Ordinary Grace, by William Kent Krueger

William Kent Krueger’s novel Ordinary Grace won the Edgar Award for Best Novel, the Anthony Award, and The Barry Award for 2013. Krueger has also written a series of mystery stories set in Minnesota based on sheriff/detective Cork O’Connor. 

Ordinary Grace is a coming of age-story set in 1961 New Bremen, Minnesota. The story is narrated by Frank Drum as an adult forty years later. He recounts the events and challenges of that summer when everything he, as a thirteen year old, thought he knew of the world he was living in, was falling apart. We feel, see, hear and think as the thirteen year old in this story. It feels as if the town and characters were very real in their human experiences and emotions. The tone of this story is written with a quiet melancholy air. 

Based in the small town of New Bremen, Minnesota, 13 year-old Frank, his brother Jake, and sister Ariel live with their parents Nathan, a Methodist minister and his wife Ruth. The story begins with the death of Bobby Cole, a child with golden hair and thick glasses killed on the railroad tracks. In that summer, the town saw five deaths, one of them was a member of the Drum family. Frank’s innocent summer transforms into a dark journey into adulthood. 

The family members and the community deal with the deaths in many ways: goodness, joy, kindness, cruelty, anger and grace. The book raises questions of racism, war, mental illness, forgiveness, despair, faith and redemption. Often in the face of despair, Nathan spoke quiet humble words of faith to the community helping us, as the reader, to begin to understand the awful grace of God. 

The action, characters, picturesque writing and the setting all enhance the story. The writing allows you to feel the depth of despair, the joy of life and ordinary grace of God. 

One question raised in the novel is, “Why does God let bad things happen to good people?” Ordinary Grace is a journey of that question. 

But it is Jake who offers us the most profound understanding of ordinary grace. “And that was it. A grace so ordinary that there was no reason at all to remember it. Yet I have never across the forty years since it was spoken forgotten a single word.” At the end of the novel, we glimpse in understanding the quote of what is ordinary grace. 

— Deb Krueger

I Swear: Politics is Messier Than My Minivan, by Katie Porter

I Swear: Politics is Messier Than My Minivan is a memoir by Katie Porter, who was serving in her second term as the U.S. Representative for California’s 45th Congressional District in 2023 when it was published. While the book certainly highlights her accomplishments, it is also a window into the life of a woman trying to succeed at a highly demanding job in service to others while raising three children as a single parent.

Porter grew up in a very rural part of southern Iowa, and that background clearly informs her no-nonsense approach to both politics and family. Her childhood was spent on a small farm, sharing a tiny home with her parents and two feisty siblings. She looks back fondly on the simplicity of that life, but she also witnessed the anxiety and hardship of the 1980s farm crisis firsthand, including the day the town bank closed and the threat it posed to her family’s ability to continue their livelihood.

She must have stood out as a gifted student at her school, because she was invited by Iowa State University researchers to attend an elite academic summer program. That experience seems to have dramatically affected the trajectory of her life. Eventually she attended Phillips Academy, earned her undergraduate degree from Yale (writing her thesis on the effects of corporate farming on rural communities), and completed her law degree at Harvard, where she became a mentee of Elizabeth Warren.

After several years as a law professor, Porter notably testified before Congress in 2008 alongside Warren in support of the Credit Cardholders’ Bill of Rights, which was later signed into law. In 2012, Kamala Harris (then California Attorney General) appointed her as the state’s independent monitor for the $25 billion national mortgage settlement with major banks, such as Wells Fargo. She became internet-famous for making her points on a whiteboard – part of her crusade to stop predatory (and sloppy) practices that harm vulnerable homeowners. Her interest in running for congress was about gaining more power to continue this same work.

Although the book includes her professional achievements, it focuses a bit more on the reality of what it’s like to serve in Congress. She does not shy away from sharing personal foibles and things she learned the hard way. She writes openly about escaping an abusive marriage (at the urging of her campaign staff but at the consternation of her children), managing an intense travel schedule, and navigating the financial strain of public service without a spouse’s additional income or time. The book makes clear how challenging, if not impossible, it can be for an “ordinary” person with a family to serve in Congress, especially compared to candidates who can self-fund campaigns or rely on investment income.

Our group found ourselves wondering whether the criticisms she receives for being strident would land the same way if she were a man. Similarly, questions about whether she should have run for office while raising three young children alone seemed hard to separate from gender expectations.

Porter’s memoir is structured as a series of essays and short, nonlinear vignettes. Some in our group disliked the choppier format, but we felt that her voice throughout is real, direct, and accessible. Overall, Porter’s grit, humor, and unapologetic honesty make for an interesting read.

— Julie Feirer

The Master Butchers Singing Club, by Louise Erdrich

The Master Butchers Singing Club is a mouthful of a title. But read closely, and you’ll see how the role of songs is critical to the book’s message. This is a book about a community in which music is a connector, bringing together people who have grown up in the town, but nevertheless are outsiders, immigrants who are building businesses and relationships, and native Americans who live nearby yet worlds apart.

The traumas of two world wars and of Wounded Knee, of family loss and community estrangement permeate the ground. Songs heal. Songs of patriotism, of war, of love and belonging pervade the book as this engaging cast of characters seeks belonging and a sense of home, not always sure where that is.

The book starts after WWI, as Fidelis Waldvogel leaves Germany for the United States, planning to take a train to Seattle, paying his way selling sausages. He runs out of money in Argus, North Dakota, and ends up making a life there. When his can afford it, he brings his wife Eva and her son Franz to join him. Fidelis and Eva run a successful butcher’s shop and he leads the men’s singing group, which includes Roy, the town drunk, a competing butcher, the sheriff, a doctor, and poor Porky Chavers whose singing might have gotten him killed.  

While the men are singing, the women are talking. Eva, by now the mother of four sons, nurtures Delphine, who grew up a motherless misfit in the town, but left for a brief stint as a table in a balancing act with Cyprian, her gay unmarried husband with whom she shares a strong emotional bond. Delphine is close friends with Clarisse, the town undertaker, who is shunned by men because of her occupation. Hock, the sheriff, thinks he’s a prize because he wants her no matter what. The “no matter what” wasn’t what he was expecting. Franz’s girlfriend Mazarine lives in poverty, which makes her the butt of jokes until Delphine helps her with a new wardrobe. And Step and a Half keeps walking and watching, helping from the sidelines.

Fidelis and Eva’s sons are vital to the story as World War II looms and Franz learns to fly, marries Mazarine, and heads to Europe to be a hero. Markus becomes bookish and leans on Delphine to fill the void left by his mother’s death, either trapping Delphine or offering her sanctuary—Delphine’s not too sure. And the twins, Emil and Erich, move back to Germany with their stern aunt, Tante, becoming Hitler youths ready to fight their American brothers.

Then there’s the mystery of the bodies in Roy’s basement—and the beads embedded in an odd sealant that kept the cellar door shut. What was Roy’s role in their deaths? Was Clarisse involved? How did the beads get there? And why won’t the sheriff move on and acknowledge it was a tragic accident?

Erdrich explains some of this, but not all. She leaves crumbs for us to find in careful reading. But she isn’t there to answer all our questions, or to leave all plot points neatly tied up. That’s neither real life nor a good book, and she masterfully gives as both.

— Pat Prijatel