Beverly Butler (1) (1932–2007)

I have forgotten how many times I read this book as a pre-teen and teenager. And how gripping it is all these decades later is a testament not just to its subject matter, but also its writing style. I'm sure much of it is autobiographical, if not sequentially then at least through interactions in Ms. Butler's life.

The story begins with Cathy's 14th birthday and her brand-new set of pastels for her dreams of becoming an artist. A few weeks later, though, she is in the hospital for a necessary show more operation on her eyes due to glaucoma's pressure on her optic nerve. And once the bandages come off, she is blind.

Her life adjusts, her family accommodates her recovery, including finding Talking Books for the Blind at the local library that she could play on her family's record player. Interesting how "audiobooks" are just elements of everyday reading life since these books were checked out and sent back by Post!

Cathy chooses to attend the Institute for the Blind in Burton, about 100 miles from her home, after her best friend, Pete, cuts her out of his birthday party. Her experiences with her dorm mates, the low level of instruction, and the pettiness of the administrator, Miss "Creepy" Creel, are very well-described. Trying to understand this new world throws her into a depression, from which she emerges ready to go back to her local high school.

The next portion of this book goes into her month-long training with her guide dog, Trudy. Again, Cathy is talked out of doing what she originally intended (bringing Trudy with her to school) by another schoolmate. This so-called friend's do-gooding attitude wears thin after a month or so, and as one would guess, Trudy and Cathy enter school with minimal fuss.

I was surprised upon re-reading this book that it held up as well as it had over 60+ years. The insights Ms. Butler has into the people she encounters (through Cathy) are realistic and as relevant as when they were written. Glad I still have my copy even though the pages are falling out of their binding! show less

Cathy lost her sight as a teenager, and now as a college student, she's working to become a speech therapist. When the head of her school's speech department suggests Cathy's choice of profession is unrealistic for a blind person, Cathy becomes all the more determined to succeed. But after a doctor's appointment gives her hope of regaining a measure of her sight, Cathy may roll out a new plan for her future in Gift of Gold by author Beverly Butler.

I remember the day I first came across this show more novel in my adolescence, seeing the old-fashioned cover art depicting a woman in a green head scarf, holding the harness of a service dog. I had no idea then that the author herself was blind or that I'd be revisiting this novel years later, and then more years after that.

But now having read this book three times, I can say it's just as powerful as it was to me the first time. Maybe more so.

Yes, I still like the old-fashionedness of it, the plastic rain scarves and typewriters and all. Nevertheless, what I may love most is that this isn't some predictable, run-of-the-mill tale merely about goals and dreams. This is a complex, soul-searching kind of read. It's smart in style with wit and wisdom. Not at all fast-paced, but anything but flat.

In the last quarter especially, Cathy's journey pulls no punches. It even gets pretty depressing for a while, but I find it all the more compelling for not being too easy. The truth, growth, and hope in Cathy's story is earned. Plus, there's a nice little thread of down-to-earth romance tied in.

A novel about not only facing your outward challenges but taking a deep, honest look at yourself—so worth the read. show less

I swear to the Flying Spaghetti Monster, I'm catching up on my reviews this month if it kills me.

(Okay, no. I love Goodreads and I'm all about meeting my book challenge, but I think death is a little drastic.)

I hereby aver that I'm going to try to catch up on my reviews, as long as the tasks I skip in order to do so are nonessential, like housecleaning and fretting.

(Much better.)

Okay: I reread this old childhood favorite a couple of months ago as a brain-break. It stands the test of time show more well – it was published in 1962. Which isn't all that long ago, but it's long enough that there are the occasional little awkward word choices. ("She supposed her nose must have been sniffing these odors for her all her life, otherwise she wouldn't recognize them so surely and easily, but until these past few days, she'd never paid much attention to them. It was queer." It actually wasn't at all. It was just kind of odd. These things happen.)

And of course there are technology quirks. This is way before books on tape, so when fourteen-year-old Cathy loses her vision, she has to get special equipment in order to be able to read. She learns Braille; but as everyone who's ever tried to read for pleasure without benefit of vision knows, recorded books are a lifesaver – much faster than bump-reading. So Cathy gets a "talking book machine" and the special records to go with it.

I remember all this equipment from a couple of decades ago, when I lived and worked in a home for severely disabled children. I was the only program aide there who liked to read, so I was the one who figured out that those records only worked on the talking book machine, which was basically a record player with a weird spinning speed. (I figured that out by trying those discs on my own little stereo. Amusing, but not exactly reading. But I digress.)

So, yes, this is a bit of a period piece – and yes, I feel weird saying that about a book published in the decade in which I was born. But the basic issues grappled with here are still of vital interest: namely, the tendency for the currently-able-bodied to feel deeply uncomfortable in the presence of the disabled, and for that discomfort to express itself in all sorts of offensive ways. Cathy's best friend Pete drops out of Cathy's life when she comes home sightless from what was supposed to be vision-saving surgery. A neighbor gushes over what she considers Cathy's newfound superpowers:

"Isn't Nature marvelous? Lose your sight, and, immediately, Nature sharpens the rest of your senses to where they're practically superhuman to compensate for it. It's a miracle that just seems to happen overnight!"

This same neighbor is equally adorable while speaking to Cathy's mother when she thinks Cathy is out of earshot, after Cathy and her younger brother have announced their intention to try riding their bikes together on their quiet street:

"Susan Wheeler, I don't see how you dare! If I had a child like that, I'd put her in an institution where she would be with her own kind, and I'd know she was safe and in trained hands. I wouldn't have the responsibility of keeping her at home."

Then there's Joan, the girl who offers "friendship" and assistance with Cathy's school-reading load, when what she really wants is the virtuous credit of being such a wonderful person – helping out that poor blind girl!

Cathy has enough to do coming to terms with what it means to be blind in a sighted world, especially when that means putting aside her cherished dreams of becoming an artist. She learns that it's just as much work to learn how not to go nuts from the condescension and general stupidity aimed her way by much of the sighted world.

Light a Single Candle is one of those YA books that's a terrific read for all ages. It feels like a modern classic, and I suppose it'll be considered a just-plain classic soon enough. Unlike many classics, this one's a lot of fun to read. If you haven't had the pleasure, treat yourself. show less

Another childhood favorite I reread recently as a brain-break – a sequel to Butler's Light a Single Candle, which I'd suggest you read first if you want to pick this one up. Gold could stand alone, but it has much more impact if you know the main character's background.

After losing her sight at the age of 14, Cathy Wheeler had to give up her dreams of becoming an artist. Light ends with a suggestion that she'll go on to become a writer instead. But Gold begins with Cathy in college show more studying to become a speech therapist.

I remember as a kid feeling disappointed by this turn of events, especially when it becomes clear immediately that Cathy is not in love with her studies. She's hardworking and conscientious, but she fell into her major pretty much by accident, and is now sticking with it more from stubbornness than anything else.

She tells herself she's just being practical. Plenty of people have jobs they don't adore, after all. But as her friends and family pursue work they're passionate about, her stolid pragmatism begins to crack.

The main plot line is ostensibly about the hope an eye doctor offers her for regaining some vision, but really this is a story of a young woman learning not to settle for less than true love – not just romantically, though that's important too, but in every aspect of life. Yes, Cathy is completely blind. She's also solidly middle class, and has all the options that come along with a supportive family and the chance to obtain a university education. Under those circumstances, why on earth would anyone slog through life doing a job that makes them feel just "meh"?

Recommended for all ages. show less