Category Archives: reading

taste and see, or run and hide

Posted on by December 9, 2024

While the boys tangled the tree in ribbon and bedecked it with shiny balls that would hopefully not shatter overnight from the cats’ meddling, I tucked my coffee behind the nativity set and rearranged Wodehouse books in the library.

“Do you know how many Wodehouse books we have?” I asked Vince, and he shook his head. Except for the passages I have read aloud to him while laughing so hard I gasped for air, he has never read Wodehouse.

taste and see, or run and hide: it's all about what we know | Shannon Guerra

“This stack here…” I pointed to a wobbly column over two feet high, and he began to laugh but stopped short when I continued, “and this stack here,” pointing to another stack behind the first one, which wasn’t as tall but probably kept the first column from collapsing, like a literary version of a flying buttress.

“How many books did Wodehouse write?” he asked – envy, inspiration, and disbelief, all in one question.

“Seventy or eighty, I think…not counting his plays and stuff. We only have about half of them.”

(Only, she said, and then wasted thirty minutes searching the internet for the exact number – it’s 71, if you’re only counting novels – and then another ten minutes adding his three autobiographies to her wishlist.)

I’ve spent money on bad books before but I’m more careful now; I didn’t start collecting Wodehouse books until I knew they were worth it. Now, though, I have tasted and seen – or, laughed and choked on my coffee – and I know they are good.

“There are moments, Jeeves, when one asks oneself, ‘Do trousers matter?'”

“The mood will pass, sir.”

– P.G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters

A few days later, the other part of our book order arrived. I cut the shipping bag open with kitchen scissors and pulled out the used paperbacks.

“More Wodehouse!” I grinned.

“More Wodehouse,” Vin repeated, with far less enthusiasm. “Like, more cowbell.“

“Hey. If you read Wodehouse, you’d be excited too,” I told him.

She laughed — a bit louder than I could have wished in my frail state of health, but then she is always a woman who tends to bring plaster falling from the ceiling when amused.

― P.G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters

But he hasn’t tasted and seen yet. He’s only heard and marveled, off and on, as I’ve barely muffled hysterical laughter way too late at night, trying not to wake up the kids.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!
Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!
Oh, fear the Lord, you his saints,
for those who fear him have no lack!

– Psalm 34:8-9

Vin is, however, grateful he married a thrifty woman who hates shopping, whose main addictions are classic lit and wool yarn, both of which can be found in practically new condition at secondhand stores. And they both give a good return, if stewarded well and not just hoarded.

“For it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted to them his property. To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away.

– Matthew 25:14-15

So we segue to the parable of the talents, a story of a king who entrusts his servants with varying amounts of wealth to steward for him. And you know what happens: The master returns, and the ones who had five and two doubled their talents and were rewarded, but the one who had only one talent…well, let’s see what it says:

He also who had received the one talent came forward, saying, “Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you scattered no seed, so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here, you have what is yours.”

– Matthew 25:24-25

Huh. He knew, so he was afraid, so he hid. Where have we heard that before?

Oh, right. Here, in the very beginning:

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”

– Genesis 2:15-17

In the beginning there was a certain amount of knowing that we weren’t supposed to have, because it would usurp our trust of God and make us focus on the wrong things. We began with a holy fear of God, which is trust and surrender. But in knowing the wrong things, we moved into an unholy fear that chose to walk in anxiety and control, which is just us saying, I know better than You do.

But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

So the woman takes and eats the fruit, and she also gives some to her husband who was with her (side note: We can stop blaming the fall entirely on women, thanks), and he eats it, too.

They realize they’re…you know, nekkid. Fig leaves, loincloths, strategically placed locks of hair.

We pick up in verse 8:

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.

But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?”

And he said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.”

– Genesis 3:8-10

Maybe it’s because when they did it their own way, they did it backwards. They didn’t taste and see; they saw and tasted – and then they knew something they were never intended to. They traded intimacy for exposure. They forfeited holy fear and got terror, shame, and separation instead.

We do this when we get things backwards, too. Recently I had a meeting coming up and I realized I was rehearsing information, asking myself possible questions and answers. I wondered if I was being too vulnerable, if I could trust this other person, if they would misunderstand my intentions.

Why am I nervous? I finally asked myself. Because I want this, and I don’t want to blow it.

Also, I felt exposed – like maybe I’d stepped forward where I should’ve held back; should’ve kept that talent under wraps where it would be safe, and do nothing.

Master, you gave me one book and I stuffed it under my mattress and did not read it, did not wrinkle the pages, did not bend the spine or dog-ear the corners, didn’t even take any notes. I did not get anything out of it, but also, look! It’s in pristine condition, so you won’t be mad at me for damaging it. Here you go. Thanks so much for the loan.

It’s the wrong kind of fear. That kind is the fear of man, and it’s all about impressing others, worrying about what someone else will think.

Surrender and honesty disarms it, though. So I asked myself these questions:

Do I want what I want, or do I want what He wants? Can I trust Him to know what I want better than I do, and know how to arrange it better than I could? Can I trust Him with the future, with relationships, with this conversation?

Do I trust Him to direct the situation and the timing? Do I trust Him to go ahead of me, and to give me the right words and wisdom?

Yes, yes, all yes. I have tasted and seen and I know He is good.

So suddenly the pressure is off, and there’s just joy and freedom. Just pleasant conversation and curiosity of what God does through it. The vulnerability doesn’t feel like exposure; it feels like faith that’s spelled risk, and it brings a return.

This is the talent surrendered that grows and multiplies, rather than runs and hides.

I used to know someone who was hurting and fighting and angry most of the time. Now I realize she literally just didn’t know what she was missing. She had not tasted and seen, so she ran and hid. What she knew made her feel exposed, and fear manifested as anger, so she rejected everything associated with God. I knew you to be a hard man…but she missed experiencing Him as the one who laughs and heals and walks in the garden, the one who made mercy triumph over judgment.

We only fight against goodness because we don’t realize how good it is. When we have no concept of real peace or freedom or joy, we think rebellion is better.

It’s changing the way I pray, because she – and everyone – needs to know His goodness. Because if they really knew His goodness, they’d recognize His love for them, and His worthiness of their love.

And their own desire would drive them to Him.

We all need to taste and see. We handle things (and relationships) differently when we know what (and whom) we’re dealing with.

We’re good at following our desires. Where we get it wrong is when our desires are out of alignment, fearful because we know so little, because ignorance breeds fear.

But once we know, there’s freedom and joy and peace, and we bear much fruit, reaping a harvest.

We know what we’re getting into, and we can’t get enough of it.

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‘What ho!’ I said.
‘What ho!’ said Motty.
‘What ho! What ho!’
‘What ho! What ho! What ho!’
After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.

– P.G. Wodehouse, My Man Jeeves

pages & shelves: what we learn from all those books

Posted on by October 31, 2024

An epiphany this week: I just realized that I’ve been homeschooling for twenty years.

pages and shelves: what we learn from all those books

Twenty yeeeears. It’s a milestone made all the more significant by the fact that I have never owned a denim jumper and just recently had to be reminded what a “scope and sequence” is.

(“Wait wait wait, you mean the stuffy instructor’s material that I always throw in the bin so I can get to the good stuff? Oh…yeah, I knew that…” *nervous laughter*)

So hey, twenty years, eight kids, three down, five to go. Craziness. But it explains why my mind is often in fourteen literary directions and experiencing bookish spasms of attention deficit disorder. It’s just an occupational hazard of being a homeschool mom; we’re always reading great books.

I don’t ask the kids to analyze or dissect them. We don’t dig around for meanings and implications that were never intended by authors and only planted by dry language arts classes. Books are fun and fascinating and stand on their own without any picking apart, so we enjoy them and the stories they tell.

Rather than leaving us cold, education should produce the warmth of interest and pleasure in the knowledge we meet.

– Karen Glass, In Vital Harmony

But still, reading takes time. How do we justify all the hours put into reading pages and volumes and shelves full of great books – especially classic literature?

Here’s how.

We learn about bravery, and cowardice, and consequences, and human nature, and relationships, and responsibility, and maturity. We get to know heroes we want to emulate, and we are repulsed by villains who sometimes remind us a little too much of ourselves. In complex characters we see bits of our own tendencies, and we don’t usually even realize it’s happening, but as we read, we’re confronted with questions about if we want to keep those tendencies.

We learn about the world around us, and the world far away from us that we’ll never experience otherwise.

We think we’re reading the story of an epic disaster but we learn about Indian culture and the British Empire. We grab a fun mystery and end up learning about the tradition of bell ringing in churches. We open a novel from the 1800s and think we’re in for, maybe, an old-fashioned romance and dusty glimpse of village life – but no, by the time you’re halfway through you’ve learned to translate a bit of Scottish and you know that “I dinna ken whaur I cam frae” means “I don’t know where I came from” and you don’t even have to think about it.

We learn how to communicate and articulate, and how to attend and listen. We learn the nuance of different phrases and vocabulary so we can express how we really feel and what we really think without resorting to vague generalizations. We use language that demands a response from those who might otherwise blow us off, and we get our point across to a society who needs better content to think on. We lengthen our attention span and expand our understanding, and we’re not tuned out by complex language. And we are saved a multitude of misunderstandings, conflicts, inconveniences, and embarrassments by doing so.

We preserve culture and strengthen our communities by acquainting ourselves with great classics. Why have scholars and writers been persecuted in “cultural cleansings” by tyrants throughout history? Because they know and figure out things.

Those who read classics have a common language filled with short phrases that have complex, full meanings that are shared in just a few words. We say, “There is a tide,” just four words, and those who have ears to hear know the time has come to act before the opportunity is gone. We quote, “War is peace” and the sarcasm is understood by everyone who’s read 1984. We quote, “It is a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done” and to anyone who’s read A Tale of Two Cities, we’ve distilled the 374 pages of repentance, sacrifice, restoration, and victory in just fourteen words, because readers have their own code.

On the writing side, though, I have been the writer-mama who tutors other people’s kids and coaches adults but still, at wit’s end, signed one of my own kids up for an online program with an outside company just to have someone else drill the same concepts into him. And that course was…meh…but still worth it to remove the extra conflict out from between us. So there’s no shame in needing help because of time, expertise, or just needing reinforcements.

So I did a thing to hopefully help lift a little burden from homeschooling parents of high schoolers.

(And yes, “to hopefully help” is a split infinitive, but we don’t really care about those anymore. I’m actually more aggrieved by the tacky alliteration in it.)

I put in some overtime – in our house, this means I stayed up too late after putting the kids to bed, and often let my littlest stay up too late by letting him do atrocious things to my hair – and I made an 18-week long British Lit course for homeschooling parents who don’t have several hours a week to keep up with all of their high schooler’s literature readings and evaluate their papers.

A second Brit lit course is in progress and it will be followed by American Lit, as long as we don’t run out of bobby pins.

The 30-page course booklet is $10 for those who want to do it on their own; it includes the schedule, suggested writing topics and questions, graphics, and memes. Alternatively, for those who need one less conflict between themselves and their high schooler and a few dozen less things to do, for $200 they can send me all of their weekly assignments and papers for constructive feedback and coaching over the duration of the course to save you from having to be on your kid’s case about those things. You’re on your own if you have to nag them about chores though.

You can check out the course here.

Not all of the books are your standard high school choices. Some are…and some are better. And some are considered by many to be children’s books, even though the language in them is far more advanced than the [redacted] [redacted] stuff that passes for modern YA lit sometimes.

Great children’s books are enriching for all ages, and many of us missed them when we were younger anyway. And even if we already read them (or they were read to us), we get new experiences and insights out of them years later – and many of those insights lead to maturity and perspective that we want our kids to have.

Life is too short to learn from only our own mistakes, so we need to learn from Frodo and Scarlett and Jane Eyre and Tom Sawyer and Mr. Darcy and Robinson Crusoe and thousands of others. We see multiple facets of human nature and learn how people respond to their circumstances, and how those responses do and don’t work. As we read about struggles and triumphs and flaws and heroism, we learn compassion and wisdom and bravery and self control.

Or at least, the seeds are planted. What we do with them afterward, when we are tested, is up to us.

P.S. Want to join us for our next book in Gaining Ground? It’s a biggie and will last us a while…we’re starting Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell on October 28 and we’ll be reading about 50 pages a week through the end of March. Join us on Telegram anytime as we wrap up Emma.

fave books of 2023

Posted on by January 18, 2024

Welp, I did it: I met my goal and read fifty-two books last year. A lot of them were good, but these are the ones that made the cut for this list – these ones, I would recommend to a stranger or acquaintance who happened to look particularly bookish.

(Actually, I don’t really know what makes someone look particularly bookish. But if they reference Lord of the Rings in casual conversation, that’s definitely a sign.)

fave books of 2023

These are almost all novels. Not because novels are what I mostly read, but apparently they’re what I mostly like. And that is somehow a new revelation to me, though I can go back to my lists from 2021 and 2022 and see that the scales tip consistently that direction, which surprises me because about two-thirds of what I read is non-fiction. But as I think about it, it’s probably because most of those are books I feel like I need to read for some reason or other, as opposed to what I want to read.

People ask this a lot, so let’s get it out of the way: How many books do you read at a time? I’ve answered it elsewhere but for the record, here’s my method, which I don’t necessarily recommend. You do what works for you.

I read at least ten books at a time. Ten books on my own, that is, not counting books I’m reading with the kids or ones we read aloud as a family. You might think that’s ridiculous, but I like the variety. And it sorta came about naturally as a homeschooling mom years ago when I was trying to keep ahead of a couple of my kids in their curricula. Those were the days of reading twenty or more books at a time, so you can see I’ve trimmed down considerably.

Also, I am a slow reader, so it usually takes me several months to get through each book. I don’t mind this with non-fiction; I think it helps me retain information better. I don’t necessarily recommend this for novels though (especially long ones, especially Dickens) because they need a fair start. I talk about that here.

If I haven’t lost you by now (all of the non-readers fled somewhere around the fourth paragraph), here’s my list of favorite books from 2023. Some of these are fantasy or fantasy-related; some of them include references to magic; some of them deal with mature themes and immoral behavior. This isn’t a list for younger kids or easily offended people looking for sterile content; it’s a list of great books that I liked. I don’t like horror or smut or tons of foul language; therefore none of these books contain those. So there’s your disclaimer.

Alright, here we go:

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith

This book is a great example of “Don’t judge a book by its movie.” I almost rejected it right off because I had already seen the movie, but grabbed it anyway because someone somewhere highly recommended it. And I’m so glad I did. If you’re familiar with the concept of hygge, this book is it: Cozy, introspective, beautiful details. It’s about a very poor family who lives in a run-down castle, and their lives (and hearts, and relationships) begin to change when they meet their new landlords, two American brothers.

Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller

Am I the only Christian churchgoer in the 21st century who hadn’t already read this book? (Besides my husband, who also read it at my insistence.) Just in case I’m not and you also missed this one, here’s what I loved about it: It’s not like normal Christian non-fiction. It’s not filled with the same principles and analogies we’ve already read in dozens of other books or heard in dozens of other sermons. It’s not formulaic or repetitive. It doesn’t use those stupid block quotes on every other page just to try to get a point across.

(My opinion: If authors need those to get their reader’s attention, they’re not writing in a way that deserves that attention.)

Don Miller says some things that will challenge and possibly offend people who prefer those other Christian books as he shares his story of finding Jesus. But every time he stretches the tent pegs out a little, he comes solidly back to Biblical truth. The book is full of Kingdom principles, not just regurgitated Churchianity, and he made me laugh out loud often, like here:

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

This was one of the highlights of the year at Gaining Ground, and I wrote in length about it here and here because it’s one of my all-time faves and I’ve read it a bazillion times. (Okay fine. Five.) But if you don’t have time to read those posts, here’s the TL;DR version:

ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS EVERRRRR, YOU TOTALLY HAVE TO READ IT.

Hope that helps.

Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery

Also one of the favorites at Gaining Ground last year. Don’t be fooled; it’s not just a kid’s book and it’s also not just a girl’s book. We read it aloud as a family years ago, and Vin and our boys loved it (though some of them might not admit it now). This time around, it provoked some deep discussions in our group on childhood beliefs and coping methods, duty versus love, and the contrast of religion versus worshiping in spirit and truth.

I read this book several times as a kid and have read it at least three more times as an adult, but what stood out to me this time was the religious subculture that reveres duty more than a real relationship with God, and how that makes it hard to have real relationships with others and accept them as they are. We grow up in traditions that tend to trump truth because they’re more comfortable than vulnerability. But those attitudes are constantly confronted and exposed by Anne’s childlike, unabashed observations and her genuine admiration for a Creator who made the world such a beautiful place.

World Without Cancer by G. Edward Griffin

“It is an ominous fact that, each year, there are more people making a living from cancer than are dying from it.”

And that’s the crux of the book. Cancer is big business and a big part of that business is fighting natural methods (like vitamin B17, which this book centers on) that really work but can’t be patented and profited from, and replacing those with expensive and dangerous substitutes to perpetuate an addiction to expensive medical intervention.

The scientist is trained to search for complex answers and tends to look with smug amusement upon solutions that are not dependent upon his hard-earned skills.

To bring this a little closer to home, the average M.D. today has spent over ten years of intensive training to learn about health and disease. This educational process continues for as long as he practices his art. The greatest challenge to the medical profession today is cancer. If the solution to the cancer puzzle were to be found in the simple foods we eat (or don’t eat), then what other diseases might be traced to this cause? The implications are explosive. As one doctor put it so aptly, “Most of my medical training has been wasted. I’ve learned the wrong things!” And no one wants to discover that he has learned — or taught — the wrong things.

— G. Edward Griffin, from World Without Cancer

The Rains Came by Louis Bromfield

A cozy (but looong) novel set in 1930’s India about the culture, classes, and relationships toward the end of the British Empire. It’s incredibly well written and easy to read, with fascinating insight into human nature and personalities. And there’s a massive disaster (because…the rains came) so if you like books about survival and crisis, this is a good one.

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

If you want an easy way to try Dickens or introduce your kids to him, Oliver Twist is a good start. It’s a reasonable length and, thanks to fewer side characters, the story is easier to follow than many of his other popular books. But it is not a clean, sweet children’s story, so keep in mind the sensitivity of a child you might read it to – there is abuse, brutality, theft, and murder in it. It alludes to prostitution and child trafficking (meaning, there are characters actively involved in those activities but those terms are not actually used). It also is an unrealistic, saccharine look at orphans and adoption – wait, why am I recommending this, anyway? Oh yes, because it’s Dickens, for crying out loud. In spite of all those disclaimers, it’s a fantastic story and totally worth reading.

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

Yes, I finished three books by Dickens in one year (actually four, but The Cricket on the Hearth didn’t make this list). Don’t be impressed though; it took over two years to finish this one because I read it aloud to my daughter, and the book is…eight hundred, nine hundred pages? Crazy long. But so good. Bleak House is the amazing story of a woman’s mysterious birth and her transition from loneliness to family.

His noble earnestness, his fidelity, his gallant shielding of her, his generous conquest of his own wrong and his own pride for her sake, are simply honorable, manly, and true. Nothing less worthy can be seen through the lustre of such qualities in the commonest mechanic, nothing less worthy can be seen in the best-born gentleman. In such a light both aspire alike, both rise alike, both children of the dust shine equally.

— Charles Dickens, Bleak House

Like most (all?) of Dickens’ books, it looks at class, poverty, and human nature; unlike the others, this one switches back and forth from a first person narrative to a third person omniscient narrative, and the effect lends to the mystery rather than creating any jarring disjointedness. Dickens is my fave and this is one of his best.

The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis

This is book #3 in the Narnia series and I’ve probably mentioned or quoted it in a dozen posts already. I can still remember the moment I first read the big reveal in the story: We were camping in our early 20s, and I was reading aloud to Vin in the tent, and the hair on my arms stood up on end as I read about the Lion. I think I actually gasped aloud.

This is a life changing, mind blowing book, and it’s good for all ages. If you have ever felt constrained, like you were meant for a level of freedom you don’t really understand, or you’ve wondered why some things happen the way they do, or you’re in a season of pushing and pushing and you’re not sure if it’s doing any good…this is a great book for you.

Letter to the American Church by Eric Metaxas

This is a must read: a wake up call to a sleepy church that has fallen more into worshipping their comfort zone more than the Creator. Published in 2022, it speaks specifically to the times we are living in and particularly illustrates why it is important to speak out courageously against wrongdoing and not just protect yourself by silence and “going along to get along.” If people had followed such advice instead of caving to masks and protocols in 2020, a lot of tragedies, trauma, and loss could have been avoided, like this one.

The Betrothed by Alessandro Manzoni

Here’s an Italian historical novel that spans themes like cowardice, righteousness, cruelty, injustice, political power, and redemption. It is long and reads a little like Les Mis or The Hunchback of Notre Dame in its epic-ness, but without the 100-page sidetrack obsessions about Waterloo or flying buttresses. (Sorry, Mr. Hugo.)

I loved two things about this book in particular: It gives incredible insight into human nature and why people do (or don’t do) things, and it portrays beautiful, thorough redemption in a character who seems to be lost beyond hope.

The Two Towers & Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien

These are books 2 and 3 of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, which we finished in Gaining Ground during the first part of the year. They are full of battles, friendships, courage, steadfastness, grief, determination, banter, and heroism. You can’t start with these two of course, but since I mentioned The Fellowship of the Ring in last year’s post, these couldn’t be neglected.

(Fun fact: This series has impacted me so much that if you put “Tolkien” in the search bar, no less than a dozen posts show up.)

A Green and Ancient Light by Frederic S. Durbin

Ohhhh, this was a cozy book. A boy goes to live with his grandmother, and he discovers a land (and some friends) that change his life. There’s mystery and fantasy blended here in a quaint small town and a not-so-distant war, and a riddle that you might be able to figure out before the end. Maybe.

By The Great Horn Spoon by Sid Fleischman

I’ve read this a couple times to our kids and it’s a clever, fun story about a boy and a servant who sail around the horn to participate in the Gold Rush, and they have to solve many problems and seemingly impossible situations along the way. It goes fast and gives a good look at the times in a way that’s appropriate for kids.

___

There you go! I hope you find some fun ones to try here. Happy reading. xo

P.S. Want a nerdy book mug to go with your bookish efforts this year? This one is in our shop, and you can see the full image below. If anyone gives you a disapproving glare while you’re reading, just hold it up in defense…and ask for a refill, since YOU are hard at work. ;)

P.P.S. Want to join us at Gaining Ground? Our discussion group on Telegram is here and I post articles once or twice a month here. I’ve also re-opened slots for writing coaching, and you can read about that here. Join us anytime — we’re currently in the middle of Lilith by George MacDonald, and we’ll start The Scarlet Pimpernel by Emma Orczy next month.