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Eve
     

Eve

4.2 14
by William Paul Young
 

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From the author of the twenty-five-million-copy bestseller The Shack comes a captivating new novel destined to be one of the most talked-about books of the decade.

Eve is a bold, unprecedented exploration of the Creation narrative, true to the original texts and centuries of scholarship—yet with breathtaking discoveries that challenge

Overview

From the author of the twenty-five-million-copy bestseller The Shack comes a captivating new novel destined to be one of the most talked-about books of the decade.

Eve is a bold, unprecedented exploration of the Creation narrative, true to the original texts and centuries of scholarship—yet with breathtaking discoveries that challenge traditional beliefs about who we are and how we’re made. Eve opens a refreshing conversation about the equality of men and women within the context of our beginnings, helping us see each other as our Creator does—complete, unique, and not constrained by cultural rules or limitations.

When a shipping container washes ashore on an island between our world and the next, John the Collector finds a young woman inside—broken, frozen, and barely alive. With the aid of Healers and Scholars, John oversees her recovery and soon discovers that her genetic code connects her to every known race. No one would guess what her survival will mean…

No one but Eve, Mother of the Living, who calls her “daughter” and invites her to witness the truth about her own story—indeed, the truth about us all.

As The Shack awakened readers to a personal, non-religious understanding of God, Eve will free us from faulty interpretations that have corrupted human relationships since the Garden of Eden.

Thoroughly researched and exquisitely written, Eve is a masterpiece that will inspire readers for generations to come.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
08/10/2015
Young (The Shack) offers another mind-bending, challenging novel that will have readers scratching their heads and examining their hearts. This exploration of humankind's "turning" from God offers a unique look at the events of the Garden of Eden as seen by Lilly Fields, the Witness who washed up on the shore of an ethereal place and is cared for by John in the Refuge—and island located between our world and the next. Lilly's life reflects our own—she feels unsure of her place on Earth, and unworthy of God's love. Lilly meets Eve, Mother of the Living, in her dreams. In phantasmagoric scenes she makes her spiritual progression. She is wounded by a mysterious evil that breaches the Refuge, protected by the Guardian Han-el, witnesses Creation, and eventually finds herself in Adonai's lap where she finally accepts his love and learns to trust completely. The novel is sometimes confusing due to Young's flexible use of time and space, but often the writing is stunningly beautiful, offering an evocative, challenging look at our view of God and the Creation narrative . Young's latest will certainly pique the interest of established fans as well as generate controversy. (Sept.)
Reba Riley
“By turns emotional, inspiring, and filled to overflowing with grace, Eve is exactly the engaging, challenging story you would expect from the author of The Shack. Wm. Paul Young offers a transformative view of God that transcends gender and culture: highly recommended to everyone with Post-Traumatic Church Syndrome—and to any and all who seek the uninhibited Light and Love of our Creator.”

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781501101427
Publisher:
Howard Books
Publication date:
09/15/2015
Pages:
320
Sales rank:
32,946
Product dimensions:
8.30(w) x 5.50(h) x 1.00(d)

Related Subjects

Read an Excerpt

Eve


  • Caught in the tidal flows of unspoken morning prayers and simple wonder, John the Collector rested against a tree with his toes burrowed and curled into the coolness beneath the warming sand. Before him, a rippling ocean stretched out until it disappeared, merging into the clear cobalt sky.

    The salty fragrance of the sea was overtaken by scents of eucalyptus, myrrh, and hagenia flowers. John smiled. These were always her first embrace! Resisting the urge to jump to his feet, he instead shifted to make room, lowered his head, and took a deep breath. It had been a while.

    The tall, fine-boned, ebony-black woman accepted his silent invitation and settled next to him, her hand tousling the gray-black hair at the back of his neck with the tenderness of a mother toward her child. The playful touch sent a prickling peace through his shoulders and down his back, lifting the burden he unconsciously carried.

    He could have stayed like this for some time, but there was always purpose to her visits. Even so, he held off his own rising curiosity, preferring the gentle contentment of her company.

    Reluctantly, he spoke. “Mother Eve?”

    “John?” Without looking, he knew she was grinning. Ancient and powerful, this woman radiated the contagious joy of a child. With one arm she pulled him to her, kissing the top of his head.

    “You have been in this place . . . ,” she began.

    “A hundred years today,” he finished. “If that is the reason for your visit, I am grateful.”

    “It is in part,” Eve said. “One hundred years anywhere is cause for celebration.”

    Pulling himself up, he brushed off the sand before helping Eve to her feet. She gracefully accepted his hand, though it wasn’t needed. Coarse white hair formed a woven crown around her face, lined and creased by countless years, a masterpiece of sculpted joy and sorrow. She glowed more like a child than a matriarch, her mahogany eyes lit by expectancy.

    His questions threatened to tumble out in all directions, but she stopped them with a raised hand.

    “John, one good question is worth a thousand answers,” she teased. “Choose it carefully.”

    It only took a moment to form. “How long?” he asked somberly. “How long must we wait before the end, when our healing will finally be complete?” Reaching out, he took her hand and placed it on his heart.

    “Much sooner, John, than when I first asked that same question.”

    He took in a deep breath and nodded, looking into the amber light that flecked her eyes.

    “But I am here about today, John. Today, my child will be born into your world.”

    John frowned. “Your child? But Mother Eve, are we not each your daughter or your son?”

    “Yes, you are,” she declared. “But we have long known there would be three in particular who would stand and represent us all. The one to whom was given the promise of the seed, the one whose seed would crush the serpent’s head, and the one to whom the seed would be forever united. The Mother, the Daughter, the Bride. The arrival of this girl marks the beginning of the end.”

    So stunned, he hardly noticed Eve pick up a stone and walk toward the water’s edge. John followed, disoriented and overwhelmed. She launched the stone high into the air, and they both watched it zip down into the glassy sea with hardly a splash.

    “John,” Eve said, “in the ocean of the universe, a single stone and ripple changes it forever.”

    John let the small incoming waves tickle his feet and tug at the sand beneath them. To be near Eve was always healing and always disconcerting.

    A shrill voice sliced the air. “You’re dawdling, John.”

    He turned. A breeze off the water lifted the hair at the back of his head, even as Eve’s perfumes caressed his face.

    Letty had arrived, and Eve was gone. John sighed.

    “The Scavengers have been calling for you for longer than an hour, and since you are the only Collector within a hundred miles . . .”

    Turning back to the water, John selected another smooth stone and threw it high into the air so it would drift on its edge and slice into the water’s surface with a satisfying sound. Why such a tiny success always pleased him was a mystery.

    “What’s their hurry?” he muttered, as Letty arrived at his side. He picked up another stone.

    She was a bundle of a little old woman, barely three feet tall, with a cane and shawl and mismatched socks folded over mismatched shoes. She looked like an apple that had been left in the hot sun for too long, still round but shriveled up, with piercing black eyes, a crooked nose, and an almost toothless scowl. Her walking stick could have easily passed for a wand of sorts, and it was pointing right at him.

    When he saw the intensity on her face, he let the rock fall to the sand.

    “Letty?”

    Her words were measured. “A large metal container was spotted floating early this morning, hauled ashore, and opened. The Scholars have already ascertained that it drifted here from Earth in real time.”

    “That’s happened before,” suggested John.

    “We opened it up and found the remains of twelve human beings, all young females except one.”

    “Jesus,” he mumbled, as much a prayer as an exclamation.

    “The container seems to have been used to transport people great distances, probably on a large vessel or ship. Since no flotsam drifted with it, we surmise it was purposefully jettisoned, but not before the girls inside were executed. If there is any mercy in such a tragedy . . .” Her voice hesitated as emotion found its way.

    John turned and slumped onto the sand, drawing his knees up to his chin. The warmth of the day and gentle breeze now seemed a mockery. Eve’s joy had left with her.

    He felt Letty’s tiny hand rest on his shoulder as he fought his rising rage and grief.

    “John, we cannot allow the shadow-sickness to find a place inside our hearts. In this broken cosmos we grieve. We rightly feel fury, but we must not let go of joy’s embrace, which is beyond our understanding. To feel all of this means that we are alive.”

    He nodded. “You said the humans were female, except one?”

    “Yes, there was also a middle-aged man. The shared initial view is that he may have been trying to protect the girls. There is a story, I’m sure, but we might have to wait a long time to hear it fully.”

    “I don’t want to see—”

    “Don’t worry. The bodies have been transported to the Sanctuary of Sorrows and are being prepared for tomorrow’s celebration of fire. Right now, you must do what only you can do . . . so the Scavengers can dismantle and the Artists can find ways to memorialize these precious children.”

    John closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky, wishing his conversation with Eve had not been so unbearably interrupted.

    “Go on,” Letty encouraged. “The others are waiting.”

    •  •  •

    THE SIZE OF THE container surprised John. At least thirty feet in length, its sheer weight had required a dozen of the Haulers’ beasts to drag it out of the water over rolling logs. Deep ruts were clearly visible behind the box on the cove’s sandy shore. Tents held tables piled high with its contents: clothing, blankets, and a few stuffed toys. It was colder here, as if the sun itself had turned its warming face away.

    From a pocket he took out a small case, opened it, and slipped a ring on his finger. He then turned the edge so that the impress changed. Anything he touched with this ring would bear a date mark and later be taken to his home, the Refuge, where it would be stored for analysis and reference. From his other pocket he took a pair of thin gloves and pulled them on.

    The first item that drew his attention was a three-drawer, black, locked file cabinet, which he marked. It was cold to the touch. He waved over a Crafter, a woman with skills for locks and keys, and it took her only a few seconds to open it, leaving John to the contents. It was what he had expected: files of records and information, shipments, and bills of lading, accounting, and various other reports.

    The bottom drawer held folders documenting the girls’ scant personal information, including a facial photograph of each. Height, weight, age, health. The names were obviously aliases, each an earthly country beginning with sequential letters of the alphabet: Algeria, Bolivia, Canada, and down to Lebanon. He paused for a moment to stare at the images. The faces and eyes in the photos were windows into twelve stories that deserved a proper grieving.

    John was about to shut the drawer and move on when a thought crossed his mind. He counted the folders. Twelve, just as Letty had said. But that was wrong. Her number had included the man. He counted again. Twelve photos, all girls, all young. It meant a girl was missing. Perhaps she had escaped or the records were inaccurate, but the discrepancy nagged at the edges of his thinking and wouldn’t let him go.

    Had Eve been referring to one of these?

    On a hunch he walked a few feet over to the container itself. A row of boots for the workers was lined up near the doors, protective footwear that would later be thoroughly cleaned and decontaminated. He picked a pair his size.

    An Engineer greeted him, “Hey, John. Terrible tragedy, all this.”

    He nodded as he laced up his boots. “I want to go inside for just a moment and check something against these records. Anything I should know?”

    “No, there are still odds and ends to go through, but we’ve already removed what’s most important.”

    John nodded sadly, acknowledging the man’s kindness.

    “Also, we just turned off the refrigeration unit. It’s still freezing in there. Probably got damaged and stuck in the cold cycle, which was a blessing I suppose. The bodies were almost frozen. Be careful, it’s pretty slick.”

    The doors opened easily, groaning on their hinges, letting the sunlight spill inward. Internal lighting flickered on, indicating some sort of closed battery system separate from the refrigeration. He realized as he stepped in that he had been holding his breath. When he let it go through gritted teeth, his exhaling vapor drifted up and around him.

    The hold was about a third full of larger items—boxes, mats, plastic containers—along with litter and bits and pieces of trash, a hodgepodge he would have to go through at some point. Frozen bloodstains were scattered around the metallic tomb, the walls, the floor. Carefully, he stepped around these, every sound he made reverberating in the stillness.

    At the far end he could see the refrigeration fan now silent and unmoving, a thin layer of ice already forming on the blades. A quick survey almost satisfied him that there was no place left that could hide a missing girl.

    But an anomaly caught his eye. At the end of the wall near the cooling unit was a welded metallic frame jutting out about a foot and a half. He cautiously made his way back and examined it closely. Under the bottom were hinges, and when he ran his fingers along the top, he found two large clamps. John knew that if he undid them, the entire thing would open down and out. A sleeping area, like a bunk or tabletop perhaps? Maybe for a guard?

    He hesitated. Then he blew on his hands and unsnapped the clasps, which released with a hollow clack. As he lowered the metal wall, the frosted steel bit into his palms and fingers through the thin gloves. It was heavy and he had to use a shoulder to let it down until chains at either end unraveled their lengths. It stopped a couple feet from the floor, level and sturdy. That is where he found her.

    The teenaged girl was broken inside this space. Someone had forced it shut and she had not fit. She could have been peacefully asleep, her limbs at odd angles, her head folded down on her chest, were it not for the cuts and gashes that began to ooze with the release of pressure. One foot was almost severed. As she lay there frozen, he stood staring, stuck in time.

    John turned and walked out, too sickened to avoid the blood this time. He needed to fetch those trained to deal with such things.

    “I found another girl!” he yelled, setting off a flurry of activity that rushed past him and into the container. Outside, he unlaced the boots and took them off, walked back to the tent where he had marked the cabinet, sat down, and leaned against it.

    “God, how is it that You still love us?” he whispered. He paused and glanced in the direction of the container. “Please, grant to her Your peace,” he prayed.

    Another explosion of activity and shouting brought him to his feet. A Hauler friend burst into the tent and hugged him.

    “John! That girl you found! She is still alive! Barely, but alive!” The man beamed and hugged him a second time. “You’re a Finder now, John!” the Hauler yelled as he left. “Who would have imagined?”

    John dropped his head into his hands, feeling numb. If this was Eve’s child, it was a sorrowful and wrenching birth, in blood and water. What good could come of such evil?

  • Meet the Author

    William Paul Young was born in Canada and raised among a Stone Age tribe by his missionary parents in the highlands of former New Guinea. He suffered great loss as a child and young adult and now enjoys the “wastefulness of grace” with his family in the Pacific Northwest. He is the author of New York Times bestsellers, The Shack and Cross Roads.

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    Eve 4.2 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 14 reviews.
    Anonymous More than 1 year ago
    So many simple but awesome truths of God, sewn into a beautiful story of redemption
    Anonymous 22 days ago
    A great read, in a not so ordinary way.
    Anonymous More than 1 year ago
    I couldnt put the book down !! Very engaging. Must read Ronda Bennet lmt
    Anonymous 5 days ago
    Anonymous More than 1 year ago
    Bookworm_Babblings More than 1 year ago
    I received a free copy of this novel in exchange for my honest review. John the Collector retrieves a ship that is washed ashore, everyone is presumed dead until he finds a body hidden in a compartment. This is the story of Lilly Fields. Lilly has been brought to be a witness, but more importantly, heal her heart and soul from the traumatic childhood she has endured. William Paul Young takes a fascinating look at the days of creation and the fall of man. He shows how easily we can turn from God, starting from a tiny inkling of doubt or feeling alone. The story started off a bit confusing, but as you read on the story begins to come together. It's filled with lots of heartbreaking moments as Lilly comes to terms with her past, so be sure to have your tissues ready. All in all, a great story about trusting God's goodness and love through all circumstances.
    Anonymous More than 1 year ago
    My heart is filled
    Fitzysmom More than 1 year ago
    This is a tough review for me. I'm torn with what to say because I don't want to disparage Mr. Young but I also don't want to be false in my assessment of the book. I went into the reading of this book with the knowledge that Mr. Young was a talented writer. I've read some of his previous endeavors and enjoyed his writing style. In Eve I once again enjoyed his mastery of words and story. But unfortunately I couldn't separate the fiction from the Biblical account. If Eve truly were a work of fiction based solely upon the authors imagination I would rate it higher and say that it was a good story just not quite to my liking. However, the story crosses over into Biblical fiction and that takes it to another level of scrutiny for me. Even though Mr. Young proclaims extensive research into the original texts the story of Eve deviates from it over and over in quite extreme ways. Mr. Young also states that he wishes to take a look at gender equality in a new way but I perceived it as more of a shifting of blame onto Adam rather than Adam and Eve equally disobeying God. Many of the themes throughout the book lean to an ultra feminist agenda that just don't sit well with me and seem to be contrary to Scripture. Eve is a book that I would personally recommend skipping. While the author is quite talented the subject matter in this book make it impossible for me to recommend it to anyone. It is my hope that Mr. Young will continue to use his talents but in areas that aren't as controversial. I received a copy of this book to facilitate my review.
    VicG More than 1 year ago
    Wm. Paul Young in his new book, “Eve”published by Howard Books brings us into the life of Eve. From the back cover: From the author of the twenty-two-million-copy bestseller The Shack comes a captivating new novel destined to be one of the most talked-about books of the decade. When a shipping container washes ashore on an island between our world and the next, John the Collector finds a young woman inside—broken, frozen, and barely alive. With the aid of Healers and Scholars, John oversees her recovery and soon discovers that her genetic code connects her to every known race. No one would guess what her survival will mean… No one but Eve, Mother of the Living, who calls her “daughter” and invites her to witness the truth about her own story—indeed, the truth about us all. Eve is a bold, unprecedented exploration of the Creation narrative, true to the original texts and centuries of scholarship—yet with breathtaking discoveries that challenge traditional beliefs about who we are and how we’re made. Eve opens a refreshing conversation about the equality of men and women within the context of our beginnings, helping us see each other as our Creator does—complete, unique, and not constrained by cultural rules or limitations. As The Shack awakened readers to a personal, non-religious understanding of God, Eve will free us from faulty interpretations that have corrupted human relationships since the Garden of Eden. Thoroughly researched and exquisitely written, Eve is a masterpiece that will inspire readers for generations to come. Mr. Young has taken on the story of creation. Adam, Eve, The Garden Of Eden all the familiar elements that we have grown up with. He has added new thoughts from other parts of The Bible so that we get the story between Genesis One, Verse One and Genesis One Verse Two. Didn’t know there was a whole story between these two verses? Well have no fear it are presented here. Mr. Young has done a marvelous job of bringing his characters to life on the page. I am not so sure I agree with the theology that is presented. I guess this is something the reader will have to determine for themselves. Otherwise the book is interesting. Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Howard Books. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”
    MelissaF More than 1 year ago
    I know a lot of people took issue with The Shack and even though I didn’t agree with everything in the book I found it very interesting and deeply moving. When I saw WM. has come out with a new book, Eve, I had to read it to see what he came up with this time. The first couple of chapters I really wasn’t sure if I would finish the book. My mind seemed to have no place to land and I couldn’t get a hold of the story. But I pressed on. I am so glad I did. This book touches such a deep place in the heart of man and why we have turned away from our one true love. Lilly is a tough cookie, but she is so broken like all of us until she sees the beauty that is awaiting her. And she learns to trust. This is key. My words really can’t do justice to this book. It goes far beyond a review, it has moved my heart and I am still pondering the words I read. With that being said, there were some things in the book that made me go, “Not sure I think that really happened.” But it is fiction and should be read as such. Also, there was at least one “D” word in there and I am pretty sure Lilly used the Lord’s name in vain. So I wanted to give you a heads up on that. But if you want a different and deeper understanding of the heart of man and woman from the beginning I believe you will find it within these pages. Soul-achingly beautiful. A copy of this book was given to me by the publisher through Netgalley.com in exchange for an honest review.
    amybooksy More than 1 year ago
    Eve was just in an okay read for me. I was really excited to be able to read it after hearing how good The Shack was. I have to say I was a little disappointed and not completely sure it was a book for me. There were some good elements of the book but I was confused through half of it. Three stars I received this book from Howard Books in exchange for my honest opinion, which was given.
    Anonymous More than 1 year ago
    Overly flowery writing mixed with unnecessarily too much details makes for a boring read.
    Anonymous More than 1 year ago
    Here
    Anonymous More than 1 year ago
    Hey.