Educated by Tara Westover

I don't know how I feel about this book. Maybe I'm writing about it too soon after finishing it. Maybe I should wait until both of my book clubs have discussed it and I've had time to shape my thoughts and let my opinions settle.

But part of me also just wants to get this review over with so I can be free of this book that made me feel so many things, most of them not at all pleasant.

It is the memoir of Tara Westover, the youngest of seven children, who was raised in the shadow of Buck Peak in rural Idaho. She didn't have a birth certificate until she was nine years old. Her mother and father treated all illnesses and injuries (some of them quite significant) at home. Her education was neglected in the name of home schooling.

Her father plays a key role in the way Tara identifies herself. He rules the family with almost prophetic authority, laying down the will of the Lord and admonishing them all to become self-sufficient and prepare for the end of the world. (Ironically, they are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which is also my religion, but it was almost unrecognizable to me.) (Also ironically, Tara's father is uncannily similar to the father in The Great Alone, and both books happened to be narrated by the same person, which made the resemblance even more striking.)

I spent most of the book cringing. If anyone had looked over at me while I was listening, they most likely would have seen a grimace. The amount of physical injuries that happened in this story was astounding: legs ripped open, faces burned off, wrists cracked. If it had been fiction, I might have said that the author had carried it too far.

But my grimace was for more than the physical pain. First it was for all the things Tara endured as a child (physical abuse by her older brother being the most egregious), but later it was because she just kept going back for more. Even after she received a bachelor's degree and began work on a PhD, she continued to return home where she fell right back into her role as obedient and submissive daughter, always doubting her own memory if it conflicted with that of her parents.

Throughout the book, as Tara explains certain events, she says things like, "My brother, Tyler, remembers this event differently" or "I recorded this experience in my journal, but I have no actual memory of it." Sometimes her journal even revealed two very different versions of the same event. Tara has this habit of pausing the experience and zooming out on the picture and examining it from afar: "I will always remember my father in this moment, the potency of him and the desperation. He leans forward, jaw set, eyes narrow, searching his son's face for some sign of agreement, some crease of shared conviction."

This distrust of her own memory is understandable when, as an intelligent, successful adult, Tara finally confronts her parents about her older brother's abuse and is met with adamant accusations that such allegations are misconstrued and false. She receives no support from them (even as her brother is sitting beside her, whispering threatening things in her ear), and this leads to a complete mental breakdown where she can't cope with real life because she doesn't even know if she's actually living or just imagining it.

It just made me sick. And angry too. I am not saying that this is a completely accurate, unbiased account of Tara's life. It's a memoir, for crying out loud. Of course it's going to be biased. A memoir is not a factual statement. It is a unique individual's perceptions of her own experiences. But when a story is corroborated by multiple people (as Tara's was) and the people who supposedly love her most blatantly disregard it, it is sickening. There is no other word for it.

I did find it curious, however, that anytime she quotes an email or message exchange, she specifically states that it is not a direct quote, but a general recounting of the basic premise. I didn't understand why she wouldn't just quote the actual words rather than reinterpreting them each time. It didn't make me question her accusations, but it made me approach the story a little more cautiously than I might have otherwise.

In tone and content, it reminded me a great deal of both The Glass Castle and Hillbilly Elegy (and also, as mentioned above, but for completely different reasons, The Great Alone). If possible, I think Tara's story is even more horrific than Jeannette Walls' and personally, it gripped me quite a bit more than J.D. Vance's.

I think part of my discomfort with the book was that certain details matched my own upbringing, but everything about it was grotesquely warped. Tara was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; I am a member of the same church. Tara was home schooled; I was home schooled. Tara's mother used herbal remedies; my mom preferred echinacea to Tylenol when we were sick. So maybe it wasn't just that I was distressed by Tara's story. Maybe I was a little defensive too. It was an example to me that even good things can turn bad when taken to an extreme.

Content note: minimal swearing, but a fair amount of descriptive injuries and abuse

A Little of This and That in January

I missed writing about November and December, and I thought about going back and doing a post about what happened during those months, but then I knew I would just get behind on January, and the cycle would continue. It was one of those times where I just needed to let it go so I could start 2019 with a clean slate (you might have noticed some of my last reads of 2018 never made it on here as book reviews either). It is what it is. Here's what we were up to in January:

Ringing . . . in 2019. We ended up going to my parents' house to celebrate until about 9:00 pm, and then we went back to our house to finish out the last few hours until midnight because I didn't want to be driving home at the same time as all the people leaving parties. Plus, Ian and Clark needed to get to bed. Originally, I wasn't planning to go to my parents' at all, but Mike said that when he thinks of New Year's Eve, he actually thinks about my family because that's where all of his New Year's Eve traditions and memories were born since it wasn't a holiday his family really did anything special with when he was growing up. That made me happy, so we went and had a fun time. My dad, brother, and I put a 500-piece puzzle together in record time because my brother is a whiz at puzzles. And of course we pulled out the ukuleles because now that I know how to play, that's just the fun thing to do. When we got back to our house, Maxwell hurried to finish the last ten pages of The Book of Mormon (that was a goal of his before the end of the year). And then we counted down to midnight and threw confetti all over the living room. It was a good time.

Going . . . back to school on January 2nd. No kidding, the 2nd! Who makes these schedules anyway?

Listening . . . to Ian be a little copycat. Anytime we say, "Ian, are you a copycat?," he says, "Copycat" just like a little parrot. The boys love to get him going, asking him to say anything from "chicken" (why is that word so cute in a toddler voice?) to people's names to car brands: "Ian, Ian, say 'Chevrolet!'" Seriously, so cute.

Meeting . . . our new little nephew, Wally! Walter (or Wallace) has always been on my list of potential boy names because I LOVE the nickname, Wally. I'm so glad I finally get to use it! And he is such a little sweetie. So happy for my brother and sister-in-law and their three older kids. (I knitted Wally a little green sweater that hopefully he'll grown into before the weather warms up.)

Receiving . . . a calling in the Young Women organization in my ward (I think this actually happened at the end of December). It came as something of a blow because I have been quite vocal about not wanting a Young Women calling (probably too vocal . . . ). I just feel like I didn't even relate to teenagers when I was a teenager, let alone now as an adult. However, I am slowly, slowly warming up to it. It has been a good teaching opportunity for my kids: I am serving because I love Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, even though I got a calling I didn't want.

Feeling . . . surprisingly good about turning thirty-four (probably helps that I keep forgetting my actual age!). My birthday was on a Monday, which is maybe not my favorite day for a birthday, but then Mike took me out for breakfast after the boys were all at school, and I'll tell you what, going out for breakfast on a Monday actually feels pretty luxurious. I felt so spoiled, too, with a new silverware set, a repaired wedding ring, and a new knitting bag (I've never been a purse kind of gal, but a bag to hold my knitting? I am totally on board with that). All in all, it was just a really nice day.

Repairing . . . my wedding ring. My ring has one diamond in the middle and a tiny diamond on either side. A few months ago, I looked down and realized that one of the tiny diamonds was missing. The jeweler said all of the little prongs were really worn down, which meant I was at risk of losing the other two diamonds as well. So I took off my ring and have just been wearing my plain wedding band ever since. Mike surprised me by getting it fixed for my birthday, and I love having it back on my finger. It made me realize how much I really love my little ring.

Looking . . . at all of President Henry B. Eyring's watercolors at an art exhibit at the Church History Museum. Mike and I went on a date to see it, and I stopped and looked at every painting and took the time to read every caption. As much as you want to let your kids experience all the good things, sometimes it's nice not to have them along. Also, I had no idea that President Eyring is so talented. I think it's maybe one of those interests he has kept close so that he has something he can do that is just his without an international audience (except now, that's not the case). It also made me really think about the value of giving time and attention to our creativity, and, I'll admit, it made me feel better about all of the time I devote to knitting (not that I was feeling bad about it . . .). I actually ended up seeing the exhibit a second time because I also went there with the young women from my ward.

Spending . . . five days (and a lot of money) at Disneyland. I have a whole post coming about our adventures, so for now I'll just say, we had the BEST time.

Realizing . . . that no matter how many times I see the word "Disney" in the Disney font, I will always see the "D" as a "G" first before my brain turns it into a "D." Anyone else do this?

Deciding . . . to take my sister to California with us. Last month, as we were planning our vacation, we kept coming back to how we were going to manage five kids AND still have a fun time. And then we (actually, I think Mike) landed on the brilliant idea to bring my sister along. My kids all love her, and we knew it would just be so nice to have a third adult around for crowd control purposes. Luckily, she agreed, and it ended up being a very good decision.

Relying . . . way too much on the DVD player in the car. It was just too easy to put in a movie for the crowd in the back while Mike and I listened to our own stuff in the front. Consequently, we completely forgot about a little scavenger hunt card game I bought specifically for our trip, and the boys didn't do nearly as much reading as they said they would. But the time passed quickly.

Savoring . . . a truly magical snow day. Two days after we got home from our trip, Salt Lake City got a dumping of snow. Normally I'd be all sarcastic and say something like, "Yippee, welcome home to us." But this time I meant it. It came on MLK day, which meant no school for the kids and no work for Mike, and we hadn't made any other plans (intending for it to be a recovery day from our trip). It was exactly as a snow day should be. The kids spent most of the morning outside with some of the best packing snow of their lives. With the help of Mike, they built an igloo and then had an epic snowball fight (something that is forbidden at school), followed by a mug or two of hot chocolate. Meanwhile I watched them from the comfort of my chair in the living room with some knitting and a book in my lap.

Enjoying . . . my new silverware. For my birthday, Mike and my kids got me a new silverware set.
For the last almost fourteen years, we have been using the cheapest of cheap utensils--the kind that would bend (or break) if you tried to use them to scoop up some ice cream. We have always meant to get another set, but in the meantime, the cheap stuff kept doing its job, so it wasn't a pressing need. But I can't tell you how much pleasure the new silverware has given me. I actually enjoy washing the dishes just so I can pick up each utensil and feel its subtle weight and shiny smoothness. I didn't know eating a bowl of cereal could bring me so much joy. And then, we came home from our trip, and it was like the silverware was brand new all over again.

Biting . . . my nails as Aaron competed in the school geography bee. It was intense. Every time it was his turn to answer a question, I pressed my face into Mike's shoulder and closed my eyes. I don't know why I thought that would help. The questions were just so random, and I didn't know the answers to half of them. So I was surprised when Aaron got question after question correct. And finally, he and his friend were the only two left. They were each given the same three questions, and Aaron got one right and missed the other two, and the other boy missed all three, so Aaron won! I was so relieved it was over, and then I realized that because he won, I was maybe going to have to sit through another competition all over again. He had to take a qualifying exam for the next level, so we'll see.

Listening . . . to the Brooke Snow podcast. My friend, Sarah, sent me a link to the most recent episode because she knew that my theme for 2019 is to Be Present, and this particular episode was about that exact topic. It was short and powerful (I think I'll be listening to more episodes in the future), but my ears specifically latched onto this thought:  "Presence is the intersection of God's time with our time." Because "all is as one day with God, and time only is measured unto men," it makes sense that it is in the present moment that everything comes together.

Learning . . . colors. About a month ago, I began really making an effort to point out specific colors to Ian. He quickly learned the names but couldn't identify them with any sort of consistency. Sometimes I would hold up an item and ask, "Ian, what color is this?" and he would rattle off several options ("Yellow! Green!) before landing on the correct one or giving up. But then, just a few days ago, he pulled out the Hoot Owl Hoot game (one of my favorites for little kids, btw), which has a bunch of cards with a different colored circle on each one. He brought them to me one at a time and stated the color of each one: "Orange." "Purple." "Red." And he was right every single time. And I'm telling you, it was no less exciting to see it all click with him than it was when Aaron was a little toddler.

Using . . . a timer. Clark has been struggling. He wants all the things (attention, food, fun) and he wants them all right now. He also has no concept of time. So if I tell him, "You can have a snack in thirty minutes" or "I can help you in ten minutes" or "You need to go to your room for two minutes," it means absolutely nothing to him. One day, a friend recommended using one of those little kitchen timers that counts back the minutes very visually with a shrinking red band. I bought one the very next day and have been using it all month with Clark. It has helped tremendously. He no longer has to ask me every thirty seconds if it is time for a snack because he can see it for himself.

Watching . . . a Walt Disney documentary. I came home from Disneyland obsessed with all things Disney. I promptly checked out the four-hour documentary about Walt Disney's life and have dedicated a few evenings to watching it. The kind of vision and creativity and grit he displayed throughout his life completely fascinates me.

Working . . . on science fair projects. The STEM fair came early this year and coincided right with our vacation. So Mike had to spend all of Christmas break helping to plan and carry out three different projects for Aaron, Maxwell, and Bradley so their posters and notebooks could be turned in during the second week of January. Unfortunately, because we were gone, they didn't actually get to present their research to the judges, so that was a bit of a bummer.

Celebrating . . . the end of January! We made it through my least favorite month of the year, and I actually liked it a lot. But now I'm ready for spring to come, and it's not looking very hopeful yet.

How did you spend your January days? What helped you get through this cold, dark month?

Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal

This felt like the right book to begin 2019 with. I even held off finishing a book I was listening to just so that this could be my first finished book of the year. I'm weird like that. But I actually think Amy Krouse Rosenthal would approve of such a decision.

I read her second memoir, Textbook Amy Krouse Rosenthal, a year and a half ago and have wanted to read this one, which was published twelve years before the other one, ever since. A lucky steal at my book club's Christmas book exchange let me take this book home with me.

As a word of warning, I will say that if I hadn't already loved and enjoyed Amy Krouse Rosenthal's work in the past, I quite possibly might have put this book aside after just the first seven pages. That's because, before Amy launches into glimpses from her own life, she orients the reader to the world in 2004, sharing such things as common machines of the era, the current population, and popular ways to exercise. But she also shares "What We Call the Other Driver When We're Angry" and "What We Say When We Bang Our Knee on the Corner of the Table," and, spoiler, they weren't nice words. I might have thought, If this is the kind of content that's going to be in this book, then I'm through. But I had confidence in Amy and believed she wouldn't let me down, and she didn't, but I think in order to recommend the book, I'd advise skipping the "Orientation Almanac."

As for the rest of the book, I loved it. As with Textbook, it has an unusual format that gives added clarity to things you wouldn't notice otherwise, in much the same way as poetry. This one offers short entries, arranged alphabetically (not chronologically) to highlight the lovely ordinariness of a life well-lived and well-loved.

Some might wonder if it really could be all that interesting to read about someone else's experience eating a radish or their opinion on smooth jazz, but it is, at least to me. And this is why: Amy has a way of bringing attention to things that you normally wouldn't think about and in doing so, an instant connection is made. (She searches for the best potato chip in the bag, too?! We could be best friends!!) I love that feeling of kinship, of realizing that something that I thought was just my own weird quirk is actually shared with someone else.

For example, her entry on "Safire, William": "I look at William Safire's On Language column in the Sunday New York Times Magazine every week and think, I should read this, this is about the English language, this is relevant and smart and useful, and I do like words. And then I turn the page." This happens to me all the time. Not with William Safire; I don't even know who William Safire is. But with other things. I can't tell you how many times I've checked out a book or started following an Instagram account or subscribed to a podcast because it's something I feel should interest me, but then I can't get myself to actually read or listen to it.

Sometimes I was the exact opposite of Amy, and I loved that too, such as the entry for "Parking Spot": "I would rather take the extra two minutes to maneuver into a tight and awkward parking spot that is a couple feet closer to my destination than take the big, wide-open spot a few cars down." In my case, I would much rather walk the extra two minutes and park free and clear of everyone else. A space with an open space on each side is like gold to me.

I related to almost all of the passages on some level, whether it was because it resonated or contradicted with or amused me. I'm someone who loves to people watch, and that's basically what this is: seeing little snippets and then trying to fill in the gaps with what you already know. It's trying to find those connections while learning more about yourself in the process.

I realized that this is essentially what I try to do each month with my This and That posts. I'm not attempting to give a day-by-day recounting of our month. I'm just giving a glimpse here and there of what went on with some random facts and observations thrown in for good measure.

This book went along perfectly with my theme for 2019 to "Be Present." That is exactly what Amy does when she takes a step back and examines an otherwise ordinary event with new eyes and notices how she feels and celebrates the perfectness of it. I could relate to having almost identical thoughts to this passage: "I'm turning left. Look, everyone, my blinker is on, and I'm turning left. I am so happy to be alive, driving along, making a left turn. I'm serious. I am doing exactly what I want to be doing at this moment: existing on a Tuesday, going about my business, on my way somewhere, turning left. There is nothing disconcerting or unpleasant or unfortunate about this moment. It is exceptionally nice, plain, and perfect."

But my favorite passage was possibly "Wabi-Sabi" because Amy captured a feeling I have felt many times before: that of being both simultaneously completely happy and completely sad. Until I read that entry, I hadn't ever thought to identify that feeling. I certainly never recognized it as a positive thing because to me, it feels uncomfortable to be happy and sad at the same time. But knowing that it's a legitimate feeling somehow makes it not only better, but actually kind of thrilling. I can't wait to feel it again but have a name for it this time.

(Although, I admit, the name "Wabi-Sabi" doesn't exactly invoke that feeling for me.)

Is this the kind of book that would interest you? Do you like reading about someone else's quiet life? Or do you need something a little more exciting?

My Plans for 2019 and Why I'm Not Making Any Reading Goals

As 2018 wrapped up and I began to look forward to 2019, I gave a good, hard look at what had worked well for me and what I could have done better. My theme for 2018 (which I think I only mentioned in passing on this blog) was to "Focus on the Important Things."

While I felt like I definitely prioritized things that were truly important, there was a missing element of engagement. Day after day, I checked off those important tasks, but sometimes I was only going through the motions while my brain was somewhere else entirely. Or worse, sometimes it wasn't even my own racing mind that took me out of the moment, but my phone.

This led me to decide that my theme for 2019 would be to "Be Present." It was only after I had chosen it that I realized it was totally one of those trendy buzzwords and that literally everyone seemed to have the same idea for 2019. I debated changing to something more obscure, more "my own," but this idea of being present in the everyday moments resonated so completely with what I want 2019 to look like, so I kept it.

I divided my goals into four categories: Habits I Want to Make, Places I Want to Visit, Projects I Want to Complete, and Things I Want to Do to Be More Present. Anytime I brainstorm potential goals, my list quickly becomes unwieldy and insurmountable, so I was careful to limit myself in each category to just three to five things.

I didn't want to bury myself in expectations which would have left me unable to actually "be present" and "live in the moment." I needed to be able to be flexible, change plans to meet the greater good, and analyze the kinds of things that would work right then. So I tried to only set goals that I've been thinking about for awhile and that I'm pretty sure I will still want to do at the end of the year (if it comes to that) as much as I want to right now at the beginning. The other thing is, I already have a good system in place of setting weekly goals every Sunday night, and that allows me to take a shorter view on things, which creates a nice balance to the longer term goals.

Here are my goals in each category:

Habits I Want to Make

• Edit photos on a weekly basis
• Write 2-4 paragraphs for "This and That" posts at the end of each week
• Write book review within three days of finishing book

Note: all three of these habits are actually meant to help me be more present by not letting tasks pile up so that I have to reach far back in time to finish them or block out a huge chunk of time to complete them.

Places I Want to Visit

• Go on a family vacation in the summer (location TBD)
• Take my kids to the Joseph Smith exhibit at the Church History Museum in downtown Salt Lake City
• Try new restaurants that are close to home (1-2 per month)
• Go to a Utah temple that I haven't been to before

Projects I Want to Complete

• Sew a dress for myself
• Landscape the front of our house
• Decorate Ian's bedroom
• Knit a lace cowl
• Read Saints: The Story of the Church of Jesus Christ in the Latter Days, Volume 1

Things I Want to Do to Be More Present

• Notice the eye color of the person I'm talking to
• Observe what the sky looks like every day
• Limit phone use by setting weekly time and usage goals
• Write down three things I'm grateful for every night
• Continue with weekly special times with my kids

You might notice that out of all those goals, only one of them has anything to do with reading, which is very unusual for me. In fact, since 2013 when I did it for the first time, I have set annual reading goals for myself every year.

But not this year.

Choosing (and then achieving) my reading goals has always been one of the great joys of my reading life. It introduced me to genres and classics and authors I wouldn't have read otherwise. It felt so good to check them off one by one. I loved that final push to the finish line.

But in 2018, those goals felt like a major burden. Perhaps it was because I didn't read as many books as I have in years past (only 48 compared to close to 70), but it felt like all of my reading was planned out for me and that I didn't actually get to choose anything (although, technically, I chose the goals to begin with). In 2018, I belonged to two book clubs, which accounted for about 13 books (there was some crossover between the two, and some of the books I had already read). My goals added another 16 books. Then add in the readalouds for my kids (another 16). That left just seven books that I chose spontaneously for myself (and if you're wondering about my math, it's not all adding up because some of the readalouds doubled as books for my goals). In addition to that, I read approximately 24 manuscripts for my little side job, which was more dictated reading.

All of this is to say that even though I enjoyed a lot of what I read (self-imposed or not), it felt like I lost some of the magic and relaxation of reading. It had ceased to be a hobby and begun to feel more like a job.

I was made acutely aware of this fact during the last quarter of the year when over and over again, I had to tell myself "no" to a book I wanted to read: I read one of the Betsy-Tacy books (ironically, for one of my goals) and really wanted to read the next one in the series, but there were too many other books in the queue. I received Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life at a book exchange and wanted to start it that night, but I had to get in my required pages on other books. And, you might remember, I spent New Year's Eve reading a parenting book I didn't even care about.

I realized that if I was going to "Be Present" this year, then I had to reclaim some of my reading time. My book clubs would still push me to read books I wouldn't normally read, so I could relax my hold on my own reading time. I could pick up a book that sounded interesting, but if it didn't deliver, I could set it aside, no questions asked. If one of my friends mentioned a book, I could check it out right then before it got buried and forgotten in my massive to-read list. I could read the books that piqued my interest in that moment rather than waiting until the excitement had passed.

I don't think I will never return to setting reading goals for myself. It's something that has brought me a lot of joy in the past, and I anticipate the same for the future. But I'm okay with admitting that at this time, I need a break. And I'm excited for the books that such a break might give to me. 

What are your plans and goals for 2019? Are you setting reading goals? What things are you doing to achieve balance and find purpose? 

2018 Reading Goals: Final Report

I cut it close in 2018. Very, very close. I basically dedicated all of my reading time in December to finishing up books for my 2018 goals, and I literally finished the last one at 10:30 pm on New Year's Eve. It wasn't the most fun I've ever had checking off a goal, but I just can't pass up the feeling of finishing before a deadline.

Here's how it all went down.

1. Read the 2018 Newbery winner (complete)

I completed this goal in the spring (March 2018), soon after it was announced that Hello, Universe by Erin Entrada Kelly had won the Newbery Medal. I remember enjoying it at the time, but the truth is, I don't remember much about it ten months later, and I don't think I've recommended it to a single person.

2. Read A Rambler Steals Home and Zinnia and the Bees (complete)

This was one of the more specific goals on this list, but I am friends with both of the authors on social media, and so I was really interested in reading their middle grade novels (firsts for both of them). I liked A Rambler Steals Home (August 2018) quite a bit more than Zinnia and the Bees (March 2018), which is kind of funny because Rambler is about baseball and Zinnia is about knitting, so you would have thought it might have been reversed. At any rate, either of these books would make fun summer reads for kids.

3. Read something by Virginia Woolf (complete)
I read Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse (August 2018). It is one of those books that I'm glad I've read, but mostly just because it makes me feel more cultured. In reality, I enjoyed almost nothing about the storyline, the characters, or the reading experience. That said, I think if I'd had the opportunity to study it in a class or even write a paper about it, I would have liked it a lot more. But at this point, Virginia Woolf and I are not going to become fast friends.

4. Read three older (pre-1970) young adult novels (complete)
This might well have been my favorite goal on this list. Turns out all I needed to do to find young adult novels I liked was to go further back in time. I read And Both Were Young by Madeleine L'Engle (April 2018; published in 1949), Jean and Johnny by Beverly Cleary (July 2018; published in 1959), and Betsy Was a Junior by Maud Hart Lovelace (October 2018; published in 1947). They were not full of dramatic issues, immorality, or offensive language, but somehow I still managed  to glean important life lessons from each one (cue a little bit of sarcasm). Out of those three, the first two were new to me, and the third one was a reread. It was such a fun goal, and I'm excited to find some new old titles to love this year as well.

5. Read the three books I recommended for book club this year (complete)
The three books I recommended were The Four Tendencies by Gretchen Rubin (June 2018), Dead Wake by Eric Larson (December 2018), and Walkable City by Jeff Speck (December 2018). I really enjoyed The Four Tendencies and probably think about it on an almost daily basis as I analyze myself and others. I ended up discussing it with not one, not two, but three different book clubs. I had Dead Wake checked out from the library multiple times and even started it back in September or October. I finally got back around to it in December but had to just restart the whole thing because my memory is that bad. It was a super interesting examination of the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915, and I highly recommend it. Walkable City was definitely a drag. I didn't love the author's writing style, and there were several times when I thought, I can't believe I am forcing myself to read a book about traffic patterns. That said, little random facts pop back up into my memory anytime I leave my house and am out and about: "That street is too wide to encourage walking. They would do well to lower the speed limit on this street. Free parking on Saturdays? Don't they know that the only thing that does is make people stay longer in one place and discourages quick turnover at businesses?" So maybe I'm still glad I read it?

6. Read a classic I own (complete)
I decided to read Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte (November 2018) because by the time I got around to this goal, it was autumn, and from what little I knew about Wuthering Heights, I was pretty sure it would be the perfect autumn book. And it was. Take this, for example: "On an afternoon in October or the beginning of November, a fresh watery afternoon when the turf and paths were rustling with moist, withered leaves and the cold, blue sky was half hidden by clouds--dark gray streamers rapidly mounting from the west and boding abundant rain, I requested my young lady to forego her ramble . . . " I mean, right? Perfect. It was also dark and moody and oh, so incredibly twisted in an intensely disturbing and passionate way. How about this, from Heathcliff: "Oh, you said you care nothing for my sufferings, and I pray one prayer. I repeat it till my tongue stiffens: Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you. Haunt me then! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe, I know, that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always. Take any form! Drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you!" That man could work himself up into a frenzy, I tell you what. It definitely was not my favorite read ever, but I liked it more than I thought I would.

7. Read three books from Honey for a Child's Heart (complete)
The point of this goal was to utilize one of the resources I own (in this case, Honey for a Child's Heart). I consulted the book lists and chose three books I wanted to read to my kids: Tom's Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce (June 2018), The Door in the Wall by Marguerite de Angeli (December 2018), and The Bears on Hemlock Mountain by Alice Dalgliesh (December 2018). Out of those three, the only one I really liked was The Bears on Hemlock Mountain. In fact, I'm adding that one to my list of great first readalouds. It was very short, had lots of pictures, and had an engaging storyline--all necessary qualifications for a first read. (And as proof? Clark,age four, sat through the whole thing of his own free will, and that is the first time he has freely participated in any of our group readalouds.)

8. Read Simplicity Parenting or No-Drama Discipline (complete)
If I could go back in time to January of 2018, I wouldn't make this goal. It was not enjoyable to complete, and unlike some of the other goals above (#3, for example), I don't even feel any satisfaction now that it's over. I'll tell you why: I started out with Simplicity Parenting back in September and made it about fifty pages in before it had to go back to the library. Although the basic concept resonated with me, the writing did not engage me at all. When I finally got it back from the library, I couldn't remember a single thing from it and I had no desire to pick it back up. So I didn't. I gave myself a free pass and allowed myself to switch to any parenting book instead of the two I had selected at the beginning of the year. I went with Ignore It! by Catherine Pearlman (December 2018), a book that had been getting a ton of buzz on social media. And although it was much easier to read (I read the bulk of it in about three days), it made me into an anxious wreck of a parent. I began to question everything I said to my kids, and I was constantly afraid that I wasn't doing the methods quite right and consequently making the whole plan backfire in my face (something the author warns the reader of multiple times). I can see how this book could be valuable if you were trying to target one very specific behavior problem (a prolonged bedtime, for example), but for general disobedience, I wouldn't recommend it. But then again, I'm probably doing it wrong because there are about a million ways to do it the wrong way. (This also happens to be the book I finished at 10:30pm on New Year's Eve, so maybe that accounts for some of my bitterness.)

9. Read a book by Clara Parkes (complete)
This goal was just as fun as I hoped it would be. I read A Stash of One's Own (September 2018), which was a collection of essays about the many emotions connected with a knitter's stash of yarn. Some of the stories were serious and others were funny, but mostly I just felt validated in my obsession with all things yarn and knitting.

10. Read snippets from my favorite books on at least one Sunday each month (complete)
This was sometimes a fun goal. The problem was that I often left it until the end of the day on the last Sunday of the month, so it felt more like a chore than it was supposed to. I read:

• January: Notes From a Blue Bike by Tsh Oxenreider. 
• February: When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi and The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom. 
• March: Raising a Reader: A Mother's Tale of Desperation and Delight by Jennie Nash
• April: Little Men by Louisa May Alcott
• May: Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson
• June:I totally spaced it and didn't reread anything, but I read two books in February so that made up for my lapse.
•  July: Textbook Amy Krouse Rosenthal by Amy Krouse Rosenthal
• August: I have wracked my brain, and I can't remember what I read during this month. However, I'm almost certain I actually did read something and didn't just forget about it like I did in June. It's driving me a little crazy, actually. It may have been A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, but I can't be certain. 
• September: Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner 
• October: Heaven to Betsy by Lucy Maud Montgomery
• November: Glimpses into the Life and Heart of Marjorie Pay Hinckley by Virginia H. Pearce
• December: Being the Mom by Emily Watts

And that concludes 2018's edition of reading goals. This is the point in the post where I usually say, "Stay tuned for my reading goals for 2019," but I'm actually not planning on making reading goals this year. So instead, stay tuned for the post where I explain why. 

Delicious to Me: My Experience Reading The Book of Mormon

In years to come, I think I will look back on 2018 and remember it as the year my faith was reborn.

And it is only now, as the crisis is fading, that I feel comfortable talking about it. That's the way it is sometimes, right? We can be vulnerable when we are in a safe place, when it no longer feels like the bottom will drop out from under us at any moment. I'm in that safe place now, and I am writing this so I will remember one of the ways I got there.

As you might expect, this rekindling was not the result of just one event. For years, I have held firmly to my habits (scripture study, prayer, church attendance, among others) so that I would always be in a position conducive to feeling the Spirit.  I don't want to de-emphasize the importance of pressing forward in these small and simple things. They have, quite literally, saved me. However, there have been some bigger things this year that helped push that faith forward by leaps and bounds.

One of them began on October 6th and concluded on December 23rd. On that evening two and a half months ago, I was sitting in the Conference Center in downtown Salt Lake City when President Russell M. Nelson, the prophet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, extended this invitation: "I invite you to read The Book of Mormon between now and the end of the year." 

I heard those words, and my heart sank. I admit it, it did. I didn't feel excited or inspired. In that moment, I felt the magnitude of such a challenge in what seemed to me to be an already full and busy life. 

It wasn't that I wasn't already reading my scriptures. To the contrary, my habit of reading my scriptures is a firmly rooted one, rivaled only by my commitment to write in my journal every night. In fact, I can't remember the last time I missed a day of reading.

But this was different. In order to read the entire Book of Mormon before the end of the year, I knew I would have to significantly increase the amount of time I devoted to scripture study every day. I am not a fast reader, and I am even slower when I'm reading the scriptures.

And so I wavered. I had started The Book of Mormon in January of this year, and I was almost through the book of Alma (which is about two-thirds of the way through). Surely I could just continue where I was and be sure to finish before the end of December. After all, that would still be the whole Book of Mormon this year.

But something about that didn't settle with me. It seemed like there must be a reason why President Nelson would want people to read the entire book in a condensed amount of time. So I had a decision: Was I going to follow the prophet's counsel or not? Was I going to sacrifice something good for something better? And as I considered it, the way opened up. I figured out how many pages I would need to read each day. I observed my schedule and noticed where I could give a few minutes here and there. I realized I didn't need a solid hour, but just ten to fifteen minutes several times a day. Suddenly it seemed possible.

I took out my bookmark at Alma 63 and moved it back to 1 Nephi 1. And as I read the first verse, the burden I had originally felt lifted and never returned. The blessing that came with deciding to obey the prophet was instantaneous, immediate. Of course there were days when time was scarce, distractions were many, or the words themselves were confusing. But. I never felt unhappy or irritated about my decision. I counted it as a blessing and a privilege to read, and I know that attitude did not come from me. 

My boys were all very interested in the challenge and checked in with me to see how my reading was coming along. Whereas before, I usually reserved scripture study for nap time, I could no longer afford that luxury. I had to read any chance I could get, and so they often saw me reading in the car or in the evening after dinner or at the kitchen table. They could see how important reading the scriptures was to me. Aaron finished reading The Book of Mormon about the same time I started, but Maxwell decided he was going to accept the invitation as well, and he began reading with a fierce determination (he is a much faster reader than I am, and, in spite of his late start, he is already in 3 Nephi). Even Ian picked up on my commitment. One afternoon, he carried my scriptures out to me and said, "Scriptures, scriptures," knowing that I often read in the afternoon.

One thing I noticed right away was how comfortably familiar the words in The Book of Mormon were. I have no idea how many times I've read The Book of Mormon during my lifetime, but it's been many. As I read, my mind would often complete a verse or leap ahead to an upcoming phrase. The words felt like they were a part of me.

In contrast, and as often happens when studying the scriptures, there were completely new verses, or so it seemed: words that seemed brand new and lit me up with the thrill of discovery. I also noticed that I was able to keep track of places, people, time frames, and events and how they all related to each other much more easily than before, and I attribute this to my quick pacing. For example, 3 Nephi 8 is about the vast destruction that occurred when the Savior was crucified. Many cities were sunk or buried or burned. It broke my heart because I recognized the names of many of those cities and remembered some of the miracles that had happened in them in earlier chapters. All of the details just fit together better than they ever have before.

When President Nelson extended his invitation, he also made the recommendation to "mark each verse that speaks of or refers to the Savior." I kept a little green pencil tucked between the pages for just this purpose. I have always known that The Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ, but I was surprised to discover that it is literally saturated with references to and testimonies of Him. Hardly a page went by without at least one green mark, and many of the pages were riddled with dozens of highlights. 

Perhaps this was most meaningful to me in 2 Nephi. This is usually one of the hardest books for me to get through because so much of it is quoting Isaiah's prophecies, which are not the easiest to understand. But this time, armed with my trusty green pencil, I read it with eyes searching for the Savior. And amazingly, He was there. I still didn't understand a lot of it, but one thing came through loud and clear: Isaiah testified of Jesus Christ.

My personal testimony has suffered a great deal in recent years. To put it simply, it just hasn't been easy to believe. I don't think there was any one thing that triggered the doubts, but they slowly built up over time, in spite of my best efforts to stop them. I have many friends who have had their faith shaken over a Church policy or practice, but my questioning went right to the very core of my belief: Is there a God? And many times, the answers seemed unsatisfactory at best and unbelievable at worst. I prayed often, but most of the time, it felt like no one was on the other side. It feels scary to admit that, to type out the words in black and white, but that's what it felt like to me.

I always thought my belief in God needed to come first, and then all of the other beliefs would fall into place. But reading The Book of Mormon this time changed that for me. As I read, the thought that came most often and totally unbidden to my mind was, Joseph Smith did not write this book. I would just be reading along, absorbed in a story or sermon, and suddenly, without warning, Joseph Smith did not write this book. It happened over and over again. It happened so often, I couldn't estimate the number of times if I tried.

The reality of whether or not Joseph Smith really found the gold plates and translated the sacred record that became The Book of Mormon or whether it was something he created out of his own head was not something I had ever really thought (or prayed) much about. In other words, it wasn't really a big issue for me. So I didn't go into this reading of The Book of Mormon with that question in my head. And yet, there was the answer, almost every day: Joseph Smith did not write this book.

And I realized something. I didn't need that answer to know if The Book of Mormon was really from God. I needed it to know if God Himself was real. And once my testimony of The Book of Mormon was firmly in place, it felt easy, even natural, to extend that belief to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I had never thought the pathway to belief could go in that order, but apparently it can.

You know what it feels like when you finish a really good book and want to immediately reread it, but you know that you can never read it for the first time ever again? That's how I felt as I neared the end of The Book of Mormon. I felt sad. I didn't want it to end. It had been one of the most marvelous, miraculous experiences I had ever had, and I worried I would never get to experience it in quite that way again. Even though this was not my first time through The Book of Mormon, I had never read it at this pace, and that changed it for me. I saw it all with new eyes. Even if I read it again in less than three months, the experience would no longer be new and thrilling. I'm sad that I probably can't duplicate this experience over and over again.

The prophet Moroni offers a challenge at the end of The Book of Mormon: "And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true" (Moroni 10:4).  Missionaries often read this verse to investigators and invite them to ask God for themselves if The Book of Mormon is true. I rather thought that when I read that verse, maybe I would feel a strong answer from the Spirit.

But as I came to it, I realized that I'd already received my answer many pages before when I was in Alma 32. In verse 28, the prophet Alma instructs the people to plant the seed of belief in their hearts and says that they will know if it is a good seed because "it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious unto me."

No scripture could more perfectly describe what The Book of Mormon has done for me over the last three months. It has enlarged my soul, enlightened my understanding, and become so incredibly delicious to me.

P.S. If you read this post and have questions or would like to know more, I would love to talk to you about my beliefs. Nothing would make me happier.

What I Read in October

It was another slow month of reading for me, but all three of these books were enjoyable, or at least un-put-down-able, in their own way.

1. The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah
There was a point when I was reading this book that I thought, This story has become unmoored. Its downward spiral is completely out of control; it's on a trajectory that can't be stopped.

Up until that point, I had been loving the book: Leni's dad, Ernt, has just lost another job when he receives a letter saying that an old army buddy from his days in Vietnam has left him a tract of land in Alaska. It sounds perfect . . . to Ernt. He will be off the grid, living life his way, in a place where hopefully it won't matter that he has horrible nightmares that won't let go of him.

Leni and her mother are not thrilled by the prospect, but once Ernt has made up his mind, there's no changing it. They pack up their VW bus and drive north. They arrive in late spring, and even though it's the season of the midnight sun, they are completely ill-prepared for life in the Alaskan wilderness. Luckily, they have neighbors (Large Marge, Tom Walker, Mad Earl) who show them the ropes and chip in with help and supplies.

When winter comes, and it always comes early in Alaska, they're at least not going to starve (but everyone is quick to remind them that there are a million ways to die in Alaska). But as the cold and dark settle down over the land, Ernt's flashbacks and nightmares get worse. He becomes obsessed with planning for some future apocalyptic day. The littlest things will trigger him, and Leni's mom, Cora, always gets the worst of his anger. Leni realizes: "Mama could never leave Dad, and Leni would never leave Mama. And Dad could never let them go. In this terrible, toxic knot that was their family, there was no escape for any of them."

And that's when I couldn't handle this story anymore: the situation seemed so bleak and desperate, and then it got worse. Much worse. And there didn't seem to be any end to this chain of bad events. If you've read it, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

But I pushed through, partly because I was desperate for some sort of redemption to bring the story out of the black pit of despair it had fallen into, and partly because I wanted to discuss it with my friends, so I had to finish it.

And for me, the ending helped save it. One of my friends thought it was trite and cliche and wrapped up things a little too neatly. I have certainly thought that same thing about many endings (Before We Were Yours is a recent example), but in this case, I think I was so relieved for something (anything!) good to happen that it was this story's saving grace.

I won't give away any of the details in case you want to take yourself on this complete basket case of a journey, but I will say that one of my favorite parts of the story was Leni's relationship with her mom. There were times when it was frustrating because they stood by each other to a fault (how many times did I internally scream, "Run away! Get out of there!"), but their love was loyal and fierce: "In a breathtaking instant, Cora's life crashed into focus, became small. All of her fears and regrets and disappointments fell away. There was just one thing that mattered. How could she not have known it from the beginning? Why had she spent so much time searching for who she was? She should have known, always, from the very beginning: She was a mother. A mother."

Content note: a lot of swearing, but no F-words; one sexual scene (that I skipped over and that made me angry)

2. In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
This was, without a doubt, a perfect book for October, but I don't think I quite understood what I was signing up for.

It was intensely dark and disturbing, and I made a strict rule for myself that I could not listen to it after 5:00 pm each day because I had to have a few hours to process it and let the details fade away. Even so, there was one night when my brain would not let go of it, and I went to bed with all sorts of irrational fears haunting me.

Part of what makes this story so much worse than other murder mysteries is that it really did happen. In November 1959, Mr. and Mrs. Clutter and their two teenage children were brutally murdered in their home in the middle of the night. With no readily apparent suspects or motives, detectives were puzzled by the complete randomness of the horrific act. And as the details slowly unfolded and the pieces were put together, the chilling aspect of this crime was not lessened but intensified.

There is no question that Truman Capote is a masterful storyteller. This book is something of a classic as it was one of the first true crime novels and set a high standard for the genre. It deserves every accolade it has received.

Once I had started, I couldn't not finish it. It was gripping. But it isn't a book I could stay in for long periods of time, and I breathed a small sigh of relief when it was finally, mercifully, over.

As I was listening to it, I found myself thinking about another book I read earlier this year, Just Mercy, which was about our flawed justice system, particularly in the area of corporal punishment. After reading that book, I became convinced that the death penalty was wrong and inhumane. But oh how quickly my opinion changed when, instead of reading about those who had been falsely condemned under our justice system, I was reading about two men who were so cold and merciless that they couldn't receive their death sentence fast enough for me.

Lucky for me, I read it for my book club in October, which meant I wasn't left hanging with a bunch of unresolved and complicated feelings but could talk through them with my friends who were feeling just as conflicted as I was. And the truth is that even though part of me wants to say, "Run from this book!," I can't deny that as soon as I finished it, I told Mike that he should read it, too.

Content note: This story is intensely disturbing, and Truman Capote is not really sparse on details, if you get my meaning. 

3. Betsy Was a Junior by Maud Hart Lovelace
I still needed to read one book for my goal to "read three older (pre-1970) young adult novels," and I decided to return to an old favorite of mine. As a teenager, I fell in love with the Betsy-Tacy series. I think many people are familiar with the first couple of books (Betsy-Tacy and Betsy, Tacy, and Tib) and consequently think of this as a children's series because Betsy is so young in the first books. What they don't realize is that by continuing on in the series, Betsy grows up and reaches adolescence and young adulthood, and I remember being deeply invested in Betsy Ray's love life.

I chose this book at random from the later books in the series, and it turns out that it's the book in her high school years where there's very little boy drama: She's moved beyond her childhood crush of Tony Markham and her silly infatuation with Phil Brandish and hasn't yet developed her more mature friendship with Joe Willard (although she'd like to . . . ). Instead, this book holds a different sort of drama: one of inclusion and exclusion and the consequences that go along with such choices.

After hearing about the sororities at the university where Betsy's sister, Julia, is attending her freshman year, Betsy and her friends decide to form their own sorority. At first, the fun all seems innocent, but it doesn't take long before all of the secrecy and special invitations takes their toll on Betsy's other relationships. Later in the book, Betsy realizes, "Perhaps . . . she and Hazel might have had a friendship independent of the Crowd. After all, you couldn't go through life rolling your friendships into one gigantic snowball. You wanted different kinds of friendships, with different kinds of people. She might like someone awfully well whom Tacy wouldn't care for at all. You ought not to go through life, even a small section of life like high school or college, with your friendships fenced in by snobbish artificial barriers."

One thing I had forgotten about with these books is how much I love Mr. Ray. He is very much an involved father and dotes on his three daughters in the sweetest ways. I love this image of him on Christmas Day: "Theoretically each one unwrapped a gift in turn but it didn't work out that way. Mr. Ray always forgot to open his; he cared more about watching other people open theirs and sat with crossed legs, smiling benevolently, or moved about, gathering up the discarded paper and ribbons, folding what was usable and burning what wasn't. He handed out the larger boxes which were piled under the Christmas tree and kept going to the table to replenish breakfast plates."

For being an old book from an earlier, supposedly less complicated time, I found it surprisingly relevant. Part of my desire to return to this series as an adult was to see if it held up to modern scrutiny and would be worth recommending to today's teen. And the answer was unquestionably a yes. I loved it so much, and, maybe I'm naive to think it, but I think teenagers would, too. Upon finishing, I wanted to immediately pick up the next one in the series, but unfortunately, all of my reading time right now is dedicated to finishing up my reading goals.

Have you read any of these books? What did you think?