I thought it would be fun to make you, dear readers, the focus of this month’s Time Travel (history) post. Ready to hop in the time machine?
Image: Daniel Cardle
Not that you’re old enough to be historical, mind you. Ahem.
I’d like to know:
Where were you in June 2005? And June 1995, 1985, 1975, and so on? I’ll let one of you get the ball rolling in the comments, then I’ll add my answers.
Once a month I offer a review– usually fiction, sometimes non-fiction, sometimes movies/TV. Grab your favorite hot beverage (mine’s a mocha), and let’s talk!
This month we’ll whisk away to World War I in Belgium, 1916, in Maureen Lang’s Whisper on the Wind.
Rating: 5 out of 5 mochas
What it’s about: Isa and Edward have known each other forever. Now the terrifying German army occupying their homeland makes this war feel like it’ll go on forever. Can they operate their underground resistance newspaper and survive? Will it bring them together or will the war tear them apart?
You might like this if you like: Historical fiction in general, Downton Abby, the movie Swing Kids (even though it’s about World War II)
What I’ve liked: Whisper on the Wind sticks with the reader long after “The End.” I read this, oh, maybe two years ago. Even now I see the streets of their Belgian city and feel the desperate tension from the deadly enemy’s occupation and all-seeing eyes. Lang combines vivid detail and action with the emotion of well-developed characters. This is one of those stories that makes you feel like you have an idea of what it was like to live during this terrible time. It also illustrates inspiring bravery and heroism borne from necessity.
I’m not crazy about: Maureen Lang can’t help this, but I didn’t like that real people had to endure such conditions during this war. It’s sobering, but we can’t ignore what happened.
The bottom line: I’m so glad I picked up Whisper on the Wind. Lang wove a rich tapestry of story featuring characters who mirrored real-life homeland heroes.
What about you? Do stories based on real events, like this book, draw you or make you shy away?
“Germany Surrenders”
“It’s All Over”
“It’s V-E Day!”
“VICTORY”
The headlines and crowds shouted the good news. The war in Europe was finally over! This week marks the 70th anniversary of Victory in Europe (VE) Day.
Only in my imagination can I guess what that felt like the world over–the joy that came at a staggering price. At least we have pictures, recordings, and some precious folks who lived through it to tell us. Here are a few of those reminders.
New York City, May 7, 1945 (AP Photo/Tom Fitzsimmons) I’ve stood in Times Square, but it was nothing like this day! -Alison
Video: The History Channel’s World War II in HD
How about you? How do you think you would’ve celebrated? And if you remember that day, tell us about it!
Happy Day-After-Easter! Did you have a good Easter Sunday?
Last week I played a little with my newest research toy, The Portal to Texas History, which I wrote about in this post. A great picture popped up. It shows four women “somewhere in Texas” on Easter Sunday, 1944.
Photo courtesy of 12th Armored Division Memorial Museum – Abilene, Texas
I don’t know their story or where their rambling took them. I do know that it reminds me of the women in my current work-in-progress, Wild Blue Yonder. Here’s a sneak peek at the draft, where we find Josie and friends Maggie and Otto on a pensive Easter Sunday morning at Avenger Field:
Small clusters of cadets, officers, and other staff dotted the far edge of the flight line, mostly shadows in the bluing darkness. As they hurried to the crowd for windbreak, Josie glanced over her shoulder toward the east. Pink tinged the horizon. God was about to serve up another morning. She’d never grow tired of those sunrises, those sunsets. Especially the sunsets, when she felt more alive, more awake to enjoy it. She blinked, still bleary-eyed.
As they joined a small group of friends, she did a little jig, hoping to warm up. Before long the booming male voice of the chaplain broke the calm of hushed conversation. “Let us begin with prayer. Our Father…”
While his prayer droned, Josie sneaked a peek past the chaplain’s shoulder. The light kept coming from the land. It reached up and over the rolling, open plains. Stretched to the craggy hills off to the south. Kept climbing to the sky and out to her. Was this beauty what Mitch witnessed every day, in heaven? Did Jesus see a sunrise like this that first Easter morning? Despite rapid blinking a tear blazed a trail down her cheek. She let it fall unchecked.
Another thought invaded. Pete loved sunrises, the crazy rooster. What was he doing right now? Could he see this same sunrise? Great. More grief.
After a few minutes and during a hymn, those first bright rays seared the dark and jabbed her eyes. She had to clamp her eyes shut under its brilliance. But her nose warmed a smidgen, then the rest of her face. She joined the singing. Her face felt good with the exercise.
Their voices carried far across the flight line. The thawing of the land couldn’t make their breath invisible. She peered at the group around her, past Maggie, past Otto. With each exhale it looked like dozens of tiny steam engines sighing. She grinned. Trying not to appear conspicuous, she swung her gaze to the other side of the crowd. Warmth filled her. The crowed absorbed some of her hollow grief, just a little.
The hymn ended. As the last note faded into the golden sky, movement caught her from the corner of her vision. She jerked her head. There, hurrying away from the huddled group. Betts? Chill ran through her. What was that snake doing here? Then came the shame. What was it about her that set her off so easily? The mental list grew long, sure. But did it have to? She closed her eyes. At once a mind’s eye picture flashed. Betts scurrying away, but she didn’t walk alone. Jesus matched her stride, his comforting arm holding her steady.
She snapped her eyes open. So Jesus cared about even someone like Betts? She chewed on the thought for a moment. Her own unspoken words started to sound ridiculous. Of course Jesus loved “someone like Betts.” Her cheeks puffed with a blown breath and she shifted. It might take her longer to feel the same. She held too many sorrows in her heart today to make room for the unpleasantness of Betts.
“Thank you.” The whispered words in her hear jarred her thoughts and made her jump an inch.
Josie chuckled to herself and looked at Maggie. She knew what she meant and leaned sideways into her friend for a moment. “You’re welcome, Mags.” A few heads around them turned to frown their disapproval for the disruption.
The words of the chaplain’s sermon rose with feeling, warmth matching the dawning day. He held his notes loosely and gestured with them. Then a West Texas wind gust swooshed from the east and scooped his notes, scattering them like confetti. The chaplain and those in front grabbed in vain for the dozen or so papers. Otto couldn’t help adding a “Hee heee!” of delight.
Josie stood, transfixed, and watched the papers fly to freedom. The chaplain had held them in his possession. He had ordered them just so, as he wanted them. Then nature dallied with him, on its whim. Almost made a joke of his sham of control over this morning. His careful planning all for naught. Sympathy stretched from her soul toward his dance to grab what he could.
Josie watched as some of the papers remained in flight, out of the reach of the helpers. The strengthening sun touched a few of them just right. She looked down at the packed ground. Those papers cast shadows, here and there. It struck her as a beautiful chaos, like the paper tube kaleidoscopes she’d peered through at the Taylor County Fair. The breeze kept the dance going for a several moments, some staying far, some flying away. The shadows kept bearing witness. Josie felt odd. It would stick in her memory as one of the prettiest things she’d ever seen.
The chaplain gave up with a sheepish smile. He waved his arms to conduct the congregation in a final hymn.
How about you? Tell us about a memorable Easter you’ve had.
Related link: 12th Armored Division Memorial Museum
Once a month I offer a review– usually fiction, sometimes non-fiction, sometimes movies/TV. Grab your favorite hot beverage (mine’s a mocha), and let’s talk!
Dakota Territory, late 1800s. Would you have what it takes to scratch a living out of an unforgiving but fertile land? We’re talking about Lauraine Snelling‘s sweeping fictional saga of the Bjorkland family and their fellow pioneers in her Red River of the North series. So far I’ve finished the first three books, beginning with An Untamed Land.
Rating: 5 out of 5 mochas
What it’s about: A family of five–two brothers and their wives, plus one young son–strike out from Norway for a new life on the the American frontier. The land, the language, and the challenges of survival throw constant tests in their path. Yet they persevere and grow. Years pass, bringing heartache, success, and more family and friends to share their new life.
The main character, Ingeborg, and her sister-in-law Kaaren provide the strong, consistent thread through every story. Along the way, they are joined by other pioneers and other family from Nordland (Norway) literally following in their footsteps. A couple of recent spin-off series, due to reader demand, continue the legacy that Snelling began writing in the 1990s.
You might like this if you like: Historical fiction, the Little House on the Prairie stories, or multi-generational fiction series
What I’ve liked: It’s been awhile since I’ve stumbled onto a good series that scratched a literary itch I have: a series that invites us along as a family traverses good times and bad over a span of years. Multi-book stories like this often feel more realistic, more natural. We experience the big picture, one story at a time. It reminds me of the big picture of which we’re all a part; today’s drama isn’t the end of the story.
Kudos to Snelling for immersing the reader in a vivid, well-researched story world. …But even more than that, I’ve loved her almost-poetic style. Here’s one example, when Ingeborg worries over her injured son.
She could feel peace tiptoe into the room, shy as a fawn. As long as she hummed, it drew closer and wrapped her in its arms. It stole across the little boy, circled the old woman, and wrapped the others, too, in its warmth. Ingeborg knew with all her heart that if she turned quickly enough, she would see Jesus himself, or one of His angels, standing right behind her shoulder. – From Book 4, The Reapers’ Song
I’m not crazy about: Detailed history of the frontier isn’t for the squeamish. Occasional scenes give us a front row seat to necessities like hog butchering. These are seldom, though.
The bottom line: I recommend this series highly for those who want to settle in and get to know a family. Each book could be read as stand-alones, but it’s much more satisfying to become invested over the long-haul.
What about you? If you were a pioneer in America in the 1800s, where do you think you’d like to settle?