thoughts on: a discovery of witches by deborah harkness part 2

by Katherine Marie

“It begins with absence and desire. It begins with blood and fear. It begins with a discovery of witches.” In this enchanting tale, Diana Bishop stands as a testament to the strength of a witch and the power of love. So, let us continue to turn the pages of this extraordinary journey, ready to be swept away by the captivating spell woven by Diana’s magic.

The tale of Diana Bishop and Matthew Clairmont is truly captivating. As an enchanted witch, Diana possesses a remarkable power that is both awe-inspiring and mesmerizing. Her strength lies not only in her magical abilities but also in her unyielding determination to uncover the mysteries that lie hidden within the world. Diana, a historian and a staunch believer in science and fact, presents an intriguing dichotomy with the revelation that she is a witch. This combination of intellectual pursuits and supernatural abilities adds a fascinating layer to her character.

Diana’s existence is a delicate balance between the rational world of historical research and the mystical realm of witchcraft. She navigates this duality with a sense of caution and self-preservation, always wary of exposing herself to the potential dangers and consequences that lie within her magical heritage. In her quest for understanding and self-protection, Diana finds herself torn between embracing her true identity and the desire to shield herself from the pain that magic has brought into her life. This internal struggle adds depth and complexity to her character, making her journey all the more captivating and compelling.

When Diana unexpectedly crosses paths with Matthew Clairmont, a mysterious vampire, her world is irrevocably transformed. Matthew, representing everything she has been taught to fear and avoid, becomes a captivating enigma in her life. Despite Diana’s initial hesitations, it is the prejudice and animosity of the surrounding witch community that draw her closer to him. Though Diana herself is not drawn to the world of magic or the supernatural, fate, however, has a different plan for her.

In the beginning of the story, Diana stumbles upon the manuscript of supernatural beings’ creation, a coveted artifact sought after for centuries by Matthew. With trepidation, Diana finds herself at the center of a web of secrets, as the manuscript is pulled into the hallowed shelves of Oxford’s Bodleian Library. Matthew, initially driven by his desire to obtain the book, realizes that Diana may hold the key to its true significance. The young woman, unaware of her own extraordinary destiny, becomes a source of fascination and a possible treasure in Matthew’s immortal existence.

Diana’s family history adds another layer of intrigue to the unfolding story. Her mother, a seer, had used magic to protect and guide Diana until the destined meeting with Matthew. Knowing that dark forces would hunt their daughter, Diana’s mother foresaw the arrival of a black knight with a pure heart, who would become her ultimate protector. Matthew, armed with centuries of knowledge and experience, now stands as that very protector.

“Somewhere in the center of my soul, a rusty chain began to unwind. It freed itself, link by link, from where it had rested, unobserved, waiting for him. My hands, which had been balled up and pressed against his chest, unfurled with it. The chain continued to drop, to an unfathomable depth where there was nothing but darkness and Matthew. At last it snapped to its full length, anchoring me to a vampire. Despite the manuscript, despite the fact that my hands contained enough voltage to run a microwave, and despite the photograph, as long as I was connected to him, I was safe.” p. 196 A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

The bond between Diana and Matthew deepens as they embark on a journey of discovery, driven by their shared passion for knowledge and truth. Against all rational reasoning, love begins to blossom, defying the boundaries imposed by their respective worlds. United in their pursuit of the book’s secrets, they find themselves facing the opposition of all the supernatural creatures who covet the Book of Life.

As the stakes escalate, their love becomes the anchor that holds them firm in the face of danger. Together, they defy convention and confront their own inner demons as they navigate a treacherous path through a world of magic, prejudice, and ancient rivalries. The trials they face only serve to strengthen their bond and solidify their resolve to protect each other and the knowledge they hold.

“Were he not a vampire he wouldn’t have caught her faint, murmured words as she clutched both his ampulla and the fabric of his sweater, her fist resting firmly against his heart. ‘You’re not lost. I found you.’ Matthew wondered fleetingly if he’d imagined it but knew that he hadn’t. She could hear his thoughts … it was only a matter of time before Diana knew everything there was to know about him. She would know his secrets, the dark and terrible things he wasn’t brave enough to face. She answered him with another faint murmur. ‘I’m brave enough for the both of us.’ Matthew bent his head toward hers. ‘You’ll have to be.'” p. 208, A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

Their passionate quest for the truth will not only uncover the mysteries of their own pasts but also unravel the secrets of a world long hidden from the prying eyes of mankind. In the midst of chaos, Matthew and Diana stand as beacons of hope, fighting not only for their own survival but also for the existence and harmony of the supernatural realm they inhabit.

Diana is a symbol of resilience, as she navigates the intricate realm of witches with grace and poise. Despite the challenges she faces, she remains steadfast in her quest for knowledge and truth. Her love for Matthew is both tender and fierce, intertwining their destinies in a bond that transcends time and surpasses mere mortal limitations. But it is not just her love for Matthew that defines Diana; she is a force of nature in her own right. Her connection to the elements, the earth, and all living creatures is a testament to her innate power. With every turn of the page, we witness her uncanny ability to harness the forces of nature, embracing her true calling as a witch.The story is beautifully crafted, painting a vivid picture of Diana’s world and the challenges she must face. From the ancient libraries filled with arcane knowledge to the secret covens brimming with hidden powers, Diana’s journey provides a closer glimpse to the allure of the unknown.

“The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed.” Albert Einstein

As readers delve deeper into Diana’s intricate tapestry, they are drawn into a world of magic, where witches and vampires coexist in a delicate balance. Her story is a reminder of the remarkable abilites that lie dormant within each of us, waiting to be discovered and embraced. The enthralling blend of adventure, romance, mystery, and intrigue keeps readers on the edge of their seats, eagerly turning each page to unravel the secrets that lie ahead.

“That evening, rowing on the quiet river as sunset turned to dusk, I saw an occasional smoky smudge on the towpath, always slightly ahead of me, like a dark star guiding me home.” p. 61, A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

thoughts on: a discovery of witches by deborah harkness part 1

by Katherine Marie

“Equal parts history and magic, romance and suspense, A Discovery of Witches is a mesmerizing and addictive tale of passion and obsession that reveals the closely guarded secrets of an enchanted world.” The tale follows a witch named Diana Bishop who falls in love with the vampire, Matthew Clairmont. Their story weaves adventure, romance, mystery, and intrigue across the pages like twinkling stars. It’s hard to speak of the story without encapsulating both characters’ strengths and passions for discovering the unknown. However, for now we’ll shift the lens solely on Matthew, and explore the great depths and desires of an immortal man.

“Matthew is a man of deep, deep faith. Yes, he is a scientist, too. There is no fundamental incompatibility between the two. Matthew came of age at a time when science and religion were both ways to see into the mind of God, and he has maintained his connection to both through the centuries.” Deborah Harkness

When I think of a man of great faith in stories, Matthew is among the first to come to mind. I find it quite fascinating to explore the idea of a vampire who maintains a strong sense of belief in God. It’s a rather intriguing contradiction. His dedication to the divine frequents my memory when I read about his studies of Darwin’s texts, the Bible, and countless astronomers’ notes.

There are other literary vampires who explore religious texts in their stories. In Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, we encounter the vampire, Lestat, who, despite his immortal nature, has a deep curiosity and yearning for the divine. The juxtaposition of an eternity-seeking vampire delving into the sacred texts and hidden teachings of faith is truly thought-provoking and captures the imagination in an incredible way. Before being turned into a vampire, Lestat studied to be a monk and dedicated his life to God. However, his father demanded a different path and beat Lestat mercilessly until he abandoned his studies.

Lestat, in the midst of his agony, earnestly sought solace in the presence of Christ, yet he found himself grappling with a profound sense of separation, lamenting, “There is an ocean between Christ and me.” Conversely, Matthew, undeterred by his afflictions under the hands of his father, tenaciously clings to the belief that he remains a human fashioned in the likeness of a loving God.

A vast expanse lies between the divine and himself through traditions’ sake when we read about vampires and holy nature. I appreciate, through the fictional literary lens, that Harkness doesn’t abide by the usual superstitions regarding the supernatural, but instead thrusts her characters into the most intimately vulnerable quests for connection with their Creator. Matthew’s spent centuries studying not only his kind, but witches, daemons, and humans too, all in pursuit of finding the reason for their creation. Following the Christian faith, man is made in the image of God and created to glorify Him and bring others to know Christ and this love of a Heavenly Father.

Regarding this belief, Matthew’s entire existence falls into limbo the moment he becomes a vampire. How does the undead seek everlasting life with Christ? If he’s now immortal, but separated from God, how will he find the answers from the divine? In a way, Matthew’s wonder for purpose reflects man’s search for meaning in our own world. We can shelve the story of Matthew and Diana and go back to the mundane, but the quest for understanding is woven through history. Once you open the door to such questions, you find yourself seeing the connections in everyday life.

Despite the temptation to succumb to his inherent urge for blood, he holds steadfast to his belief that there is still a glimmer of humanity within him, a fragment of the divine that remains untarnished. Afterall, he has been on this quest of knowledge for centuries. Throughout the story, an ampulla is referenced several times which Matthew wears frequently. Harkness uses this as a symbol to show Matthew’s internal struggles as he wears his ampulla as “a reminder of the destructive power of anger.”

“When depicting Matthew’s religious beliefs, it was important to find ways for him to carry his medieval practices into the present. Pilgrimage, atonement, and religious objects like the talisman he wears after he meets Diana were all ways to connect with the deep roots of his faith. In this case, the talisman Matthew wears is a coffin shaped ampulla from Bethany. He purchased it at the shrine to Lazarus during the Crusades. An ampulla was a small hollow charm made out of lead, silver, gold, or even clay designed to hold holy water of oil. Not all pilgrim badges were shaped like ampulla. Some were elaborate filigree, others were shaped like shells as one of the most popular pilgrimage routes (then and now) was the road to Saint-lago de Campostela and the scallop shell was his symbol.” Deborah Harkness

His unwavering faith in the face of his cursed reality is a source of inspiration and intrigue. It raises profound questions about identity, redemption, and the nature of good and evil. Matthew’s willingness to explore the depths of his spirituality, seeking solace and meaning in his own unique way, adds complexity to his character and fuels the narrative with philosophical undertones. He understands his curse as a vampire and struggles with the nature of consuming the life force of his God’s creation. Such a burden pushes Matthew to delve deeper into a never-ending journey to find forgiveness. Salvation is a complicated feat for a vampire, especially one who was made, and then remade into a curse.

In the vast realm of vampire lore, Matthew stands apart from his peers as a nuanced and multifaceted protagonist. His struggle with his monstrous instincts mirrors the internal struggles that many of us face in our own lives. Through him, we are reminded of the constant battle between our better angels and our darker impulses, and the importance of clinging to hope and faith amidst the shadows.

“Absolute faith in religion (praying to altar of the beloved) is immortality, atheism is death, and agnosticism is living. Though the lover is too doubtful to believe he is loved, he cannot commit to the atheism of believing he is not loved at all. He is cursed to be agnostic, wanting to believe he is loved but unsure all together is he is.” Roland Barthes: Love as a Language for The Artifice

Matthew’s profound search for meaning, juxtaposed against his vampiric nature, offers a profound exploration of the human condition. This internal conflict, deeply rooted in his character, propels the story forward and invites readers to reflect on themes of redemption, self-acceptance, and the power of belief. Despite being a vampire trapped in a perpetual struggle with his monstrous nature, his journey is a testament to man’s resilience, as he grapples with the eternal conflict of his existence.

“On this day, All Souls Day, around the year 500 AD, a boy named Matthew was born. He lived in difficult times, and tried to die, only to live again. For more than 1500 years, Matthew has struggled with his personal demons and has represented humanity at its best and worst. He is selfish and selfless, capable of bitter hatred and unconditional love, anger and tenderness, passion and prejudice. He is still, after all these years, a work in progress–just as we all are. Matthew shows us that immortality and wealth are not the answers to any of life’s problems. Absence and desire, blood and fear–they spellbind us all, and make us act against the better angels of our nature.” Deborah Harkness

Matthew Clairmont’s steadfast faith shines as a beacon of light, illuminating the depths of his character and enriching the narrative with profound philosophical questions. His journey presents us with an exploration of the intricacies of human identity and spirituality, reminding us of the power of resilience and the enduring strength of faith, even under the darkest of circumstances.

“I spoke aloud: Give me knowledge of my end and the measure of my days, so I may know my frailty. My lifetime is no longer than the width of my hand. It is only a moment, compared to yours.” p. 318, A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

thoughts on: the secret history by donna tartt

by Katherine Marie

As October casts its enchanting spell, the time for melancholy tales and wistful thinking draws near. Spooky stories and old haunts slink out from hiding places and fill the air with that oh so familiar feeling that a new season will soon be joining us. It’s an interesting thought that within the autumn months, the most recognizable forms of spirits and stories come with the traditions of Hallows’ eve and jack o’lanterns sitting atop window sills. I’m more reminded of the so called spirits of autumn when my gaze turns to a certain shelf tucked away in the corner of my library. Thus bringing me to select the dusty spine of an older novel whose story resembles terror in a much more striking form: truth and beauty.

“‘Death is the mother of beauty,’ said Henry. ‘And what is beauty?’ ‘Terror.’ ‘Well said,’ said Julian. ‘Beauty is rarely soft or consolatory. Quite the contrary. Genuine beauty is always quite alarming.'”
p. 37, The Secret History by Donna Tartt

The characters, whom I will refer to as the students, are Richard, Henry, Camilla, Charles, Frances, and Bunny. In the novel, when knowledge acts as a key to understanding the greater unknown, an obsessive nature commences in the mind of the beholder. In this instance, Julian’s students immerse themselves so far into the pages of historic manuscripts and mythologies that they quickly forgo rational thinking and trade reality for a more imaginative and haunting existence.

“After Gatsby’s death the East was haunted for me like that, distorted beyond my eyes’ power of correction. So when the blue smoke of brittle leaves was in the air and the wind blew the wet laundry stiff on the line I decided to come back home.”
p. 175, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald  

Much like Nick Carraway from The Great Gatsby, Richard is swept into the closed society of his fellow classmates and immersed into their world of intelligence, secrecy, and elitist knowledge. He watches with doe eyes as the once polished elegance of his peers’ lives disintegrates into tragedy.

“We don’t like to admit it, but the idea of losing control is one that fascinates controlled people such as ourselves more than almost anything. All truly civilized people–the ancients no less than us–have civilized themselves through the willful repression of the old, animal self.”
p. 38, The Secret History by Donna Tartt 

The characters in the novel focus on the draw of Greek culture that has laid the foundation for much of the characters’ belief systems and perceptions of the world. Professor Julian encourages his students to delve into the classics with all of their energy as he becomes their counselor and teaches nearly all of their courses. Much like Plato was apprenticed by Socrates, so are Henry, Camilla, Charles, Francis, and Bunny taught at an intimate level by Julian. These five students carry an elitist mentality as they study the ancient texts. Julian tells them, “The Greeks, you know, really weren’t very different from us. They were a very formal people, extraordinarily civilized, rather re-pressed. And yet they were frequently swept away en masse by the wildest enthusiasms—dancing, frenzies, slaughter, visions” which plants a seed in the students’ minds to immerse themselves further into their studies by participating in the same activities that they read about in their books (40). Richard acts as the narrator of the story and shows the reader how his interest in Greek culture turns into a fascination once he joins the class. 

One of the appeals of studying any culture in historic context is that there is a defined difference between ancient civilization and the current state of the world. A culture’s progression is evident through its prolonged time of existence, and because the Greeks were very innovative with their studies, sports, and architecture, looking back on their livelihoods feels like a privilege to the selected students. They seek freedom and an escape from the mundane society they’re surrounded by and find solace in the ancient texts presented to them by professor Julian. He tells his students that the rituals in common day “would seem clinical madness, irreversible. Yet the Greeks—some of them, anyway—could go in and out of it as they pleased” (40). Henry looks at the ancient Greeks as if they were invincible and truly gods of their era. He and his friends keep their noses in their books as they search for meaning and answers on their quest to become infinite.

“Ancient Greek is a difficult language, a very difficult language indeed, and it is eminently possible to study it all one’s life and never be able to speak a word; but it makes me smile, even today, to think of Henry’s calculated, formal English, the English of a well-educated foreigner, as compared with the marvelous fluency and self-assurance of his Greek.”
p. 201, The Secret History by Donna Tartt

The students take their readings in a literal sense and perform a Dionysiac ritual one night of the semester. In Greek history, such a ritual is also referred to as Bacchanalia. During the night of the ritual, the students act like the written Greeks and lose themselves in a hedonistic atmosphere of euphoria and freedom of the senses. Their desire to transcend their physical limitations of knowledge and power through such an exceptionally impassioned act proves to be a dangerously enlightening experience for all of the students, even affecting the ones who didn’t partake in the ritual.

Henry lives in a state of disillusionment after the ritual and recluses into his mind and novels. Although Richard admires the culture he studies in class, he sees it only as history and wonders why his classmates act so strangely around the stories. Henry asks Richard, “What if you had never seen the sea before? What if the only things you’d ever seen was a child’s picture—blue crayon, choppy waves? Would you know the real sea if you only knew the picture?” as he explains that he saw the god Dionysus before him (168). Henry recalls the wildness of the ritual and the uncertainty that the group felt during the night with passion and earnest. His greatest desire is “[t]o live without thinking” during the time he spends on earth (493). The students’ obsession with Greek culture stems from their desires to embody the myths of old and leave their own eternal mark on the world.

The novel beautifully captures the essence of the autumn season and its association with spooky stories and haunting atmospheres. Tartt effectively illustrates themes of obsession, escapism, and the allure of Greek mythology through her compelling exploration of the pursuit of beauty and the significance of ancient cultures.

During such a season when the wind whispers songs and the moon casts its light toward the shadows, the possibility of limitless imagination blooms across the minds of many. To lose yourself, through any medium available, suggests not a discontentment with the surrounding world but rather a draw to what lies just beyond reach. Tartt’s novel leaves us wondering: what did the Greeks discover in this pursuit of beauty that we’re failing to find for ourselves?

Ars longa, vita brevis – art is long, life is short.

thoughts on: normal people by sally rooney

by Katherine Marie

Normal People follows the lives of Connell and Marianne through the facets of friendship, romance, growing up, and learning to let go. They come from different social classes and as their lives intertwine over the years, they realize that they’re always meant to come back to each other. In the first pages of the book, we find a quote by George Eliot that sums up their relationship perfectly:

“It is one of the secrets in that change of mental poise which has been fitly named conversion, that to many among us neither heaven nor earth has any revelation till some personality touches theirs with a peculiar influence, subduing them into receptiveness.”

Marianne spends much of her life in solitude. She’s isolated from friends and family because neither understand or show love to her. Excelling in her studies and knowing that she’ll be going to college soon are motivations for her during the hardships she faces at home. Connell is a popular athlete and well liked among the town. By chance, he talks to Marianne, and quickly the two begin a secret relationship while they’re in school. His priorities are to maintain his social status among his peers and suggests to Marianne that she not tell anyone about their time together. Connell’s desires don’t faze Marianne since she understands his concerns regarding popularity; however, she tells him that she would never hide their relationship or pretend to not know him if others asked. He doesn’t understand her because he’s still caught up in status. She doesn’t dwell too much on why others dislike her, but instead looks toward her imagination for hope of the future.

“Marianne had the sense that her real life was happening very far away, happening without her, and she didn’t know if she would ever find out where it was and become part of it. She had that feeling in school, often, but it wasn’t accompanied by any specific images of what the real life might look or feel like. All she knew was that when it started, she wouldn’t need to imagine it anymore.” p. 11, Normal People by Sally Rooney

Since Connell has kept his relationship with Marianne a secret, he asks another girl to the school dance and this decision is a sort of breaking point for Marianne. She stops going to school and only returns to take her finishing exams. Connell finds himself confused at her absence and though she’s preparing for college, Marianne is once again, alone. She feels loneliness as if it were a winter coat that she carries with her. There’s nothing else to compare her experiences with so she doesn’t start to see that she can shrug off her coat until she’s left home. Great changes occur in each of the character’s lives when college begins. The solace Marianne finds within her own intelligence and college friends wakes her up and Marianne begins to experience the pleasures of a social circle. Connell, on the other hand, seems to slip into Marianne’s past shoes once he arrives in college. For the first time, he’s isolated from others and dwells on the consequences of his actions regarding his relationships and past priorities.

“Connell felt a pleasurable sorrow come over him, which brought him close to tears. Moments of emotional pain arrived like this, meaningless or at least indecipherable. Marianne lived a drastically free life, he could see that. He was trapped by various considerations. He cared what people thought of him. He even cared what Marianne thought, that was obvious now.” p. 26, Normal People by Sally Rooney

He eats by himself, studies alone in the library, and stays home instead of going out to meet people. All of his ideas of what his future would look like seem to be stilted by the realization that he didn’t actually know what he wanted for himself. We see a lot of his inner dialogue in this section of the novel, feeling his thoughts quite clearly as he spends time in college.

“Connell wished he knew how other people conducted their private lives, so that he could copy from example.” p. 51, Normal People by Sally Rooney

For much of the novel, the question of why follows both the characters and the reader. Rooney’s chapters go back and forth in time, showing us significant moments captured between Connell and Marianne both from high school and in college. They continually come back together, even when it’s clear to see that the timing is wrong and the communication is completely off. All of that to say, one of the clearest truths that Rooney writes is the fact that the impact from a singular person will ripple the very existence of someone else’s entire life. As Connell moves through college, he’s continually thinking back to his time with Marianne and basing many of his decisions on the influence she’s had over his thoughts. Whereas, Marianne finds herself in relationships that have her remembering the truths Connell taught her, good and bad, about loving another person.

“I love you. I’m not just saying that. I really do. Her eyes fill up with tears again and she closes them. Even in memory she will find this moment unbearably intense, and she’s aware of this now, while it’s happening. She has never believed herself fit to be loved by any person. But now she has a new life, of which this is the first moment, and even after many years have passed she will still think: Yes, that was it, the beginning of my life.” p. 46, Normal People by Sally Rooney

As the reader, one of the most frustrating elements of the book is Connell and Marianne’s miscommunication. There’s a painting I came across where both characters are sitting together, but the artist brushed a line of paint across their faces, thus hiding their emotions. This image fits the entire story of Marianne and Connell not feeling like they could speak to the other honestly or within the right time frame of their feelings. This, I believe, is the reason that they’re continually drawn back together. Even though they miss the mark so many times, at the root of each of their hearts, they know that they belong together and will one day see each other clearly.

“Marianne, he said, I’m not a religious person but I do sometimes think God made you for me.” p. 117, Normal People by Sally Rooney

Another beautiful element of Rooney’s novel is how she writes such a mundane story. We’re not met with mystery and action but instead the complexities of normal people walking through everyday life. From the very beginning of the story, we’ve seen that Connell and Marianne expect drastic changes to occur in their lives once they leave the familiarity of their hometown. Once they’re in college, both experience life in a sort of mirror-image to their past selves. Marianne’s life has laughter and the messiness of college relationships, while Connell experiences the same solitude in college that he watched Marianne live out back home. The realization that his college life doesn’t amount to anything devastates Connell.

“I just feel like I left Carricklea thinking I could have a different life, he says. But I hate it here, and now I can never go back there again. I mean, those friendships are gone. Rob is gone, I can never see him again. I can never get that life back.” p. 224, Normal People by Sally Rooney

Connell spends much of his time during the novel wishing that he were older and wiser so that his life will play out in a new and exciting way. Going to college doesn’t solve anything for him, but instead reveals the loneliness he’s always felt in such a vivid way that it dehabilitates him. The brightest moments of his life happen when he spends time with Marianne. He sees her interact with her peers and new boyfriends, all while saving space for him. The consistent kindness and vulnerability that Marianne shows Connell reveals his own mistakes to himself. He learns, very slowly, that the opinions of others are far less important than the beautiful girl that is Marianne, standing before him. As time passes, Marianne develops a new way of thinking: she knows that she’s worthy of the same kindness she’s shown others. All of the grief and mistreatment she’s endured has brought her to her current life–a good life. She knows that Connell was wrong for hiding their relationship while they were young, and she knows that both of them have had enough heartbreak to last for a long time.

“All these years they’ve been like two little plants sharing the same plot of soil, growing around one another, contorting to make room, taking certain unlikely positions. But in the end she has done something for him, she’s made a new life possible, and she can always feel good about that.” p. 272, Normal People by Sally Rooney

There’s a quiet insightfulness that Rooney displays in her writing. She captures the vulnerability of youth and the fascination humans have with social status and academic success. When reading Rooney’s novels, it sometimes feels as if a friend has penned a long letter to you over the years, providing updates here and there, but mostly to tell you the story of their everyday life. As the book concludes, it feels less like an ending but instead like a pause between chapters. Our characters have found a simple peace, if only for a little while.

“In the kitchen Marianne pours hot water on the coffee. The sky is low and woolen out the window, and while the coffee brews she goes and places her forehead on the glass. Gradually the mist of her breath hides the college from view: the trees turn soft, the Old library a heavy cloud. Students crossing Front Square in winter coats, arms folded, disappear into smudges and then disappear entirely. Marianne is neither admired nor reviled anymore. People have forgotten about her. She’s a normal person now.” p. 261, Normal People by Sally Rooney

Mistakes are a beautiful aspect of the human experience, especially when healing comes as a result of growing from such mistakes. Time moves on, friends come and go, and old lovers will remain faithfully in our memories. As we close the pages of Normal People, we’re not really saying goodbye to Connell and Marianne; rather, we’re simply popping out for a cup of tea and will be back to see them soon.

from a myriad of favourite stories there was once a beginning

by Katherine Marie

“The books in Mo and Meggie’s house were stacked under tables, on chairs, in the corners of the rooms. There were books in the kitchen and books in the lavatory. Books on the TV set and in the closet, small piles of books, tall piles of books, books thick and thin, books old and new. They welcomed Meggie down to breakfast with invitingly opened pages; they kept boredom at bay when the weather was bad. And sometimes you fall over them.”
p. 4, Inkheart by Cornelia Funke

Cracked spines, coffee stained pages, and dried flowers are elements of the books that make up my library. Over the years, I’ve garnered quite the collection of poetry, fiction, translated stories, and the odd encyclopedia or two. Many of my books have been on my shelves since I was a child, while others have been gifted by friends or found in the corners of flea markets. I adore used books over brand new because of the treasures that are pressed between the pages. I’ve discovered plane tickets, love letters, café receipts, newspaper clippings, and handwritten scribbles across the chapters of these novels. New books promise the excitement of a fresh beginning, while weathered covers and dog-eared pages carry the remnants of past memories.

There’s a small shelf in my library that holds the novels I’ve deemed most important in my life. It’s from this shelf that I choose which book to take with me when I step outside my front door. These stories feel like trusted companions and deserve to partake in whatever journey lies beyond the bend. Such titles include The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, The Odyssey, Wuthering Heights, Till We Have Faces, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, Little Women, Peter Pan, Death in the Castle, etc (We should probably have a cup of tea if I’m to list all of my favourites, so we’ll just stick to a few for now). Among such stories are a few novels that are prized above the others. Not for monetary value, but prized both for the sake of sentiment and the longevity of lasting comfort that these tales continue to provide throughout my days.

“If you take a book with you on a journey,” Mo had said when he put the first one in her box, “an odd thing happens: The book begins collecting your memories. And forever after you have only to open that book to be back where you first read it. It will all come into your mind with the very first words: the sights you saw in that place, what it smelled like, the ice cream you ate while you were reading it… yes, books are like flypaper—memories cling to the printed page better than anything else.”
p. 15, Inkheart by Cornelia Funke

I was first lent a copy of Cornelia Funke’s book, Inkheart, by a classmate when I was just shy of eleven years old. The story follows a young girl whose father has the gift of reading the words of any book to life. The characters embark on quite the journey and their story introduces the most wonderful forms of magic and imagination to the reader. The fantastical elements and daring adventures made for a most thrilling read in my younger days, and although I returned the book to my classmate, the story never truly left my mind. What I’d not yet realized was that the stories we read while we’re young are what shape our interests and future literary desires. Over the next several years I found myself leaning toward elements of magic and quests in the stories that I chose. Series of hidden worlds, greek mythology, quests to middle earth, and a handful of wizards came to life as I opened the pages of these precious novels. In the back of my mind, the hope of reading my favourite characters to life remained, as did the warning to be careful what you wish for. As a child, these fairytales became my playground and the characters some of my first friends.

Several years later, my father took me to a used bookshop that was tucked away on the edge of the city. It was from this shop that he brought home copies of The Iliad and The Odyssey for me to enjoy. I’d long since forgotten the title of my borrowed book from childhood, but kept the memories with me. And on my first visit to the bookshop, tucked away in the very back on the second to bottom shelf, I spied a familiar title. From the layer of dust on the spine, it had been missed by the many shop-goers who merely looked to the books that were an arm’s length around them. The red spine with gold lettering stood tall amongst its neighboring companions, and I swear to the stars that I heard the pages crying out, “Take me, choose me, read me”! What a joy to have found a copy of Inkheart to bring home.

In the time since stepping into that beloved bookshop, I’ve found myself collecting copies of this beautiful story not only for my library, but to share with others who’ve not yet had the privilege of exploring the world Cornelia so beautifully crafted. It’s fascinating to see what others think of your favourite novel and hear about what aspects of the story resonate with their thoughts.

A lovely connection I later made was that my list of favourite novels stems from the very pages of Inkheart. The novel mentions a handful of familiar stories such as Peter Pan and the Odyssey. It’s a curious thing that two shelves in my library are lined with multiple copies of both. In the pages of Peter Pan lay elements of fantasy amongst the desire to stay in the meadow of childhood. To remain somewhere softer, somewhere safer, instead of growing up and forgetting the route to Neverland. When we’re children, we see the second star to the right and a world that’s waiting for us, just out of grasp. I wonder what we see in the stars after we’re grown?

Perhaps we grow wiser on our journey much like Odysseus. Sometimes our greatest desire is to return home, to wherever or whatever that may look like. Home may be a place or a person, and we have our entire lives to discover which one it may be. Combining familiar fairy tales and myths of old with the stories of the modern era creates a fantastic connection between fact and fiction. These elements reveal themselves in stories like fragments of mirrors in which we’re bound to see ourselves. As the years pass on and we grow older, which bits will we recognize when we glance back from time to time?

“Perhaps there’s another, much larger story behind the printed one, a story that changes just as our own world does. And the letters on the page tell us only as much as we’d see peering through a keyhole. Perhaps the story in the book is just the lid on a pan: It always stays the same, but underneath there’s a whole world that goes on – developing and changing like our own world.”
p. 147, Inkheart by Cornelia Funke

The written word creates such a marvelous chance for characters and their journeys to inspire us as we forge our own paths through life. If you’re discouraged by the fact that all children do indeed grow up (except one) in Peter Pan, look to the perseverance of the heroes in The Odyssey to see just how courageous grown ups can be. If you crave an escape into the fictional world, like Inkheart, the characters could quite literally leap out of the page and into your world instead.

And if by marvelous chance you find a copy of this novel, be brave as you begin, and you might just find yourself whispering the words aloud.

out of sight but on my heart

by Katherine Marie

Distance is a heavy word. It becomes nearly unbearable when paired with loneliness. I’ve carried both on my shoulders as I’ve gotten older, wondering how to lay down this burden. But I have learned to rest, and in those moments something magical happens.

On a day in September, this magic came in the form of a friend. After watching many come and go through my time in college, I was apprehensive to let someone else into the heart I so bravely guarded. Loving people and watching them leave felt like an impossible task. But being afraid to care for someone because they will leave is like shutting the curtains on the sun. You love the sun, but knowing it will set at the end of the day is too hard and instead you close yourself from its warmth completely.

For a long time, I shut the curtains on the sunlight around me. As expected, my life looked much darker. But I was stubborn, and refused to let the light in. I convinced myself that the loneliness would eventually feel comfortable, and soon became content in my self-inflicted solitude. However, per my vulnerability or the irony of the Lord’s timing, my curtains were drawn open.

My heart, which had been held captive by fear for too long, spilled out in front of me. As I bent to retrieve it, my burdens rolled off my shoulders and into the hands of another. But instead of returning them, she replaced them with her hand in mine. She lead me into the sunshine and showed me with glittering eyes what wondrous joy a companion can bring. I watched in awe at her courage and love towards the strangers around her.

She carried her own burdens with resilience, not forgetting the pain of the past, but choosing instead to experience the inescapable beauty life can offer. I felt myself stand taller by her side, learning from her hospitable spirit as she walked with grace and purpose.

I looked for you in the people I passed on the street. In the hands of those I held and in the hugs I felt. In the tears I wiped away from tired eyes and a weary heart, I looked for you. I looked for a friend who was seeking her heavenly Father more than the world. A friend who would love those around her imperfectly but genuinely. And some time ago, I found you. I found a friend whose brokenness was beautiful and whose joy was sincere. I felt my heart tug open; quickly, like petals on a spring flower. I felt myself opening up around this human. As if our lives were so intricately woven into each other’s by a Creator’s hand with such grace and peace. A new friend. An answered prayer. Gentle steps, fruitful words, and my heart felt full again. Thank you, for speaking truth back into my life. For knitting my heart back together and for bringing inexpressible joy in this season. You are light. Because of your kindness. Your faith. Your laughter. Your pain. You are light because you carry light Himself in your heart. You are light, and you are my friend.

You’re far away now, but I’ve left the curtains open. For the light from your soul was too great to shut out. You taught me how to see the fun in spontaneity and delight in looking at the world with a curious mind. Though pain is inevitable and distance may be heavy, it is not triumphant over the joy that comes from opening up your heart.

And this open heart has brought a multitude of new beginnings. Fear has been dismissed by friends. There are nights filled with laughter, the Lord’s sweet presence, and many, many cookies. You taught me that showing up for others does not mean I must neglect myself. The souls I’ve had the privilege to pour into have reminded me of the love that Jesus showed to those around him. Though he walked on earth, Jesus didn’t walk alone. And neither should we.

The sun is warm. Don’t be afraid to let the light in.

to where will you run?

by Katherine Marie

Sometimes life doesn’t go according to plan and you feel yourself slipping away from grace and into an oblivion of utter confusion. The constants in your life aren’t constant anymore, and things are changing rapidly. Before you know it, everything that was once perfect around you has crashed to the ground in a disgraceful way.

So I ask you: to where will you run?

God is right there. Open arms. Willing. Wanting. Full of love. Full of light. Yet we hesitate to go to Him. Instead, we turn away because we don’t feel worthy. We don’t feel worthy because of our mistakes, our sins, our actions; we let ourselves get in the way of peace and happiness. Constant doubt, fear, and worry plague our minds too often. There’s so much more for us here than to live a life feeling like we can’t ever measure up. But we weren’t made to be perfect. We were made to make mistakes. Because when we make a mistake — that’s where we find grace through faith.

Mistakes can make us feel as if we’ve failed. Like we’re past the point of saving. Like we can’t be redeemed. My friend once told me, “I think that’s why we have to make mistakes sometimes. . . because later on when we find ourselves feeling alone and lost again, we can remind ourselves that we can make a difference in our own life and we can teach ourselves through the pain we made all by ourselves, and in a little way it’s really redeeming.” I think it’s very important to be able to redeem yourself, through yourself, but I think it’s vital that we learn how to go to God for redemption.

Sometimes I seem to remember every bad thing I’ve ever done, every wrong action, every bad thought, every thing that should never have been said. It’s times like those when I can’t even think about asking God for help. I feel too disgusted, too vile, too filthy to go to Him. But that’s when He wants us to go to Him. In our muck, our grievances, our sins are what He washes clean. We need God. And our past shouldn’t keep us from running to His arms.

Even in your pain, your doubt, your suffering: God is there. I promise you. In our times of desperation, when we feel so lost; that’s when we can count on God to be there with us. He’s always here. Run to Him.

my hiding place

by Katherine Marie

But what happens if the blessings don’t come? The ones we’ve waited for. The ones we’ve been promised. The husband, family, healing. Where do we stand when these blessings never shower over our lives in a brilliant array of happiness?

Where do we stand?

We stand under our Lord. In His refuge. Dwelling on His presence, resting in His peace. Because you see, we were never promised the pleasures of this world. We were promised so much more. A Father, a heavenly home, and an eternal life. But we cannot feel these constants so our spirits grow weary.

Don’t lose heart.

The sun is coming up. And with it, my Redeemer. His name is Jesus. And He wants you. He calls you. Run to His arms when the blessings don’t come. He will forever satisfy your soul beyond what anything in this earth can. I understand that it’s hard. I do. I have the desires to build a life with someone. Raise a family, live a fairytale.

But hear my heart; until you build your life on Jesus, you will never be satisfied with anything here on earth. Let Christ be your foundation. He’s our cornerstone.

it can be mended

by Katherine Marie

I had a realisation that most love is selfish love. And if you truly love someone, you’ll love them for them. Not for the person you want them to be.

Loving a person means accepting them for who they are despite our expectations. To see that their unique qualities and personality is what make them themselves. Love cannot prevail if we constantly drown it with our own selfish motives.

Eventually, we find ourselves feeling alone and distanced from everyone we wish to be close to. And all that’s left is a quiet realisation that our selfish love is not actually love. Trying to fit people into the molds we’ve created for them is inevitably going to fail, for their differences are what makes us love them in the first place. People cannot be fit into molds. If you continue to try, all that you’ll have left is broken clay and a silent room. And silence speaks volumes.

What I’ve begun to see is that people are unique and that’s what makes them so wonderful. Their souls are beautiful. Their smiles remarkable. Their stories are worth cherishing. People aren’t ours to mold. We are not the potters.

“But now, o Lord, you are our father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” Isaiah 64:8

God created us one by one. He knew us before we were born; and made us with a special purpose unique to us. Unique to our lives and our talents that He gave us.

So tell me, how can we compete with God? It might be a strange question, or one that we think doesn’t apply to us; hear me out: how many times have we looked at our own selves, our bodies, even our minds, and thought that we were inadequate? Incomplete? Felt that something needed changing?

How many times have we seen one of God’s precious daughters and criticised her for being herself, when that was who God intended her to be?

How many times have we looked down on God’s precious sons and deemed him unworthy for the very lives the Lord created them to live?

We unintentionally compete with God and think that what He made beautiful should be tweaked or changed to fit the standards or expectations we’ve created. But we can’t love people by changing them.

God is love. That means looking to Him for how we should love others. 1 John 4:16 says, “And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.”

God is love.

And that same loving God is the one who made you. And the one who made me.

the battle for our hearts

by Katherine Marie

I’m finding out more and more how unprepared I’ve been for truth in my life. Truth in my feelings, my heart, and in my relationship with the Lord. Because I want what this world offers — a quick fix for my problems. I don’t want to allow God to play the part of the gardener and toil through the weeds one by one. I expect instead for God to throw a sheet over the dead flowers and plant a new garden instead. But in order to expel the evil from my heart I have to speak out the lies that the devil has whispered to me for so many years. Because even though I walk with the Lord I am living in a world reigned by a darker king. The devil prowls about like a roaring lion and I’ve found that it’s scary to fight him, even with my armour. It’s scary to stand firm in the Lord, trusting that He’s got my back as this battle rages on and marches straight toward my heart.

And as I stand there in the battlefield I wonder why are they coming if they know they can’t have my heart? Why won’t they leave me alone? Why do I constantly have to pick up my sword and shield and fend off this ever-coming evil that wraps me up at night in a blanket of fear and holds my thoughts captive and covers my ears when truth rings out? I look to my side where my Lord stands firm and I ask Him why? Why, Lord did you make this difficult for me? I thought you were in control, God, I thought you would keep them away from me? God, I thought you would keep me safe? And my God looks at me with eyes deeper than the darkest depths of the ocean that reach so far into my past and my future I cannot meet His gaze because in those eyes I see the truth that I have known all along. The truth that burns straight through all of the lies I’ve kept around myself thinking that they would keep me warm. The truth that has been written long before I came to be and long before this world was even spoken into existence.

Because with a single word God created the heavens and the earth and all that was in them. With a single word Jesus breathed His last while at the same time preparing this world for the glory unknown– the glory that would shake man to his core and bring him on his knees because he recognised that His Lord is no longer in the grave but that His Lord is risen! A single word is all it took to open the skies and fill the oceans and bring life to men and love to the world. I see all of this in my Saviour’s eyes and my heart seems to shatter and my soul is torn to pieces because I know this truth. I know this truth.

But I refuse it.

I refuse it every day when I exchange the word of God for lies. I refuse it when I choose pleasure over praise, malice for majesty, and cold feet over courage. Because this courage, dear heart, I do not have. Not even when I am standing with my God in the armour he built for me. I refuse this truth everyday when I look into the mirror and criticise what the Maker of the universe so intricately put together in my mother’s womb. The body my God made I reject with an ungrateful opinion that He could have done better. I refuse this truth when I stumble through my life with disgust toward myself and I curse my name; my name He wrote in His book of life before this world came to be. I refuse this truth when sin takes me in a dance and the aroma of lust replaces the scent of lilies that once represented my purity; but it seems I dropped the vase long ago and let this world trample my petals without a second thought. I reach down in an effort to pick up what dignity I thought I had but am swept once more into the enchanting arms of those around me. But what I cannot see is that I am dancing with bones in a sea of blood that has spilled over the world ever since the fateful bite of a forbidden fruit.

My eyes are opened and I am filled with horror of what has become of my life. The scent of the world is a stench of death that stings my nostrils and suffocates my lungs as the dance turns into a struggle to reach the surface where I’m convinced I will breath fresh air. But it’s not fresh air that fills my chest but sulfur named sin that I fear I will never be rid of. This sin that I am never ceased to be reminded I was born with so it seems I will never be free. Then what am I doing here? Why am I fighting if I am never going to be free of the thorns dug so far into my flesh not even the most skilled surgeon could remove them? I turn to my Lord and plead for an answer. I search those eyes for something beyond the truth I’ve been told because somehow the promises of His word won’t satisfy this wretched soul of mine and I still want a second opinion. But instead of seeing the filth of this world around me, I see it all on my Jesus. Who should be clothed in gleaming white with robes of truth, He is clothed in sin.

My sin.

And I put that on my Jesus. I plead with my Lord to give it back to me, let me have my burdens for You, Lord, are too holy to take on such a horrible mess. But this cross was not mine to carry. The Lord took my sin upon Himself and washed it away. But though I see my Saviour now in white and feel myself cleansed of this sin, my heart is heavy with guilt. Because even though I can see with my own eyes that Jesus has taken my sin, I try to take back my cross. The cross that Jesus Christ hung upon so that I don’t have too. You see, He took my sin on that hill in Golgotha. He bore my guilt, my shame, and my pain. And yet, somehow, I refuse this gift. This gift of life, and reject the grace so freely given. But God, my God, this grace is too simple! How could you simply wipe away my shame and continue to love me? How, Lord?

And when I look into His eyes, suddenly, I feel peace. Because I know why He continues to extend love and forgiveness to me. I know why grace washes over me as the oceans wash over the shore. Because I am His child and this love is the love of my Father. My Father. And I know who I am, now. I can expel the lies and speak the truth because this truth is in my heart. I am a daughter. A daughter of the King who sits most high and spoke the heavens into motion and touched the lips of the angels so that they may sing eternal praises. I am a daughter whose Father chose to love me when I didn’t love myself. Who sees my shame and replaces it with sheer joy and a desire to free others from the same chains that held me down for far to long.

And I know I’ll stumble again. That I will fall and feel the arms of the world tearing and tugging toward my heart. But this time, I’m ready. The armour that God gave me is fastened tight and I have a steadfast hope that the name of Jesus will bring light into the darkest corners of my life. Because my Father fights for me, still. Because the battle for my heart has already been won.