Homecoming (The Unforgettable Guinevere St. Clair by Amy Makechnie)

Best opening sentences that I have read in a long time: "I was ten when Gaysie Cutter tried to kill me. It was just like her, too -- always leaving a bad first impression." Best ratings on Goodreads that I've ever seen, especially for a Young Adult book...no, make that Juvenile book at my library. First, on ratings, I only saw one person who gave it one star and the reviewer hated the characters and found the book difficult to read but found one character to be "aDORable". My guess is the reviewer was a young person with possible reading challenges? However, kudos to her, if that is the case, because she is reading and reviewing on Goodreads. Many of the reviewers were adults. This I know because they felt the need to explain that they enjoy reading YA or J literature. I'm with them. A good story is a good story, whether it is a picture book or a juvenile/young adult book or Plato...okay, so maybe not Plato.

This book begs for comparison to The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley. (See my review here.) The protagonist of Bradley's book, Flavia de Luce, has a vocabulary beyond her years. I enjoyed that, but Makechnie's book does not have the elements that annoyed me in Bradley's book. Her protagonist, Guinevere St. Clair -- Gwyn, does have a mother...okay, so she isn't quite a normal mother because of brain damage, but she is there. And, Gwyn has a sister that she actually likes and does not try to poison (see the relationship between Flavia and her two sisters). She even has a father who is not cold and distant -- preoccupied, yes, with trying to find the cure for his wife. There's even a Nana (grandmother) who is normal; she can be both kind and cranky. All this normalcy may appear boring; however, Gaysie Cutter of the opening sentence is eccentric enough to balance out our cast of characters. The character that annoyed me the most is the mom. I know it's sad for me to say that. I kept thinking that the mom, who can't remember anything after her thirteenth year acts more like a five-year-old, but maybe her memory is stuck at 13 and the brain damage caused her emotions to be more like a child in primary or elementary school. I want to know what happens with Mrs. Vienna St. Clair.

What Flavia and Gwyn have in common is their sleuthing. Whereas Flavia is precocious and often knows more than the adults, Gwyn's vocabulary and missteps seem to fit her age. Still, dead bodies pop up, literally pop up, and mysteries abound, or perhaps, one mystery and lots of secrets. The story begs for a sequel. I probably will go back and read another Flavia de Luce book (such good vocabulary), but I really hope Makechnie will write the next Guinevere St. Clair book. Other characters who made brief appearances in this first book must have a storyline, and Gwyn's dad has to keep up his search into the brain (while Flavia's forte is poison, Gwyn educates us in matters of the brain).

Since I write one piece for review and blog (which includes personal connections to the book), I'll segue into the blog portion with two of my favorite quotes from The Unforgettable Guinevere St. Clair to close out the review portion. (As for why the title of "Homecoming", it involves a plot spoiler so you'll just have to read the book to find out why.)

"I sniffed, wrinkled my nose at the old smell, and looked around, wondering if death stank. Ms. Myrtle's chair sat alone in the corner, and I felt a wave of wistfulness for the tales of my parents, and even of Gaysie, sorry I hadn't asked for more stories and information, sorry I would never get the chance. And even though she was a frightful woman, I suddenly missed that she wouldn't be watching us grow up or sticking her head out the door to tell me to 'hush up!'" (216).

"To Guinevere St. Clair. This is what I know of friendship: Hold on to the people you love. Know what they feel like, smell like, and act like, so that when they're not there to hold on to, you remember. G.C." (232).

Plus, there's a reference to and adventure because of Huck Finn. Yeah, way to win a teacher's heart.

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Family life: I've got to go with those last two quotes. How often I hear many people say, and I've said it often myself: I wish I had listened better and asked for more tales.

Spiritual transformation: Listening to people has shown up in this section before (and worth practicing again and again and again), but I'm going to go with the practice of learning more and more about our bodies which includes our brains. The research that is coming out about our brains is fascinating and very spiritually transforming!

Remembering: (Gypsy Triptych by Schoorl), Godparents, and Who Gets the Dogs

I must explain my rating of the book Gypsy Triptych (before I muse further on godparents and dogs), a book that would make an excellent reading group discussion choice. Jump to paragraph six to find out who I think might enjoy the book.

I don't hate the book; I don't even dislike the book. This issue is giving three, four, or five stars to a book written by a childhood friend, the daughter of my brother's godparents. As with my review of Tender at the Bone which indicated that a reader would either love the book or stop reading depending on whether one wanted recipes in a book, so too with Gypsy Triptych and dreams. This book will either be a reader's dream book or a nightmare.

Gypsy Triptych is a family friend's fictionalized memoir. The author indicates that there is fact amongst the fiction, and one reviewer found it intriguing to guess at which parts were fact and which were fiction. I did as well. I also enjoyed walking through my memories of the location (fact) and memories of Schoorl's family (much of it spot on -- accurate).

Another caveat for friends and family to whom this would matter: Schoorl writes, "I was a firm believer in the power of prayer, magic, dream, science, and reincarnation." Whether this is Schoorl herself, her character, or just a part of the dream it is written in, I do not know. Those who have read my blog before (or know me) know that I do not believe in reincarnation; however, I agree to disagree with authors and keep reading.

One reviewer mentioned some grammatical errors. Thankfully, the errors are not too numerous and there are some beautiful sentences such as "The sea looked so calm, like a prisoner who hides the secret torments of his life" and "He was deep in slumber, looking like he was sleeping off years of woe." One section involving the various homes where Schoorl's character (or Schoorl herself) lived in is a bit confusing. I can imagine the members of my local library book discussion group getting frustrated with keeping track of what is going on. I can understand. As it turns out, I am concurrently reading Henry Miller's Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch, and Miller's memoirs equally jump around in sequencing so Schoorl is in good company with her writing style.

Regarding dreams, Schoorl comments, "I was accustomed to living this way with dream scenes decorating the walls of my mind, shy wallflowers, guests I myself invited." I did find the thought "I had been trying to dream with intention" a new thought that I tried myself later that night.

Who I think might enjoy the book -- those who are tired of reading typical memoirs (often ones I never finish reading -- let's drop names of everyone famous I have ever been in contact with and drone on and on or let me tell you my story which includes so much adventure and illegal activities that the book is more of a peep show than something that resonates with one's life), those who would enjoy dreams in a book, those who live in the San Bernardino County area or are interested in that area, those who have had second chances at love or are interested in second chances, those who are in book discussion groups.

I won't list all of the questions I think would be relevant to a group discussion (too many), but I will move on with something I found intriguing early on (pages 8-9): "Whenever it seemed that I would misremember and relate events from my childhood incorrectly, or that I didn't remember anything the same way my siblings did, I just reminded myself that they weren't gifted with better memories, but that it was rather quite natural for me to remember less since I was the youngest. I wasn't being incorrect intentionally. I focused on things that were important to me, not important to them. I remembered things that were in my line of vision."

In my line of vision as I read this book were Schoorl's descriptions of her parents who were my brother's godparents.

I look at these photos now and think "How young they were!" If something had happened to my parents, my brother (according to godparent tradition) would have gone to live with them. It was fascinating to think how his life would have changed. I think he still would have gone to college just as Schoorl and her sister did. His godparents were intellectuals who strongly believed in education. Would he have met my sister-in-law, a woman he met in high school and has been in love with since that time?

I was fourteen when the picture above of my brother and godparents was taken. Too young to take care of all my siblings, although as I grew older I wanted to do so if anything happened. Plenty happened -- the death of a marriage -- but not the death of my parents. My own godparent had forgotten that she was my godparent when we met up later in life. It wasn't memory loss, but merely the aspects of coming from a large extended family.

My aunt loved to travel and did it often, almost traveling to every part of the world so I know I would have kept something I have now: the love of traveling. I would have had a good life, and by good, I mean a life of loving God and loving others.

And, just to end with a cute dog picture: these are my granddogs although I doubt my daughter would call them that!

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I've started adding these little notes that my older self wished I could have told my younger parent self. My husband and I did not choose godparents for our children. I think I assumed my sisters would step up and take care of them. It is something to think about: choosing godparents and choosing in way that you can picture how your child or children would grow up with those parents.

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I've also started including practices for spiritual formation, for thriving. One thread that keeps running through Schoorl's book is the loneliness she felt growing up, something that surprised me given my family of seven lived down the street from Schoorl...until I recalled that we moved away while my siblings were still in elementary school which meant Schoorl also was still in elementary school. A good practice might be to look at one's community. Do you and I have a number of friends (enough to balance the loss of friends who move away or later in life, move into eternity) that we are willing to keep in contact with (more than Christmas cards)?