Three stunning books

Two memoirs and a novel well worth your attention

This photo has nothing to do with anything. I saw this great blue heron
at the top of this tree in Chatsworth Woods on Saturday morning,
staring in the direction of the lake. So out of place! Or so it felt.

I’ve been posting Angus stories at a rather frantic clip—I worry I am overwhelming you, but I really enjoy writing about him every morning, and the more I write, the more I remember. Such is the nature of writing memoir.

But I’m aware this might be more than you want to read. So for today—Sunday—I decided to take a different tack and tell you about three good books I’ve recently read. So read on—or take the opportunity to catch up on old Angus columns. He’ll be back Monday, I’m guessing.

The Land of Everlasting Sky by Jill Swenson (She Writes Press) (Pubs in June)

Both personal and historic, this book is a remarkable blend of memoir and biography. Jill Swenson, a professor in Wisconsin, returns to Minnesota for her mother’s funeral up by Lake of the Woods, which opens a flood of memories. The book opens with memory: meeting a Native elder named Kakaygeesick when Jill was still a child. Kakaygeesick was evicted from his Red Lake land in 2012 when it was determined that, while Native, he was not of the appropriate tribe. (A good explanation of the complicated situation is here.) The author’s ancestors were immigrants who lived on tribal land, which made Swenson’s relationship with the land fraught. Who owns what? And why? And, frankly, how? Swenson weaves a fascinating narrative, alternating between present and past and also including her own long, determined journey to learn the facts of Kakaygeesick’s difficult story. The second half of the book follows Swenson as she works to tend her own piece of land—and then must make the difficult decision as to whether or not to stay. The narrative is complex and engaging and gives the reader a whole new way of looking at land and land “ownership.” Written with great sense of place and also with deep respect for the subject of the book. Highly recommended. Swenson and I will be in conversation at Magers & Quinn in Minneapolis on Aug. 11.

Light Falls on Everything by Rebecca McClanahan (University of North Carolina Press)

Oh my gosh, this book! McClanahan was one of my mentors/professors at Queens University in Charlotte where I earned my MFA, and I was interested in this book because—well, you always want to know if a teacher can put their money where their mouth is, right? Well, no problem here; this book is tremendous. McClanahan tells the story of nursing her aging parents as their lives contract, their memories fade and their health fails. It is not depressing, though it is certainly sad; it is rich and honest, depicting the frustrations and the burdens and the obligations and the just plain hard work as well as the love and privilege she felt at being there for her parents. The book unleashed so many memories for me of caring for my sister at the end of her life, as well as my father, and I fear that McClanahan will get hundreds of readers wanting to tell her their own stories, because she is clearly so deeply empathetic—she knows the highs and the lows and isn’t afraid to tell them. This is a really beautiful book that must have been difficult to write, digging back into all of those painful memories of loss.

Natural Disaster by Lisa Owens (Little, Brown) (pubs in July)

Unlike the other books, this is not a memoir and has no local connection. I was sent the ARC and brought it with me up north in April, thinking it would be an easy, lite read. It’s easy, but it’s definitely not lite. The book takes place over 24 hours, the last day of maternity leave for the protagonist, who has been home from work with two young children for (I think?) a year. (Yeah, not an American book, a British one. We don’t get that kind of maternity leave here.) The protagonist (I might be wrong, but I don’t think her name is ever mentioned) wants to make this a perfect last day for her children, but of course things go awry in all kinds of ways. It’s not slapstick, though it is often funny; it’s also poignant, and her emotions are as complicated and conflicted as you might imagine, wanting everything to go right and having everything go wrong. So many things take place in that one day, from fears of marital infidelity, to exhaustion, to childhood illness, to, well, dashing out the door wearing a frog suit for reasons that will become clear. Your heart aches for her even as you chuckle. The characters of her two little boys, Rudy and Felix, are entirely believable, so different from each other, so heartbreakingly sweet and rebellious and difficult and loving that I missed them when the book was over. I hope they are OK.

Oh, and Angus? He ate both meals pretty well on Saturday. Good boy!