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Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

July 27, 2017

Book Discussion: A Monster Calls

Thanks for joining us for the virtual book club on A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness. It’s easy to participate. Just read the book and then at your own convenience, add your thoughts to the comments section. You can respond to any of these discussion questions—or just say what you thought of the book.

And as a bonus, I’ll give away a free book to one lucky commenter!

This book was suggested to me by the same person who recommended A Man Called Ove. She has never steered me wrong when it comes to the literary decisions of life, so I tend to pull out a pen whenever she starts talking books. This book was out of my typical genre, but it didn’t disappoint. I’ve already recommended it to several people who are dealing with loss or grief at some level.

Discussion #1: The power of story

From the outset, this book is about grief and loss—the real monsters in the book. But it wasn’t a downer like I was expecting: it felt real and fresh and even witty at times, while not minimizing grief. One thing I really liked was how Conor dealt with his grief through stories:

Stories are important. They can be more important than anything. If they carry the truth.

How have stories helped you deal with something difficult in your life? Are there certain kinds of stories that tend to bring healing for you?

Discussion #2: Dealing with grief

I appreciated that Conor’s grief wasn’t sugarcoated or glossed over. It seems like as adults we sometimes try to protect kids from pain, and while this comes from a good motivation, it means that they end up stuffing their grief instead of dealing with it. As scary as the monster seems at first, he is the one who ultimately helps Conor unleash the truth about his feelings.

There is power in speaking the truth. We must tell the truth in order to heal.

Are you someone who tends to deal with hard situations head on, or do you lean more toward denial or anger? What “monsters” have helped you face the truth about how you’re feeling?

Discussion #3: Knowing when to let go

One of the things that tortures Conor most about his mother’s death is that he feels guilty for letting her go—for simultaneously wishing she’d live and wanting to be free from the pain of living in the not-knowing.

I didn’t mean to let her go! And now it’s for real! Now she’s going to die and it’s my fault!

When have you had to let go of something or someone? What conflicting feelings did you have about that . . . not wanting to lose them but also wanting the suffering to be over?

Discussion #4: Writing someone else’s book

I found it fascinating that another author, Siobhan Dowd, came up with the idea for this book first and then Patrick Ness ended up writing it. Dowd came up with the concept for the novel during her own terminal illness but died before she could write it, and an editor who worked with both authors arranged for Ness to write the story. Patrick says he had a lot of freedom to make the book his own:

I always say it felt like a really private conversation between me and her, and that mostly it was me saying, “Just look what we’re getting away with.”

If you were writing a book and weren’t able to finish it, would you want someone else to complete the project for you?

Rating

I thought this book was a fascinating study on loss, and the characters all seemed real and live to me. I just discovered that there’s a movie out based on the book, and I’d be interested in seeing it. I’d give the book four stars.

How many stars would you give the book (out of five)?

Remember: I’ll give away a free book to one lucky commenter!

9 Comments Filed Under: book review Tagged With: A Monster Calls, book club, book discussion, grief, loss, Patrick Ness, story, young adult
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November 22, 2013

Gospel Story: A Story of Hope

marinoTwo of my great passions in life are helping other people share their stories and seeing God’s extraordinary grace at work through ordinary people. So when I was given the opportunity to be part of the Gospel Stories project at my church, it felt like a beautiful collision of those passions.

Today I’d like to share Ken and Sally’s remarkable story with you.

 Have you ever felt like life had you around the neck and then started squeezing? You want to cling to hope; you want to believe that God has good plans for you, but all your circumstances seem to indicate otherwise.

Ken and Sally Marino know what it’s like to be hit with one blow after the other. But it has been precisely in the midst of some of those challenges that they’ve experienced the depths of God’s faithfulness in keeping his promises.

If you are in need of a breath of hope today, we invite you to watch the Marinos’ story. It’s a story of God’s goodness in hard times, a story of laughter and joy where you might expect tears. And ultimately, it’s a story of hope.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. —Jeremiah 29:11

To watch their story in their own words, see the video here.

 

1 Comment Filed Under: Faith Tagged With: Christian, disability, Faith, Family, gospel, Gospel Stories, Grace, hope, Jesus, special needs, story, suffering, trials, unemployment
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June 5, 2012

Why God Loves a Good Story

Oh great, here we go again… My little brother and I shot a glance at each other across Grandma and Grandpa’s extended dining room table. Dinner was long over, but we sensed that the aunts and uncles were gearing up for yet another nostalgic storytelling marathon.

We were antsy to be excused so we could play games or explore the basement with its endless hiding places. But we knew that once the stories started flowing, one tale would lead seamlessly into the next, and we’d be trapped at the table all evening.

My dad is one of 12 children in his family, all within an 18-year span. As kids, they pretty much had free reign of the outdoors, so there’s no shortage of wild tales. There’s the infamous account of the time they caught a rattlesnake and put it in the binocular case for safekeeping, the time they lowered my uncle Danny through the second-story window—in his underwear—during bridge club, and the time they launched off the swing into a trash can filled with water.

Then there were the countless trips to the ER—the time the tricycle ramp experiment went awry and Aunt Ruthie broke her arm, the time Uncle Paul ended up with stitches in his head after swimming in the off-limits city fountain. And of course there was the time they tried to cross the swollen Yakima River in an old playpen.

We grandkids heard the same stories over and over from the time we were old enough to sit at the table, and even the most dramatic of the tales had become commonplace. Nothing changed in the retelling, except perhaps for a few embellished details here and there, or my poor grandmother’s fresh horror at the things her children had kept from her until they figured they were no longer in danger of a spanking.

It wasn’t until recently, when we started adding in-laws to the family mix, that I started to appreciate our “family canon” of stories. With fresh ears to hear the antics of our fearless (if slightly masochistic) relatives, the post-dinner storytelling sessions became the highlight of our get-togethers. My siblings and I suddenly found ourselves itching to tell the stories too—begging our aunts and uncles to fill in the latest in-law about one event or another, and interjecting any details they might have left out.

Recently in my Bible reading I came across this passage in Psalm 78, which talks about a family canon of sorts:

I will teach you hidden lessons from our past—
stories we have heard and known,
stories our ancestors handed down to us.
We will not hide these truths from our children;
we will tell the next generation
about the glorious deeds of the Lord,
about his power and his mighty wonders.

It strikes me how important it was to the Israelites to pass on stories to the next generation. They wanted to leave their children and their children’s children with a spiritual legacy—the stories of God’s faithfulness and miracles in their lives. I imagine there were times when the kids rolled their eyes long after their lentil stew was gone, thinking, Oh great, here we go again… Those stories, nevertheless, became woven into the fabric of their souls. And I have to believe that as the younger generation grew older and as more place settings were added around the table, those stories started to take on an even richer meaning than before.

I wonder about my own spiritual canon of stories. Do I keep a record of the times God has come through for me and worked in powerful ways in my life? Am I sharing those stories with the next generation?

He commanded our ancestors
to teach them to their children,
so the next generation might know them—
even the children not yet born—
and they in turn will teach their own children.
So each generation should set its hope anew on God,
not forgetting his glorious miracles
and obeying his commands.

I guess that means I’d better be ready to share my “God stories” with my niece and nephew, my godson, my friends’ kids, the girls I mentor, and anyone else God may bring into my life. Chances are they’ll roll their eyes at some point and think, Oh great, here we go again… But I’ll just imagine that big dining room table at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. And I’ll tell the stories. Again.

What story in your spiritual canon do you need share today?

I’ve taken the challenge of reading the Bible chronologically this year and tracing the thread of grace through it. These musings are prompted by my reading. I’d love to have you join me: One Year Bible reading plan.

{Note: A version of this story originally appeared on Today’s Christian Woman.}

2 Comments Filed Under: Literature Tagged With: Family, Psalms, remembering, story
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