Fiction

True and Not-Yet-True

April 19, 2016 by Abbigail Kriebs Leave a Comment

There are things that can be true and untrue at the same time. Or maybe the term is not-yet-true. That sounds right.

We are building a house.

Those words have been in the back of our minds for two, three, four years. But there was always a “someday” word attached to it, a not-quite-yet or a maybe-in-another-year.

It was true and it was not-yet-true.

And now it is all true. We signed papers yesterday to actually do this thing this year. It’s not really, truly felt official until now. But now it does.

It amazes me that something so simple as words printed on paper and written in ink can make something real.

But then again, it doesn’t surprise me: Words do make things real.

Real hurts start with words, often. Words like “I hate you” or “No way” or “We got your test results back.”

Real happiness with words like “Will you?” and “I do” and “Me, too.”

Real can be created in our minds and in our hearts. Ideas can become real, much like Velveteen Rabbits.

But very often, we need something to validate our real, to make it, well, more real. In our case, it was a bank. We needed them to say yes, you can do this thing.

And now we are.

What was not true yesterday is true today.

We are building a house.

Photos taken Saturday, as we cleared some brush to make room for a home.

Fiction in Review: The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

April 12, 2016 by Abbigail Kriebs 1 Comment

I’m 100% behind the curve in reading The Paris Wife by Paula McLain.

I had the opportunity to hear Paula speak at the Madison Public Library a few weeks ago. I’d never heard of her work, and never read her books, but I was volunteering to help run her talk and signing – and I am so glad I did! Her words about writing during the margins in a busy season of life were so encouraging to someone who feels like they are just plodding through their first novel. Paula was funny and engaging and so very concerned with capturing the voices of women who haven’t been heard by history.

The Paris Wife is told from the perspective of Hadley Richardson, Ernest Hemingway’s first wife. Knowing that she is his first – and knowing that he had many – I was curious how reading a novel that I already knew the ending to would go. Would I care about the characters? Would I like them? Well, I did, wholeheartedly. I could not help rooting for Hadley and her marriage and for Hemingway to pull his head out of the sand (spoiler: he doesn’t, but you knew that, didn’t you?). I sobbed for Hadley when the time came. She owned her own story, even when she didn’t have much of a chance. And I loved her for it.

Favorite Quotes from The Paris Wife:

“I wasn’t reading the pages then, but I trusted his feeling about them and trusted the rhythm of every day.” – p. X

“I was tired of being sensible.” – p. 14

“My life was my life; I would have to stare it down, somehow, and make it work for me.” – p. 21

“Ernest and Nick weren’t the same guy, but they knew a lot of the same things.” – p. 128

“It’s like someone has taken a broom to his insides and swept them out until everything’s clean and bright and hard and empty.” – p. 135

” ‘ When does it mean something? When everyone finally gets smashed to bits?’ ” – p. 145

” ‘ I’m trying to want this.’ ” – p. 154

“That laugh would eventually set off a series of events, but not yet. It just stood there in the room, tipping and tipping, but not falling. Not falling yet. Not quite.” – p. 199

“Her edges were already blurred when she stood to shake our hands, and she looked as if she cultivated that – a fine blurriness.” – p. 203

“I want things to make sense again. They haven’t in a long time.” – p. 212

“I couldn’t be new.” – p. 242

What made this a good story?

This novel captured the feel of 1920s Paris – the pace and the places and the people. It handled gently the time in history when people had to idea how to move forward, still reeling from what they has seen in the great war. It gives you a view into the lives of artists like Hemingway and Ezra Pound and F. Scott Fitzgerald, but from the perspective of a young woman yearning for wholeness, not more excess.

If you like historical fiction and memoir, if you like rooting for the character telling the story, and if you like to see strong women make their own decisions – this is a novel you should read as soon as possible.

I can’t wait to dive into Paula McLain’s newest novel, Circling the Sun, about Beryl Markham and her life in Africa.

Have you read The Paris Wife by Paula McLain? What did you think?

P.S. Like this book? I recommend The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman OR The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert.

Fiction in Review: Tell The Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt

March 8, 2016 by Abbigail Kriebs 2 Comments

It’s so hard to describe this book, and that is really a first for me. I describe dozens of books to people each week, here on the blog and in real life. I am rarely at a loss when it comes to words about books, but this one defies category. Tell the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt is a stunning debut novel, filled with longing and sadness. It’s a story about grief and one girl’s bravery to reach out to overcome it.

The novel follows young June, a 14-year-old girl battling the heartache of being in high school and being different. But she’s also battling the fact that her uncle, the person she loves most in the world, is dying of AIDS. The story is one where family misunderstandings, the hurt that a sister can inflict, and the value of objects are all threads intricately woven into one. It’s a story where the memories have a currency, but also mean so much more when viewed with a different lens.

My favorite quotes from Tell the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt:

(This is hard, because there are so many. Also, read on Kindle, so sorry no page numbers!)

“Watching people is a good hobby, but you have to be careful about it.”

“I felt like grabbing the paintbrush right out of his hand so I could color him in, paint him back to his old self.”

“I lay in bed thinking about everything in my heart that was possible and impossible, right and wrong, sayable and unsayable, and when all those thoughts were gone there was only one thing left: how terribly much I was going to miss my uncle Finn.”

“I’ve never met anyone yet who might make that kind of promise.”

“Greta always knew how to make me lose my words.”

“I stared out the car window and understood that I was in a place where nobody knew my heart even a little bit.”

“Either you’re a falconer or you’re not. Either the birds come back to you or they fly away.”

“Everything she said was vague, like the details might stab her if they got too sharp.”

“That’s what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright.”

“That’s what I want for you,” he said. “I want you to know only the very best people.”

“And until then I don’t think I really understood the meaning of gone.”

“I felt like I had proof that not all days are the same length, not all time has the same weight. Proof that there are worlds and worlds and worlds on top of worlds, if you want them to be there.”

“A portrait is a picture where somebody gets to choose what you look like. How they want to see you. A camera catches whichever you happens to be there when it clicks.”

“I stared hard, trying to find a pattern. Thinking if I kept looking hard enough, maybe the pieces of the world would fit back together into something I could understand.”

“And I suddenly understood that getting drunk was just one more way to leave this place, this time.”

“I really wondered why people were always doing what they didn’t like doing. It seemed like life was a sort of narrowing tunnel. Right when you were born, the tunnel was huge. You could be anything. Then, like, the absolute second after you were born, the tunnel narrowed down to about half that size.”

“I thought of all the different kinds of love in the world. I could think of ten without even trying.”

“I know all about tiny things. Proportion. I know all about love that’s too big to stay in a tiny bucket. Splashing out all over the place in the most embarrassing way possible.”

“It felt good to say yes. To agree to something so ordinary.”

“One thing I do know is that my superpower is gone. My heart is broken and soft, and I am plain again.”

“Everyone needs to think they have secrets.”

What made this a great story?

Carol Rifka Brunt tells a rather dark tale with dignity and grace, allowing June to be a kid and an adult at the same time. Its an accurate depiction of a young girl in search of her someday self, having to wade through some deep waters on the way.

There were so many moments where I want to stop and really soak the words in, her writing style is so fluid and lovely. As soon as I finished this novel, I quickly searched online to see what else she has written, and I was so, so sad when I realized this was her first book, and there are no others. This is a woman who was meant to write novels.

Have you read Tell the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt? If so, what did you think about it?

P.S. If you liked the language of this novel, you might like Happy All the Time by Laurie Colwin. Colwin has a similar style, but with a novel that is of a brighter hue throughout.