The average reader will have concluded that most of the Catholic themed portions of The Year of the Rabbit are influenced by the author’s upbringing.
While Sera Fletcher was often excused from Sunday mass, my ten siblings and I were obligated to attend church. Some of my brothers were altar servers so they had no excuse.
I have fuzzy memories of my First Communion and dropping my little white Bible into the Seguin River on the way home.
As we became teenagers, some of us played hooky, smoking cigarettes and killing time beside the railway tracks nearby. Shame, shame!
Sera would spend her Sunday mornings with the Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, the kind neighbours who encouraged her to read Bible stories from Baptist and Coptic sources. They also let her read National Geographic, and played a bit of cards. After church, the Fletcher family and close friends gathered for brunch at the Red Hare restaurant.
Growing up Catholic taught me to have an unhealthy view about sex and sensuality. It taught me that if God wasn’t watching you, your over-protective Mother was. It also taught me about compassion, community and finding joy while being in the service of others. It wasn’t all that bad.
If you haven’t read the novel yet, take a detour through Smashwords to download a sampling of the e-book format of The Year of the Rabbit. See what other readers have offered about the novel. If the notion grabs you, purchase a copy of the entire novel. You get to set the price. How do you like them apples?
Thanks for dropping by!