Finally, It's Friday

1. Why does it take twenty-somethings so long to grow up?

2.  Every dark chocolate bar is equal to every cup of espresso...marvelous.

3. My favorite breakfast includes a croissant and cappuccino.

4. Murakami's Norwegian Wood was the last book I read before Ash Wednesday.

5. I am SO glad that I finished report cards, comment cards, math checklists, letters of recommendation and reading a colleague's National Board Entry this week.

6. An immaculately clean house would make me feel better right now.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to finishing 1 Kings, tomorrow my plans include flying to Naples, (Florida, not Italy) and Sunday, I want to have coffee on the patio with my family!

Find more Friday thoughts here.

Villette by Charlotte Bronte: Wrap Up Post

So many feeling after finishing this novel. I feel a great compassion for Lucy Snowe, for her courage and strength, but most of all for her loneliness which was never assuaged. On two occasions comfort came close. But then John Grahame married Polly, and Paul Emmanuel became lost at sea. Or, so it is that I assume.

This is a tale of courage and determination, of intermittent hope, but more than anything else for me, of loss. Here is a woman in literature I'll always remember, and admire much more than  either Emma Bovary or Anna Karenina. While all three are somewhat tragic characters, Lucy does not throw aside the life she leads. She, at least, has the sense to 'keep calm and carry on' whatever befalls her.

To me, she is a true, albeit tragic, heroine.

My thanks to Wallace for hosting this read along. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the posts of the participants, as well as this excellent novel of Charlotte Bronte's.

The New Testament In a Week...Will You Join Us?

Becky and I have been having an interesting conversation about reading the Bible. When she found out that I planned on only reading the Bible for Lent, she told me that she was thinking of reading the New Testament during that time. Then, she expanded that idea into a how-much-of-the-New-Testament-can-you-read-in-48-hours-challenge which turned into a week.

April 11 through April 17, to be exact.

Here are her rules:

• You may read from any translation of the Bible. 
• You may switch translations throughout the week, if you want. 
• You may use a text-only Bible, or a study Bible.
• You may use an audio bible, an e-Bible, or an online Bible.
• You may read the books in ANY order.
• If you would like to follow an exact plan, you may. Here is one I found to do the New Testament in a week.
• You may reread certain books if you would like to take some time to meditate on what you're reading.
• If you finish reading the New Testament early, consider reading Psalm 119, Psalm 22, Psalms 113-118, Exodus 12, Isaiah 40-66.
• No blog is required, but you may blog your progress if you like.

Now, you might be like many of my friends who have never read the Bible before. Ever. And this would be the perfect time to give it a try. Or, you might be a person who's read it sporadically; for Sunday School, say, or daily devotions.

But, I can give you  my word that I truly love reading it continuously. I'm not reading a chapter here, a chapter there, putting it down and then completely forgetting where each character fits into the context. By reading it all in a go, it flows. It flows like a novel in many ways.

You don't have to read the whole book. You don't have to read any of it. But, I'd love it if a few of you would consider joining Becky and me for this week in April.

It would be wonderful to have your company.

Bernice Bobs Her Hair

I'd like to say that my interest in this story came first from F. Scott Fitgerald's writing. Or, even from the 1920s themselves. It didn't. It came from the hair. Because a bob is my very favorite cut, the cut that I've worn most frequently for the last twenty years. (Although my curls are not in the formed waves you frequently see on Zelda. Look at the photograph of her above, and tell me she doesn't look absolutely charming. Schizophrenic or not.)

A few years ago when I came to school after Santo had given me another fabulous cut, our Art teacher said, "Your haircut reminds me of Bernice."

"Bernice?" I inquired.

"Yes, from that short story by Fitzgerald. You know, Bernice Bobs Her Hair," she replied.

"No," I said, "I don't."

So, when The Classics Circuit Tour came around, with The Lost Generation for its theme, I knew I had to write about this story which is included in the collection Flappers and Philosophers.

Now that I've read the story, I'm not certain that resembling Bernice is a compliment. Although it's certainly preferable to me than being compared to her cousin, Marjorie. Bernice is visiting her cousin from Eau Claire, where she was perfectly comfortable driving her own car, living her own life. But, in Marjorie's world a girl lives on her charms. And one of the ways that her charms can be measured is by the number of times she is cut into during a dance.

No matter how beautiful or brilliant a girl maybe, the reputation of not being frequently cut in on makes her position at a dance unfortunate. 'Perhaps boys prefer her company to that of the butterflies with whom they dance a dozen times an evening, but youth in this jazz-nourished generation is temperamentally restless, and the idea of fox-trotting more than one full fox trot with the same girl is distasteful, not to say odious.

At first, Marjorie implores her many beaux to dance with Bernice. Then, when Bernice overhears Marjorie talking to her mother about Bernice's lack of charisma, Bernice claims she will go home.

"I guess I'd better go back to Eau Claire--if I'm such a nuisance." Bernice's lower lip was trembling violently and she continued on a wavering note: "I've tried to be nice, and--and I've been first neglected and then insulted. No one ever visited me and got such treatment."

Marjorie calls Bernice's bluff, then teaches her how to be more effective socially. Bernice must brush her eyebrows so they'll grow straight and have her teeth straightened a little; learn to be nice to men who are "sad birds";  she must neither lean on a dancing partner, nor stand straight up. Bernice learns Marjorie's skills so effectively, that soon she has not only many dancing partners, but Marjorie's best beau, Warren.

When Bernice declares that she will bob her hair, Marjorie again calls her bluff, and Bernice finds herself in the barber's chair much like Marie Antoinette at the guillotine.

Vaguely she wondered why she did not cry out that it was all a mistake. It was all she could do to keep from clutching her hair with both hands to protect it from the suddenly hostile world. Yet she did neither. Even the thought of her mother was no deterrent now. This was the test supreme of her sportsmanship; her right to walk unchallenged in the starry heaven of popular girls.

Courageously, Bernice has her hair bobbed. But, she is not prepared for the reactions she receives from the surrounding crowd, Warren, or even her aunt and uncle. The only thing we could foresee as an eventuality was the little smirk playing around Marjorie's mouth when Bernice's tresses were gone.

This is one of those stories with an incredibly ironic ending. Much like O. Henry's story, The Gift of The Magi, it is not so much about the loss of hair as the reasons behind why it was cut. As well as the things that are learned from doing so.

You can read Bernice Bobs Her Hair online. Really, take the time to read this sensational story which was first published in 1922. Then we can talk about the ending together. It's one of my favorite pieces by F. Scott Fitzgerald.


(This story was read and reviewed before my Lenten project of reading only the Bible until Easter Sunday.)

You Know It's Spring When...

March 21 rolls around, but also when Carl announces his Once Upon A Time Challenge.

Fantasy, folklore, fairy tale or mythology, any reading within these four genres qualifies. Because I want to commit, but am not sure how much time I'll have, I've decided to at least complete The Journey:

This is really as simple as the name implies. It means you are participating, but not committing yourself to any specific number of books. By signing up for The Journey you are agreeing to read at least one book within one of the four categories during March 21st to June 20th period. Just one book. If you choose to read more, fantastic! If not, then we have still had the pleasure of your company during this three month reading journey and hopefully you have read a great book, met some interesting people, and enjoyed the various activities that occur during the challenge. It has always been of utmost importance to me that the challenges that I host be all about experiencing enjoyable literature and sharing it with others. I want you to participate. Hence, The Journey.

There are several other levels in which you can participate, including film, so head on over to Carl's announcement post and see what you might sign up for. Then, be sure to check the Review Site so you can add more wonderful books to your ever growing list of What I Want To Read.

I know I'll read The King Must Die, and hopefully something by George R. R. Martin. Loved The Game of Thrones which I read for one of the previous Once Upon a Time Challenges. Other possibilities include Magyk by Annie Sage and A Breath of Snow and Ashes by Diana Galbadon. I also have Inkspell and Inkdeath hanging around here somewhere, and my class is dying for me to read them The Lightning Thief by Riordan. So, thank you, Carl, for bringing this genre to life for me, and reminding me of what I already own but haven't yet read.

Monday Mailbox for March 21

Even though I'm not actively pursuing literature for this period of time, literature is pursuing me. Almost with a vengence! Never one to win give-aways, the past few weeks I've won two! The first, from Suko, is Yann Martel's newest novel, Beatrice and Virgil:

As if that wasn't enough, I've won Little Princes from Book Dilettante:

Then, author Sarah Jio sent me The Violets of March, which is her new book from Penguin:

These don't even count as the books I downloaded on my Nook, including the Free Friday books Millie's Fling, Bone Rattler, and Lonely Planet's 5 Best of the USA Road Trips. Because I know Europe far more than I do America.

Mailbox Monday is hosted this week by Laura from I'm Booking It! What books did you receive in your proverbial mailbox?

Life Without Literature: Day Eleven

"The thing to do," said my friend Carol, who's reading the Bible for Lent with me, "is to go to those books in the Old Testament where the stories are."

She's right. You can't beat the Old Testament for story. For shocking twists. For things that make me gasp.

For example, having finished Numbers, Deuteronomy, and Joshua, I'm now in Judges where those Israelites have been told to basically divide and conquer everything in their path. Here's Jephthah, the illegitimate son of Gideon, who's begged by his brothers to lead them against the Ammonites.

And what does he do? He promises the Lord to offer as a burnt sacrifice the first thing that comes out of his house if the Lord should deliver the enemy into his hands. (What, are you stupid?)

When he returns home victorious, out of his house comes his daughter, his only child, with tambourines and dancing. She pleads with him to let her have two months in the mountains to mourn her virginity, and then she dies at her father's hand to fulfill his promise to the Lord.

It then became a custom that the young women of Israel honor the daughter of Jephthah for four days each year.

So far, I have read of a daughter sacrificed by her father (Judges 11:29-40), a talking donkey (Numbers 22-24), a fortified city coming down with trumpet blasts (Joshua 6), a dry fleece surrounded by dewy ground (Judges 6) and all this is only in three books. When I'm tempted to think that Murakami is fanciful, I have to remember that the stories of the Old Testament seem awfully strange to me, too. Holy, but strange.

The Lake...Coming Soon by Banana Yoshimoto

Look what I found! While hunting around my favorite bookstores, I discovered that Banana Yoshimoto is back with a new novel: The Lake. Random House describes it as thus:

While The Lake shows off many of the features that have made Banana Yoshimoto famous—a cast of vivid and quirky characters, simple yet nuanced prose, a tight plot with an upbeat pace—it’s also one of the most darkly mysterious books she’s ever written.
It tells the tale of a young woman who moves to Tokyo after the death of her mother, hoping to get over her grief and start a career as a graphic artist. She finds herself spending too much time staring out her window, though ... until she realizes she’s gotten used to seeing a young man across the street staring out his window, too.

They eventually embark on a hesitant romance, until she learns that he has been the victim of some form of childhood trauma. Visiting two of his friends who live a monastic life beside a beautiful lake, she begins to piece together a series of clues that lead her to suspect his experience may have had something to do with a bizarre religious cult. . . .

With its echoes of the infamous, real-life Aum Shinrikyo cult (the group that released poison gas in the Tokyo subway system), The Lake unfolds as the most powerful novel Banana Yoshimoto has written. And as the two young lovers overcome their troubled past to discover hope in the beautiful solitude of the lake in the country- side, it’s also one of her most moving.

It's on pre-order now, available May 3, 2011. Ahhh, I can hardly wait. The only release I'm lusting after with more ardor is Huruki Murakami's 1Q84 on October 25, 2011.

They make me think I'll host the Japanese Literature Challenge 5 come July.

An Evening With Jon Scieszka

I've just returned from listening to Jon Scieszka, America's first National Ambassador for Young People's Literature. However, you might know him better as the author of The Stinky Cheese Man.

Or, Math Curse.

Or, Knucklehead.  It was, he explained, the term his father called him or his five other brothers, depending on how frustrated he was. And all this time, I thought my good buddy Joe coined the term.

He's written many other books, including The Time Warp Trio and Spaceheads which is written partly as a book and partly as an interactive media experience.

I loved listening to him talk, while showing slides of his life which I tried to capture above. There's a picture of him with George and Laura Bush when he won his medal for being the National Ambassador for Young People's Literature. There's a photograph of a cheeseburger illustrated by Lane Smith from The Stinky Cheese Man. ("I got so tired of reading my daughter The Gingerbread Man," he said, "I just sort of snapped.")

And, there's a photograph of his website Guys Read. Love this site dedicated to helping boys learn the love of literature.

I would have had a photograph taken of Jon and myself, but I got busted standing in line. My number was 141. Never one to trust in the system, I just stood at the back of the line I found by the door. Until some wicked teacher pulled the ticket out of my book saying, "What number do you have?" Like a nine year old kid in my class, I stood there open-mouthed.

But, I left with what I came for: a great night out and two autographed books. Jon understood. He was once a teacher, too.

Life Without Literature: Day Seven

I would have done this months ago, if it wasn't so difficult.

By now, my house is immaculate.

Dinners are on time. And, thoroughly wholesome.

Henry, the dog, has a walk every evening.

Laundry is freshly folded and put away.

It's not as though I lived in squalor before Ash Wednesday, but I did become a bit lax. Almost everything had taken second place to My Reading.

I'm still reading, just not any literature. I've finished the book of Numbers, and I'm almost done with Deuteronomy. (In years past it's taken me weeks to get through one of those books in the Old Testament.)

And, I've found a translation I love (thanks, Claire!). It's the Holman Christian Standard Bible, which reads with incredible ease. I like it much more than other 'easy to read' translations, such as the New Living, because it still seems to hang on to the depth I find in my beloved King James. With a bit more clarity.

So far, so good, in this Lenten endeavor; only 39 more days to go.

"Seems like a year, doesn't it?" asked my husband just now, as he served himself a bowl of pudding.

Children's Book Week is Coming...Will You Help Your Child Vote?

 

and

are hosting the "the fourth annual Children’s Choice Book Awards Program with the announcement of 30 finalists in six categories, including Author and Illustrator of the Year."  Here is the list of titles from which to vote:

Kindergarten to Second Grade Book of the Year:
Even Monsters Need Haircuts by Matthew McElligott (Walker)
Hot Rod Hamster by Cynthia Lord, illustrated by Derek Anderson (Scholastic Press)
How Rocket Learned to Read by Tad Hills (Schwartz & Wade/ Random House)
Little Pink Pup by Johanna Kerby (Putnam/Penguin)
Shark vs. Train by Chris Barton, illustrated by Tom Lichtenheld (Little, Brown)

Third Grade to Fourth Grade Book of the Year:
Babymouse # 12: Burns Rubber by Jennifer L. Holm and Matthew Holm (Random House)
Bad Kitty vs. Uncle Murray: The Uproar at the Front Door by Nick Bruel (Roaring Brook/Macmillan)
Encyclopedia Mythologica: Gods & Heroes by Matthew Reinhart and Robert Sabuda (Candlewick)
Finally by Wendy Mass (Scholastic Press)
Lunch Lady and the Summer Camp Shakedown by Jarrett J. Krosoczka (Knopf/Random House)

Fifth Grade to Sixth Grade Book of the Year:
Big Nate: In a Class by Himself by Lincoln Peirce (HarperCollins)
It's a Book by Lane Smith (Roaring Brook/Macmillan)
The Red Pyramid (The Kane Chronicles, Book 1) by Rick Riordan (Disney-Hyperion)
Smile by Raina Telgemeier (Graphix/Scholastic)
Zebrafish by Peter H. Reynolds and FableVision (Atheneum/Simon & Schuster)

Teen Choice Book of the Year:
Burned (House of Night, Book 7) by P.C. Cast and Kristin Cast (St. Martin’s Griffin/Macmillan)
Fang (A Maximum Ride Novel) by James Patterson (Little, Brown)
Mockingjay (The Final Book of The Hunger Games) by Suzanne Collins (Scholastic Press)
Spirit Bound (Vampire Academy, Book 5) by Richelle Mead (Razorbill/Penguin)
Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan (Dutton/Penguin)

Author of the Year:
Cassandra Clare for Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices, Book 1) (McElderry/Simon & Schuster)
Suzanne Collins for Mockingjay (The Final Book of The Hunger Games) (Scholastic Press)
Jeff Kinney for Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Ugly Truth (Amulet/Abrams)
Stephenie Meyer for The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner (Megan Tingley/Little, Brown)
Rick Riordan for The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus, Book 1) (Disney-Hyperion)

Illustrator of the Year:
Robin Preiss Glasser for Fancy Nancy and the Fabulous Fashion Boutique (HarperCollins)
Loren Long for Of Thee I Sing: A Letter to My Daughters (Knopf/Random House)
Nancy Tillman for Wherever You Are: My Love Will Find You (Feiwel & Friends/Macmillan)
David Wiesner for Art & Max (Clarion/Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)
Mo Willems for Knuffle Bunny Free: An Unexpected Diversion (Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins)

My personal favorites include It's a Book by Lane Smith, Mo Willems for his Pigeon books, and Nick Bruel for his Bad Kitty books. But, who knows who will win? Guess we'll have to wait until the winner is announced live at the annual Children’s Choice Book Awards Gala on May 2 in New York City.

Do you have a particular favorite?

Life Without Literature: Day Three

God is our refuge and strength,

an ever-present help in trouble.

2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way

and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,

3 though its waters roar and foam

and the mountains quake with their surging.

Proverbs 46: 1-3

Was there ever a more important time to turn to the Bible than today, in the aftermath of Japan's most devastating earthquake? All day I've been praying for the people there, as well as those away from Japan who are wondering about their loved ones there. The most comforting place I know is within these pages; it certainly isn't within this fallen world.

Life Without Literature: Day Two

Friends, loved your comments yesterday! Especially the ideas of things to do with my free time: fold origami, take photographs, write stories for children...how come none of you said organize the bookshelves? Because you knew they'd be taunting me irresistibly, didn't you?!

Ironically enough, I bought a new book last night and tonight. Go figure, if I can't read 'em, I may as well stockpile more, right? I was in the stationary store yesterday evening buying cards for my pen pal in England, and I had to buy Playing With Books: The Art of Upcycling, Deconstructing, and Reimagining the Book. Then tonight, after pizza at Lou Malnati's I had to stop in at Anderson's bookstore for a birthday card, and I ended up leaving with an autographed (I know!) copy of The Tiger's Wife by Tea Obreht. Needless to say, the lure of books has not abated in the slightest.

But, here's something quite interesting to me. Last night, all bored and half pouting, I went to bed with my leatherbound KJV and picked up where I'd left off last in February which was the book of Numbers, Chapter 6. Numbers, ick. Numbers like law, numbers like Math, I've never liked numbers much in any form. However, I was reading how the Nazarites were to be separated unto the Lord, and here's the footnote in my Scofield Study Bible:

There is a beautiful moral order in chapters 6-7; separation, Numbers 6: 1-12; worship, Numbers 6: 13-21; blessing, Numbers 6: 2-27; and service, Numbers 7: 1-89.

Amazing! God is so faithful that, the very day I began my plan, He would show me that being separate (for me right now it's from literature, but in the context of this passage it was from wine) leads to worship, then blessing, then service.

When I went to bed, it was in utter peace.

Life Without Literature: Day One

Friends. It's the end of the first day without literature and I'm. Going. Crazy. Like that song the kid sings about going to camp, and at the end he wails, "I've been here one whole daaaay!"

That's me.

One down.

Forty-five more to go.

I may as well go to bed now, there's nothing else to do...

Villette by Charlotte Bronte (Chapters 23-27)

How time can change! Little Polly wore in her pale, small features her fairy symmetry, her varying expression, a certain promise of interest and grave; but Paulina Mary was become beautiful--not with the beauty that strikes the eye like a rose--orbed, ruddy, and replete; not with the plump, and pink, and flaxen attributes of her blond cousin Ginevra; but her seventeen years had brought her a refined and tender charm which did not lie in complexion, though hers was fair and clear; nor in outline, though her features were sweet, and her limbs perfectly turned; but, I think, rather in a subdued glow from the soul outward. This was not an opaque vase, of material however costly, but a lamp chastely lucent, guarding from extinction, yet not hiding from worship, a flame vital and vestal. In speaking of her attractions, I would not exaggerate language; but, indeed, they seemed to me very real and engaging. What though all was on a small scale, it was the perfume which gave this white violet distinction, and made it superior to the broadest camelia--the fullest dahlia that ever bloomed.

I knew it. I knew that six year old precocious Polly was nothing but trouble. Trouble to Lucy, anyway, for how can she compete with such exterior loveliness as a seventeen year old girl possesses? I'm afraid that Grahame and Polly will connect, and Lucy will be left alone once again.

Left alone with her nun, that creepy vision which insists on plaguing her (and me. Is it real? Who is that masked creature?)!

'Who are you? and why do you come to me?'

She stood mute. She had no face--no features: all below her brow was masked with a white cloth; but she had eyes, and they viewed me.

I felt, if not brave, yet a little desperate; and desperation will often suffice to fill the post and do the work of courage. I advanced one step. I stretched out my hand, for I meant to touch her. She seemed to recede. I drew nearer: her recession, still silent, became swift. A mas of shrubs, full-leaved evergreens, laurel and dense yew, intervened between me and what I followed. Having passed that obstacle, I looked and saw nothing. I waited. I said, -"if you have any errand to me, come back and deliver it." Nothing spoke or reappeared.

More thoughts can be found at Wallace's blog. I finished Villette, and this post, before my project for Lent of reading only the Bible until Easter Sunday.

Sunday Salon: The Only Book I'll Be Reading For 46 Days

Temptation is a terrible thing.

Ever since I decided that I would give up what I love most for Lent I've thought of a thousand ways to get around it.

"I could," I've thought, "give up sweets instead."

"I could give up my other favorite foods which are pasta, bread, and potatoes. Oh, and, butter."

"I could be certain to have devotions for half an hour every night."

"I don't have to give up anything at all; denying oneself during Lent is only an obligatory ritual and we are saved by grace."

But, I can't make deals, can't compromise what I've decided, and live with any amount of peace at all. Shortly after Christmas I decided that I would give up reading anything but my Bible from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday. That's what would require the most out of me right now.

I've given up trivial things before. Chocolate. Shopping. Coca-Cola. But I haven't given up anything that was really a sacrifice. Giving up literature will cost.

So why do it? Because I want to focus. I want to call on the discipline, faith, and sacrifice that will help keep me in tune with Him especially during this holy time. I want to see what will come about from devoting my reading to a single purpose: immersion in His word.

For fortysomething days.

It'll be interesting to see what unfolds, won't it?

Fidelity by Susan Glaspell

I just closed the cover of Fidelity by Susan Glaspell, a novel I had expected to finish last Sunday for the Persephone Reading Weekend. But, perhaps it is fitting that I didn't fulfill what I had hoped especially when it comes to discussing this book. Which seems to bring up a lot of questions as to what, exactly, fulfillment means.

Ruth Holland falls in love with Stuart Williams, a very married Stuart Williams, who is not able to put his marriage back together after a previous dalliance. His wife will not forgive him, will not put her arms around him in consolation after he begs for understanding. Shut out from her, he is all the more susceptible to the charm of Ruth. Who likewise is drawn to him.

The story follows several stages through which Ruth progresses: a tumultuous passion which cannot be abated; a brief longing to return to her hometown which quickly dies when she feels the scorn of society; the desire to set herself, and her lover, free when she determines their relationship can grow no farther.

And so Fidelity bears the question, "To whom are we faithful?" To our spouses? To the protocols of society? To our families? To the lover with whom we've aligned? Or, to our own selves?

The secular world, of course, has no clear cut answer. That is why Susan Glaspell is able to explore so many aspects of the nature of fidelity in her book. It is easy to see the blooming passion which consumes Ruth in the beginning:

The social life of the town brought her and Stuart Williams together from time to time. They always had several dances together at the parties. It was those dances that made the party for her. If he were not there, the evening was a dead thing. When he was, something came to life in her that made everything different. She would be excited; she had colour; her eyes shone. It made her gay, as an intoxicant may make one gay...After going home she would lie awake for hours, live over every slightest thing he had said, each glance and move. It was an unreal world of a new reality--quickened, heightened, delirious, promising.

But this passion does not protect her against a town whose society will not condone, will not even accept, Ruth or her choice. Listen to Ruth's best friend's mother speak to Deane, the only friend who stands by Ruth:

'Ruth Holland,' she began very quietly 'is a human being who selfishly - basely - took her own happiness, leaving misery for others. She outraged society as completely as a woman could outrage it. She was a thief, really,--stealing from the thing that was protecting her, taking all the privileges of a thing she was a traitor to. She was not only what we call a bad woman, she was a hypocrite. More than that she was outrageously unfaithful to her dearest friend - to Edith here who loved and trusted her...I don't know, Deane, how a woman could do a worse thing than that...If you can't see that society must close in against a woman like that then all I can say, my dear Deane, is that you don't see very straight. You jeer about society, but society is nothing more than life as we have arranged it. It is an institution. One living within it must keep the rules of that institution. One who defies it - deceives it - must be shut out from it. So much we are forced to do in self-defence.

And at the very end, when Stuart's wife faces the fact that her lack of forgiveness has poisoned them all, most especially herself, we find that it is all too late; Stuart and Ruth's relationship is beyond redemption, but perhaps it is not too late for Ruth herself:

She squeezed his arm in affectionate gratitude for the love in the growling words. 'Don't worry about me, Ted," she implored, 'be glad with me! I'm alive again! It's so wonderful to be alive again. There's the future - a great, beautiful unknown. It is wonderful, Ted,' she said with insistence, as if she would banish his fears - and her own.

I am left without answers from Susan Glaspell, whom I suspect would advocate following your heart's desire. Much as I might like to accept that philosophy, I cannot find it holds a promise of any lasting joy. I am responsible for my own happiness, certainly, but once I have made the decision to be someone's wife, to be someone's mother, my life is no longer about what I need to do to fulfill myself. My responsibilities have become much broader, my choices much narrower. Ultimately, what I want has very little bearing on the matter.

Interestingly enough, however, Ruth finds that love has left her richer...it was all worth the experience, and so with renewed faith and courage she moves on.

Alone.

Villette by Charlotte Bronte (Chapters 18-22)

Letters. Real letters. Sealed with a red wax circle, a gummed envelope, or simply stapled shut, how I adore the letters I've received in my life.

I used to keep them in a cedar box. Then I moved them to the cardboard boxes copy paper comes in. The ones most special to me lie bound with satin ribbon in a wicker basket at the foot of my bed. Emails, telephone messages, texts cannot come close to the joy which letters provide.

So I can sympathize completely with Lucy's joy at receiving a promised letter from John Bretton. It's not enough that she's alone, at Madame Beck's, with no family to speak of; she doesn't even have a man to call her own. So when the letter from him arrives, and Charlotte spends more than several pages writing about it, I understand its significance.

I took my letter, trembling with sweet impatience; I broke its seal.

'Will it be long-will it be short?' thought I, passing my hand across my eyes to dissipate the silvery dimness of a suave, south wind shower.

It was long.

'Will it be cool? Will it be kind?'

It was kind.

To my checked, bridled, disciplined expectation, it seemed very kind; to my longing and famished thought it seemed, perhaps, kinder than it was.

So little had I hoped, so much had I feared; there was a fullness of delight in this taste of fruition-such, perhaps, as many a human being passes through life without ever knowing. The poor English teacher in the frosty garret, reading by a dim candle guttering in the wintry air, a letter simply good-natured--nothing more: though that good-nature then seemed to me god-like--was happier than most queens in palaces.

What I don't understand is the image of a nun which sends Lucy fleeing from the room. Such an apparition has wrought a terrible fright within her. And what, exactly, is she seeing? It is a figment of her imagination? Is it a haunting? Is it a person with ill intent? Whatever the case may be, this 'nun' follows Lucy, at least in her mind, on several more occasions.

Something in that vast solitary garret sounded strangely. Most surely and certainly I heard, as it seemed, a stealthy foot on that floor: a sort of gliding out from the direction of the black recess haunted by the malefactor cloaks. I turned: my light was dim; the room was long--but, as I live! I saw in the middle of that ghostly chamber a figure all black or white; the skirts straight, narrow, black; the head bandaged, veiled, white.

Say what you will, reader--tell me I was nervous or mad; affirm that I was unsettled by the excitement of that letter; declare that I dreamed: this I vow--I saw there--in that room--on that night--an image like--a NUN.

Yikes!

Find more thoughts, and links to reviews, of Week 4 here.