I've always enjoyed reading a good mystery, going back to Agatha Christie and John D. MacDonald, continuing through Michael Connelly, Robert Crais, Sue Grafton, J. A. Vance.
I read The Beautiful Mystery, about a murder in a monastery. And I just finished A Trick of the Light, which involves an artist who finds a childhood friend lying dead in her garden.
I recommend Penny to anyone who likes stylish mysteries. But what stopped me was this poem offered by a character in the book, as she gazed over the scene of the crime:
"You're lying on your deathbed.
You have one hour to live.
Who is it exactly, you have needed
all these years to forgive?"
I was raised a Catholic, and forgiveness was an issue that loomed large in my youth. So this made me wonder, who do I need to forgive? My parents, perhaps, not because they were bad parents, but because they were not perfect. My ex-wife? Nothing to forgive. Old school friends or work colleagues? Yes, there were some issues, but nothing worth a minute's thought on the deathbed.
No, I thought, it's not that I need to forgive. It's that I need forgiveness. For the people I've hurt; for the stupid things I've done; for the things I should have done but never did. Perhaps the person I need to forgive is ... myself.
What does Penny's poem say to you?