Anne Leclaire

I wonder if I'd feel differently about this book had I not been witness to my mother's death from cancer in the local Hospice and were this not the second anniversary of that passing. The book had passed through too many hands unread, and I felt it deserved a reading, but didn't expect to be drawn in so by it. That we learn from the dying is very true. A lesson in courage, a lesson in strength. One has to be very strong to live fully while dying. I've heard the expression to "live like you show more were dying, , meaning to live every moment as if it was your last. My mother died like she was living; every moment imbued with hope, optimism, and love -- so much love. She taught me so much on her final journey and continues to teach me still.

And that's what this book is about: the final journey of one man with pancreatic cancer. Jessie, a cancer survivor herself, comes into his life as a Hospice volunteer. "What we forget is as important as what we remember."

When my mother was in Hospice, in those end days, there was a real peacefulness, a sense of waiting, of anticipation, of hope. Not necessarily hope for return of health, but for release and reunion, hope for freedom from pain and an unbinding of the spirit. My husband called it (Hospice) a train station for souls. No one should have to die alone.

This book is called The Lavender Hour, that time between day and dusk, night and dawn, when the boundaries are thin and rebirth mingles with death ( my description, not the author's, which I stupidly didn't mark to quote.) it is about the lessons in dying, choices, how dying serves as a model for life, and about remembrance. show less

Will Light is an artist whose daughter has been murdered and is finding it so difficult to come to terms with it his wife has moved out. Unexpected redemption comes in the form of Father Gervase, a local Catholic priest who has been tasked to persuade him to paint large pictures of saints for the Cathedral. The author captures not only the devastating loss of a child's death, but the different ways this affects people. She also creates what appear to me to be very authentic characters of the show more child's school-friends and their difficulties relating to adults and the way they too can find redemption with the right help. I hadn't really expected to enjoy this book from the synopsisbut was very pleasantly surprised how it drew me in. show less

Two Mondays a month, for nine years, Anne LeClaire didn't speak, remaining totally silent by choice. This book is about how that practice came about, how it worked, and what she gleaned from it. Padded with quotations from everyone under the sun who ever said anything about silence, the focus is more on what silence did for her, and what she thinks it might do for others, than anything else. Additional thoughts on the uses of silence through history (good and bad) might have been show more instructive; she glances off this topic a few times, but then leaves it behind for another walk on the beach or to reiterate how fulfilled she found herself by staying silent for a day (must be nice to have the luxury of doing that if you choose).

At the very end of the book there are hints for others who might want to try this (at some level - she suggests even just an hour or two at a time can be healthy, and I don't doubt it); it just took much too long to get there, and the whole book felt way too self-indulgent for my liking. I'm sure others will delight in it; it just wasn't my cup of tea. show less

Thoughtful, compelling story, about where the aftermath of tragedy can take us.