This book is similar to the other two of Turner’s that I have read in that it is about a marriage that has fallen apart, at least in the ways that matter most. Unlike the others, though, this one is about a marriage that is physically dead; that is, one-half of the marriage has physically died, so there is no hope for reconciliation. Much about this situation would not do for me to mention here, especially if the curiosity of anyone reading this is piqued enough to cause him or her to read it, so I am going to borrow the summary from the back of the book and copy it word-for-word here:
Plain and dutiful, Sophia Hess has lived most of her life without ever knowing genuine love. Her professor husband had married her for the convenience of having a typist for his scholarly papers. The discovery of a dark secret opens her eyes to the truth about her marriage and her husband.
Eventually nephew Patrick and his wife, Rachel, take Sophia into their home, and she observes from a careful distance their earnest faith and the simple gifts of kindness they generously bestow upon her and others–this is spite of unthinkable tragedy they’ve suffered. Dare she unlock the door behind which she stalwartly conceals her broken heart?
Also like all of Turner’s other books that I’ve read, Winter Birds is rife with literary references and allusions. Sophia’s husband was a Shakespearean scholar and professor, and as his typist, Sophia became quite well-versed in the works of the Bard herself. Reading a book by Turner is very much like getting into the mind of someone who loves literature, so I would venture to guess that anyone who loves literature would also like her books.
Sophia Hess is a keen observer (and critic) of life. Every single thing she experiences is held up and examined, almost to the point of absurdity at times. As I mentioned before, I found this a little maddening, but familiar. This is Sophia’s take on her current place in life:
When one is eighty years old, as I am, the handling of time is her greatest challenge. There is no place to rest comfortably. The present is an empty waiting room. The past is a narrow corridor, along which doors open into examining rooms too brightly lit, full of frightening instruments to inflict pain. The future is a black closet at the end of the corridor. No one knows what is inside this dark cubicle. The possibility of nothingness is a terror. If present, past, and future seem out of order in this analogy, it is no wonder. There is no tidy sequence of time when one is eighty and waiting to die. (96)
Uplifting, huh? 
Sophia does undergo a change by the end of the story, and although it is by no means dramatic, it is, well, hopeful. I suppose that’s the bottom line in Turner’s books–hope. There is always hope.
Visit the author’s website here or Semicolon’s review of Winter Birds here.
This is the first book I’ve finished for my Big Book Push, but there’s still plenty of time for you to join me! Read all about it here.
This book was an absolute delight to read aloud, and I can’t think of another book that has gotten quite the reception this one got from my girls. This volume is actually a compilation of three shorter stories: Tumtum & Nutmeg, The Great Escape, and The Pirates’ Treasure. Each story is just as delightful as the next, and each one is chock full of adventure. In each story, Tumtum and Nutmeg, the sweet mouse couple whose estate, Nutmouse Hall, is located inside the broom closet of the Mildew home, take it upon themselves to better the rather lowly lot in life of the Mildew children, Arthur and Lucy. In the first story, this involves assisting them in ridding the house of their troublesome Aunt Ivy. In the second story, the Nutmouses must leave the confines of their home in order to rescue their friend, General Marchmouse, who has been taken to school by Arthur Mildew to live with the classroom gerbils, a truly disgraceful fate for a mouse of his stature. In the third story, the Nutmouses face off against some Rat Pirates, and once again the story involves both General Marchmouse and Arthur and Lucy. My girls loved each one of the stories, but I think their favorite one was the second one because the Nutmouses’ rescue plan involves mouse ballerinas on pogo sticks. Really, you have to read it to believe it. The only story that gave me pause at all is the third one, and only because I was rather taken aback by the fact that the Mildew children intoxicate (Anne of GG, anyone?) the Rat Pirates with chocolate liqueurs in order to help free the captured mice. It is a funny story, but I wasn’t sure exactly what to say to my girls about it, so I didn’t say much–I just read it. 
Same Kind of Different As Me is not the kind of book I usually pick up. I enjoy reading books too much by people whose life’s gift is to write and my reading time is too limited for me to to spend my reading time on a recounting of someone’s life experiences to simply satisfy my curiosity. (I hope that doesn’t sound too snobbish, but some of you know what I mean, right?) However, this book came highly recommended to me by Steady Eddie’s aunt and uncle, two of the most dedicated and servant-hearted Christians I know. My mother and I were at Sam’s Club several months ago, and I off-handedly suggest she buy it to read herself, since it came so highly recommended to me. 
)
Thanksgiving Wish is the story of Mandy and her extended family and their first Thanksgiving without their beloved Bubbe. Bubbe, a traditional Jewish grandmother, worked on her Thanksgiving meal for weeks, perfecting all the dishes and cooking all of them herself. By the time the family gathered, she had the entire meal prepared, and she had even accumulated enough wishbones from the various birds she had cooked over the past year to have a wishbone for each of the grandchildren. This year, though, is the first Thanksgiving since Bubbe’s unexpected death, and everything is different. Of course, they don’t know how different it will be until everyone arrives at Mandy’s new house (which is actually an old house with an equally old electrical system), and they have to scramble to modify their plans. However, through all the changes, they also make some new friends and discover the importance of traditions. This one is a tearjerker, but then, what book about Thanksgiving isn’t? Highly recommended! 
Thanksgiving books we’ve read so far, and it has been entirely unintentional. We read Molly’s Pilgrim by Barbara Cohen today after lunch. If you’re unfamiliar with this very popular Thanksgiving story, it’s about a little girl named Molly, an immigrant from Russia to America who also happens to be Jewish. Molly is picked on at school for her differences (has anyone besides me ever noticed how frequently this is presented as a theme in books about school?), and the situation only worsens when Molly brings to school a “pilgrim” doll her mother has made to fulfill Molly’s school assignment. Of course, the “pilgrim” looks like Molly’s mother–a real pilgrim from Russia who came to America in search of religious freedom. The wise teacher, of course, turns the tables on the bullying girls and teaches them a gentle lesson. Yet another tearjerker.
by Peter and Connie Roop. This informational book has several pages of background information about the first Thanksgiving, the Separatists, the Mayflower, etc. Interspersed with the historical information are jokes, riddles, facts, and even a craft. The illustrations by Gwen Connelly are cartoonish but still respectful. (Does that make sense?) Although this book does NOT discuss Thanksgiving as a time of being thankful to God, over all I think it provides a fairly balanced view of Thanksgiving and leaves plenty of room for discussion. We have read a page or two a day this week and the girls, Lulu especially, have really enjoyed it.
Abigail at 
My girls LOVED this book. The Apple-Pip Princess, written and illustrated by Jane Ray, is actually only marginally about apples at all, but it is a fairytale of sorts that doesn’t depend on a whole lot of magic or good genes to force a happy ending, so I call it a winner, too. It’s the story of three sisters whose mother has died, of course, and their rather old and despondent father, the king, is ready to hand one of them the reins to the kingdom. However, he will make his decision based on something noteworthy the girls do. The older sisters set out immediately to build towers, and they try to outdo each other. The youngest daughter, Serenity, who is “little and shy and quite ordinary,” takes the treasures her mother left her and does something both practical and extraordinary with them. I won’t reveal what, of course, but let me say it is very satisfying. Jane Ray’s illustrations are very detailed and stylistically unusual; my girls have really studied them. This one earns a Highly Recommended.
