and the Aran Seal Colony. The tide was high again on the day of our visit and the few seals we saw were mere dots bobbing in the ocean, but bucolic scenes of livestock framed by the ubiquitous rock walls were plentiful.
Not far beyond the beautiful white sandy crescent of Kilmurvey Beach where the two roads join, John dropped us off at the visitor center and trailhead for the short but rocky climb to Dun Aonghasa, the remains of a semi-circular prehistoric fort that sits atop a 330-foot sheer coastal cliff. Partially restored, it’s the oldest fort in western Europe and offers amazing views of the cliffs, literally sheets of stacked rock, of the nearby islands, and the Atlantic, a must-see on Inishmore.
The ruins of Dun Aonghasa
After touring Dun Aonghasa, we headed back to town on the main upper road and had an excellent view of much of the island. The main road is another of Ireland’s narrow roads framed on either side by rock walls, and we often had to yield to oncoming traffic. Here we saw an eclectic mix of newer modern houses alongside very old stone farmhouses, thatched cottages, barns, and churches. Lining the roadside were stone “cenotaphs,” memorials dating back to the early 1800s. Topped with crosses and covered in ivy, they were placed in commemoration of local families.
Like so many places we visited, The Aran Islands also have their place in literature and film—James Joyce mentions them in his short story, “The Dead,” while Seamus Heaney’s first book of poems has one entitled “Lovers on Aran.” A scene in the 1997 film, The Match Maker, starring Janeane Garofalo, was filmed there, as were scenes from the 2010 film, Leap Year.
Last stop, our drop off point in town where John pointed out Frenchman’s Beach, the site of a large, modern “glamping” village that seemed somehow out of keeping with the rustic nature of the rest of the island. Maybe next time…
And, because you can’t tour the Aran Islands without stopping in at the Aran Sweater Market, which boasts of “the largest selection of Aran sweaters to found anywhere in the world,” we popped in to purchase souvenirs before catching our ferry back to Doolin.
Slieve League
Leaving Portrush on the morning of our third day, we went searching for hidden waterfalls, driving along one of Ireland’s notorious twisty roads in the small town of Adara, a road so narrow we had to pull aside for oncoming traffic. Hidden in plain sight along the side of the road, and standing about 300 feet high, we found the dazzling Assaranca Waterfall cascading between a cleft in the mountain into a small and inviting clear pond. (Ironically, the address for this hidden treasure is “unnamed road,” Co. Donegal.)
Assaranca Waterfall
From Assaranca Waterfall, we went spelunking in the nearby Caves of Maghera. After parking, we walked a short distance over the sand dunes where the white sandy stretch of Maghera Beach opened up to us, and on the western end, the mouths of the caves. The site boasts of eight arches, five tunnels, and more than twenty caves to explore, though they’re only accessible during low tide. Unfortunately, the day we visited, it happened to be high tide, and we could only enter one cave. Still, the dunes and the white sandy beach hedged by the caves and arches made for another beautiful view. Legend has it that during the Viking invasions of 807, the caves were where locals from Donegal hid out.
Inside one of Maghera Caves
Without a doubt, the highlight of the day was Slieve League, a key point of interest on Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way. It is the site of the second highest sea cliffs in Ireland, three times as high as the more popular Cliffs of Moher, and some of the highest sea cliffs in all of Europe. With a peak of 1,972 feet, Slieve League translates to “mountain of stone pillars,” and ascending the mountain that day, one could see why.
We arrived at the Bunglass viewpoint late in the afternoon on a blustery day, and climbed a steep stone path to the first summit, part of the 4 K trail known as Pilgrim’s Path. The strong wind and the steep angle made the climb a little nerve-racking, (and the fact that the barrier fence went only so high,) so we had to mind our steps, but it was well worth it for the spectacular views of the sloping cliffs over Teelin Harbour and the Atlantic Ocean.
Our path and view from atop the summit
Slieve League holds the remains of an early Christian monastic chapel, and monk’s dwellings known as beehive huts, and there are stone markings along Pilgrim’s Path indicating it had been a place of pilgrimage for Christians and earlier civilizations. On the way back to our car that afternoon, we saw a giant WW II era ‘EIRE’ sign still on the side of the mountain designating to pilots during the war that Ireland was neutral ground and a free fly zone.
The Giant’s Causeway
When my sister, Carm, (who planned our itinerary,) asked for input for our trip, the Giant’s Causeway was one of two places I requested we visit. Driving through Belfast to County Antrim on the north coast of Northern Ireland, we went there on day two.
Considered by some as the 8th Wonder of the World, the Giant’s Causeway is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and the most visited tourist site in Northern Ireland. Estimated to have formed some 60 million years ago during the intense volcanic activity of the Paleocene Epoch, it’s a jagged promontory of over 40,000 interlocking basalt columns, mostly in the shape of hexagons, that juts out into the North Sea, and is surrounded by some of the rugged cliffs Ireland is known for.
Interlocking Basalt Columns
We began our tour at the site of the amazing basalt rock formations with the rough waves of the North Sea crashing against them. The craggy columns looked almost chiseled, man-made, and were all the more impressive because they were created naturally.
From the basalt columns, we took the red trail around Port Noffer, and climbed the steep, narrow path to edge of The Amphitheatre. There we had some of the most magnificent panoramic views I’ve ever seen. Afterwards, we retraced our steps halfway down the slope then climbed The Shepherd’s Steps to the upper red trail and to more stunning views atop the cliffs.
High cliff view and our walking path
The Giant’s Causeway is steeped in Irish legend. It’s said the causeway was built by the giant, Finn MacCool, in order to cross the North Channel to fight the Scottish giant, Benandonner. In one story Finn defeats Benandonner outright, while another has Finn hiding from Benandonner when realizing how much bigger he is. To trick Benandonner, Finn is disguised as a baby by his wife, and when Benandonner sees the size of the baby, he figures that Finn must be a “giant among giants.” Benandonner flees back to Scotland, destroying most of the causeway in his wake so that Finn can’t chase after him.
Interestingly, several movies have been filmed on location at The Giant’s Causeway including Dracula Untold, Hellboy II, and Your Highness. Just down the road from The Giant’s Causeway, we stopped to see Dunluce Castle, a ruined medieval castle where scenes from Game of Thrones have been filmed.
Ruins of Dunluce Castle
For its breathtaking beauty, The Giant’s Causeway tops my list of favorite places to see on our trip, and on day two, I was able to check off a long-held bucket-list item.
Knowth and Newgrange
Summer vacation in Ireland…as if it were meant to be, the trip came together perfectly.
Traveling with my sisters, Carmel and Una, and my niece McCaffrey, (to celebrate her college graduation,) we arrived early in Dublin at 5 a.m. on a Wednesday morning, quickly passed through customs, and claimed our luggage without a problem. Carm, who graciously took over all the driving, got us safely to our hotel in Navan with nary a scratch on the car. There, we caught a few hours’ sleep before our first adventure—a tour of Knowth and Newgrange, high on McCaffrey’s list of places to see.
Knowth and Newgrange are Neolithic passage graves located in County Meath, west of Drogheda (our mother’s birthplace) in the valley of the River Boyne. Built around 3200 BC, they are older than Stonehenge and the Egyptian pyramids, and are considered some of the most important megalithic tomb structures in Europe.
First stop, Knowth, the sight of eighteen mound structures built out of alternating layers of earth and stone, and covered in grass. Knowth consists of one enormous passage tomb, known as Site 1, surrounded by seventeen smaller satellite tombs. Encircled by 127 etched “kerbstones,” Site 1 has two entrances aligned with the sun’s path—one on the east and one on the west which lead to separate burial chambers.
Valley of the River Boyne
For conservation purposes we weren’t allowed to enter the tombs at Knowth, but were able to peer through barred entrances into the caverns of the smaller mounds, and to climb to the top of Site 1, where we had fantastic views of the surrounding valley of the River Boyne in all its glorious shades of green, and in the distance, the Wicklow Mountain Range.
Newgrange
Our second stop that day was to Newgrange, a single, exceptionally impressive passage tomb framed by ninety-seven kerbstones, and the main monument in the World Heritage Site that includes Knowth and sister site Dowth. Here, we were able to go inside, warned in advance that doing so may cause feelings of claustrophobia. The inner stone passageway is sixty-feet in length and is indeed narrow. We had to “mind our heads” and turn our bodies sideways to get to the cruciform chamber at the end where we stood under massive stacked rocks that formed the inner dome. In each of the three smaller chambers of the cruciform, large carved granite basins are where human remains and other votive offerings were discovered.
Newgrange is an engineering feat designed to align with the winter solstice sunrise through an open port at the tomb entrance, and a highlight of the tour was a simulation of the event. For a few seconds, we stood in pitch blackness while our guide narrated how the tomb was representative of a “womb” for the return of the spirits of the dead. Then, a narrow laser beam of light traveled the length of the chamber floor mimicking the sunrise.
Underground, below tons of stone, unable to see our own hands in front of our faces, at this point several of us were starting to feel claustrophobic. Needless to say, when the lights came on, we were the first to exit.
Kerbstone outside of Knowth
Renowned for the spirals, chevrons, serpentiform, and many other etchings, the kerbstones surrounding both Knowth and Newgrange were a marvel. There is no concurring meaning of the etchings, but we heard theories from our guide that some believed them to be purely decorative, or to be representative of the topography of the area, or that their meaning is symbolic. For example, the image of the “Triskelion” or Trispiral on the kerbstones and on one of the stones inside the tomb of Newgrange, might represent the birth, life, death cycle, or the spring, summer, winter cycle, or the unity of earth, water, and fire.
Day one at Knowth and Newgrange—in a word, fascinating! Well worth the visit, and a great start to our journey.
5 Summer Reads
The Paris Apartment by Lucy Foley
Jess, who leaves London under questionable circumstances, goes to Paris to stay in an apartment with her half-brother, Ben, but when she arrives, Ben is missing and all the residents of the apartment complex seem complicit in hiding his whereabouts. Jess sets out on a tangled journey to find him.
Prior to reading The Paris Apartment, I’d read Foley’s The Guest List and The Hunting Party. Though the settings and circumstances of the novels differ, they follow a formula where the suspects, with a short description of each, are listed in a line-up on the back cover, and the plotline alternates among the various characters whose point of view reveals deeper layers of the story. No great surprises in The Paris Apartment but I did find it entertaining and wanted to keep reading to find out what happened. 3 stars.
Write for Your Life by Anna Quindlen
In this short tome, New York Times bestselling author and journalist, Anna Quindlen, touts the benefits of writing for everyday people “who want to use the written word to become more human, more themselves.” With essays ranging from Anne Frank’s diary, to parallel writing for medical practitioners, to journaling, and even an essay ruing the loss of the handwritten letter, Quindlen sees writing as a path to self-discovery and a way of leaving a personal record through the written word.
Write for Your Life did not contain the author’s writing habits or instructions or where she gets her ideas as I’d hoped, and as a person who already writes everyday, some of the book hit me as preaching to the choir. Still, a worthwhile book to encourage “civilians” to write their stories. 3.5 stars.
When Ghosts Come Home by Wiley Cash
An airplane crashes in the middle of the night on Oak Island, NC, and when Sheriff Winston Barnes arrives on the scene, he discovers there are no pilots or passengers, only the body of a murdered man. Told in alternating chapters between Winston, his daughter, Colleen, and Jay, the fourteen-year-old brother-in-law of the dead man, I’m immediately drawn into this story as Barnes investigates the case and uncovers the racism of the police personnel and people in his community.
I’ve enjoyed Cash’s three other books, and this one held my interest until the very end when, to me, it fell short in the summarizing of what happens to Sheriff Barnes rather than letting the reader see and experience it as the events unfold. 3.5 stars.
The Brilliant Life of Eudora Honeysett by Annie Lyons
With a narrator who reminded me of a Fredrik Bachman character, the curmudgeonly octogenarian, Eudora Honeysett, is tired of living and makes plans to go to Switzerland for a voluntary assisted death. Her decision gets complicated when she forms unexpected friendships with Rose Trewidney, her ten-year-old neighbor, and Stanley Marcham, another neighbor and recent widow. The story alternates present with past, revealing tragic loss and betrayal suffered by Eudora, and ultimately her courage. A sweet, delightful, ultimately uplifting book. 4 stars.
84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff
A classic published in 1970, this is the true story of the 1949 to 1969 correspondence between New York writer and bibliophile, Helene Hanff, and London-based used bookseller, Frank Doel. A friendship develops between the two when Hanff, who can’t get good American editions, answers an advertisement to Marks and Co., Booksellers (whose address is the title) requesting certain books which are located and shipped by Doel. Told with humor and charm, the letters show Hanff’s American informality contrasting with Doel’s British politeness, revealing a twenty-year bond forged by the love of beautiful books and of the printed word. At only 97 pages, I read the book in a few hours, and would definitely read it again. 5 stars.
Dad’s Sweater: A Father’s Day Memory
It didn’t matter that Dad lived in the subtropics of Florida, in his later years he often wore a sweater. Perhaps from the blood-thinning drugs he took or because he had almost zero body fat or from old age, he seemed to be equally cold working in the church’s office or on his afternoon walks around Gleason Park.
Not a man who liked ties, a sweater was a perfect Father’s Day gift, and over the years Dad accumulated many. Among them, he had a few favorites—a beige and brown Argyle sweater, two lighter-weight cardigans, one blue, one yellow, and a heavy woolen Irish Aran sweater—which he would alternate when dressing each morning.
Dad’s second career doing computer processing for his church came after a long first career in the space industry. Putting in twenty-plus years, he was beloved by the people at the church, especially the women in his office. So much so, when he passed away in 2012, they had an unusual request—they wanted one of his sweaters. Though a little surprised, my siblings and I wanted to accommodate them, and after some deliberation, we selected the beige and brown Argyle.
In a few days, word got back to us that the church ladies weren’t happy with our choice. They had a particular sweater in mind—the heavy woolen one made in Ireland where Dad was born. He wore that sweater most often, and like the women he worked with, we would most remember him in it as if it were his trademark. However, knowing it’s never a good idea to get on the bad side of church ladies, we acquiesced.
I think it’s safe to speak for my siblings and say we’re glad we did. Dad’s sweater has a special place of honor now, hanging on a coat stand in the church office, where we heard the church ladies often rub or touch it in passing, where they say “good morning, Sean” each day as if his spirit lives on in his sweater.
Forest Bathing
With the beautiful spring weather, I’ve had the opportunity to spend a lot of time in nature of late—a day at Cowpens National Battlefield, the sight of a Revolutionary War battle, another day at South Mountain State Park where the views of the waterfalls are breathtaking, and yet another at Hershey Botanical Gardens just in time to see the colorful variety of tulips in bloom.
One of my favorite places is Vereen Memorial Gardens, a small forest reserve that sits on the northern border of the South Carolina coast, where my husband and I make a point of visiting whenever we’re at the beach. As well as hiking, the park is a popular place for bird-watching and fishing, dog-walking, or just enjoying the maritime woods.
There is an endless Carolina blue sky the day Don and I head out along the wooden boardwalk that crosses to two small islands. In the salt marsh, we come upon a snowy egret standing tall in the pluff mud. Like a little boy, Don can’t resist trying to feed it, tossing in pieces of bread leftover from breakfast. The egret stares at us blankly, more interested in the fish it’s hoping to catch.
On the first island, a path to the left leads to a wide observation deck along the Intracoastal Waterway where fishermen cast their lines. To the right, we walk along another boardwalk that parallels a narrow beach covered in brilliant white oyster shells. On this little island, pin oaks, pines, and shrubbery with tangled roots grow at odd angles. One tree in particular has been designated a ‘wishing tree’ where people write their wishes on the scattered oyster shells and hang them on the branches. “More adventures,” someone wrote; another person, “Good health and healing for everyone,” with a little heart drawn underneath.
Across a third boardwalk we begin the 2.3 mile outer-loop through the maritime woods, following the red markers attached to the trees. It’s an easy, short walk along sandy, mostly flat trails, but with the many side paths, the walk can be extended.
The scent of pine resin is strong, a gentle breeze cools our skin, squirrels forage in the brush—there is nothing like a walk in the woods to lift my spirits, and, it turns out, there is scientific evidence that being in nature is a natural mood enhancer. Shinrin-yoku, or “forest bathing” is a term that emerged in Japan in the 1980s, offering an eco-antidote for technology burnout while also inspiring people to reconnect with nature.
According to Qing Li, author of the book, Forest Bathing: How Trees Can Help You Find Health and Happiness, “This is not exercise, or hiking, or jogging. It is simply being in nature, connecting with it through our senses of sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch. Shinrin-yoku is like a bridge. By opening our senses, it bridges the gap between us and the natural world.”
On some level, we’ve always known a walk in the woods is regenerative. A little research shows just twenty minutes of forest bathing has been known to lower blood pressure, heart rate, and put one in a relaxed mood. It can lead to a sense of well-being and happiness while also reducing stress.
We take a side trail that leads to the memorial garden, where a stone angel keeps watch over the Vereen family whose descendants are the people who have preserved the property. At one point, we hear hammering high up in the pines, and stop to observe several pileated woodpeckers with red crests and black and white feathers flitting about. The park is a designated wildlife sanctuary, and over the years, we have encountered snakes, deer, blue heron, and once, a cooper hawk.
Don and I reach the end of the red trail and cross the street to the blue trail, stopping to chat with a man carrying binoculars who points out an owl’s nest high up in an oak. We stand still for a while trying to catch a glimpse, but the owl stays hidden, resting for a nocturnal flight we assume. Around another bend, we come to Buckeye Pond, a swampy pond covered in green algae. In the crook of a tree out in the pond, we think we see a red cardinal, but, strangely, it turns out to be a small garden gnome. Geocaching, perhaps? That’s our best guess.
We follow the blue markers up some wooden steps, around a bend to the last leg of the path, passing a gazebo with a view of the marsh, arriving back where we started an hour later. For a few minutes, we sit on a swinging bench overlooking the Intracoastal, breathing in the salty air and observing the fishing and leisure boats as they head out to sea. A renewed sense of well-being swells inside us, and as our forest bath ends, I’m reminded of the wish on the shell: good health and healing for everyone.
Indeed.
The Last Ballad
Published in 2017, Wiley Cash’s heartbreaking The Last Ballad, is a historic novel that takes place in the small textile mill towns of the south-central piedmont of North and South Carolina, where the author grew up. The novel is inspired by the true events of the Loray Mill strike of 1929, and the heroine, Ella May Wiggins, is based upon a real-life historical figure.
Ella May works as a spinner at American Mill No. 2 in Bessemer City. She earns nine dollars for a seventy-two-hour work week for which she must eke out a living to feed her four living children, one of whom is sick. She has already lost a son to whooping cough, her husband has run off, and she is expecting another man’s baby.
The conditions at the mill are horrific—early in the novel, Ella May recalls an incident where she witnessed an underaged worker lose three fingers in a machining accident in which she is compelled to pick them up and give them back. The incident is representative of the larger picture of the poor treatment and working conditions of the employees, and unfortunately the child and the family get no recompense because the parents had knowingly let their twelve-year-old misrepresent his age to get the job, absolving the mill owners of responsibility.
Ella May and her children live in Stumptown, a poverty-stricken mill housing area. She and her best friend, Violet, work the night shift together. Ella May carries a flyer in her pocket inviting the textile workers to unite, and decides to attend the rally to see what it’s all about. Her life changes when she hitches a ride with two female strike workers and on the way, tells them her story. They ask her to share her story on stage during which she sings a ballad she has written called “The Mill Mother’s Lament.” The ballad becomes the theme song for the cause, and after the event, Ella May unwittingly becomes the face of the struggle, and is offered a job with the union.
The novel is told in multiple viewpoints. One voice leads to another, a character mentioned earlier comes back to narrate the story from his or her perspective and the concentric circles get wider as the novel gets richer. In the interview that follows the novel, Cash says, “I hoped to give the reader a sense of the historical moment and the many competing forces that collided in a storm of race, class, and gender that gave rise to this violent upheaval.”
“Equal pay for equal work” for all is what Ella May hopes to achieve, but the union is against allowing Black people to join the cause. After a night of violence and upheaval in which the police chief is murdered and the union representatives are arrested or sent home, Ella May unexpectedly finds herself in the role of union leader. In a final attempt to unionize the Black workers, Ella May’s convoy is ambushed and she is shot in the chest where she dies, ironically, in a cotton field.
Part of my interest in reading The Last Ballad is that the setting of the mill towns are my stomping grounds—I was intrigued by this glimpse into the history of Gastonia, Ranlo, Lowell, Cramerton, Belmont, Cherryville, Waco, Shelby, and Lincolnton. A drive through these towns reveals the skeletal husks of many abandoned mills with blown out windows and collapsing roofs, and the roads surrounding them are dotted with recognizable mill houses. There has been a trend to repurpose some of the massive old mill buildings—in fact, I bought the cabinets for our home at a cabinetry manufacturer housed in a converted mill in Bessemer City. Could it be Ella May’s mill?
To date, I’ve read three of Cash’s four novels—along with The Last Ballad, A Land More Kind Than Home and This Dark Road to Mercy. Known for their Southern Gothic elements and blending of drama with suspense, Cash’s novels have won numerous awards including the Thomas Wolfe Memorial Literary Award and two Southern Book Prizes. I’m looking forward to reading his latest, When Ghosts Come Home.
Flowers for Algernon
I’d been wanting to add more classics to my reading list, and was excited when I found the 1959 classic, Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes, in The Little Free Library at a park nearby my house. If you haven’t read it, here’s a review—
Charlie Gordon is a man with a very low IQ who, because of his desire to learn and be smart, has been selected to undergo an experimental treatment to increase his intelligence, the same treatment that has proven effective on a lab mouse named Algernon. Charlie was abandoned by his parents and sister, though his sister is located and gives permission for the surgery. Charlie is 33 and has worked in a bakery for 15 years while taking night classes for people with mental disabilities.
The action of the novel takes place in just over nine months. The story is written in close first person in the form of diary entries, or “progress reports,” written by Charlie, a requirement of the experiment as a record of his experience. The novel takes the shape of a bell curve graph, starting with Charlie at his lowest intellectual point, gradually rising to his genius state where he peaks, and then starts to decline rapidly.
In the beginning, the progress reports are full of errors in spelling and punctuation. Charlie is put through a series of tests, including a Rorschach test which he fails because he is unable to think figuratively. His intelligence is measured against Algernon, the mouse, in a competition to see who can be the first to find his way out of a maze. The mouse wins every time.
Soon after the surgery, Charlie begins to show improvement. His diary entries start to become legible. With a thirst for knowledge, his intelligence grows at a rapid pace, to the point where he not only outsmarts Algernon, but his teacher, his doctors, and the director of the study.
I am caught up in the novel almost immediately, my disbelief suspended by the intimate first-person narrative. The most poignant aspects come in Charlie’s remembering of his past and the cruelty he suffered because of his limitations not only from his own family, but from the people he had considered friends in the bakery where he is employed. With his new intelligence, he thinks, “…they look at a feeble-minded person and laugh because they don’t understand there are human feelings involved”(145).
People from Charlie’s old life don’t know how to interact with the new genius in their midst. They feared him when he was simple-minded, and they fear him when he becomes smart. Even Charlie gets confused. “What is my place? Who and what am I now? Am I the sum of my life or only of the past months”(153)?
Charlie experiences sex with one woman, and love with another but complications arise when his emotions don’t grow at the same rate of his intelligence. His once sweet personality changes to anger. He is a man divided between the old not-so-smart Charlie and the new brilliant Charlie.
With his exceptional intellect, Charlie is the one who discovers the fault in the experiment by observing Algernon’s deterioration. It seems inevitable that Charlie will suffer the same fate and regress to his previous state or worse. He makes plans to enter The Warren State Home and Training School, a school where most of the students are beyond help, to end out his days.
I had hoped for a different ending, perhaps a less predictable one, but as Charlie starts to descend the bell curve, his intelligence and language suffer and his reversion becomes inevitable. As heartbreaking as the novel is, the ray of hope is that the record of Charlie’s personal sacrifice and experience will enrich the lives of others with similar disabilities. “So I gess its like I did it for all the dumb pepul like me in Warren and all over the world,” Charlie writes, on the final page.
Flowers For Algernon was the winner of the Hugo Award and the Nebula Award, and was the basis for the Academy Award winning movie, Charly. As a classic, it has stood the test of time with over five million copies sold. I found it to be an enriching and worthwhile read…so, to the stranger who placed it in The Little Free Library, thank you!
*Cautionary note: Keyes uses the language of the time to describe Charlie, which many will find offensive today.