D. E. Stevenson quote on the Art of Living Well

"You're both so clever," said grandmama admiringly. "I was never any good at languages."

"You're good at living, which is much more important," said Charles.

Grandpa nodded thoughtfully, "Good at living is a valuable gift - and grandmama has been dowered with it."

(The author goes on to explain): She loved people and understood them; she oiled the wheels of life so that everything ran more smoothly when she was there. It was not because she talked much; in company she was rather silent, but she always said the right thing at the right time. She was lovely to look at: her silver hair was thick and soft and slightly wavy, and, despite her age, here eyes were deep-blue and full of intelligence. Goodness and kindness emanated from Grandmama like the fragrance of spring flowers.

(quoted from Sarah's Cottage by D. E. Stevenson)

Photo by Andreea Popa on Unsplash

Blessings,

Old Herbaceous by Reginald Arkell

Herbert Pinnegar was born in the 1860s. He was an orphan with a lame leg and didn’t seem to have any prospect for a happy future. But with a lot of hard work and the gracious gift of a few generous friends, he makes a way for himself as the head gardener of an English manor house. This is the story of his friendship with the lady of the house and how his devotion to her was rewarded throughout his lifetime.

He is in his eighties when the story begins, sitting by his cottage window looking over the gardens he used to tend. He wonders that gardeners who earn more than he ever did somehow seemed to care less about making things look their best. He never felt that he was just a paid man working for a wage. He felt that the place was his – and so it was, in a manner of speaking…. People said that big gardens were finished; that everything belonged to everybody and nothing to anybody. He didn’t believe that. The world started with a garden and a thing that had been going all that time wouldn’t end so easily.

Old Herbaceous is not a “Christian” book by any means. The narrative makes it clear that Pinnegar is not a church-goer (much to the chagrin of a long line of village vicars), but there are many episodes of grace that make it a delight. First there is his adoptive mother. Then the school teacher, Mary Brain, who teaches him to identify and love wild flowers. Then there is Mrs. Charteris. And the elderly lawyer, Mr. Billiter. Pinnegar’s life is an uphill climb all the way, but these men and women demonstrate a kindness and generosity that fortify him for the challenges.

The writing is delightful. As a young boy, Herbert enters a bouquet in a flower show. While he waits for the judges to make their decision, he sees the most lovely, laughing lady – not a day over eighteen. Young Herbert stood in the center of the tent with his mouth wide open and promptly fell in love, for ever and ever, amen.

Later, when he leaves school and needs employment, he is hired by this lady and her husband to work as an under-gardener. He knew much more than she did about plants, but she reveled in teaching him their Latin names; and, so, his puppy love develops into an enduring friendship that is one of the mainstays of the book. 

Not only is this a gardener’s memoir of his work and relationships, but it is also gives a glimpse of what it was like to live through various historical events, including two world wars. As WWII approaches, we read: Of course, it had all happened before, but Mr. Pinnegar, now nearing seventy, wasn’t quite the man he had been twenty-five years ago. In those days he had taken on every job that was going – carried the village on his shoulders; even found it in his heart to laugh when they dug up the flowers and planted potatoes along the borders. But not this time. He began to feel a fierce resentment against everything and everybody mixed up in this mad endeavor to the destroy the gracious pattern of the world he had known…

This is easily one of the sweetest books I’ve ever read, but not sickeningly so. Plenty of pathos and sadness balance out the moments of charity and beauty. Best of all, you don’t have to know a thing about gardening to love this book.

Blessings,

Beauty by Roger Scruton

Is it possible to write a rave review about a book that I hestitate to recommend? Frankly, I struggled to like and finish Roger Scruton's Beauty: A Very Short Introduction, because it is a dense philosphical treatise. I understood about twenty percent of it, but that percentage was pure gold! I still think about it almost every day.

In the final chapter, Scruton explains the differences between art and "kitsch." Kitsch is art with no message of its own, in which all the effects are copied and all the emotions are faked. He calls it the "Disneyfication" of everyday life, when people prefer the sensuous trappings of belief to the thing truly believed. It is not an excess of feeling, but a deficiency. The world of kitsch is in a certain measure a heartless world, in which emotion is directed away from its proper target towards sugary stereotypes, permitting us to pay passing tribute to love and sorrow without the trouble of feeling them.... Art cannot live in the same world as kitsch, which is a world of commodities to be consumed, rather than icons to be revered. 

This explains why I have always been uncomfortable with Precious Moments figurines and Thomas Kinkaide paintings. (Forgive me if you love those.) Since reading this chapter, I've seen kitsch everywhere from Hallmark movies to TV commercials, to Facebook posts: content that elicits an emotional response that is not based on deep thoughts or feelings. 

Although this was a very hard book to read, I am grateful that Scruton gave me new ways to think about art and its importance. The day after I finished Scruton's book, I read a post on Facebook about Tolkien's dislike of Disney for cheapening the beauty and power of fairy tales for "universal consumption." A few weeks later I learned that this was an AI generated article. (Ugh!) BUT all was not lost; members of the Literary Life Podcast group led me to an authentic article on the subject. 

One quote from the article: From Tolkien's perspective, Disney was a glorifed salesman who peddled commercialized dumbed-down fairy tale casualties to the masses. 

It sounds like Tolkien and Scruton were in agreement on this. 

My lengthier review of Scruton's book is on Goodreads.

Blessings,

Reading Year in Review 2025

In spite of the fact that my brain was in a fog (teaching overload) for almost six months this year, I managed to squeeze in quite a few reading gems. Here is the list: 

Favorite re-read: Charlotte's Web audiobook (read perfectly by E.B. White)

Biggest effort, but worth it: Metamorphoses by Ovid (review forthcoming)

Favorite light reads: Elizabeth Caddell's Wayne Family series (reviewed here)

Favorite book by a new-to-me author: Old Herbaceous by Reginald Arkell (1881-1959). I cried buckets of tears over this bittersweet fictional memoir. (review forthcoming)

Best non-fiction: John Oswalt's audiobook on the book of Isaiah, and Pages from a WWII Chaplain's Diary (reviewed here.)  And, although I'm not finished with it, Gerald Wilson's NIV commentary on the Psalms brought me many hours of delight.

Favorite mystery: Surfeit of Lampreys by Ngaio Marsh (Inspector Alleyn #10), reviewed here.

The novel that made my blood run cold: Address Unknown (letters exchanged before WWII between a Jewish American and his German friend from 1932-1934.)

The book that lived rent-free in my brain for weeks: Beauty by Roger Scruton (A difficult book that I'll be reviewing next month.) 

The book that delighted me quite unexpectedly: Cinderella (29 Different Versions)

Honorable mention goes to a YouTube channel that I've really enjoyed, The Commonplace with Autumn Kerr. Although my homeschooling days are over, I enjoy her wonderful book recommendations. (Also, her emphasis on how to live like a human in a digital world.)

Here is the list of all the books I read in 2025: Goodreads link

What about you? What were your favorite books of 2025?

Blessings,

Surfeit of Lampreys by Ngaio Marsh

Surfeit of Lampreys is the tenth entry in the Roderick Alleyn detective stories. It opens with antics of the Lamprey family who always seem to be on the cusp of financial ruin, but who are marvelously unperturbed by it. They are scatter-brained yet delightful, and everyone (except their creditors) seems to fall under the spell of their charms.  

I kept wondering how Marsh was going to turn this happy-go-lucky tale into a murder mystery, but I needn’t have worried. The murders do happen, and their gruesomeness is in stark contrast to the fun-loving Lampreys. Another welcome contrast to the murderous mayhem is Alleyn’s sidekick, the unflappable Inspector Fox. Shortly after a horrific murder, Fox appears in all his placidness, which is quite a comfort to the reader. With each successive novel, I love him more and more!

I always enjoy the literary references sprinkled throughout Marsh’s books. This one included nods to Dickens, Shakespeare, Hans Christian Anderson, and even Beatrix Potter. She even threw a bone to Charlotte Brontë fans with this conversation between Henry Lamprey and Robin, a young family friend:

“What do you think of us, Robin? You’re such a composed little person with your smooth head and your watchfulness.”

“That sounds smug and beastly.”

“It isn’t meant to. You’ve got a sort of Jane Eyre-ishness about you. You’ll grow up into Jane Eyre, I daresay, if you grow at all….”

And then there is the great writing: From Chapter Nine: Alleyn had been confronted with the Lampreys for only some twenty minutes, but already he had begun to feel a little as though they were handfuls of wet sand which, as fast as he grasped them, were dragged through his fingers by the action of some mysterious undertow.

From chapter Thirteen: Alleyn began to feel as if Tinkerton was a bad cork and himself an inefficient corkscrew, drawing out unimportant fragments, while large lumps of testimony fell into the wine and were lost.

The novel contains a touch of romance and a fair bit of light profanity. Nevertheless, this was one of my favorite entries in the series so far.

Any other Ngaio Marsh fans out there?

Christmas blessings,

Reminscing about Books #7

This will be my last nostalgic post this year because my teaching schedule is lightening up, and soon I'll have the head space for reading and reviewing. I've missed writing about books!

In the year 2014, I wrote my one and only post that went viral (in a modest sort of way). I had discovered Librivox a few years earlier and was able to recommend some of the better readers. That garnered enough interest to get almost 8,000 views (rather than my average of about 50). One responder told me about Adrian Praetzellis who is absolutely remarkable as a narrator, especially for Treasure Island.

Two children's classics bowled me over that year: Charlotte's Web (reviewed here) and C.S. Evans' beautiful version of Sleeping Beauty (reviewed here and here). 

My final gem was David Copperfield by Charles Dickens (reviewed here). I'd been trying to like Dickens for decades, and this book turned me into a devoted fan. 

That was also the year I wrote my personal favorite post on Christian romance novels. I got a lot of suggestions for "better" Christian fiction, but am still not convinced. I devoured Grace Livingston Hill books as a teen, and read other Christian authors until I was about thirty. But when I began to read the classics (especially Trollope), I somehow lost my taste for the fluffier stuff. (I still like an occasional light, fun book, as you know if you've read this blog for any amount of time!)   

Have you found that your reading tastes have changed over the years? 

P.S. Amazon usually has an end-of-the year deal on Kindle Unlimited for 99 cents for three months. I saw it earlier, but couldn't find the link to post here. It would be worth it just to read the first ten Ngaio Marsh novels. But there are also quite a few D.E. Stevenson and Miss Read titles (cozy British village settings).

Blessings,

Reminiscing about Books #6

My last post was on the literary riches of 2011, but the next year was no different. In truth, because I read a book per week (sometimes two), 80 percent of them aren't worth blogging about. BUT the "cream" that floats to the top makes it all worthwhile. 

In 2012 I read a mix of theology, biography, detective fiction, and classic children's literture. I read my first Betsy-Tacy book, and was enchanted. (Review here.) Andrew Murray's book on The Two Covenants was profound, and gave me a deeper appreciation for the Old Testament (and for how all of it pointed to the future reality of the Cross.) I reviewed it here.

I rarely read modern titles, but Unbroken by Lauren Hildebrand was so highly tauted that I caved in. I could hardly put it down! (Review here.) Another WWII favorite that year was Helmet for my Pillow (reviewed here). 

I love books, but am very careful to wait for good deals so that I can stay within my budget (I'm basically a cheapskate!) Anyway, when I heard about The Truest Fairy Tale, based on the writings of G.K. Chesterton, I went against all my financial principles and sent away for a copy. It was worth it! (Reviewed here.) 

The last two highlights were Elizabeth Goudge's The Dean's Watch (reviewed here), and the Lord Peter/Harriet Vane mysteries by Dorothy Sayers. (I reviewed the first book, Strong Poison, here.) What a glorious year!

Blessings,