Even the cover is captivating ~ a serene woman drawn to the light is cast against a ship struggling on a dark, stormy sea. And just as on the first page Susanna drags Polly toward a farmhouse door, we are compelled to enter the story of Polly Catlett’s tumultuous relationship with John Newton.
We join them as they seem to fall immediately in love, yet go through eight years learning about each other, faith, and God. It’s a relationship that is as turbulent and strong as the ocean storms Newton encounters.
With insight and at times painful clarity, Hedlund shows us Newton the scoundrel as he struggles with disdain for God and right Christian living, while yearning for the love and respect of the devout Polly and her family.
Hedlund’s rich, detailed descriptions bring the scenes alive. We are immersed in the story world, whether we are pitching about onboard a ship in a dark storm, a raucous bar, a quiet midwinter eve in the forest, a steamy African jungle, or the glowing warmth of the Catlett parlor.
Newton was such a reprobate, making disastrous decisions, receiving grace from authorities, and then repeating the cycle that at times I’d huff and think “He’s going to do it again?” But against Newton’s foolishness and sin, the patience and unfailing love of God shines brightly ~ a reminder to us all that God has a plan, a use for each of us, and grace for our every need. The hymn “Amazing Grace,” written by John Newton, continues to bear witness to that.
As I read, I wondered what in the story was true and what was fiction. I love that Hedlund graciously includes an Author’s Note to tell us.
In chapter 53 Jacques ponders what makes people different and/or valuable. He comes to the conclusion that every person is amazing ~ and most people don’t realize that about themselves because of their perspective, “like a flower that looks down and thinks it is just a stem.”
Or describing a place near sunset: “There was a breathless hush to the air, neither any wind nor the faintest ripple to mar the ocean’s surface. The Pacific stretched out in blue-gold majesty to join with the cloudless horizon. The air was a mix of sunlit heat and the water’s biting chill. The result was a champagne headiness.”
Breslin drops the reader into WW II at Thereseinstadt, the Nazi transit camp in Czechoslovakia, where the cold, starvation, brutality, and hopelessness are portrayed in piercing clarity. (The gift of telling a story that pops off the page and into your living room sometimes doesn’t feel like a gift when what appears is a world such as Thereseinstadt.)
Respite comes from fun, quirky characters and the pithy observations of Aunt Ingrid, the girls’ aunt who loves when she can but disappears into Alzheimer’s fog more and more often. Respite for the reader also comes from Ganshert’s skill with words. The grief she pens is achingly real, but so are the joy, faith, and encouragement that characters offer each other. And beautiful, evocative images such as this: “The clouds were dark purple bruises that stretched to the horizon.”
Laura Frantz’s THE LACEMAKER is set in 1775, pot-boiling days leading up to The Revolutionary War, when allegiances were strained and loyalties shifting. And Williamsburg, Virginia seems at the center of it all.
This is one of Frantz’s most overt romances and it works very well. The object of Elisabeth’s affections, the master of Ty Mawr estate and Independence Man Noble Rynallt, is a hero beyond expectation! The barriers to any relationship for these two are huge. When they seem insurmountable, I expected to leave the story with only bittersweet memories and the echo of Anwylyd. But noble sacrifices, exactly what one expects from a larger-than-life hero, emerge out of nowhere and bring sighs and hope and, as Frantz always promises ~ hints of HEA (happily-ever-after).
Oh, Elisabeth, I want to hug you and walk you to a place of respite. Dear reader, don’t you?
Who among us hasn’t fantasized of some highly visible way we’d like to be heroic? Maybe rescue someone from a burning car. Or pull a drowning child from an icy pond. Isn’t some daydream touched when you hear about the three American men, friends from their youth, who restrained a terrorist on the Paris-bound train and were awarded the Legion of Honor Medal?
They look like my friend Clarice getting lost in the hospital parking garage visiting her husband who is fighting leukemia. They look like being asked to provide an excuse for your boss when s/he’s late to a meeting. Getting your finger slammed in the closet door. Knocking over the bottle of olive oil.