Three Books, Three Journeys
I have always said that a good book teaches me something, takes me somewhere, broadens my perspective and changes me - but does so through narrative. So with that in mind you can imagine how much I enjoyed having the respective publishers send me these books in the mail.
The Only Road North by Erik Mirandette
This book - wow. It is the true story of Erik Mirandette, the humanitarian work he did in Africa, the unbelievable (and crazy, if you ask me) adventures he had biking from Cape Town to Cairo, and the horrible tragedy that waited for him there. It is a quick and powerful read, which had the unintended consequence of luring me up to the very early morning hours trying to finish it, while my husband was out of town. I was so traumatized by the end that I didn't end up getting to sleep that night at all. (Note: finish this book during daylight hours, with all your loved ones present).
This book did not read like a book - more like a blog or a documentary transcript. Erik is brutally honest, transparent, and his thoughts and feelings are raw. He promises the reader no ending, no redemption - and indeed he offers none. Yet this was what I loved about the book. The questions he asks and the reality he grapples with are the true questions, the true reality. What endures, now that the book is on my shelf, is an experience we have both witnessed - the unexplainable, dare-I-say-miraculous provision of God...but (in our perspective) only sometimes. To have seen God's hand work so mightily on your behalf, to be so certain that He is there, that He is tenderhearted towards you - and yet to be so unable to convince that same Hand to move when you so desperately want it to.
There were aspects to his tone and attitude that I did not like, but that just further enhanced the sense that I was really listening to Erik himself, a real person, telling his real story. And it is an amazing, beautiful, heartbreaking story - heaven and hell in one, but so too is life.
This book - wow. It is the true story of Erik Mirandette, the humanitarian work he did in Africa, the unbelievable (and crazy, if you ask me) adventures he had biking from Cape Town to Cairo, and the horrible tragedy that waited for him there. It is a quick and powerful read, which had the unintended consequence of luring me up to the very early morning hours trying to finish it, while my husband was out of town. I was so traumatized by the end that I didn't end up getting to sleep that night at all. (Note: finish this book during daylight hours, with all your loved ones present).
This book did not read like a book - more like a blog or a documentary transcript. Erik is brutally honest, transparent, and his thoughts and feelings are raw. He promises the reader no ending, no redemption - and indeed he offers none. Yet this was what I loved about the book. The questions he asks and the reality he grapples with are the true questions, the true reality. What endures, now that the book is on my shelf, is an experience we have both witnessed - the unexplainable, dare-I-say-miraculous provision of God...but (in our perspective) only sometimes. To have seen God's hand work so mightily on your behalf, to be so certain that He is there, that He is tenderhearted towards you - and yet to be so unable to convince that same Hand to move when you so desperately want it to.
There were aspects to his tone and attitude that I did not like, but that just further enhanced the sense that I was really listening to Erik himself, a real person, telling his real story. And it is an amazing, beautiful, heartbreaking story - heaven and hell in one, but so too is life.
Found Art: discovering beauty in foreign places by Leeana Tankersley
My hopes were high for this book, since her intention is similar to mine - finding everyday things to be beautiful. However, I was disappointed. It is the memoir of the author's marriage to a Navy man, stationed in Kuwait. I looked forward to her description of this culture, but found few. I looked forward to hearing her thoughts and lessons, but they fell flat. The only poignant chapters were those describing the fear she (and others like her) must always feel, not knowing where their loved ones are, knowing the worst news of all could come at any moment. In these chapters she was concise and powerful. In most other chapters I grew weary of the introspection.
Children of Dust by Ali Eteraz
After reading my way through the entire continent of Africa and the Middle East, this book is the memoir of a Pakistani Muslim who immigrates to the United States as a young boy. The strengths of this book were the descriptions of his life in Pakistan, in Alabama, and his changing relationship to Islam throughout. It was incredibly relevant to our time, as our Western culture is staring down international Islamic culture, even while more and more of our Western neighbors are Muslim themselves. It was helpful for me to see all this through his eyes. He is slightly younger than myself, so it was interesting to hear cultural references that we share (such as watching TGIF sitcoms in childhood) when in so many ways we live so differently.
As he worked to become comfortable with himself and his identity, I grew tired of his attitude and the constant turning of purpose without reflection to motive. However, the ending beautifully redeemed this weariness and more than made up for it.
One critique that remains is that too much of the book describes his relationships with women (I am being vague intentionally to avoid the wrong kind of Google searcher finding me). I got tired of hearing about it, and I know several of you will too. But with that aside, this was an eye opening and enjoyable book. And page 333 has stood with me, convicting me, and encouraging me.
Where to next?
After reading my way through the entire continent of Africa and the Middle East, this book is the memoir of a Pakistani Muslim who immigrates to the United States as a young boy. The strengths of this book were the descriptions of his life in Pakistan, in Alabama, and his changing relationship to Islam throughout. It was incredibly relevant to our time, as our Western culture is staring down international Islamic culture, even while more and more of our Western neighbors are Muslim themselves. It was helpful for me to see all this through his eyes. He is slightly younger than myself, so it was interesting to hear cultural references that we share (such as watching TGIF sitcoms in childhood) when in so many ways we live so differently.
As he worked to become comfortable with himself and his identity, I grew tired of his attitude and the constant turning of purpose without reflection to motive. However, the ending beautifully redeemed this weariness and more than made up for it.
One critique that remains is that too much of the book describes his relationships with women (I am being vague intentionally to avoid the wrong kind of Google searcher finding me). I got tired of hearing about it, and I know several of you will too. But with that aside, this was an eye opening and enjoyable book. And page 333 has stood with me, convicting me, and encouraging me.
Where to next?
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