Things of Great Value

Connections

“There are some who could live without wild things, and some who cannot.”

Delia Owens (Where the Crawdads Sing)

I've just read through a good ten quotes by Delia Owens. She is a zoologist and expert in animal behavior, who has now written a novel called Where the Crawdads Sing. It's the kind of book that people, perfect strangers and friends alike, tell you, “you've got to read this book.” I was browsing the book-bin at Costco a couple of weeks ago, and saw it. Grabbing it up, I was in the process of reading the cover when a young woman stepped up—strange enough since young people rarely voluntarily speak to old ladies with gray hair—and said, “I just finished reading that, and you will love it. It's one of those books you will grieve over finishing, because you love the characters so much.” I, of course, put it straight into my cart and brought it home. It will remind me not only of the marsh lands of North Carolina's outer-banks, which I love, but also of that sweet connection with a perfect stranger.

In perusing quotes from the book, I found one that speaks directly to this situation and to me: “Lots of times love doesn't work out. Yet even when it fails, it connects you to others and, in the end, that's all you have, the connections.” Thank God for those connections. As I scrolled through the list of quotes, I found myself writing down all of them, so I know that Delia Owens is a kindred spirit. She wrote, for example, “Most of what she knew, she'd learned from the wild. Nature had nurtured, tutored, and protected her when no one else would.” Oh, yeah, that hits close to home.

Now and then, we run across a book that speaks directly to our heart. Its discovery is both gratifying and terrifying. I can't wait to read Where the Crawdads Sing, and yet, I dread it. I know it's going to inspire me but also break my heart. I wonder whether you have this relationship to books. Are there certain characters in certain books who have stayed with you for life? Are there ones who you just know were modeled after you, who walk in your shoes, and somehow live a parallel life? My doppelgangers are usually the rough, unkempt, and socially awkward ones with bad manners. Ruby, in Cold Mountain, comes to mind, or Ouiser Boudreau, in Steel Magnolias.

If you are not a reader, I'm sorry. For some of us, especially the introverts in the crowd, books are the equivalent of having a secret life—world travel, adventure, discovery, love, passion, treachery—all contained between two covers. We live in our imaginations, and in the words on the page, and we are perfectly happy there, where we feel connected to others, friends and strangers, real or imaginary, who happen into our orbit. It's a good-enough life and I'm grateful to have it. I wonder about you—do books speak to your soul, too?

                                                             In the Spirit,

                                                                   Jane