best books of 2021

We’ve had several windstorms already this winter but lucked out during the last one, when most of the Valley lost power. We, of course, had our own drama at that time so it was a huge blessing we didn’t also have to deal with no heat, hot water, or electricity. But we lost power earlier in the year enough times to decide that a woodstove was a necessity sooner rather than later.

best books of 2021

When the power went out during the first windstorm last fall, it was late afternoon and we were quickly losing daylight. I was reading, moving closer and closer to the window so the light would hit the page at the best angle.

This was before the first real snowfall, so the ground didn’t reflect any light. Outside, an old leaf flew up and caught on the branch of a tree, adopted temporarily before letting go and flitting like a bird to another tree where it held again for a minute before a gust blew it away.

Inside, the light kept fading, and even though I was trying to read Hannah Fowler fast enough to finish the chapter before darkness made it impossible, it was a losing battle. It was just like when you stay up too late, trying to finish a chapter before exhaustion hits. But there wasn’t enough light, so I gave up and lit candles and started putting together a cold dinner.

My goal was to read 52 books last year. I read 54. It’s my record; the only other time I came that close was 21 years ago which was the first year I was a mother, when I was nursing a baby with reflux 32 hours a day. This year my goal is higher but so far it’s off to a slower start – I’ve only marked off one book so far – though I read several at a time and could feasibly knock out six before February. We’ll see.

Here are my favorites from last year: The ones I loved, the ones I’ll read again, and the ones that I think could change the world if more people read them. Not every book fits in all those categories (though the ones by C.S. Lewis do, of course). And in full disclosure, the first two books on this list are ones I’m still reading. But I love them so much that you get them on this list now so you can grab them sooner rather than later if you want to.

The Vision of the Anointed by Thomas Sowell:

I quoted this one twice in my last post with this warning: “Thomas Sowell is crazy smart, and I admit it helps to have a drink handy while reading him (I mean coffee, not wine, or don’t bother).” So you’ve been warned. But this is one that I think could change the world if more people read it. He wrote it about 20 years ago, but you’d never know that if the copyright page didn’t tell you; it seems like he’s writing about the days we’re living through now. Here:

Human beings have been making mistakes and committing sins as long as there have been human beings. The great catastrophes of history have usually involved much more than that. Typically, there has been an additional and crucial ingredient — some method by which feedback from reality has been prevented, so that a dangerous course of action could be blindly continued to a fatal conclusion.

— Thomas Sowell, The Vision of the Anointed

An Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler:

I’ve read a lot of cooking and foodie books over the last few years and this is my new favorite. I will come back to it again and again (and I already do, as I’m cooking) – she is not only a beautiful, gifted writer, but she cooks the way I do (except she’s a chef, so, you know, tiny difference) and reading this book validates my quirks in the kitchen. I want to cook every time I read it. So if you don’t like to cook, give it to your spouse and see if it does the same thing. You’re welcome.

Howards End by E.M. Forster:

I don’t know if I loved this book because I loved the new movie version first or if I would’ve loved the book more (or less) had I read it first before watching it. It’s one of those that has major lessons in it about human nature for those who read slowly enough to learn them. But if you’re not sure about reading it, try the most recent version of the movie because it is also wonderful, and see if that convinces you. Because, forget Howards End, I want to live in the Schlegel’s London flat full of stuffed, turquoise bookshelves.

Pity, if one may generalize, is at the bottom of woman. When men like us, it is for our better qualities, and however tender their liking, we dare not be unworthy of it, or they will quietly let us go. But unworthiness stimulates woman. It brings out her deeper nature, for good or evil.

– E. M. Forster, Howards End

Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens

This was my second go-round with Nicholas Nickleby and I forced my family to come with me. Most of them Some of them liked it. To be fair, it took us over two years to get through the whole thing because it’s over 800 pages and we would read aloud only a few times a month over the squalls of a baby who became a toddler while we went through it. Using Librivox during long drives to Palmer helped, and if you like audio, there’s a terrific version here.

Here’s why I love Nicholas Nickleby, and it’s not just because it’s by Dickens (though he’s my favorite and that’s a pretty good reason): I love Nicholas because he does what you want him to. He stands up for his sister, he confronts cruelty, he is patient and tender with the broken, and best of all, when someone needs horsewhipped, he’s not afraid to do it. *glares disgustedly at David Copperfield*

The Awakening of Miss Prim by Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

I do not like modern fiction, almost ever, and this was an exception. It is a cozy, contemplative, bookish story that makes you want to move to the town it takes place in. But let me do you a favor and tell you right now that the Man in the Wingchair never gets a real name, which surprised and annoyed me – I had been waiting to discover his name for the entire book. So I’m telling you now to prevent you from expecting it and being disappointed, thereby freeing you to love this otherwise delightful, beautiful, slightly nerdy book.

Hannah Fowler by Janice Holt Giles

This was an ugly old hardcover sitting on my shelf that I must’ve picked up at a thrift store years ago. I happened to pull it off the shelf one day and out of curiosity read the first sentence, and then the next, and then the next…and this is a good way to find the next book you want to read. If you’re not bored in those first sentences, it’s worth a go.

I learned something new in every chapter about pioneering life, living outdoors, and homesteading. Hannah is a strong, thoughtful character, and as I read I wondered if she was strong or gutsy enough to do the things I was hoping she would…and she did.

Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame

I have said so much about Wind in the Willows here already. It’s in this post, and this post, and this book, and all I have left to tell you is that it gets better and better the more times you read it, so please get going on it and you won’t be sorry. This was probably my fourth or fifth time through. If you can read it out loud to your kids and give Toad a ridiculous voice, all the better.

A Brutal Justice by Jess Corban

Quick backstory: I found this book through an online readers group when someone mentioned a hate-fest of people leaving 1-star reviews for its Christian author because one reviewer said her books were full of  homophobic content. So I bought the books (it’s a series of two) to see for myself, and lo and behold…the haters were wrong, as they often are. Here’s my review of the first one, which will also tell you a little about the second one:

This book both was and wasn’t what I expected, but it was nothing like what all the angry, misinformed 1-star reviews tout it as (most of whom admit they never even read the book, which is obvious to those of us who have…and ironically meshes well with the point of the story).

That point of the story is that women, acting in fear and anger and hatred, can be overbearing and cruel. Attempting to fix one huge problem by going in the extreme opposite direction is foolish and leads to serious consequences. Those consequences need to be faced and acknowledged, not ignored out of fear, insecurity, or narcissism.

I don’t usually like young adult books or dystopian novels, and the writing in this book is definitely not my style. (The writing in the second book improves by several notches, in my opinion.) But the storyline is fascinating, and the way both men and women are honored for their distinctness is something that I’ve thought about for days, and will continue to do so.

So, back to my review of the second book in the series, which is the one I loved: Remember what I said about not liking modern fiction? This was another exception that has me rethinking my prejudice. The concepts, characters, and setting were fascinating, and the turns of the story were super satisfying. The first book sets the stage for the story, but this is the one that I didn’t want to end.

Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis

C.S. Lewis gets a lot of credit for Oh My Soul because this book shaped much of it (or, it shaped much of me as I was writing it) and I come back to Mere Christianity every five years or so because it is so rich, I want the truths to sink into me and stay there. My high schoolers (three so far) each read it twice during school – once as freshmen or sophomores, and again as seniors.

“A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is… A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in.”

– C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

The Whole-Brain Child by Daniel Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson

I don’t read many parenting books anymore. It’s definitely not because I feel like I have this parenting gig nailed already (I am still trying to remember to get my little kids in the bath at least twice a week) but because parenting books can be so discouraging. Overwhelming. Condescending and condemning, in a nicey, psychobabble-laced-with-Christianese kind of way. And I’m good enough at fighting all those feelings without paying $17.95 and reading 220 pages to pound it in, thankyouverymuch.

This book was not like that, though. This book was empowering and encouraging and equipping, and so full of ideas and information that it is worth keeping on a low shelf where you can reach it often and refer back to. It also has a terrific section in each chapter that you can read with your kid to empower, encourage, and equip them as they learn to understand how their brain works, too.

The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim

Another book that you might know better by the movie. I watched the movie years ago and forgot about it, which was a blessing as I read the book because I didn’t remember any discrepancies that irritated me. Iree read the book shortly after I did and then we rewatched the movie and noticed a few. They were, overall, forgivable, and the movie still stands as a good one. But read the book first. It is cozy and quirky in some of the same ways as The Awakening of Miss Prim, but less bookish, more of a study in human nature, and guaranteed to make you laugh out loud at least a few times.

Bandersnatch by Diana Pavlac Glyer

This book delves into the friendships, collaborations, and works of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and the rest of the Inklings – how they inspired, encouraged, criticized, supported, and argued with each other, and became more of who we know them to be because of how they lived out the concept of “iron sharpening iron” in a particularly literary way. Vin, Iree, and I all read this last year and each of us loved it.

As we have seen, the Inklings provided inspiration to start new projects; offered support in times of confusion; shaped the direction of one another’s stories; criticized drafts so severely that books were abandoned; changed what they wrote in anticipation of the groups response; initiated competition that spurred their productivity; edited ragged rough drafts and polished fine ones; worked together to produce joint projects; created fictionalized characters based upon one another….And their experiences point to a much larger truth: creativity thrives in community.

– Diana Pavlac Glyer, Bandersnatch

The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

I read this one last year with a group of friends, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say…it sorta kicked our butts. It wasn’t what I expected, which is ironic because this was my second time reading it. The first time was years (yeeeeears) ago, and I remember it being funny, clever, intriguing, and insightful. And this time it was all that, but deeper, more intense, and way more challenging. Maybe it’s the times we’re living in that brought up a lot more than I noticed the first time I read it. It is a study on human nature, and it is your nature that you’ll examine as you read it. But done right, it leads to more wholeness, and that’s where we want to go.

 “When He [God] talks of their losing their selves, He means only abandoning the clamour of self-will; once they have done that, He really gives them back all their personality, and boasts (I am afraid, sincerely) that when they are wholly His they will be more themselves than ever.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

Money For Nothing by P.G. Wodehouse

This is a brief honorable mention which gets credit for making me laugh so hard that I made ridiculous little desperate, gasping noises because it was 1 am and I was scared of waking up the kids. The argument with the Emily the dog…Hugo catching the burglar while reciting lines from Julius Caesar…Mr. Carmody among the birds…this one’s worth trying. Just don’t blame me if you stay up too late reading and wake up your kids by laughing out loud. I already warned you.

So there you go. We’re ready for a big power outage now; we rearranged our bookshelves and dedicated my favorite little corner to our new woodstove. But if you need more book recommendations, all of our books are here. :)

P.S. Want more books, for all ages? Here’s our list.

made to grow: why we surrender to win

There are seasons of motherhood when I spend all day saying stupid things like “No, you may not swing the cat in the pillowcase,” and “No, you may not take the cat outside on a leash,” and “No, you may not put the baby overalls on the cat,” and also (lest you think every wild idea around here involves a cat) “Why are you on that part of our roof?” By the time we make it to bedtime, our sons think putting pajamas on is a contact sport and I am so sick of refereeing the game that I want to eject everyone from it.

made to grow: why we surrender to win

That’s just normal parenting. Throw in special needs or health issues or a major home repair, and everything feels overwhelming and out of proportion. Life is hard, full of real problems that platitudes have no answers for. In those seasons, we dread the morning and the new day. We do not know what the future holds, but if past performance is any indicator of future results, it seems safer to just stay in bed.

Some of my kids have special needs, and usually those needs are far more behavioral than physical. Sometimes they just refuse to grow and move forward, and there is nothing I can do to move them past the place they’ve dug their heels in.

And the thing I have learned — and am still learning — is that parenting, adoption, and special needs are not necessarily pass/fail endeavors. Because the child makes his or her own choices, and eventually the child has to learn to clean up their own mess. We all do, right?

We’re all meant to grow. And the more a child refuses to grow, the more God grows me. Either way, God brings healing and wholeness. It’s just more fun when we don’t resist it.

If God is giving you the opportunity to grow and heal in these days, to rip something out and start over again, then for the love of all that is holy, do not squander it. Do not shy from the Lord’s probing questions, gentle correction, or nudges toward alignment and surrender. Our joy is at stake in these opportunities to clean up the mess.

We have to do the heart-work of wholeness and forgiveness, of understanding our triggers, of maturing past that old, unattractive hang up, whatever it is. The healing can come in just a few minutes or it can take years, but the timeline rests on our own willingness to surrender.

Here’s a good word for us: The sun doesn’t insist on shining on everything all the time; it surrenders every day. It yields to clouds and isn’t diminished by the presence of something that blocks its light. It’s not in competition with any other light or any other thing that gets in its way and creates a shadow. It just keeps shining, doing what it was made to do.

Every night, it is beautiful in surrender. And regardless of how cold or cloudy it was the day before, it never fails to rise the next day. That might be a word for us, too.

Sooner or later things start to take shape and we can see what the Maker is up to. And it’s always good…eventually.

But surrender is hard. Haaaaarrrd, say it with me in four syllables. If it wasn’t, would it be surrender at all? But it is also powerful, because surrender is also birthing, bringing new life. And when we see the fruit on the other side of it, we see the beauty and joy and breakthrough that come from laying down our agenda for His.

It doesn’t matter if it’s homeschooling, writing a book, parenting, learning anything new, or finally mastering the act of getting dressed in the morning without tangling up your pantleg and tripping yourself (hey, I only write about what I know), we are always learning and growing.

Or, we ought to be. There are those who choose to stagnate, but that’s probably not you.

So, a word of encouragement: If you are feeling the burn of an uphill climb, it’s because you’re going somewhere. Stretching. Moving. Making strides. Gaining ground. Advancing. Moving forward. Going places.

Once you surrender, the unexpected won’t stop you. Mistakes, once realized, confessed and yielded to God, will only advance you further.

So, press in – there is no setback God won’t use to move you forward when you walk in surrender to Him.

____________

This is an excerpt from ABIDE volume 6: Surrender to Win. The ABIDE series is now complete, and it’s available here and everywhere books are sold.

prayer like clouds: when we notice things in a different light

I’m not proud of it, but lately my domestic abilities are extremely…how do I put this? Minimalist. I don’t rearrange furniture, I don’t buy cute décor, I don’t keep up with style blogs. I suffer through necessary cleaning like everyone else. And now that Vince and I both work at home, our oldest kids do most of the cooking.

prayer like clouds: when we notice things in a different light (shannon guerra)

The only household chore I truly enjoy is rearranging books. But thanks to seven kids who never reshelve anything (insert strict librarian scowl here), I get to do it almost daily.

Vin knows I love moving books around and he recently left one of his new books to my disposal. It was light brown, clothbound, and he said I could put it wherever I wanted. So I looked around, pondered, and dragged the piano bench across the library. Then I stacked the new book on a high shelf with some of his other books.

He didn’t notice for a couple of days. Then one morning he found it and protested, announcing “it doesn’t go there.”

“What do you mean, ‘it doesn’t go there?’” I laughed. “You said I could put it wherever I wanted.”

He threw up his hands in exaggerated despair. “I trusted you to respect the book, and you put it way up there! It’s a beautiful copy about the War of 1812. And I didn’t expect you to put it on a stack, sandwiched between a book by Ted Koppel and an old copy of The Silmarillion!”

The nerd is strong with this one. As you can see, he is a closet book rearranger, also.

That was in the morning. By the afternoon we’ve reached the part of the day when I am at my desk to write, and the ideas and motivations are just…poof, gone. I sit and stare. I open and shut files, open and shut my journal. Look at my notes. I rearrange things on my desk, and somehow it’s not any neater after a few minutes of doing so. And I sit and stare some more.

prayer like clouds: shannon guerra

Yet on Sunday night when I was getting ready to take a bath – on the wrong day, at the wrong time, and in a place I don’t have any writing material whatsoever – all sorts of ideas just flooded over me.

The creative thoughts are supposed to come when I’m conveniently in front of my laptop, or at least have a pen and paper handy. But it almost never fails; the creativity flows without effort in the most unexpected places. The expected place requires work, and concentration, and discipline. Which looks like a lot of sitting and staring.

I don’t think it’s Murphy’s Law so much as it is the need for fresh oxygen to stir up new thoughts, creating opportunities to observe and notice new things. Up here in my office, in spite of all the windows, the view doesn’t really change all that much: The desk is a mess. The floor is lined with throw pillows and crates of books and yarn. Usually there’s a few blocks or toys scattered all over. And out the window, trees are trees.

But…not really. It’s spring and the leaves are unfurling outside. The aspens are covered in millions of pale green stars that flash and twinkle in the breeze. Sometimes the sky is classically blue, but on this day it was cloudy and dramatic, steel grey, shot through with shafts of sunlight against chartreuse new leaves. My favorite. Or one of my favorites, at least.

And there, noticing life around me, I have a few sentences to write about. They string together and start to accumulate into something substantial.

That night I drove to Bible study, and prayer came the same way as I sat and stared, driving down the highway. It came out in small phrases, thinking of what we needed for the night: Good conversation. No one feeling awkward or out of place. Everyone to be at ease, comfortable in their own skin. More concerned with encouraging each other than with impressing each other.

Sometimes they were real sentences, and sometimes they were just one-second thought prayers: Safe driving. Peace in hearts. Healing. Truth. Just sentence fragments, because God knows how to fill in the blanks better than I do.

And I wondered about the weight of those instant prayers. Do they really do anything? They feel so effortless, just thoughts directed at God.

I turned off the highway and drove up the hill, noticing the patchy clouds in a grey sky. And His answer was right there: Some clouds are darker and heavier than others, some will drop rain sooner than others, but all carry a measure of water.

They all accumulate, contributing to the provision for those who are thirsty.

And, hey Love – answering prayer has never been about your efforts, anyway.

This is abiding, the thought-life directed Godward. Unpolished, unpretentious, unrehearsed. Our incomplete thoughts at scattered intervals, strung together and brought back to Him in surrender. Some of them are intercessory, filling the cloud for someone else. Others are internal, our own thoughts and concerns and desires, and they condense as Living Water that washes through us, irrigating our hearts, and bringing wholeness.  

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
    and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
    giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
    it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
    and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

– Isaiah 55:10-11, ESV

That night in our small group of women, we sat around a long table with steaming tea in paper cups and discussed the book we’re reading together. And we’re learning so much just from the reading, but we go so much farther when we hear each other’s perspectives and questions. We ignite thoughts in each other we didn’t know were there if they hadn’t had the chance to come up in conversation.

We notice more when we put our thoughts in different places. I didn’t know I thought that, until I said it out loud.

I didn’t realize that was true until I typed it out.

On the way home, rain spattered the windshield and rinsed the highway. It soaked the ground, and the leaves will be bigger tomorrow.

I thought trees were trees – that is, until the sky changed color behind them and they shook in the breeze, demanding me to take notice.