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A review by wordsmithreads
Agatha of Little Neon by Claire Luchette
5.0
We know how to mark ourselves with love and we know how to hide away our rage, and somehow, we still exist in the world, carrying the consolation that at least we have each other.
In a book forum, I saw someone whose readerly opinions I have aligned with read and enjoy this book. After [b:Search|58636923|Search|Michelle Huneven|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1628532955l/58636923._SY75_.jpg|92225538] was such a hit for me, I thought I might take a chance on another religiously oriented book. It was wonderful.
Luchette introduces us to Sister Agatha, who has just been reassigned, along with her three Sisters, to a new place: Little Neon. From there, we go with Agatha as she learns about addiction, about the sins that the patriarchal figures of the church have committed, and starts to learn more about herself, both as a Sister and out of the habit.
Luchette's writing is threaded through with beautiful lines about practicality, emotion, and new ways of looking at the world. I marked more passages in this book on audio than I have any other audiobook, ever. I wish I would have read it in print — there was something to underline on nearly every page.
I found Agatha so likable and real, and her sisters struck me as wonderful, flawed people. Everyone in here is simply just trying their best. I loved Agatha and her longing for love from others, even when she was surrounded by it:
… certain that there was nothing more wonderful than to know someone was sitting somewhere, waiting for you.
and
How horrible, how merciful, the ways we are. Each of us, oblivious to so much of the hurt in the world.
Some of my favorite passages:
I immediately went to see if Luchette had written anything else (sadly, no) so I will be anxiously awaiting the next title by her. Five stars.
Readalikes: Search, as mentioned. [b:Small Things Like These|58662236|Small Things Like These|Claire Keegan|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1627655660l/58662236._SX50_.jpg|86476810] might fit as well because it's sort of a soft story about community.
In a book forum, I saw someone whose readerly opinions I have aligned with read and enjoy this book. After [b:Search|58636923|Search|Michelle Huneven|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1628532955l/58636923._SY75_.jpg|92225538] was such a hit for me, I thought I might take a chance on another religiously oriented book. It was wonderful.
Luchette introduces us to Sister Agatha, who has just been reassigned, along with her three Sisters, to a new place: Little Neon. From there, we go with Agatha as she learns about addiction, about the sins that the patriarchal figures of the church have committed, and starts to learn more about herself, both as a Sister and out of the habit.
Luchette's writing is threaded through with beautiful lines about practicality, emotion, and new ways of looking at the world. I marked more passages in this book on audio than I have any other audiobook, ever. I wish I would have read it in print — there was something to underline on nearly every page.
I found Agatha so likable and real, and her sisters struck me as wonderful, flawed people. Everyone in here is simply just trying their best. I loved Agatha and her longing for love from others, even when she was surrounded by it:
… certain that there was nothing more wonderful than to know someone was sitting somewhere, waiting for you.
and
How horrible, how merciful, the ways we are. Each of us, oblivious to so much of the hurt in the world.
Some of my favorite passages:
It was our belief that everything could become something else. Mother Roberta had showed us how to make bar soap from lye, how to keep our ants with cayenne pepper. We cleaned under our nails with the corners of offertory envelopes. There was always a way to give something new life, but most people don’t realize this. Most people don’t want to know all the lives contained within disposable things.
-
In class, I talked about the triangle. “Everything good comes in threes,” I said. “The Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost. Frankincense, gold, myrrh. In the case of triangles, angles, lines, and vertices.” The girls drew triangles on the board and names them: BLT; breakfast, lunch, and dinner; Beyonce, Kelly, Michelle. I took it all too seriously, maybe. I spoke of congruent shapes in reverent tones, how special how beautiful that two shapes might coincide completely when superimposed.
-
It’s easy to be fooled by joy. To think it will never abandon you, never leave room for hunger and fear. Under the highway overpass, we shrieked to hear our echo, and we waited until the last memory of our voices had died. And then we turned the corner and arrived at our little street.
If I had a pulpit, I would preach about driveways. Our short black link to the unknown, our supremacy over the grass. We think we’ve memorized their every inch, the fist-big crack, the belt of tough tar, the place where the lawn begins, but imagine my surprise, I’d tell my disciples, imagine my shock when we plodded up to our house and found the thick tracks of the mower’s wheels pressed into the sidewalk snow. Imagine how stunned and small we felt when we saw that all the snow in our driveway had been cleared away. A million flakes, lifted and thrown by the shovelful, so our walk to the door was made easier, so we could see, through the sparkling rhyme, all the dark pavement beneath.
-
I told her looking for the point ruins the fun. “Cultivate your ability to forget about the point,” I said. I tried to explain that work could keep a woman upright, so long as she didn’t look for the point. The slow unfolding of progress, this was enough. Work begetting more work. Infinity, I told the girls, is a state of boundlessness which is both terrifying and full of hope. “Just like God,” I said. They did not write this down.
-
“I want to know if the questions you ask, now that you’re older, are any different than the ones you asked when you were young.” We looked at each other. “I want to know it you think a person asks the same questions forever.”
Mother Roberta considered this. She said, “Some of the questions never change.”
I nodded, trying to understand what this would mean for me.
"Agatha," she said, gently. “You can’t change most of the questions, but you can always come up with another answer. Remember that.” She seemed to know something about me I hadn’t yet allowed to be true.
I immediately went to see if Luchette had written anything else (sadly, no) so I will be anxiously awaiting the next title by her. Five stars.
Readalikes: Search, as mentioned. [b:Small Things Like These|58662236|Small Things Like These|Claire Keegan|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1627655660l/58662236._SX50_.jpg|86476810] might fit as well because it's sort of a soft story about community.