What do you think?
Rate this book
becoming.
A collection of three non-fiction stories, three fiction stories in several genres, and five poems. Each one centers around ideas of identity, belonging, and what makes us who we are. Written with a healthy dose of empathy, humor, and a touch of cynicism, each story is entertaining and illuminating.
From the title story, Becoming; "It wasn't until months later, after seemingly countless setbacks and struggles and nights spent awake with the baby clutched to my chest and me crying through my pain and frustration and wishing I knew what I was doing wrong, that reality would start to creep in. I remember one dim twilight, another three o'clock feeding, after I'd given in and my daughter was curled close in bed beside me. She started fussing, not really crying but the sort of sad whimpering that leads to cries if you don't react in time. I half woke up and took her to my breast without even completely opening my eyes. She reached one hand up and laced her fingers through my hair, holding the tangled lock to her cheek. I woke up just enough to see that she was smiling. That was when I finally knew it. I knew that she belonged to me, and I belonged to her. Whoever she became, whoever I became, whatever we ended up meaning to each other as she grew didn't matter. We were designed to fit together, by nature or by God or by love or whatever force our lives are led by. I'd like to say that I basked in the glow of that moment, that I was awash with emotion, and it changed my life forever. However, I couldn't say that and tell the truth. It was three in the morning, the baby had been fussing half the night, and I was tired. I fell asleep. That moment was lost in the ups and downs of many moments to come, and it's only in looking back that I realize now what it meant."
From "Yoga isn't for Everyone"; We were told to close our eyes, and imagine a quiet place. I pictured blood in water, death can be so peaceful.
From the title story, Becoming; "It wasn't until months later, after seemingly countless setbacks and struggles and nights spent awake with the baby clutched to my chest and me crying through my pain and frustration and wishing I knew what I was doing wrong, that reality would start to creep in. I remember one dim twilight, another three o'clock feeding, after I'd given in and my daughter was curled close in bed beside me. She started fussing, not really crying but the sort of sad whimpering that leads to cries if you don't react in time. I half woke up and took her to my breast without even completely opening my eyes. She reached one hand up and laced her fingers through my hair, holding the tangled lock to her cheek. I woke up just enough to see that she was smiling. That was when I finally knew it. I knew that she belonged to me, and I belonged to her. Whoever she became, whoever I became, whatever we ended up meaning to each other as she grew didn't matter. We were designed to fit together, by nature or by God or by love or whatever force our lives are led by. I'd like to say that I basked in the glow of that moment, that I was awash with emotion, and it changed my life forever. However, I couldn't say that and tell the truth. It was three in the morning, the baby had been fussing half the night, and I was tired. I fell asleep. That moment was lost in the ups and downs of many moments to come, and it's only in looking back that I realize now what it meant."
From "Yoga isn't for Everyone"; We were told to close our eyes, and imagine a quiet place. I pictured blood in water, death can be so peaceful.
54 pages, Paperback
First published November 19, 2012
9 people want to read
About the author
Lindsey Kay
4 books15 followershttp://emphaticasterisk.com/
http://ravensunkindness.wordpress.com/
http://facebook.com/LindseyWrites
Lindsey is an eclectic and sometimes unpredictable writer who approaches the human condition, compassion, and the need for community in whatever genre she can lay her hands on. She lives with her husband, three children, and two puppies in the west where she loves the sunshine but misses the rain.
http://ravensunkindness.wordpress.com/
http://facebook.com/LindseyWrites
Lindsey is an eclectic and sometimes unpredictable writer who approaches the human condition, compassion, and the need for community in whatever genre she can lay her hands on. She lives with her husband, three children, and two puppies in the west where she loves the sunshine but misses the rain.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
December 26, 2012
Here is an author that continually surprises me with her rawness of emotion that I often feel but can never express as eloquently as she does. Lindsey Kay's work in "becoming." is once again astounding and a true testament to everything real. She never goes halfway in elucidation, it is always full throttle and bare of any vagueness or political correctness. It's one of the most wonderful things about her style of writing. Whether it is her poetry, fiction, or non-fiction, she always manages to get to the heart of the matter quickly and efficiently, leaving you breathless.
My favorite story in the book is one I can relate to whole-heartedly, "Becoming". A story about being/becoming a mother. Everything isn't always pink fluffy bunnies. Love isn't instant or easy, whether it's for a child or for a husband, and Kay expresses this very well. There's a paragraph toward the end that I absolutely love, as it has more than a few nuggets of truth in it.
"I believed in love as only a child could, and believed in its transforming power as if it were magic. It isn't. It's hard work."
And then...
"Pregnancy sucks. The women who do glow don't glow because of the fact that they are pregnant, they glow in spite of it. The love that a mother and father feel for each other isn't an unstoppable magical force, either. built off of a million decisions made over time, in which the old identity is bricked over like a foundation and they are re-created, as a person whose innermost being is inseparable from the new role that they've taken. It isn't pushing a child into this world that makes a woman a mother. What changes you is a myriad of moments in which you make a choice; those moments are mostly lost to memory."
And in Bearing Witness, a story about a boy who wants to kill himself... "He lifelessly murmured words that cut through our conversation like dull knives, leaving ragged tatters of flesh where the other week a living, breathing dialogue had flourished."
And then...
"The 'Good News' of Christ isn't just his blood poured out, it isn't Heaven in some intangible hereafter, it isn't solely about sin or Judgment, it certainly isn't about the things we choose to focus on out of fear or condemnation. It is a match lit against a tempest of coldness and loss. A seed of infinite potential looking for a place to grow."
The writing touches me acutely and never seems less than a genuine affection of truth.
My only disappointment is in the too soon ending. Some stories are meant to be short, but some, have a life of their own and need to grow and expand to really thrive. Sometimes I feel authors get scared of the all encompassing and overwhelming undertaking of entering into a longer relationship with their characters. Sometimes I feel that it's easier to put out there a smaller group of short stories or poetry because there isn't as much of an emotional commitment. I'm not saying this is the case with Kay, only she left me feeling bereft. What would happen if the story of Sam didn't end? What happens to the legacy that looks upon Marian's blood red flower painting? I'm sure many would disagree with me, and I'm not saying that this is always the case, it's just a feeling I get occasionally when reading a book of short stories. I just want more.
In the end, Miss Kay is never boring. What will her next project be? Will it be as emotionally naked as these beautiful songs of words she uses to convey such feeling? I sincerely hope so. I truly believe this is the kind of writing that starts out as a small spark of perturbation and blows up into a fervor which can eventually become classical literature. I look forward to her next book.
ClassicsDefined.com
My favorite story in the book is one I can relate to whole-heartedly, "Becoming". A story about being/becoming a mother. Everything isn't always pink fluffy bunnies. Love isn't instant or easy, whether it's for a child or for a husband, and Kay expresses this very well. There's a paragraph toward the end that I absolutely love, as it has more than a few nuggets of truth in it.
"I believed in love as only a child could, and believed in its transforming power as if it were magic. It isn't. It's hard work."
And then...
"Pregnancy sucks. The women who do glow don't glow because of the fact that they are pregnant, they glow in spite of it. The love that a mother and father feel for each other isn't an unstoppable magical force, either. built off of a million decisions made over time, in which the old identity is bricked over like a foundation and they are re-created, as a person whose innermost being is inseparable from the new role that they've taken. It isn't pushing a child into this world that makes a woman a mother. What changes you is a myriad of moments in which you make a choice; those moments are mostly lost to memory."
And in Bearing Witness, a story about a boy who wants to kill himself... "He lifelessly murmured words that cut through our conversation like dull knives, leaving ragged tatters of flesh where the other week a living, breathing dialogue had flourished."
And then...
"The 'Good News' of Christ isn't just his blood poured out, it isn't Heaven in some intangible hereafter, it isn't solely about sin or Judgment, it certainly isn't about the things we choose to focus on out of fear or condemnation. It is a match lit against a tempest of coldness and loss. A seed of infinite potential looking for a place to grow."
The writing touches me acutely and never seems less than a genuine affection of truth.
My only disappointment is in the too soon ending. Some stories are meant to be short, but some, have a life of their own and need to grow and expand to really thrive. Sometimes I feel authors get scared of the all encompassing and overwhelming undertaking of entering into a longer relationship with their characters. Sometimes I feel that it's easier to put out there a smaller group of short stories or poetry because there isn't as much of an emotional commitment. I'm not saying this is the case with Kay, only she left me feeling bereft. What would happen if the story of Sam didn't end? What happens to the legacy that looks upon Marian's blood red flower painting? I'm sure many would disagree with me, and I'm not saying that this is always the case, it's just a feeling I get occasionally when reading a book of short stories. I just want more.
In the end, Miss Kay is never boring. What will her next project be? Will it be as emotionally naked as these beautiful songs of words she uses to convey such feeling? I sincerely hope so. I truly believe this is the kind of writing that starts out as a small spark of perturbation and blows up into a fervor which can eventually become classical literature. I look forward to her next book.
ClassicsDefined.com
December 29, 2012
"Becoming" is an apt title for this short book. In her life, author Lindsey Kay deals with many of the problems we face. However, with "Becoming," she expands our usual scope.
Lindsey has a strong Christian faith, but she doesn't accept anything blindly, or take anything for granted. In one essay, she finds weeding her yard to be a lovely metaphor for life and faith, a positive image of rebuilding her marriage day by day, weed by weed.
In another essay, Lindsey grapples with her anger toward The Church regarding homosexuality, and its condemnation thereof. She receives a desperate text from a young gay man in crisis. Along the way, she curses those who feel morally superior, who twist Scripture to justify their hate. She has these thoughts while doing the exact thing Christ would have done. Despite being sick, she crawls out of bed and goes to the young man's house. She tells him that he is loved, and takes him to get help.
Another essay describes her guilt at not being more thrilled when she is pregnant. She fears the creature inside her, and doubts that the mother-child bond will happen. Pregnancy sucks, she tells us.
There is a section of short stories, my favorite of which gives us a daughter's eye view of her mother's funeral.
The book ends with a section of poetry.
Lindsey Kay writes beautifully. More importantly, she thinks beautifully. You get a sense of feistiness, that Lindsey isn't afraid to ask "WHY?" or "Why NOT?" when she senses something wrong. Her faith runs through most of these writings. It's a living, constantly evolving faith, one she doesn't just dust-off on Christmas Eve and Easter, and it is fuel for some very interesting, non-traditional thought.
This slim little volume holds much wisdom from a unique and strong young woman. .
Lindsey has a strong Christian faith, but she doesn't accept anything blindly, or take anything for granted. In one essay, she finds weeding her yard to be a lovely metaphor for life and faith, a positive image of rebuilding her marriage day by day, weed by weed.
In another essay, Lindsey grapples with her anger toward The Church regarding homosexuality, and its condemnation thereof. She receives a desperate text from a young gay man in crisis. Along the way, she curses those who feel morally superior, who twist Scripture to justify their hate. She has these thoughts while doing the exact thing Christ would have done. Despite being sick, she crawls out of bed and goes to the young man's house. She tells him that he is loved, and takes him to get help.
Another essay describes her guilt at not being more thrilled when she is pregnant. She fears the creature inside her, and doubts that the mother-child bond will happen. Pregnancy sucks, she tells us.
There is a section of short stories, my favorite of which gives us a daughter's eye view of her mother's funeral.
The book ends with a section of poetry.
Lindsey Kay writes beautifully. More importantly, she thinks beautifully. You get a sense of feistiness, that Lindsey isn't afraid to ask "WHY?" or "Why NOT?" when she senses something wrong. Her faith runs through most of these writings. It's a living, constantly evolving faith, one she doesn't just dust-off on Christmas Eve and Easter, and it is fuel for some very interesting, non-traditional thought.
This slim little volume holds much wisdom from a unique and strong young woman. .
December 21, 2012
This is broken into three sections: Nonfiction, fiction and poetry. For probably the only time in my life, I prefer the nonfiction section as a whole. In those three selections, you get a pretty good glimpse into Lindsey's life. And you know how, when you talk about yourself, you subtly edit what you're saying so that you come across as particularly sweet or noble or funny or possibly insightful? Lindsey is unapologetically herself. You get a very good idea of her strength, but you also can see when she isn't feeling particularly strong and when she's actually feeling kind of petulant or afraid. I admire that more than I can ever adequately express, because that is a hard thing to do, and I'm sure it's also scary. Baring your soul and inviting judgment is terrifying, and Lindsey does it with an incredible amount of grace.
The funny thing is, though, my absolute favorite piece is the last story in the fiction section, "Beneath the Gaze." In that story, a girl---her age isn't mentioned, but I'm guessing she's probably late teens, early twenties---is at her mom's funeral Mass. I'm guessing she's old enough to fight with her mom but still too young to see her as a person instead of an authority figure. Parents' funerals are this weird, surreal thing, especially when you're really young, and Lindsey absolutely nails that. (Which is funny, as both her parents are still alive.)
Highly, highly recommended.
The funny thing is, though, my absolute favorite piece is the last story in the fiction section, "Beneath the Gaze." In that story, a girl---her age isn't mentioned, but I'm guessing she's probably late teens, early twenties---is at her mom's funeral Mass. I'm guessing she's old enough to fight with her mom but still too young to see her as a person instead of an authority figure. Parents' funerals are this weird, surreal thing, especially when you're really young, and Lindsey absolutely nails that. (Which is funny, as both her parents are still alive.)
Highly, highly recommended.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews