A Man for All Seasons by Robert Bolt****

I first came into contact with this play in 1999 when I saw it in production at BYU. I don't remember much of the details - what I do remember is feeling so moved and so privileged to be a part of theatre in general that produced something so profound that I was full to bursting.

I remembered it anew recently as we watched the Showtime series The Tudors - quite enjoyable, and really brought the whole King Henry VIII thing to life for me - for the first time I can name at least 4 of his 6 wives (still haven't seen the last season). One of the most moving scenes that still sticks with me is the execution of Sir Thomas More. Jeremy Northam delivers a riveting performance. But this is a review of the play, not The Tudors. It was helpful having recently watched it because it was easier for me to distinguish between the characters that were a little confusing to me before (Wolsey v. Cranmer, Rich v. Chapuys, etc.) and allowed me to focus more on the point of the play ... which I believe can be summed up in this phrase: "In matters of conscience, the loyal subject is more bounded to be loyal to his conscience than to any other thing."

For those not quite as familiar, I'll attempt to sum up the premise briefly: King Henry wanted to be remarried. He was convinced that his first marriage to Catherine of Aragon was invalid, that the pardon extended from Rome at its onset was also invalid. And to overcome the encumberance of his marriage so he could divorce Catherine and marry Anne Boleyn, he renounced the authority of the Pope and named himself the sovereign authority of church and state for England. Those who disagreed with a charter drafted along these lines were sentenced to death as traitors to the throne. Sir Thomas More, a long-time mentor to the King and faithful Catholic found himself unable to sign on account of his loyalty to the Church, and found himself on the wrong side of the King's favor.

His predicament reminds me not a little of the quote by Karl G. Maeser (for whom the Maeser Building is named at BYU): "I have been asked what I mean by 'word of honor.' I will tell you. Place me behind prison walls—walls of stone ever so high, ever so thick, reaching ever so far into the ground—there is a possibility that in some way or another I might be able to escape; but stand me on the floor and draw a chalk line around me and have me give my word of honor never to cross it. Can I get out of that circle? No, never! I’d die first."

These stirring ideals have long been something that I have aspired to in my personal character. I don't seek for the kinds of circumstances that More found himself in. But, I hope that if my character were ever called into question that I would have the fortitude to stand in the manner of these fine men - to know that ultimately there is only one other Being who needs know my true heart. There is a freedom in that, even if one has to stand shackled to find it.

Notes From a Small Island by Bill Bryson***

Have you ever happened to embark on a conversation with that "experienced" gentleman at church? You know the one ... everyone knows him because he shares these stories of when he was in college, or in the war, or on his mission, or working in Washington. And these stories seem to have nothing to do with what you're talking about at present? Well, having grown up with one of those gentlemen as my father, I've learned over time that there often is a reason to the story, and it often is a good one ... it just may take hours to get to that point.

This book is a lot like that.

Bill Bryson is an American who moved to England shortly after college, got a job, met a girl, started a family and a career, and over a decade later is preparing to return to the States. He takes a farewell tour to as many locations on the "small island" as he can via train, bus, foot, taxi. Though, you'll notice a recurring statement that goes something like this: "I'm sure the village is a lot more quaint when it's not out of season." So, what it ends up being is a travelogue about riding a bus or walking 10 miles to another small town, eating Chinese food (often the only establishment open "out of season" apparently), thinking this town has something cool to offer ... only to realize that it doesn't, or it's closed, and anyway he has to leave before anything can happen because he has to check out of his old motel before they charge him for a second night.

But ... there is something quite enjoyable about this book. Maybe it's the fact that the constant rain, train rides, and tellings of Chinese dinners puts me in a comfy mood that sends me straight to a nap. It took me forever to read this book because I kept falling asleep (seriously ... it's only 317 pages and took me almost 3 weeks to finish. The last book I spent this long reading was Les Miserables with its 1000+ pages). Maybe it was his descriptions of the unexpected surprises, like his discovery of Durham, or the fact that he got a chance to see This is Cinerama in one of the towns, or the night he discovered he was just 20 miles from home and decided to leave off traveling for one night and spend some time with them, or the overall understated way that he obviously cares tremendously for his family, or the unexplained loathing he has of those who drink tea with milk in it (brilliant idea, Brits), or his story of the retail magnate who went all Hugh Hefner on everyone with a pair of twins, or the many ways he's able to capture the pervading wit of the British people in all types of circumstances ... maybe all those little things added up to make something that, while not dramatic, not compelling, still imparts a fondness. Yes, I think that's the best word: I have a fondness for this book and its author. It made me more excited about my trip to London this summer than I was before I started (did I mention that I'm going to London this summer? I meant to). But it did - I'm more excited than before. And that's the main thing.

The Grove by John Rector ***

A brief prologue: I missed last week, so posted this as well as The Hiding Place which shows up below in the date that I wrote it (mid-February). For those of you keeping track, I'm still on course. And now, The Grove:

If you like CSI, The Mentalist, Criminal Minds, or any of those other crime investigation shows, you'll probably like this book. This was a recommendation from my husband - a great one - I thought it was a fast, entertaining, mind-bending read and just what I was looking for. I'll give you the same preface he gave me: A man named Dexter wakes up one morning to discover a body in a grove of trees on his property. You find out pretty early in the book that he has some mental "demons" he's battling, and he struggles for the duration to try to figure out if he had anything to do with how the body got there.

This would be a fantastic movie - sudden clips as he cuts in and out of consciousness, little details that don't seem to be significant until they suddenly are ... so are. I really like that Rector doesn't allow you to watch Dexter's insanity on the sidelines - you're there with him. You only know what he knows, and you only see what he sees - and that's quite a perspective to have sometimes. I really enjoyed it (even if the bit about the fire ants was a little much for me ... I'm allergic to them), and found it a pleasant diversion from real life. And, after all, isn't that what a good book is for?? The only reason it doesn't get more stars is the same reason those shows do - I'm totally enthralled for the 45 minutes I'm watching, and then I immediately think about something else ... the only things that stick with me are the way my skin crawls when I think about certain scenes from the book. Nothing didactic or deep here, just a great diversion. But, again, nothing wrong with that!