What do you get when you mix three quirky females from different generations, a few ghosts (albeit of the emotional kind), two skeletons, one drooling dog, a cat, a distinguished wooden yacht, and copious amounts of water? Beachcombing for a Shipwrecked God.
The novel had me at the first eight words of the opening paragraph: "I came across a love of moving water."
The tone struck by those eight words continues through to the end, unbroken, sustained by the narrator's sorrow, acceptance, reluctance, relief, courage, and inspired choices.
I'll read just about anything with a boat in it, and this story I savored from first page to last. A rarity! I took it slowly, in small bits, and made it last--now I'm at a loss for what to read next.
Beachcombing for a Shipwrecked God spoiled me, and reminded me--viscerally--what kind of reader and writer I most like to be.