Mary E. Trimble

A Long Walk to Water by Linda Sue Park is based on the true 1985 flight of a Sudanese boy, Salva, 11. Each chapter starts with a fictional but realistic section about a young girl, Nya, in southern Sudan beginning in 2008. Nya must make two very long walks daily to fetch water for her family. In reading this poignant account, I imagined that the two stories would intersect, and they eventually do in a surprising and satisfying way.

Salva was at school when the Second Sudanese Civil War finally reached his village. The war began two years earlier between the Muslim-dominated government in the north and the non-Muslim coalition in the south. As marauders approached his school, the teacher told the students to run and to keep going. Salva couldn’t return to his village or to his family because that was where the conflict was taking place. He quickly became separated from the other school children, but eventually found other people to travel with, though they were strangers.

Years passed while Salva walked through Sudan and eventually to Ethiopia going from one refugee camp to another, eventually making his way to a camp in Kenya. By this time he was one of what are now known as “The Lost Boys.” He had been away from his village for eleven years, years of grueling travel or of barely surviving crowded refugee camps.

Nya’s continuing story struck a familiar note for me. Having spent two years in West Africa with the Peace Corps in the small country of The Gambia, I know the value and sometimes scarcity of clean water. Daily I saw young girls come to a fresh-water well close to where we lived, fill huge tubs of water, heft the heavy loads onto their heads, and then walk back to some distant village.

How Nya and Salva’s stories eventually come together is heart warming and shows the price so many in Africa have paid pursuing basic human needs. Salva’s true story is daunting, yet inspiring. Unfortunately, Nya’s story is typical in much of Africa. I recommend A Long Walk to Water for people from ages 9 to 99.

Harmattan: The Winds of Africa

Posted on July 6, 2020 by Mary

Sand! We woke up hot and sweaty, gritty with sand in our hair, teeth, our folded clothes, even our underwear. The harmattan had started about the time we went to bed.

“Now I know what a sugar cookie feels like,” I said to my husband, Bruce.

It was mid-March in The Gambia where my husband and I served with the Peace Corps (1979 – 1981). During the harmattan season, dry, dusty northeasterly trade winds blow from the Sahara desert over the West African subregion to the Atlantic Ocean.

We lived at the far upriver end of the tiny country near the town of Basse. Bruce worked as a Peace Corps volunteer for the United Nations in their fresh-water well division; I worked at the Basse Health Center. Since Basse is so remote and 250 very long and tedious miles from the capital city of Banjul (the last 120 miles an unpaved, rutty road), we often had house guests–people from United Nations headquarters, US AID staff, and Peace Corps people, either on business or as a get-away destination. This particular time we had two Peace Corps officials: George Scharffenberger, Peace Corps Director in The Gambia, and Terry (sorry, I can’t remember her last name), “The Gambia Desk” person from Peace Corps Washington, D.C.

Our living quarters included two structures. One was a mud-brick building, 10-feet wide and 30-feet long, with three rooms: a primitive kitchen with no running water (in fact, no sink), a dining/living room, and a guest bedroom. There was an 8-inch gap between the wall and the corrugated iron roof. The windows had no glass or screens but we did have leaky corrugated shutters that we rarely closed because of the extreme heat. The other structure, our “bedroom,” was a 15-foot round mud hut with a thatched-grass roof. The door was a screen tacked to a frame. Obviously, we had no real protection from sand driven by strong harmattan winds. The shared compound latrine was a hole in the ground in a fenced-in area about 150-feet from our hut.

The wind had picked up as we bid our guests goodnight. “This is going to be a real honker,” Bruce said. The next morning we swept the sand off our bed, shook out our clothes and went into the other building. A thick coat of sandy dust covered everything. We had to wash all our dishes, silverware and cooking pots before we prepared breakfast. I could see our guests becoming less and less enchanted with our home. Where George lived near the capitol city, there wasn’t much sand, and coming from Washington, D.C., Terry had never experienced such weather. Our guests left soon after breakfast. It appeared they couldn’t leave fast enough.

For us, the harmattan was simply a part of our West African experience. I was reminded of this incident when a dust cloud from West Africa recently reached the southern portion of the United States. I could almost feel the grit between my teeth.

In my memoir, Tubob: Two Years in West Africa with the Peace Corps, Bruce and I, newly married, discover ourselves in new light as we find both strength and frustration in a third-world culture. Caught up in a military coup, we seek refuge in a house with 116 other people and wonder if our lives will ever be the same.

Book Review: My Name is Eva

Posted on June 29, 2020 by Mary

My Name is Eva by Suzanne Golding is an engrossing World War II historical fiction that takes place from modern-day England and back to Germany during the war years.

The year is 2016 and Evelyn Taylor-Clark, in her nineties, is in an English elder care facility. Although she is still quite alert, she pretends that she suffers from dementia. When her niece and an Inspector visit her, they ask questions about what the niece has found in the house on Evelyn’s large English manor. The Inspector particularly wants to learn what she knows about a Colonel Robinson.

The story reverts to 1939 when Evelyn writes to her husband who is serving in the British Armed Forces. She’s worried that she hasn’t heard from him, then learns that he has been killed on a mission. She’s distraught, but even more so when she learns that his superior officer, Colonel Robinson, sent the men on a mission bound to fail. Evelyn vows revenge.

It’s 1945 and Evelyn has joined the military service as an interpreter for the interrogation of prisoners of war. As she had learned beforehand, the leader of the camp is the same Colonel Robinson, and she finds him ruthless and cruel. She’s appalled at his inhumanity to the prisoners, so much so that she finds a way to leave that position and work at another military establishment.

Back in London, 1985, Evelyn still harbors the desire to avenge her husband’s needless death. She happens to see the Colonel at a concert and finds a way to “introduce” herself to him. She invites him to her English manor and he’s impressed as she shows him her bountiful countryside estate.

As the book toggles over a 70-year span, we learn much about the war and the grim after-effects as thousands of people try to put their lives back together. We see how one man’s inhumanity can dictate the outcome of so many lives. In contrast, we visit the English countryside with its lovely gardens and genteel life.

I enjoyed My Name is Eva. The author’s research is impressive; her wit and cunning shine as she takes us through history and one woman’s eventful life.

Book Review: The Cowboy Way

Posted on June 22, 2020 by Mary

Journalist David McCumber’s The Cowboy Way: Seasons of a Montana Ranch is a memoir of the author’s year learning what it means to be a real cowboy on an expansive cattle ranch. Bill Galt, owner of Birch Creek Ranch, agrees to hire David McCumber, 44, for one year with the understanding that he perform all the regular duties of any hired hand.

Montana’s Birch Creek Ranch comprises of 64,000-plus acres of deeded and leased land that supports beef cattle, hay and grain fields. The land is mountainous with rolling pastures, and creeks that support the ranch’s water systems.

During the year David performs all the grunt work expected of a newly-hired ranch hand. Immediately upon arrival he wrestles with huge bales of hay, flaking off feed for cattle. Although he’d thought he was in pretty good shape, his body tells him differently, but he keeps at it. As the seasons change he does it all—calving, feeding, fixing fences, irrigating, haying, moving cattle, branding and vaccinating. He fights weeds and fire. He helps maintain the numerous vehicles required for daily operation. By the end of the year he’s lost thirty pounds and several inches from his waist.

Much of what David does is dirty and physically-demanding work, but occasionally he has that perfect “cowboy day”: riding horseback gathering cattle, appreciating the exquisite beauty of this vast land under perfect skies. He also works through freezing conditions in the snow, slogs through mud during the spring thaw, and toils under Montana’s blazing summer sun. Along the way, he describes the beauty of what he smells, sees and hears–the bracing aroma of horse, leather and hay, the herds of elk, birds calling for their mates, sun shimmering off the side of the mountain. He learns to appreciate the strength and know-how of a good cattle horse.

McComber gives us personal views of how a ranch this size works, a look at the kind of person who runs a ranch of this caliber, and of the many men and women he works with. He observes tempers flaring, people who are dedicated to their work, and slackers (who don’t last long). He realizes how hard the 12-14 hour days, with rarely a day off, are on families and marriages. He shares with the reader not only the often dangerous and gritty work, but also the satisfaction of a job well done. The author talks about the economics of running a ranch this size and the necessity of sound business practices.

I very much enjoyed The Cowboy Way and reading this journalist’s experience of a year in a cowboy’s life on a modern cattle ranch.

Book Review: The Fault in Our Stars

Posted on June 15, 2020 by Mary

Award-winning author John Green’s gentle romance novel, The Fault in Our Stars, is funny, touching, tragic and, along the way, educational. The sarcastic and witty story is written in first-person.

Hazel, 17, in the regressive stage of lung cancer, wheels around an oxygen tank wherever she goes. Her mother realizes Hazel is depressed and insists her daughter attend a support group.The group, all teens except their leader, features a “rotating cast of characters in various states of tumor-driven unwellness. Why did the cast rotate? It’s a side effect of dying.”

At the support group she meets Augustus, 17, who has a slightly gaited walk due to a prosthetic leg, also the result of cancer. Augustus is handsome, quick, clever, and eager to know Hazel. Together they banter, make fun of their conditions, and find joy in their common interests. Their teenage wit and snarky comments are a delight, especially when the humor is directed at their afflictions. But they have their serious moments, too. Each wants to be there for the other when the end comes.

Hazel shares her favorite book with Augustus, a story by the reclusive author Peter Van Houten. Together they mourn that the ending of the beloved book leaves unanswered questions. They eventually learn that the author lives in Amsterdam and it is their goal to find out from him what happened to the various characters in the book.

Although the subject of children afflicted by cancer is serious, The Fault in Our Stars is nevertheless delightful. Hazel’s cynicism is refreshing and honest. In many respects she’s a typical teenager, embarrassed by her parents, resentful of her restrictions. At the same time she recognizes that her condition is a tragedy her parents have had to deal with. Their lives center around Hazel, and she worries about her parents when she no longer is with them.

I highly recommend The Fault in Our Stars. It’s a compassionate, well-written story, but more than that, it gives us insight as to how people deal with this insidious disease, especially when it affects children.

Book Review: The Water is Wide

Posted on June 8, 2020 by Mary

The Water is Wide: A Memoir by Pat Conroy is an exceptionally good read. The story is based on his teaching experience on Daufuskie Island, off the South Carolina coast, which is called Yamacraw Island in the book.

In 1969, when Conroy arrived on the island, it was still quite primitive. Most of the families didn’t have running water, nor did the two-room schoolhouse. Mrs. Brown, the only other teacher, was also the principal. Conroy would teach fifth through twelfth grades, a total of eighteen black children. Mrs. Brown’s method of teaching was with a strap, the only way “retarded” children could learn, she claimed.

Conroy was appalled to observe that some of his students could barely write, could not decipher even simple words, and three could not write their own name. Not only did they not know what continent they lived on, they didn’t know they lived in the United States of America, didn’t know the president’s name, nor did they know that the Atlantic Ocean washed up against their island. Seven did not know the alphabet, four of the students could not add two plus two, eighteen children did not know the country was involved in a war in Southeast Asia. Two children did not know how old they were; four could not count to ten. None of them had ever seen a movie or attended a ball game.

When speaking to one another, the children spoke Gullah, a combination of an African language and English, though Conroy couldn’t understand a word they said. Their version of English was difficult for Conroy to comprehend, and at first the students also had a hard time understanding Conroy, so it took adjustment on both sides to communicate.

Much to the school board’s dismay, Conroy took an innovative, creative approach to educate his students. He made school fun.

Although the title of the book includes “A Memoir,” the copyright page claims it is a work of fiction. The book reads like a memoir and Pat Conroy did teach in a two-room school house, and it is also true that a battle ensued with the school board as to whether his contract would be renewed for another year. In any event, the book makes excellent points about the plight of black school children and their struggle for equality in the late 1960’s and early 1970s.

The Water Is Wide is a well-written, fun and often funny story of how one man made a difference in bringing the world to children who had been denied adequate education. I highly recommend this book. Memoir or not, the book contains timeless truths that need to be told.

Book Review: All the Pretty Horses

Posted on June 1, 2020 by Mary

Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses, a novel set in the late 1940s, kept me spellbound from beginning to end. John Grady Cole’s grandfather has just died and the family’s east Texas ranch is for sale. His parents are separated, his father is ill, and it is evident that John Grady, 16, is now on his own. He and his best friend Lacey Rawlins, 17, begin a journey on horseback to Mexico. Along the way, they meet up with Jimmy Blevens, 13, a wild, strange boy who rides an obviously valuable horse. The three ride together for awhile, but along the way Jimmy disappears.

John Grady and Lacey eventually make their way to a large ranch in Mexico where they are hired. John Grady speaks fluent Spanish because of Spanish-speaking help on the family ranch. He and the rancher’s daughter, Alejandra, fall in love.

A tangled web ensues, and trouble for John Grady and Lacey follows. Their former association with Jimmy Blevens creates repercussions and they are suddenly in a situation with little hope.

Author Cormac McCarthy’s writing style kept me captivated throughout. I found his vivid descriptions of the Mexican countryside and its people lyrical. Ever present are the horses, the mainstay of John Grady’s life.

Much of the writing in All the Pretty Horses would make a high school English teacher blanch. There are no quotation marks in dialog; try as you might, you won’t find an apostrophe. The text is riddled with vague or ambiguous pronouns, yet the meaning is always clear. The dialect between the cowboys is natural, and therefore usually grammatically incorrect. Spanish is frequently used, but unfortunately there are no translations though meanings are usually subtly clear; other times I gave it my best guess. Proper nouns like “French” or even “American” often are not capitalized. There are rambling sentences with 65-plus words. As a writer, I found myself mentally correcting the obvious omissions, but in no way did these transgressions diminish my enjoyment of the book.

I happened to see the 2000 movie All the Pretty Horses before reading the book, and imagining Matt Damon in John Grady Cole’s role obviously added to my enjoyment of the story. I highly recommend this novel for people who love horses and who enjoy an authentic western experience.

Book Review: Eden

Posted on May 25, 2020 by Mary

Eden by Jamie Lisa Forbes takes us back to North Carolina in the 1950s, to a time when it was important to do the expected, even if it meant fulfilling other peoples’ dreams. It’s a novel that reminds us when “coloreds” rode in back of the bus, when a “decent” white person wasn’t seen shaking a black person’s hand.

Rowen Hart just graduated from high school when his father’s suicide tears his dreams apart. Rowen has been accepted to college, but now, without funds or hope, he finds himself responsible for his ailing mother. Their black maid, Adeline, is really the backbone of the family, the one who holds everything together. It would never be said, of course, but she’s his mother’s best friend, the only person who really understands her. Adeline sees Rowen’s confusion and urges him to find work, to get past feeling sorry for himself.

Along comes Eden, a ten-year old, red-headed firecracker of a girl. She needs a home and Adeline can’t turn her down, much to Rowen’s dismay. Eden breaks all the rules of proper decor, all the while doing whatever she can to win Rowen’s approval.

Rowen is offered a job at a construction firm, discovers he is good at his job and takes his responsibilities seriously. He meets and eventually marries Jewell, the epitome of a proper southern girl. But just when life seems to be coming together, Rowen begins to doubt the way of life he has always known, to wonder about expectations and fairness.

I found Eden a valuable novel that reminded me how far our nation has come toward recognizing equality. The story also gives us a reminder of how difficult growing up is, of how life’s choices made in youth can affect not only self, but whomever those choices involve. Angst doesn’t just happen to youth—it can follow a person throughout life.

May 18, 1980: Remembering Mount St. Helens

Posted on May 18, 2020 by Mary

Credit: USGS

Mount St. Helens, a perfect snow-white, cone-shaped mountain, was a favorite showpiece among Washingtonians for generations. A popular vacation spot, it boasted of beautiful lakes, challenging hiking trails, with rustic vacation homes and resorts nestled on the shores of pristine Spirit Lake. Photographers came from across the country to capture the elegant symmetrical cone of “America’s Fujiyama.”

Forty years ago today, on May 18, 1980, Mount St. Helens exploded in a violent eruption, following many earthquakes that spring. The blast blew off the top 1,300 feet of the mountain with five hundred times the force of the Hiroshima atomic blast. Within hours, the explosion destroyed 234 square miles of forest. Trees were either blasted away, snapped like pieces of straw, or scorched while standing, reducing one of the world’s most superb mountain landscapes to a gray wasteland.

Fifty-seven people lost their lives, though only about half those bodies were recovered. Most deaths were due to suffocation, others died from burns or as a result of falling objects. Of the lives lost, a few were scientists, but most fatalities were sightseers who had been repeatedly warned to stay clear of the area. An estimated 7,000 deer, elk and bear, and untold thousands of birds and small animals also perished. The Toutle River grew so hot witnesses reported seeing fish jump out of the water to escape the heat.

Credit: USGS

When Mount St. Helens first erupted, it sent a low-frequency shock wave straight up, which in turn reflected off several layers of the atmosphere and then bounced back to the ground in a large donut-shaped ring fifty to three hundred miles around the mountain. Thus, most people within fifty miles of the mountain did not hear the blast, yet it was heard as far away as Canada.

A menacing plume of ash boiled 60,000 feet into the atmosphere as the mountain turned itself inside out. The heavy ash cloud swept eastward across the continent in three days, and circled the globe in seventeen days. In Yakima, Washington, 138 miles from Mount St. Helens, emergency crews removed an estimated 600,000 tons of ash from the business district and residential areas. Ash flattened wheat fields and weighted down fruit trees. Agricultural losses in the Pacific Northwest totaled millions of dollars.

The blast and subsequent floods ruined or severely damaged more than three hundred homes, along with farm buildings and equipment. Hundreds of livestock were lost, either swept away in flood waters or buried in debris. Massive mudflows wiped out roads and bridges. For months afterward, extensive repair work was undertaken to regain use of the Columbia River and its tributaries.

Campers and loggers miles away from the blast zone heard an aftermath roar that one person described as sounding “like a couple of big passenger jetliners coming through the woods.” Within seconds, darkness covered the area and a terrific heat rolled in, burning people, animals and trees within its path.

My award-winning novel Tenderfoot is a work of fiction taking place during the months surrounding the Mount St. Helens eruption. Although the characters have been fictionalized, various experiences of blast victims represent true accounts.

Book Review: Say Goodbye for Now

Posted on May 11, 2020 by Mary

Catherine Ryan Hyde has written yet another compelling, timeless novel, Say Goodbye for Now. Hyde has a knack for getting to the heart of issues without being preachy, while letting the reader feel the unfairness, distress, or heartache so unavoidable in our everyday lives.

It’s a hot summer day in Texas, 1959, and Pete and a friend are going fishing. Alongside the road the boys find a big dog—maybe even a wolf—that has something wrong with its leg. Maybe it was hit by a car. Pete’s friend doesn’t want to bother with the injured animal and continues with his fishing plans. But Pete just can’t leave the animal to suffer; he has to do something.

He returns to his home and gets an old wagon from the garage, returns, and manages to get the big dog into his wagon to seek help. On the way he meets a black boy, Justin, who walks along with Pete and the dog. The boys get to know each other and realize they might become friends.

They arrive at Dr. Lucy’s. She’s a crusty middle-aged lady who is actually licensed to practice medicine in Texas, but instead lives off her alimony and takes in stray and injured animals, all kinds of animals. She has retired race horses, dogs, birds, even a pig. She treats the injured animal Pete brings to her, and is quite certain it is part dog, part wolf. Pete forms a strong attachment to the dog whom he names Prince.

When Pete returns home, he’s in trouble for being so late, for being where he hadn’t permission to go, and also for being seen with a black boy. His father whips him so severely, he draws blood.

The next time Pete sees his friend Justin, he finds him terribly beaten. The boy claims white men beat him. Pete immediately takes him to Dr. Lucy’s. She recognizes serious head injuries and contacts the boy’s father, Calvin, for permission to treat him.

As Pete, Justin, Dr. Lucy and Calvin’s relationships grow, there are complications. Black people have little recourse for injustices; segregation is the norm. Texans are openly intolerant of minorities. Interracial marriages are against the law.

Say Goodbye for Now spans from 1959 to 1967, years that saw changes in law, and changes in attitude. I loved this book and especially appreciated Hyde’s unflinching treatment of interracial relationships.