Strangers and Sojourners: A Novel Book

This is a book about thirst; the thirst for love, and then, inevitably, for God. Anne comes to the Canadian wilderness as a teacher in the early part of the century, determined to be an independent woman. She finds herself drawn to the reclusive Stephen Delaney, an Irish immigrant, but fights her attraction in pursuit of her "higher ideals." Predictably for everyone except Anne, she can't seem to deny her desire for human companionship, though greatly fearing the costs. Stephen introduces her to the Catholic faith, which Anne finds herself curious about from afar, while never truly coming to terms with. Her life and heart are in a continuous search for the truth, the deeper meaning, the reality which she is certain runs beneath her life.

This book greatly impacted me several years ago and remains one of the most important I have ever read. Anne's journey of life and marriage is a revelation of God's continual wooing of her and her desire for God. O'Brien poignantly captures the changing dynamics of marriage - the infatuated, in-love of the early years, the cynical misunderstandings of middle age, and the patient acceptance of old age. Anne and Stephen are portrayed paradoxically as made for each other and terribly unsuited to one another at the same time. Anne and Stephen are in awe of each other and also impatient with each other, and yet, at every turn, whether it is a bountiful time in their marriage or a "drought season," there is a sense of the rightness of the seasons... there is a sense that the outright weaknesses of each partner are part of the perfection of the plan.




My favorite quote:

“’Thank you,’ he said.
‘For what are you thanking me?’ Never had she felt more vulnerable to the heat of bodies reflecting off each other, or to her own emptiness. An absence which Greek and manners would suddenly not fill.
‘Thank you for dancing with me, even though you don’t like me.'
Possibly she did not hear. There were streaks of sweat running down the wrestler’s neck, and the sugary scent of moose hide and birch smoke came to her from his body. She found it difficult to compose a reply, and he had given up expecting one, when she said:
‘It isn’t that I dislike you.'
‘What is it, then, that makes us this way?'
‘I don’t know,’ she said simply, wishing to cry , or perhaps to leave any scenes of potential damage. ‘It could be the fragility of glass.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Glass?’
‘Behind which we all hide.’
‘Glass,’ he repeated, willing to learn.
‘There are those we encounter in life who possess the gift of reaching through our barriers. To touch.’
‘And is there harm in that?’ he wondered, holding her imperceptibly tighter in the big hands.
‘No harm if we’re not shattered,’ she said.
‘But how would you know it’s safe if you don’t allow it to happen?’
‘How can I allow it to happen if I don’t know it’s safe?’” –Chapter 6