Just what I needed in my life: another compulsion. I find that it is becoming very difficult to return books to the library without first blogging them. This is certainly not an audience-driven reaction; my readership is so low that for Mother's Day my partner said, "As a special gift, today I'll read one of your weblog entries!" Perhaps weblogging has triggered that part of me that has always wanted to keep a record of my reading. For whatever reason, when I try to toss a book I've read into the library bag--even one I didn't especially like and feel no need to remember--some force stays my hand, and I find myself placing the book next to my computer instead. Then, the next morning, before I've even had breakfast, there I am writing about it.
Such is the story with Philip Gulley's Home Town Tales, a collection of short pieces by a Quaker pastor in Indiana. For those of you to whom the phrase "Quaker pastor" sounds strange, let's just say that Quakerism has had as many splits and schisms in its history as any other religion, and some Quakers now worship in pastored churches. Gulley himself refers to my strain of Quakerism, the liberal unprogrammed strain, as worshipping in silence like the "old-time Quakers," which made me smile. We in liberal unprogrammed Quakerism don't see ourselves as holding onto the old ways much, though we do tend to think that preserving silent, waiting worship keeps true to the spirit of early Friends. Of course, pastoral Quakers, who put more emphasis on scripture, also see themselves as preserving the most important part of early Quakerism. Can you guess the root of one of the schisms in American Quakerism?
Gulley is a perfectly fine writer, and sometimes quite funny, but his stories paint a picture of small-town life so idealized and sun-drenched, with everybody turning out for the Fourth of July parade and a general store that stocks everything from hoarhound candy to plow blades, that I kept double-checking the author photo to convince myself that, really, he and I are contemporaries. I grew up in a small town, too, and maybe it's different in Indiana, but the small town life he depicts feels closer to Mayberry, R.F.D., than anything I experienced. That's the persona he's chosen, I suppose, but it rang false coming from a guy who graduated from high school the same year as my brother. He's 40-ish, but Gulley writes like he's channeling the childhood memories of a 70-year-old who can only remember the good parts.
At least he's honest about his undertaking: the subtitle of the book is Recollections of Kindness, Peace, and Joy. I'm as much a fan of kindness, peace, and joy as the next person, but I like my stories honest, too. Gulley is a little too Chicken Soup for the Soul for me.
Posted by Su Penn at May 15, 2003 09:24 AM | TrackBack