I began reading this somewhat reluctantly. The reviews were mostly sparkling but I am usually dubious of “coming of age” stories that wistfully harken back to a bygone era. The children are usually too cute by half--precocious preteens wise beyond their years spouting a wisdom that defies rationale. ORDINARY GRACE was a pleasant surprise. I was not impressed with the writing itself (seems like one more close edit was called for) but sometimes beauty can spring from inelegant tools. I expected to fight my way through this book but somewhere in the first few chapters the story disarmed me as the narrative gracefully drifted into reminiscence. I was no longer reading a novel but instead a warm recollection of a small Minnesota town shimmering in a between wars era America. Our child narrator brings all the corners of this town to life. It’s an achievement that the author avoids dreary geographical exposition and yet I feel I could draw a map of the town from memory. Small town dramas at play provide the initial backdrop showing all those who orbit around the life of our main character. When drama turns to tragedy, all those orbiting characters become fixed points of light shining down their terrible truths. Three local tragedies build upon each other—each in turn striking closer to home until the shimmer surrounding this small town turns to dust. ORDINARY GRACE shows each character having a unique arc to their grief. There is no right and wrong to grieving—there is just how each character manages to live with it.

I am also reluctant to approach books with a religious overtone—concerned that will become the thrust of the story. That concern also fell away a few chapters in. There is a river that runs adjacent to the town—acting as a natural stand in for religion. It is always there, always flowing, in turns embraced and cursed by the locals as it is a nexus of the most significant events in the novel. Water is life and rivers connect us but there always seems to be a struggle to access it. Everyone seems to take a different path to the river, sometimes surprised when it pops up before them or below them. No one enters the water who is not changed. In this way religion plays its most important part in the novel: a genuine force without the misrepresentations of man. Then there is a more straight-forward presentation of religion through the family’s father a Methodist Minister. He serves three towns but one God. He has doubts but does not waver. In his darkest hour, when he is losing more than he is gaining by maintaining his devotion—he does not waver. Like a stone in the river, those swept away eventually gather to him. Ultimately touching where I feared it becoming maudlin, tender where I feared it becoming saccharine this book was a marvel.