Author: Alicia L. Conroy

ISBN: 0-88748-451-4

The following review was contributed by: Sue Vogan: To read more of Sue's reviews Click Here

We are all part of a mapmaking procedure. Those that came before us and those that come after us all certainly lend to this process. This 194-page book is full of stories -- "a journey from the palpably familiar to the deliciously imaginative." Each story reveals something we can take away and use -- jewels for our souls.

The first story, Mud-colored Beauties of the Plains, is evident that even maps have detours. Twee was definitely on an alternate route, not of her own choosing. There had been stories told by at least one that came before us -- tales about those like Twee. But, no one believed the yarns -- wrote them off as ramblings of an old man. Then, one day on a school outing, young Lily discovers something lodged in the mud -- a finger. The class was rounded up and the police called. Mud and silt was removed, exposing a body. And to everyone's surprise, it was alive -- but just barely.

Twee was taken to the hospital's ER and immersed in warm water. Her eyes popped open -- one at a time. They were "all green, no visible sclera, wide and fishy." From there, Twee was poked, discussed, tested and taught -- to communicate. "School" meant people to Twee. She truly enjoyed the company of humans. "Big water" meant home. Home is where Twee wanted to be. She had grown accustomed to people and fond of learning. Now, this new place was her home.

The humans proceeded to pry; the interest groups held their protests; and the government wrestled with Twee's status. When concerned students executed a Twee-release, Twee didn't want to go. She had "identified with her captors." She didn't want to "fend for herself again." But, the students "couldn't see her hidden profile as they pulled away, couldn't hear while they were singing and congratulating themselves."

Twee "stayed long after they van left." She let out one of her "high-pitched cries." There was no one to respond. She soon "began her halting way upstream."

The last tale in Alicia Conroy's book speaks of God -- or the misplacement of Him, when a crisis arises. Eight-month-old Daisy dies unexpectedly from an infection. The mother is devastated. This journey is through the grieving-and-searching-for-God process. She uses cabbage leaves on her breasts to dry up her milk -- Daisy's milk. She worries about her husband. She should be the pillar for him at this time. She can't. She has more than enough to deal with right now. Where's God? The nursery. The flowered curtains, onsies, blankets, and mobile. Bag them up and burn them. She sings. It's the old religious songs. She cries. She screams. She sings again. She learns that she is like any other animal -- "in the heat and the storm, without reasons, without shelter; we cry out, we endure, and we suffer."