The Eve Tree
Here's the thing: I've always been envious of Journey Mama.
She has absolutely exquisite children and a wonderful, beautiful husband.
Her lifestyle is so foreign to me that, reading her posts, I am transfixed. She lives in India, in Nepal, in Goa, with no water, with bare feet, with dread-locked hair, with fresh chai and meditation on the roof and home-schooling and a gaggle of little children.
And, then, I am smacked senseless by the idea that during all this, through the 19 hour train journeys with four small children, in a rural foreign place, with what appears to me to be one of the most graceful hearts in a rustic and sometimes difficult place, she writes a novel.
It's no surprise that I am a fan of, say, my friend Jen's writing. She's funny, she's touching, she writes about things I can relate to. Her new novel, her first novel, is a joy and I love her characters and their journey.
But Rachel's novel is about nothing I can imagine: life on a farm threatened by fire, goat raising, cheese making, being tied to the land in a way that is foreign to me, and I am transfixed. I've savored this book over a week's time and felt Molly's anxiety and Jack's concern for her health and Catherine's fortitude as she reflects on the past and future.
Rachel's characters have been so real to me this week that I found myself worrying for them, while I was away from the book, as I would for family members.
I've already promised my copy of The Eve Tree to Paola who cannot easily obtain one in Positano.
If you can I'd encourage you to do so and you too can read this absorbing and wrenching story.
She has absolutely exquisite children and a wonderful, beautiful husband.
Her lifestyle is so foreign to me that, reading her posts, I am transfixed. She lives in India, in Nepal, in Goa, with no water, with bare feet, with dread-locked hair, with fresh chai and meditation on the roof and home-schooling and a gaggle of little children.
And, then, I am smacked senseless by the idea that during all this, through the 19 hour train journeys with four small children, in a rural foreign place, with what appears to me to be one of the most graceful hearts in a rustic and sometimes difficult place, she writes a novel.
It's no surprise that I am a fan of, say, my friend Jen's writing. She's funny, she's touching, she writes about things I can relate to. Her new novel, her first novel, is a joy and I love her characters and their journey.
But Rachel's novel is about nothing I can imagine: life on a farm threatened by fire, goat raising, cheese making, being tied to the land in a way that is foreign to me, and I am transfixed. I've savored this book over a week's time and felt Molly's anxiety and Jack's concern for her health and Catherine's fortitude as she reflects on the past and future.
Rachel's characters have been so real to me this week that I found myself worrying for them, while I was away from the book, as I would for family members.
I've already promised my copy of The Eve Tree to Paola who cannot easily obtain one in Positano.
If you can I'd encourage you to do so and you too can read this absorbing and wrenching story.
Comments
I agree with your comment about her exquisite children.
The anticipation grows.
Thank you.