Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

Archives for August 2016

Book Club Discussion: Circling the Sun

Circling the SunFor this edition of our virtual book club, we’re discussing Circling the Sun by Paula McLain. It’s easy to participate: just add your thoughts about the discussion questions (or anything else you’d like to talk about) in the comment section below.

This book started out with so much promise: it’s beautifully written, and the scenes of the Kenyan landscape come to life off the pages. I also found myself intrigued by a time and place I didn’t know much about: 1920s colonial Kenya. Unfortunately, there was one significant deal breaker for me: I just didn’t like the main character. It was painful to watch Beryl make choice after choice that imploded her life, and after a while, even though I felt sorry for her, I just couldn’t bring myself to keep cheering for her. I slogged my way through the second half of the book.

Discussion #1: Beryl as a flawed character

What intrigued me most when I picked up this book was the angle of Beryl’s cross-cultural experiences, as well as her accomplishments as a woman in the ’20s. She made history as a racehorse trainer and a pilot—two professions that were pretty countercultural for a woman of her time. But so much of the book focused on her affairs and poor relational choices that those events overshadowed the rest of her story.

“We’re all of us afraid of many things, but if you make yourself smaller or let your fear confine you, then you really aren’t your own person at all—are you? The real question is whether or not you will risk what it takes to be happy.”

The irony is that Beryl risks everything to find happiness but ends up profoundly unhappy. I’m not sure she ever comes to realize she’s been chasing the wrong things all along.

What did you think of Beryl? Did you find her likable? Sympathetic? Do you know anyone like her?

Discussion #2: Beryl’s mother issues

I did find one reason to feel sympathetic toward Beryl: she was abandoned by her mother as a child, and that must leave an indelible scar on a person. The tragedy, of course, is that the crippling event of her life (losing her mother) is almost precisely what she ends up doing to her own child.

Even so, Beryl seems to think that her upbringing wasn’t a disadvantage but rather made her tough:

“I’ve sometimes thought that being loved a little less than others can actually make a person, rather than ruin them.”

Do you think being “loved a little less” is a benefit or a disadvantage? Do you think it’s possible to break the cycle of a lack of love?

Discussion #3: Interesting genre

I give the author credit for tackling a unique style of literature: she essentially fictionalized Beryl Markham’s memoir, which was originally published in 1942. Markham’s book, West with the Night, didn’t make much of a splash when it first came out, but in the 1980s, someone discovered a letter from Ernest Hemingway with this praise for her work: “It really is a bloody wonderful book.” The book was republished in 1983 and became a bestseller, and now Paula McLain has expanded and fictionalized the work. I didn’t realize until after I’d read it that Baroness Karen von Blixen is actually Isak Dinesen, who wrote Out of Africa.

Perhaps McLain stayed true to Markham’s personality and life experiences, but I found myself wishing that she’d created a protagonist who was more likable—or at least more sympathetic. Ultimately, Beryl was a tragic figure, but I’m not sure I would have chosen her as a subject for a novel.

“We had both tried for the sun, and had fallen, lurching to earth again, tasting melted wax and sorrow.”

In what ways do you think Beryl’s life might have turned out differently if she’d lived in a different time or place? Do you think you would have been friends with her?

Rating:

I would give this book two stars (out of five). Despite the quality writing, I just couldn’t invest in the main character enough to want to follow her journey page after page.

How many stars would you give this book?

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Remember: I’ll give away a free book to one lucky commenter! Just write a comment below to be eligible to win.

How Long Is Five Years?

wedding walkingDaniel,

We have been married five years now, and all week I have been thinking about the strangeness of time. In some ways, it’s hard to believe it’s been five years already. And in other ways, it seems like we’ve been a team much longer.

As I’ve been pondering how long five years is, this is the best I’ve come up with: Five years isn’t very long. And five years is long enough.

Five years isn’t very long.

It’s not long enough to get old together, not long enough to be the adorable gray-haired couple at the restaurant next to us. They haven’t uttered a word to each other since they sat down, but I get the feeling they’ve had more conversation with their eyes than I’ve managed with all my many words in the past hour.

Five years isn’t long enough to have more years behind us than we have ahead of us, Lord willing. It’s not long enough to know what legacy we’ll leave behind. We saw your grandpa last week, surrounded by his thirteen children, many of whom are gray-bearded grandfathers themselves now. “Grandma Sheila would have loved this,” he said, shaking his head in wonder at the hundred-plus progeny surrounding him, all because he married his high school sweetheart seventy years ago.

Five years isn’t very long.

And yet five years is long enough.

It’s long enough for you to load my toothbrush 2,000 times, long enough to put 60,000 miles on our car, long enough to fall asleep partway through 200 Friday-night movies with you. It’s long enough to attend seven weddings and two funerals and a dozen family vacations together.

Five years is long enough to make ice cream together and walk to the library together and ride our bikes together (you at half your normal speed). It’s long enough to laugh until we almost lose bladder control over things that would make no sense to the general population, and long enough to cry a jar full of tears . . . some in spite of each other and some because of each other.

Five years is long enough to navigate who is going to make dinner and pay the bills and empty the dishwasher, even if it’s not the way our parents did it or the way we figured it out so neatly out on our premarital class worksheets. And it’s long enough to renegotiate when things fall apart because one of us is writing a book or adjusting to a new job.

Five years is long enough to say goodbye to the first place we lived together. It’s long enough to buy a house, and long enough to bail water out of the basement of said house while wondering what, exactly, we’d gotten ourselves into. It’s long enough to dig out a tiny garden, and long enough to eat the first tomato we planted with our own hands.

Five years is long enough to win and fail, to hope and despair, to wait and wonder, to break and heal. It’s long enough to sing and forget the words and remember them again.

Five years is long enough to know that although I loved you with my whole heart the day I said “I do,” I somehow love you more now than I did then. Something mysterious has happened along the way: I still love you with my whole heart, but it turns out loving you has broadened the borders of my heart.

Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply. . . . The more you have loved and have allowed yourself to suffer because of your love, the more you will be able to let your heart grow wider and deeper. 
Henri Nouwen

Five years isn’t very long. But it’s long enough to know that five years isn’t long enough.

Happy fifth, my love. Here’s to many more years of the Daniel and Stephanie Team.

A Tale of Two Lipsticks

lipstickI was minding my own business in the cosmetics aisle at Target the other day when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Excuse me, but can you tell me which one of these looks red?”

I turned around to see a woman in her 50s, her face the very definition of angst. She was holding two lipstick tubes directly in front of me.

Now I admit I was feeling pretty confident I could ace this one, having mastered my ROYGBIV a long time ago, but when I looked at the lipstick, I found myself utterly befuddled. PEOPLE, they were almost the identical shade of fire-engine red.

“Um,” I faltered, wondering if this was a trick question. “They’re both lovely.”

The woman’s face instantly fell, and I realized there would be no elegant sidestepping of this question.

“Okay, what are you looking for?” I asked.

“I want it to be RED,” she said. “Not even a little bit orange or pink. RED.”

I looked at the two tubes again, desperately trying to decipher any nuances between the two. And then it hit me: this woman wasn’t looking to me for my color expertise or my fashion savvy. It was well into the afternoon, and any attention I’d paid to my lips before I left for work was long gone by now. I’d eaten something that required much napkin-swabbing for lunch, and I’d made a mad dash through a rainstorm on my way into the store, so I clearly didn’t have the cosmetic qualifications to answer this question.

What this woman needed was someone to feel confident on her behalf when she did not. (Which, come to think of it, was surprising for someone with such a bold shade of lipstick.)

I took a breath and dug in. I looked at the current shade she was wearing, and then I looked at the two tubes again. “This one,” I said with more certitude than I felt. “Definitely this one. It looks like the color you’re wearing now.”

She breathed an audible sigh of relief and headed directly to the check-out. I shook my head as she left, wishing I could be so confident when it came to my own decisions.

The thing is, sometimes we lose perspective when it comes to our own lives. We can’t tell if red is red. We need someone else to speak the truth boldly on our behalf.

Sometimes we shy away when someone asks for our input, not wanting to butt in to someone else’s business. But what if one word from you is exactly what that person needs to be able to move forward, to do the big thing they need to do? What if one word from you could inject in them the extra inch of courage they need?

Maybe they need to hear words like this from you:

Yes, try for the new job.
Yes, write the book.
Yes, go on the trip.
Yes, ask her out.
Yes, go back to school.
Yes, turn in your adoption application.
Yes, follow your dream.
And yes, get the red lipstick.

As I drove home, I wondered about the woman’s story. What had she needed RED lipstick for? Was she feeling any braver? Was she applying it in her rearview mirror this very moment?

I’m reminded of the words of that wise philosopher Christopher Robin, spoken to his friend Pooh:

“You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart . . . I’ll always be with you.”

Isn’t that one of the reasons we’re here? To be bold on behalf of our friends when they are feeling timid. To speak truth to them when they can’t see it. To be there for them when they can’t tell red from red.

Whatever hard decision you’re facing right now, allow me to be your Christopher Robin: You, my friend, are braver than you believe. You’ve got this.

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Has someone ever spoken bold words to you when you were facing a tough decision? I’d love to hear your story!