Wow! In Pieces was named a past years honorable mention in the inaugural Catholic Reads Reader’s Choice Award. Thank you, Catholic Reads for hosting the award, and thank you to my readers, for voting it in!
“‘Oh! it is only a novel!’ replies the young lady; while she lays down her book with affected indifference, or momentary shame…” —Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey
“I don’t have time to read fiction,” a conference attendee told me, as she stood beside the Catholic Writers Guild vendor table, nonfiction books piled in her arms. “All I have time for is spiritual reading.”
A few hours later, another attendee, after looking over our fiction selection, told me the same. “I’m a professional caregiver. My job is stressful. I only have time for spiritual reading.”
Hmm.
Hmmmmm.
Hmmmmmmmmmmm.
I didn’t argue the point. We smiled, and they went on their merry way. Yet these and similar exchanges beg the question:
What counts as spiritual reading?
No doubt you can guess my answer, that fiction is formative, spiritually and humanly, and instead of setting up a dichotomy between fiction and nonfiction, we ought to take a both/and approach. Sometimes Jesus gave his listeners the straight dope. Other times, Jesus told stories. Fictional stories. Q.E.D.
If you’re convinced, might I suggest you browse the offerings at Chrism Press?
Otherwise, buckle up, because you’re in for a long treatise.
“Insipid” Fanny Price.
Fiction as Spiritual Reading: Three Stabs at an Argument
(1) Argument by Anecdote.
I discovered Jane Austen in high school, thanks to the 1995 A&E adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, which our public library had on VHS. Next, the novels themselves. I loved every single one of them.
Except Mansfield Park.
I couldn’t stand its heroine, Fanny Price.
Certainly I valued Fanny’s philosophic mind and moral certitude. She is a good person. But Fanny is mousy and humorless, and I had no patience for her.
“Austen wrote a dud,” was my sixteen-year-old assessment, as I tossed the book aside.
Years later, an older friend suggested I reread the book with the word “abuse” in mind. This radically changed my view of Fanny and helped me see her character arc more clearly, especially as I began to think seriously about family dysfunction. While I still wouldn’t say that I liked Fanny, my prejudice lessened and my sympathy increased. Same with my intellectual curiosity—the more I contemplated the story, the more questions I had. I ended up writing my college senior essay on Mansfield Park.
Spending more time with Fanny Price made me a better reader, a better student, and a better human.
Does this count as spiritual reading?
Bust of Aristotle, Trinity College Dublin.
(2) Argument from Authority
Aristotle may have a partial answer. From the Poetics:
Two causes, and natural ones too, seem generally responsible for the rise of the art of poetry: (1) the natural desire to imitate, which is present from childhood and differentiates man as the most imitative of all living creatures as well as enables him to gain his earliest knowledge through imitation, and (2) universal enjoyment in imitations.
That is, we learn by acting things out. What’s more, we enjoy it.
We find an indication of this in experience: for we view with pleasure reproductions of objects which in real life it pains us to look upon—likenesses of very loathsome animals or dead bodies, for instance. This is especially true if the reproductions are executed with unusual accuracy.
Awful stuff happens in stories. And we love it. (Conversely: No conflict? No good and evil? No story. 😴)
The reason for this is that learning is the most pleasant of all experiences…
We love watching our heroes get put through the wringer because we’re learning. These imitations of life teach us about real life.
…not only for philosophers but for the rest of mankind as well, although mankind has but a small share in this experience.
A good story is universally accessible—in which case, no wonder Christ told stories. A fancy degree may help one speak intelligently about stories, but it is not required.
In fact, mankind’s pleasure in beholding likenesses of objects is due to this: as they contemplate reproductions of objects they find themselves gaining knowledge as they try to reason out what each thing is; for instance, that this man is such and such a person. (Aristotle, Poetics, trans. Preston H. Epps, pp. 5-6 / 1448b.)
Stories make us think. Stories lead to knowledge. Stories help us contemplate human nature.
Does this count as spiritual reading?
Fra Angelico, The Sermon on the Mount
(3) The Incarnational Argument
Let’s return to Jesus’s storytelling and attempt some armchair theology.
God took on human flesh and became a man in all things but sin. In this, we have the divine exchange, that “we come to share in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself to share in our humanity.”
Everything Christ does in his Incarnation has eternal significance. That he experiences humanity in its fullness has significance. That he experienced emotion has significance. Christ hallowed tears. He hallowed laughter. He hallowed pain and suffering. By his teaching and his presence at the wedding at Cana, he hallowed human love, raising marriage to a sacrament.
And he hallowed storytelling—a natural human activity, which we all do and have done since we were children, as Aristotle points out. Christ is not only a storyteller, but he’s the Master Storyteller. He not only tells the divine story, but he is the divine story.
All other stories are echoes of this, participating in his story to greater and lesser degrees. And because human stories participate in Christ’s, they carry some of that same power.
Good stories aid contemplation. Good stories form the mind and heart. Good stories train the emotions through empathy and catharsis. Good stories depict the complexities of the moral life. Good stories invite us inside the minds of others, fostering love of neighbor. Good stories help us to laugh at ourselves. Good stories expand our horizons. Good stories acknowledge the reality of Redemption—if not overly, then in their bones.
Does this count as spiritual reading?
I think it does.
Several friends and family joined me August 12th for my Adrift release party/meet up at the Michigan Maritime Museum for a short cruise aboard Friends Good Will. We had a great day for a sail. I was in heaven. Big stupid grin on my face.
Family and friends, post-sail. Friends Good Will and downtown South Haven, Michigan behind us.
As I said, we had a lovely day for sailing—perfect, actually, except for the swell. (We’d had some weather come through the day before.) Everyone handled it, though. Even me. Thank you, Blisslets.
My sister, my books, and me. And a cannon.
One of the hands holding me steady so my brother-in-law could get that perfect shot. Plenty of wisecracks flying at this point—I enjoy sailor humor, as you all know full well. (Actually, this man reminded me of my character, Mark Findley—”impudent man,” as Molly would say.)
Then that hand went and proposed marriage with a ten cent ring—apparently a running gag on Friends Good Will. I was highly offended. Clearly. Then he asked if my husband owned a shotgun. (Sadly, my husband wasn’t able to come. The day’s one low point.)
The Michigan Maritime Museum offers visitors plenty to see, including a collection of small craft and Coast Guard vessels:
Petite, 1953. The mainsail is gaff rigged—the sail is attached to a yard, which is raised by the halyard, creating the trapezoidal shape. This was a common fore-and-aft rig in the 18th century.
This is a daggerboard*, for those of you who read Adrift and are wondering what one is. A daggerboard is used with shallow keeled sailboats, allowing them to sail further into the wind. It goes up and down through this casing.
*99% sure it’s a daggerboard and not a centerboard.
Here’s something cool: Merryman, a 26 foot Revenue Marine (Coast Guard) lifeboat designed and built in the 1870s. Notice the short masts and sprit sails—the sails held up by a diagonal sprit, or yard: these masts could be stepped up or down quickly, depending on the needs of the rescue and the weather. When Mr. Findley bequeaths Grandfather Robb’s Penelope to Josiah, he mentions its sprit sail.
You had better believe I will be back. Also: I’ve begun petitioning my husband for sailing lessons:
A girl can dream, right?
Aboard Friends Good Will, August 12, 2023. Video by Nick Renken.
Welcome to the world, Adrift! I love this book, y’all. It’s a good one:
“Everything about your life is my concern, Mr. Robb, including your betrothed.”
BOSTON, 1793—Now engaged, Molly Chase and new federal intelligencer Josiah Robb want nothing more than to settle into quiet married life—or as quiet as life can be when one is hunting down a ring of traitors among Boston’s elite. But the plan has one glaring flaw: Molly herself, and the madness that has plagued her since her father’s death. Until Molly proves herself an asset rather than a liability, Josiah’s investigation cannot move forward.
Intelligencer Eliza Hall thought she had left her troubles behind in Philadelphia long ago. When she is sent back to follow a suspect, she’s ready to acknowledge the truth and make her peace—except that the man she loves, who doesn’t know about her past, is assigned to come with her. Now she must outwit her fellow spy and closest friend, lest he hate her for what she had been, while they maneuver to prevent Revolutionary France from dragging the fledgling United States into a war it cannot afford.
Both women are in search of a safe harbor. Little do they expect the winds to blow them into the most tumultuous waters of all—back home.
Also, happy wedding day to Molly and Josiah! I leave the date unmarked in the novel, but their wedding date, Adrift’s launch date, and the feast of St. Dominic coincide. Isn’t that cool?
Where to Purchase Your Copy:
For signed paperbacks, purchase directly from my author store. Note: I can ship anywhere, but I’m in the US and international postage rates are 😬.
For both paperbacks and .epub (e-book), purchase from my publisher, Chrism Press.
For Amazon, click here.
International customers: Adrift is available via Amazon or any independent bookstore who works with Ingram distribution.
Virtual Launch Party
Please join me for the virtue launch party! I will discuss the story behind the book, read a short selection, and take questions. I would love to see you there!
August 8, 2023
Facebook Live: 8 p.m. Eastern (US)
Instagram Live: 9 p.m. Eastern (US)
Follow me on Facebook and Instagram (and all the places) here:
Book Launch Celebration and Meet-Up
Join me for a short day trip on Lake Michigan aboard the Friends Good Will, in celebration of the release of Adrift.
Saturday, August 12th at 3:15 p.m.
Michigan Maritime Museum, South Haven, MI
Everyone will need to purchase their own ticket ahead of time. Go to rhondaortiz.com/blog/celebrate-adrift for complete info, links to purchase tickets, and an RSVP form.
Pinch me. CatholicMom.com has chosen In Pieces as its Fall 2023 Book Club selection.
This is a huge honor. My editors and I will be discussing the book with the CatholicMom.com team over four sessions. I’m eager to see what everyone brings to the table. Also: I probably should reread my own book before discussing it. 😅
Click here for the schedule. I hope you can join us!