The Monk Downstairs
(This paperback version include book group discussion questions and the first chapter of the sequel.)

Recently I requested all of my medical records to lug with me to Denmark in my continued quest to stay out of status migranosis. There were two manila envelopes full of them — and that was just from one neurologist. The beginning of every office visit summary starts out like this:

“The patient is a pleasant middle aged woman….”

Excuse me? But how did that happen?

Perhaps the reality that at 38 I am, apparently both ‘pleasant’ and ‘middle aged’, is what led me to enjoy The Monk Downstairs so much. The New York Times Book Review describes it as such:

“A tender, witty novel in which a former monk, after twenty years in his order, rents an apartment from a 38 year old single mother; the ensuing relationship grows cautiously, taking account the prudence required of struggling people who aren’t going to get that many more chances.”

See anything that might appeal to moi? Monks, motherhood, spiritual crisis, being 38…

Even if you have less in common with this characters than I do, you will still find this to be a well executed novel with real, flawed, loveable characters and everyday life experiences that just might help you feel companioned for a journey. I’m especially fond of Mike’s struggle to rebuild his spiritual practices after a crisis of religion. (Gee Rachelle, really?) And I was equally touched by Rebecca’s final acceptance that she must experience grief over the crisis moments in her life (ex husbands, bad dates, aging parents.) Author Tim Farrington writes of Rebecca:

She had never allowed herself to grieve wholly before, she realized now. … some pragmatic, self-protective sense had told her that grief was bottomless. Skirting this sea, she had dipped her toes in; she’d wondered what would happen if she crossed the line, but it had always seemed that it could only be a kind of defeat, a drowning, a death. And so it was. But maybe it was not the end, to be defeated by life. Maybe that is even part of what it meant to be a human being; to recognize ways in which death had come, to stop looking away from the failures of love, and to grieve.

Then there is also this great bit from Mike, in which he spots a little bit of wisdom at his first-time-out-of-the-cloister job and records it in a letter to a former brother monk:

..or as my colleagues at McDonald’s put it, “My bad.” I’m sorry I dissed you….The ritual response to a penitential “My bad,” incidentally, is a benevolent, “It’s all good.” The drama of Christ’s forgiveness is reenacted a dozen times a day over the deep fryer and the grill, by teenagers, with refreshing succinctness.

Lest you think this novel is all heaviness, be not afraid! Mike is funny, Rebecca is droll, her daughter is sweet and hilarious, and the sex…we’ll the NY Times Book review is a bit off there because it is neither cautious nor prudent, but pretty damn hot. (Not for the prudish of heart.)

Special kudos to Tim Farrington for writing the character of Rebecca so well. About half way through the novel I thought “Wow. This female character is really spot-on. Who wrote this?” When I turned the book cover over I was surprised to see it was written by a man–so convinced was I that a sister must have created Rebecca’s reality. Props, Tim!

Today’s Flavor: Bittersweet, romantic, and real.

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