Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen

Well, the proverbial storm clouds have lifted ~ both literally and figuratively.  At least for the time being on my end of the spectrum, it doesn't appear as if the world is ending and the Rapture is coming.  Not today anyway.  I haven't felt any horrible tremors of an earthquake or seen any out-of-control fires sweeping through the nation or witnessed any Biblical-type flooding.  Nope.  It's been quite the opposite, really.  I already had my own personal week of hell and have paid my dues until the next wave hits.  But now things are looking up.  The sun is shining after a full week of rain; my dog seems to be feeling more comfortable; and I have an interview on Thursday for a permanent teaching position.

Huh. .  . Maybe the world is ending. . . lol

Thanks to the few rays of light that are beginning to peer out from the end of the tunnel, I was able to get back into the groove of reading again.  My groove, however, did not include finishing The Invisible Bridge.  I tried reading another 50 or so pages, but it just wasn't holding my interest.  And let's just suppose that this Harold Camping guy happened to be right about the end of the world today.  Did I really want a boring novel that moved slower than my grandmother on a walker to be the last thing I had read before the world swallowed me whole (because I doubt I'd be one of the chosen)?  Not that I was sitting around waiting for judgment but really, life is too short, there are too many good books out there, and I am far too busy to be tied to something that is just not working for me.

Mennonite in a Little Black Dress is also not the last novel I hope to read before my clock runs out, but at least it was mildly entertaining, somewhat humorous, and moved at a pace I could appreciate.  The author's witty and large vocabulary base certainly kept her memoir rolling.  ("Vainglorious" is her favorite word.  It makes an appearance on every page).  But she left me with a huge lingering question, the whole basis of why a novel is written:  What was the purpose in telling her story?  Perhaps it was to prove to the world that she continues to have a large vocabulary base despite the fact that her husband left her for a man named Bob and that she has suffered some major health problems.  After all of this trauma and drama, however, I was really expecting the unveiling of a huge revelation, such as a life-changing lesson learned.  All I really got out of it was her self-deprecating manner in poking fun at the Mennonite religion and culture.

Ah, well.  So be it.  It's not like the world is ending; right?  There's still time to find another novel out there with a purpose.