Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
Living with the Truth: A Book by Jim Murdoch - A Reader's Perspective
I have been a constant reader of Jim Murdoch’s posts in his blog "The Truth About Lies", and I marvel at his expertise in poetry and writing.
Jim Murdoch
I had that rare opportunity of reading one of his books entitled: “Living With the Truth”, and I have to say that it was a unique read for me.
I want to express my thoughts as a reader. I will not critic the book as I am not an expert book critic; but I am a voracious reader though, so I can say that in this area, I could dare to comment.
This is an informal write up of how I perceive his book: “Living with the Truth.”
The book cover
I like simple things at times, so when I saw the plain and simple cover, I became more curious of what the content would be.
I know that, “Thou shall not judge a book by its cover,” but I do that often when buying books. I read the title, and look at the cover and decide whether to buy it or not. I don’t read the summaries at the back cover because I don’t want to know beforehand how the story would evolve.
The content
When I read the first sentence: “Had it been Death that had called that day everything would have been right, ” it gripped my attention immediately.
What I perceive in the first pages of the flash back on Jonathan Payne’s life is that he was a man with natural urges and needs, and the author expressed this vividly. I laughed when I read this sentence: “She dozed off while he was doing it –but he did it anyway.” (referring to Jonathan’s ex-lover).
There were several such sentences in the book that left me chuckling or smiling and it created a lively approach to an otherwise serious and boring presentation. Think about talking about life, truth, faith and love, without the ice breakers!
I’d like to believe that the “serious looking” Jim has indeed a sense of humor and this has come out naturally in the course of his writing.
I; however, faltered after I reached page 7. After a few days, I went on to read up to page 13. This is the page when Mr. Truth intruded into Jonathan’s otherwise humdrum existence. This was the “read until dawn” page for me. I had to know what happened next …and then next…and then next.
I tried imagining Mr. Truth actually appearing at my doorstep and I, asking him all the vital questions that had bugged my mind for years. “Is there really a God?” “Is there life after death? “ Who goes to heaven?” “When will I die? (But I will have to ask this last, lol) “Are there other creatures in the solar system?” Some of these questions had been asked by Jonathan himself.
The author was able to convey credibility to his story by gradually revealing and weaving the small plots into the thought processes of Jonathan; his unbelief and denial at first, and then his final acceptance of the reality of Truth.
I have read countless books and this is the first time I have encountered Truth assuming the nature of a man. It is a totally innovative plot presented in a believable manner. How to effectively allow Truth to assume a human form and yet be the Truth that “it” really is. Jim was able to maintain this balancing act; not too phony as to lose the interest of readers : “He was actually fairly handsome, as best Jonathan could recognize looks in men…” but mysterious at the same time as to portray what “it” really is – an existing collection of verified facts : “ Most gods pretty much tend to look for exclusive devotion…” Truth said, when asked about God.
I enjoyed the conversations that Jonathan had with Mr. Truth and the eventual realization of Jonathan of the truth about himself.
The conclusion
The end of the story has left me in deep thought for several days. I even read it twice to see if I understood it correctly…lol…
I have searched for the mot juste for Jim’s story in the person of Jonathan Payne, but up to this moment , I found none that could accurately do so. The book may have a simple plot. Mr. Truth comes into Jonathan Payne’s life and with the help of Mr. Truth, he discovered inevitably the truth about himself.
It is not as simple as it seems however, because the story deals with the intricate webs of the human mind. It delved deep into Jonathan Payne’s aspirations, fears, regrets about past events, his doubts and intriguing questions about faith and the uncertain future.
It was an adventure in itself for Jonathan as it was for me. This reason is more than enough for me to recommend this book.
The conclusion was “sweet” but unexpectedly - shall I say – unjustified?
I want to expound more but you have to find out for yourself. The book has inspired several questions that I hope I could eventually seek the answers to, in my own personal way.
Each of us has his own individual journey to self discovery, just like Jonathan Payne; hopefully, just like him, we will arrive to the answers to our questions.
All in all, it was a wonderful, totally unique read.
Thanks Jim Murdoch for sharing this book with us.
Jim Murdoch
I had that rare opportunity of reading one of his books entitled: “Living With the Truth”, and I have to say that it was a unique read for me.
I want to express my thoughts as a reader. I will not critic the book as I am not an expert book critic; but I am a voracious reader though, so I can say that in this area, I could dare to comment.
This is an informal write up of how I perceive his book: “Living with the Truth.”
The book cover
I like simple things at times, so when I saw the plain and simple cover, I became more curious of what the content would be.
I know that, “Thou shall not judge a book by its cover,” but I do that often when buying books. I read the title, and look at the cover and decide whether to buy it or not. I don’t read the summaries at the back cover because I don’t want to know beforehand how the story would evolve.
The content
When I read the first sentence: “Had it been Death that had called that day everything would have been right, ” it gripped my attention immediately.
What I perceive in the first pages of the flash back on Jonathan Payne’s life is that he was a man with natural urges and needs, and the author expressed this vividly. I laughed when I read this sentence: “She dozed off while he was doing it –but he did it anyway.” (referring to Jonathan’s ex-lover).
There were several such sentences in the book that left me chuckling or smiling and it created a lively approach to an otherwise serious and boring presentation. Think about talking about life, truth, faith and love, without the ice breakers!
I’d like to believe that the “serious looking” Jim has indeed a sense of humor and this has come out naturally in the course of his writing.
I; however, faltered after I reached page 7. After a few days, I went on to read up to page 13. This is the page when Mr. Truth intruded into Jonathan’s otherwise humdrum existence. This was the “read until dawn” page for me. I had to know what happened next …and then next…and then next.
I tried imagining Mr. Truth actually appearing at my doorstep and I, asking him all the vital questions that had bugged my mind for years. “Is there really a God?” “Is there life after death? “ Who goes to heaven?” “When will I die? (But I will have to ask this last, lol) “Are there other creatures in the solar system?” Some of these questions had been asked by Jonathan himself.
The author was able to convey credibility to his story by gradually revealing and weaving the small plots into the thought processes of Jonathan; his unbelief and denial at first, and then his final acceptance of the reality of Truth.
I have read countless books and this is the first time I have encountered Truth assuming the nature of a man. It is a totally innovative plot presented in a believable manner. How to effectively allow Truth to assume a human form and yet be the Truth that “it” really is. Jim was able to maintain this balancing act; not too phony as to lose the interest of readers : “He was actually fairly handsome, as best Jonathan could recognize looks in men…” but mysterious at the same time as to portray what “it” really is – an existing collection of verified facts : “ Most gods pretty much tend to look for exclusive devotion…” Truth said, when asked about God.
I enjoyed the conversations that Jonathan had with Mr. Truth and the eventual realization of Jonathan of the truth about himself.
The conclusion
The end of the story has left me in deep thought for several days. I even read it twice to see if I understood it correctly…lol…
I have searched for the mot juste for Jim’s story in the person of Jonathan Payne, but up to this moment , I found none that could accurately do so. The book may have a simple plot. Mr. Truth comes into Jonathan Payne’s life and with the help of Mr. Truth, he discovered inevitably the truth about himself.
It is not as simple as it seems however, because the story deals with the intricate webs of the human mind. It delved deep into Jonathan Payne’s aspirations, fears, regrets about past events, his doubts and intriguing questions about faith and the uncertain future.
It was an adventure in itself for Jonathan as it was for me. This reason is more than enough for me to recommend this book.
The conclusion was “sweet” but unexpectedly - shall I say – unjustified?
I want to expound more but you have to find out for yourself. The book has inspired several questions that I hope I could eventually seek the answers to, in my own personal way.
Each of us has his own individual journey to self discovery, just like Jonathan Payne; hopefully, just like him, we will arrive to the answers to our questions.
All in all, it was a wonderful, totally unique read.
Thanks Jim Murdoch for sharing this book with us.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Memories for my Mother - (for Book on Inspirational Stories)
By: DURANO LAWAYAN
At an age where only memories could uplift her spirits, my mother was denied this one final chance at relief. She was afflicted with Alzheimer's disease and passed away on December 2, 2005.
The ailment began to manifest itself in 1992, a few months after my father's death. The images she nurtured in her mind all seemed to blur as`the stages progressed. Relatives theorized that her will to continue waned when the only man she loved passed `away. My concerns then were not on theories but on the fact that my mother was losing us, the children and grandchildren she had cared for and dedicated her life to - not in the physical sense, but in the meaning of all she had endured for us all - to see us successfully through. It is those memories of the efforts she exerted, whether we showed appreciation for these or thoughtlessly took for granted, that would provide the most meaningful reason for her existence. Yet these were continuously eaten away by an irreversible malaise that championed her plight into oblivion. She was almost unknown to herself.
She died without recognizing any of us, nor her grandchildren, even at very close range. On several occasions, she would ask who we were , forgetting our response to the same query a few seconds ago. It often reminded me of a period in 1973, when even at a far distance, she recognized me and I could instantly feel her longing to hug me; despite being barred by soldiers and a wired fence, looking so gaunt, bruised, unclean and unrecognizable from loss of weight and psychological pain. I could feel the hurt etched in her eyes and see the tears welling her face, and I began to recognize the agony she went through, the pain of not knowing for several months whether I was alive or dead. The only positive factor the ailment brought was that she lost the painful events that transpired in the course of her struggle, to direct our lives the best way she knew how. It is a most bitter irony for her to be denied the joy of remembering that we all made it, in spite of ourselves and the depth of our youthful flaws. She lived in us but we faded in her. In a lot of instances, we were the closest strangers in her world, a world that increasingly became strange to her.
My mother was a natural soprano and she could liven up an evening with songs. She also delighted in seeing us perform and dance to the music of our generation, and adapted to singing and memorizing the lyrics of the 60's and 70's genre of artists and songs. In 2001, I bought her a karaoke machine and programmed it with songs she used to sing. What was uncanny was that she would start talking about events as a song was played. It gave proof that the songs which were such a part of her life allowed the flow of memories which were attached to it. Thus began my nightly concerts with my mother. We`were later joined by my kids and her other grandchildren. But the songs she chose to sing moved from the 60's to the 40's, until she could no longer sing any of those we programmed into the unit. Her disease was progressing fast.
On that final night, we tucked her to bed as she hummed an old folk song in her native dialect which we never heard of. She died in her sleep. But I was grateful for what memories returned when she played the karaoke unit. I was happy that even in fleeting moments, she was able to savor the mirth of the union with her family under the pleasant atmosphere of peaceful existence and carefree celebrations. I was extremely thankful that even in those rarest of times and tiniest of instances, she was my mother, and I her son.
My only lament was that I was unable to add more to her fondest memories when she was still in a position to remember. I am however assuaged by the fact that in some magical way, I was able to bring memories for my mother.
As always, Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
DURANO LAWAYAN of The Spitting Vessel is one writer I admire so much.
I know my description would not be sufficient to describe this brilliant, dynamic writer.
He writes about anything and everything under the sun, with such fluency and audacity. Yes, he writes from the heart and expresses his thoughts-no matter what. This extraordinary ability demonstrates a person who have been exposed to a lot of varied life experiences.
You should visit his blog to understand what I mean.
Thanks again Durano, for contributing to my soon to be published book - "Inspirational Stories of Bloggers All Over the World."
At an age where only memories could uplift her spirits, my mother was denied this one final chance at relief. She was afflicted with Alzheimer's disease and passed away on December 2, 2005.
The ailment began to manifest itself in 1992, a few months after my father's death. The images she nurtured in her mind all seemed to blur as`the stages progressed. Relatives theorized that her will to continue waned when the only man she loved passed `away. My concerns then were not on theories but on the fact that my mother was losing us, the children and grandchildren she had cared for and dedicated her life to - not in the physical sense, but in the meaning of all she had endured for us all - to see us successfully through. It is those memories of the efforts she exerted, whether we showed appreciation for these or thoughtlessly took for granted, that would provide the most meaningful reason for her existence. Yet these were continuously eaten away by an irreversible malaise that championed her plight into oblivion. She was almost unknown to herself.
She died without recognizing any of us, nor her grandchildren, even at very close range. On several occasions, she would ask who we were , forgetting our response to the same query a few seconds ago. It often reminded me of a period in 1973, when even at a far distance, she recognized me and I could instantly feel her longing to hug me; despite being barred by soldiers and a wired fence, looking so gaunt, bruised, unclean and unrecognizable from loss of weight and psychological pain. I could feel the hurt etched in her eyes and see the tears welling her face, and I began to recognize the agony she went through, the pain of not knowing for several months whether I was alive or dead. The only positive factor the ailment brought was that she lost the painful events that transpired in the course of her struggle, to direct our lives the best way she knew how. It is a most bitter irony for her to be denied the joy of remembering that we all made it, in spite of ourselves and the depth of our youthful flaws. She lived in us but we faded in her. In a lot of instances, we were the closest strangers in her world, a world that increasingly became strange to her.
My mother was a natural soprano and she could liven up an evening with songs. She also delighted in seeing us perform and dance to the music of our generation, and adapted to singing and memorizing the lyrics of the 60's and 70's genre of artists and songs. In 2001, I bought her a karaoke machine and programmed it with songs she used to sing. What was uncanny was that she would start talking about events as a song was played. It gave proof that the songs which were such a part of her life allowed the flow of memories which were attached to it. Thus began my nightly concerts with my mother. We`were later joined by my kids and her other grandchildren. But the songs she chose to sing moved from the 60's to the 40's, until she could no longer sing any of those we programmed into the unit. Her disease was progressing fast.
On that final night, we tucked her to bed as she hummed an old folk song in her native dialect which we never heard of. She died in her sleep. But I was grateful for what memories returned when she played the karaoke unit. I was happy that even in fleeting moments, she was able to savor the mirth of the union with her family under the pleasant atmosphere of peaceful existence and carefree celebrations. I was extremely thankful that even in those rarest of times and tiniest of instances, she was my mother, and I her son.
My only lament was that I was unable to add more to her fondest memories when she was still in a position to remember. I am however assuaged by the fact that in some magical way, I was able to bring memories for my mother.
As always, Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
DURANO LAWAYAN of The Spitting Vessel is one writer I admire so much.
I know my description would not be sufficient to describe this brilliant, dynamic writer.He writes about anything and everything under the sun, with such fluency and audacity. Yes, he writes from the heart and expresses his thoughts-no matter what. This extraordinary ability demonstrates a person who have been exposed to a lot of varied life experiences.
You should visit his blog to understand what I mean.
Thanks again Durano, for contributing to my soon to be published book - "Inspirational Stories of Bloggers All Over the World."
Friday, October 24, 2008
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