Friday, November 22, 2024

In the Company of Others by Jan Karon

From what I’ve picked up from other people’s reviews, Jan Karon originally planned to stop writing the Mitford books with book nine, Light from Heaven. Her next project was the Father Tim novels of which there are two, Home to Holly Springs and In the Company of Others.

I was forewarned that these latter books were not as cozy as the original Mitford books so I was not shocked when some dark family secrets were revealed in Home to Holly Springs, a book with tells the backstory of Father Tim’s childhood. In the Company of Others was not nearly as somber. Yes, there is plenty of heartache, but, as always, Karon skillfully interweaves hope throughout the narrative. In this second Father Tim novel, he and Cynthia finally go on a long-awaited trip to Ireland. Because Cynthia injures her ankle, they cannot do all the touring they had planned and, hence, the story takes place almost completely in the inn where they are staying.

The writing is excellent as usual. Cynthia sat reading amid a wave of books washed onto the shore of the duvet. He was stashed in the wing chair, imbibing his own pleasures. And there are nods to many favorite authors. At one point, Father Tim remembers that Dorothy Sayers said, Where Christ is, cheerfulness will keep breaking in. [This was] a description, in toto, of the woman who shared his bed.

More than any other book this one is a tribute to Cynthia: her tender heart toward those who are suffering, her upbeat look at life’s challenges, and her giftedness as an artist.

The following paragraph shows a glimpse of their delightful banter. 

“You love me,” she said, amazed and certain. It was like her to say such things, completely out of the blue.

“I’ve always loved you,” he said, “From the time I was born.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I think I came into the world seeking something not absolutely tied to this earthly realm. Your open mind, your curiosity, your reverence promised that and drew me in.” He put is arm around her, felt the cool of her flesh against his.

“My mother had it, you have it,” he said. “She took the red dirt and made gardens that people came from miles around to see. No earthmoving equipment, just a wheelbarrow and shovel. No money, just hard work, ingenuity, and passion. All the time, everywhere you go, you know how to make something out of what most people see as nothing. You’ve made something out of me.”

“No, sweetheart, you were quite the finished product.”

“Never. I was an overworked, underfeeling man growing old alone. I thank you for teaching me not to fear intimacy; for making me do this thing we call marriage.”

“I made you do it?”

“I quit, but you didn’t. Of course I was praying you wouldn’t, but I fully expected you to.” He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his and kissed her. “Happy birthday, glimmering girl. Sorry it’s been such a hassle.”

“It isn’t such a hassle, really. It’s just life – quirky and scary and lovely and immense.”

I’ve been re-reading all the Mitford novels this year, but this was one I’d missed before. So glad to have found it.


Blessings,

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