Light from Heaven (Mitford Series #9)

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Jan Karon saved the best for last - the final novel in the Mitford Years series.

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Overview

Jan Karon saved the best for last - the final novel in the Mitford Years series.

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
Jan Karon has said that she writes "to give readers an extended family and to applaud the extraordinary beauty of ordinary lives." In her much-acclaimed Mitford Years novels, of which this is the last, she has artfully fulfilled both goals. In Light from Heaven, we witness the quiet struggle of Father Tim to complete his mission and a final gift of grace.
Library Journal
Can Father Tim save an abandoned mountaintop church? Is this a "Mitford Years" novel? Karon wraps up her popular series with this work-but look for a new series starring Father Tim. With a five-city tour. Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781419348969
  • Publisher: Recorded Books, LLC
  • Publication date: 1/1/2005
  • Series: Mitford Series , #9
  • Format: Cassette
  • Edition description: Unabridged

Meet the Author

Jan Karon

Jan Karon, born Janice Meredith Wilson in the foothills of North Carolina, was named after the title of a popular novel, Janice Meredith.

Jan wrote her first novel at the age of ten. "The manuscript was written on Blue Horse notebook paper, and was, for good reason, kept hidden from my sister. When she found it, she discovered the one curse word I had, with pounding heart, included in someone's speech. For Pete's sake, hadn't Rhett Butler used that very same word and gotten away with it? After my grandmother's exceedingly focused reproof, I've written books without cussin' ever since."

Several years ago, Karon left a successful career in advertising to move to the mountain village of Blowing Rock, North Carolina, and write books. "I stepped out on faith to follow my lifelong dream of being an author," she says. "I made real sacrifices and took big risks. But living, it seems to me, is largely about risk."

Enthusiastic booksellers across the country have introduced readers of all ages to Karon's heartwarming books. At Home in Mitford, Karon's first book in the Mitford series, was nominated for an ABBY by the American Booksellers Association in 1996 and again in 1997. Bookstore owner, Shirley Sprinkle, says, "The Mitford Books have been our all-time fiction bestsellers since we went in business twenty-five years ago. We've sold 10,000 of Jan's books and don't see any end to the Mitford phenomenon."

Biography

Jan Karon, born Janice Meredith Wilson in the foothills of North Carolina, was named after the title of a popular novel, Janice Meredith.

Jan wrote her first novel at the age of ten. "The manuscript was written on Blue Horse notebook paper, and was, for good reason, kept hidden from my sister. When she found it, she discovered the one curse word I had, with pounding heart, included in someone's speech. For Pete's sake, hadn't Rhett Butler used that very same word and gotten away with it? After my grandmother's exceedingly focused reproof, I've written books without cussin' ever since."

Several years ago, Karon left a successful career in advertising to move to the mountain village of Blowing Rock, North Carolina, and write books. "I stepped out on faith to follow my lifelong dream of being an author," she says. "I made real sacrifices and took big risks. But living, it seems to me, is largely about risk."

Enthusiastic booksellers across the country have introduced readers of all ages to Karon's heartwarming books. At Home in Mitford, Karon's first book in the Mitford series, was nominated for an ABBY by the American Booksellers Association in 1996 and again in 1997. Bookstore owner, Shirley Sprinkle, says, "The Mitford Books have been our all-time fiction bestsellers since we went in business twenty-five years ago. We've sold 10,000 of Jan's books and don't see any end to the Mitford phenomenon."

Author biography courtesy of Penguin Group (USA).

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    1. Also Known As:
      Janice Meredith Wilson
    2. Hometown:
      Blowing Rock, North Carolina
    1. Date of Birth:
      November 30, 1936
    2. Place of Birth:
      Lenoir, North Carolina

Read an Excerpt

Light from Heaven


By Jan Karon

Viking Adult

ISBN: 0-670-03453-3


Chapter One

A Winter Eden

The first flake landed on a blackberry bush in the creek bottom of Meadowgate Farm. In the frozen hour before dawn, others found their mark on the mossy roof of the smokehouse; in a grove of laurel by the northwest pasture; on the handle of a hoe left propped against the garden fence.

Close by the pond in the sheep paddock, a buck, a doe, and two fawns stood motionless as an owl pushed off from the upper branches of a pine tree and sailed, silent and intent, to the ridge of the barn roof.

The owl hooted once, then twice.

As if summoned by its velveteen cry, the platinum moon broke suddenly from the clouds above the pond, transforming the water's surface into a gleaming lake of molten pearl. Then, clouds sailed again over the face of the moon, and in the bitter darkness, snowflakes fell thick and fast, swirling as in a shaken globe.

It was twelve minutes after six o'clock when a gray light rose above the brow of Hogback Mountain, exposing an imprint of tractor tires that linked Meadowgate's hay barn to the cow pasture and sheep paddock. The imprints of work boots and dog paws were also traceable along the driveway to the barn, and back to the door of the farmhouse, where smoke puffed from the chimney and lamplight shone behind the kitchen windows.

From a tulip poplar at the northeast corner to the steel stake at the southwest, all hundred and thirty acres of Meadowgate Farm lay under a powdery blanket of March snow.

Cynthia Kavanagh stood in the warmth of the farmhouse kitchen in a chenille robe, and gazed out on the hushed landscape.

"It makes everything innocent again," she said. "A winter Eden."

At the pine table, Father Timothy Kavanagh leafed through his quote journal until he found the record he'd jotted down. "Unbelievable! We've had snow one, two, three, four ... this is the fifth time since Christmas Eve."

"Snow, snow, and more snow!"

"Not to mention dogs, dogs, and more dogs! It looks like somebody backed up to the door and dumped a truckload of canines in here."

Following his customary daylight romp, Barnabas, a Bouvier-wolfhound mix and his boon companion of ten years, was drowned in slumber on the hearth rug; Buckwheat, an English foxhound grown long in the tooth, had draped herself over the arm of the sofa; the Welsh corgi, aptly named Bodacious, snored in a wing chair she had long ago claimed as her own; and Luther, a recent, mixed-breed addition to the Meadowgate pack, had slung himself onto his bed in the corner, belly up. There was a collective odor of steam rising from sodden dog hair. "Ugh!" said his wife, who was accustomed to steam rising off only one wet dog.

Father Tim looked up from the journal in which he was transcribing notes collected hither and yon. "So what are you doing today, Kavanagh?"

Cynthia mashed the plunger of the French coffee press. "I'm doing the sketch of Violet looking out the kitchen window to the barn, and I'm calling Puny to find out about the twins-they're days late, you know."

"Good idea. Expected around March fourth or fifth, and here it is the fourteenth. They'll be ready for kindergarten."

"And you must run to Mitford with the shopping list for Dooley's homecoming dinner tomorrow."

"Consider it done."

His heart beat faster at the thought of having their boy home for spring break, but the further thought of having nothing more to accomplish than a run to The Local was definitely discouraging. Heaven knows, there was hardly anything to do on the farm but rest, read, and walk four dogs; he'd scarcely struck a lick at a snake since arriving in mid-January. Willie Mullis, a full-timer who'd replaced the part-time Bo Davis, lived on the place and did all the odd jobs, feeding up and looking after livestock; Joyce Havner did the laundry and cleaning, as she'd done at Meadowgate for years; Blake Eddistoe ran the vet clinic, only a few yards from the farmhouse door, with consummate efficiency; there was even someone to bush hog and cut hay when the season rolled around.

In truth, it seemed his main occupation since coming to farm-sit for the Owens was waiting to hear from his bishop, Stuart Cullen, who had e-mailed him before Christmas.

* Heads up:

* I will almost certainly have something for you early next year. As you might expect, it isn't anything fancy, and God knows, it will be a challenge. Yet I admit I'm patently envious.

* Can't say more at this time, but will be in touch after the holy days, and we shall see what's what (I do recall, by the way, that you're spending next year at the Owens' farm, and this would not be a conflict).

He had scratched his head throughout the month of January, trying to reckon what the challenge might be. In February, he'd called Stuart, attempting to gouge it out of him, but Stuart had asked for another couple of weeks to get the plan together before he spilled the beans.

Now, here they were in the middle of March, and not a word.

"You're sighing, Timothy."

"Wondering when Stuart will get off the pot."

"He's retiring in June and consecrating the cathedral-altogether, a great deal to say grace over. You'll hear soon, dearest."

She handed him a mug of black coffee, which he took with gratitude.

So here he sat, retired from nearly four decades of active ministry as a priest, toasting himself by an open fire with his good-humored and companionable wife of seven years, and situated in what he believed to be the most breathtakingly beautiful countryside in America.

Why bother, after all, about some "challenge" that may or may not be coming. Hadn't he had challenges enough to last him a lifetime?

His wife, on the other hand, was ever drumming up a challenge. During their year at the farm, conveniently located twenty minutes from Mitford, she'd decided to accomplish three lifetime goals: learn needlepoint, make perfect oven fries, and read War and Peace.

"So how's it coming with War and Peace?"

"I despise telling you this, but I haven't opened it once. I'm reading a charming old book called Mrs. Miniver."

"And the fries?"

"Since Dooley comes tomorrow, I'll be conducting my next experiment-to see whether soaking the potatoes in ice water will make them crispier. And I'm definitely using peanut oil this time."

"I'll peel and cut," he said. He hadn't seen any activity around the needlepoint plan, so he declined to mention it.

"Pathetic," she said, reading his mind. "I'm all thumbs. Learning from a book is not the way to do it. I've decided to let Olivia tutor me, if she has a free day now and then. Besides, having lunch with someone who also wears eye shadow might be fun."

"I'm definitely a dud in the eye shadow department."

She thumped into the wing chair opposite him and took a sip from her coffee mug. "And what about you, dearest? Have you accomplished all your lifetime goals?"

Oddly, the question stung him. "I suppose I haven't thought about it." Maybe he hadn't wanted to think about having any further goals.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the wing chair. "I believe if I were charged with having a goal, it would be to live without fretting-to live more fully in the moment, not always huffing about as I've done in recent years ... to live humbly-and appreciatively-with whatever God furnishes."

He reflected for a moment and raised his head and looked at her. "Yes. That would be my goal."

"But aren't you doing that?"

"No. I feel obligated to get out there, to open myself to some new and worthwhile service. I've been a bump on a log these last weeks."

"It's OK to be a bump on a log once in a while. 'Be still,' He tells us, 'and know that I am God.' We must learn to wait on Him, Timothy. All those years of preaching and celebrating, and doing the interim at Whitecap-what a lovely legacy God allowed you to have there; and ministering to Louella and Miss Sadie and Helene Pringle and Morris Love and George Gaynor and Edith Mallory and the Leepers ..." She took a deep breath. "On and on, an entire community, for heaven's sake, not to mention volunteering at the Children's Hospital and rounding up Dooley's little sister and brothers ..."

"One brother still missing," he said, "and what have I done about it?"

"There may be nothing you can do about it. There's absolutely nothing to go on, no leads of any kind. Maybe God alone can do something about it. Perhaps Kenny is God's job."

The fire crackled on the hearth; the dogs snored.

His wife had just preached him a sermon, and it was one he needed to hear. He had a mate who knew precisely what was what, especially when he didn't.

"'Let us then be up and doing,'" he quoted from Wordsworth, "'with a heart for any fate!' Where's the grocery list?"

"In my head at present, but let's get it out." She opened the small drawer in the lamp table and removed her notebook and pen.

"Steak!" She scribbled. "Same old cut?"

"Same old, same old. New York strip." This would be no Lenten fast, but a Lenten feast for a starving college boy who was seldom home.

"Russet potatoes," she said, continuing the litany.

"Always best for fries." His blood would soon get up for this cookathon, even if he couldn't eat much on the menu. While some theologians construed St. Paul's thorn to be any one of a variety of alarming dysfunctions, he'd been convinced for years that it was the same blasted affliction he'd ended up with-diabetes.

"Pie crusts," she said, scribbling on. "Oh, rats. For the life of me, I can't remember all the ingredients for his chocolate pie, and of course, I didn't bring my recipe box."

"I never liked the recipe we use," he said, suddenly confessional.

"You're not supposed to even touch chocolate pie, Timothy, so what difference does it make? Dooley loves it; it isn't half bad, really."

"It needs something."

"Like what?"

"Something more ... you know."

"Whipped cream!"

His wife loved whipped cream; with the slenderest of excuses, she would slather it on anything.

"Not whipped cream. Something more like ..." He threw up his hands; his culinary imagination had lately flown south.

"Meringue, then."

"Meringue!" he said, slapping his leg. "That's it!"

She bolted from her chair and trotted to the kitchen counter. "Marge's recipe box ... I was thumbing through it the other day and I vaguely remember ... Let's see ... Onions in Cream Sauce, Penne Pasta with Lump Crabmeat, that sounds good...."

"Keep going."

"Pie!"

"Bingo."

"Buttermilk Pie ... Vinegar Pie ... Fresh Coconut ..."

"Mark that one!"

"Egg Custard ... Fresh Peach ... Deep-Dish Apple ..."

"Enough," he said. "I'm only human."

"Here it is. Chocolate Pie with Meringue."

"Finish that list, Kavanagh, and I'm out of here."

Ha! He'd denied himself as sternly as one of the Desert Fathers these last weeks; he would have the tiniest sliver of that pie, or else ...

"I know what you're thinking," she said.

He pulled on his jacket and foraged in the pockets for his knit cap, and kissed her warm mouth.

"You always know what I'm thinking," he said.

His hand was on the doorknob when the phone rang.

"Do try to find a haircut while you're in town," she said, picking up the receiver.

"You've got that John-the-Baptist look again. Hello! Meadowgate Farm."

He watched her pause, listening, then grin from ear to ear.

"Thanks for calling, Joe Joe. That's wonderful! Congratulations! Give Puny our love. I'll be over on Thursday. Timothy's headed into Mitford now, I'm sure he'll stop by."

"So?" he asked, excited as a kid.

"Boys! Weighing in at fifteen pounds total! Thomas and ..." She paused, and looked all-knowing.

"And?"

"Thomas and Timothy!"

"No!"

"Yes! One named for Puny's grandfather and one named for you. Now there are two little boys in this world who're named for you, and I hope you realize that people don't go around naming little boys for a bump on a log."

Boys! And because Puny's father was long deceased, he would be their granpaw, just as he was granpaw to Puny and Joe Joe's twin girls.

His entire chest felt suffused with a warm and radiating light.

He turned onto the state road, which had already been scraped for the school buses, and headed south past the Baptist church and its snow-covered brush arbor. He glanced at the wayside pulpit, which was changed weekly.

if loving god were a crime, would you be in jail?

Getting around was a piece of cake. The heavens had given them only a couple of inches, and in a farm truck built like a tank, he felt safe and thoroughly above it all.

Patently envious. Patently envious. What could a bigwig bishop, albeit his oldest friend, envy in a country parson? There it was again, the tape running in a loop and promising to work his mind into a lather.

"I roll this whole mystery over to You, Lord," he said aloud, "and thank You for this day!"

In truth, the whole day belonged to him. He would stop by the hospital to see Puny and her new brood; he would run over to Hope House and visit Louella; he would make a noon stop at Lew Boyd's Exxon where the Turkey Club was lately convening; he would have a chin-wag with Avis at The Local....

As for getting a haircut, he had no intention of trusting his balding head to Fancy Skinner ever again, period; Joe Ivy had retired from cutting hair and wanted nothing more to do with such a trade; trooping to the barber shop in Wesley would take too much time. So, no, indeed, absolutely not, there would be no haircut on this trip into civilization. The sun broke through leaden clouds and flooded the countryside with a welcome light.

"Yee hah!" he shouted against the considerable din of the truck engine. Why had he felt so bereft and grumpy only a half hour before, when he was now beginning to feel like a new man?

He switched on the radio to the blast of a country music station; it was golden oldies time.

"I bought th' shoes that just walked out on me...." someone sang. He sang along, hardly caring that he didn't know the words.

"Country come to town!" he whooped as he drove into Mitford.

Roaring past the Exxon station, he blew the horn twice, just to let the general public know he'd arrived.

He bent and kissed her forehead.

"Well done," he said, a lump in his throat. Two sets of twins! May God have mercy.... "They're whoppers," she said, smiling up at him.

His so-called house help of ten years, and the one whom he loved like a daughter, lay worn but beaming in the hospital bed.

He took her hand, feeling the rough palm that had come from years of scrubbing, polishing, cooking, washing, ironing, and generally making his life and Cynthia's far simpler, not to mention indisputably brighter. "Thank you for naming one of your fine boys after this old parson."

"We won't call 'im by th' fancy name. It'll jis' be Timmy."

"Timmy. I always liked it when Mother called me Timmy."

"Timmy an' Tommy," she said, proudly.

"Timmy and Tommy and Sissy and Sassy."

"You'll be the boys' granpaw, too," she said, in case he hadn't considered this.

"It'll be an honor to be their granpaw."

"Father?"

Since he'd officiated at her wedding several years ago, she had taken to calling him by his priestly title in a way that subtly claimed him as her true father. He never failed to note this. Blast, if he wasn't about to bawl like baby. "Yes, my dear?"

"I sure do love you and Cynthy."

There they came, rolling down his cheeks like a veritable gulley washer....

"And we sure do love you back," he croaked.

"So, how's the food at Hope House these days?"

He sat on the footstool by Louella's rocking chair, feeling roughly eight or ten years old, as he always had in the presence of Miss Sadie and Louella.

"Oh, honey, some time it's good, some time it ain't fit for slop." He noted that Louella said ain't now that Miss Sadie, who forbade its use, had passed on. "You take th' soup-th' menu has th' same ol' soup on it every day, day after day, long as I been here." She looked thoroughly disgusted.

"What soup is that?"

"Soup du jour! If they cain't come up with more'n one soup in this high-dollar outfit, I ain't messin' with it."

"Aha," he said.

"My granmaw, Big Mama, said soup was for sick people, anyway, an' I ain't sick an' ain't plannin' to be."

"That's the spirit."

Louella rocked on. The warm room, the lowering clouds beyond the window, and the faint drone of the shopping network made him drowsy; his eyelids drooped....

Louella suddenly stopped rocking. "I been meanin' to ask-what you doin' 'bout Miss Sadie's money?"

He snapped to attention. "What money is that?"

"Don't you remember? I tol' you 'bout th' money she hid in that ol' car."

"Old car," he said, clueless.

"In that ol' Plymouth automobile she had." Louella appeared positively vexed with him.

"Louella, I don't have any idea what you mean."

"Your mem'ry must be goin', honey."

"Why don't you tell me everything, from the beginning."

"Seem like I called you up an' tol' you, but maybe I dreamed it. Do you ever dream somethin' so real you think it happened?"

"I do."

"A while before she passed, Miss Sadie got mad 'bout th' market fallin' off. You know she made good money in that market."

"Yes, ma'am, she did." Hadn't she left Dooley Barlowe a cool million plus at her passing? This extraordinary fact, however, was not yet known to Dooley.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from Light from Heaven by Jan Karon Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 47 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(26)

4 Star

(10)

3 Star

(2)

2 Star

(4)

1 Star

(5)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 47 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 17, 2007

    AUTHOR SHOULD HAVE QUIT WHILE SHE WAS AHEAD!

    I have thoroughly loved the Mitford Series, but this finale was a HUGE disappointment. It was nearly impossible to read. I found myself skipping pages just to get through it. Just make up your own ending and don't bother with this book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 16, 2006

    Disappointing

    I have read the entire series, and thoroughly enjoyed the books, laughing out loud quite often as I read. I was disappointed in 'Light From Heaven', as chunks of time were left out, as well as leaving quite a few loose ends. I feel as though the author rushed through this book, not wanting to include details. I highly recommend the series to everyone, but don't get your hopes up for a grande finale!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 17, 2006

    Where was the editor?

    I've just started the book and I am immediately put off by ''Let us then be up and doing,'' he quoted from Wordsworth, ''with a heart for any fate!' Father Tim is supposed to be an expert on Wordsworth. He should know that quotation is from Longfellow...'The Psalm of Life.' Karon should have checked it. And her editor should have known better. Perhaps they will correct it before the next printing

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 12, 2014

    Great read!

    Really enjoyed this book,reminded me of the Anglican church I grew up in. I've already recommended it to a couple of friends and yes I will definitely buy more by this author.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 1, 2014

    Loved all of the Mitford series novels.

    Characters are quirky and interesting. Lovely stories.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 25, 2013

    Mitford series by jan karon

    these books are heart warrming and enjoyable .father tim and his parish along with his family just keeps you going to the next book wondering what will happen next.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 12, 2012

    Highly Recommended!!

    an only hope my firend Jan (I've never met her, but she has established our friendship from the very first book I read.) I can only hope she will continue her Father Tim Series. Her characters are exquistedly defined in the story line! Thank you, Jan!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 16, 2011

    An awesome ending to an awesome series!

    I thoroughly enjoyed this book, as I have the previous 8 in this series. They are very uplifting.

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  • Posted May 23, 2009

    I Also Recommend:

    The last but not the conclusion of a wonderful series.

    Jan Karon's books are always touching, humorous and a delight to read. The characters come to life for the reader and you care about them and what happens to them. Religion plays a big part in the theme's but the books do not preach to the reader. It's just there and neccessary.

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  • Posted April 14, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Another delightful story from Jan Karon

    Jan Karon is brilliant at character development and drawing a reader into the lives of her characters. The cast of Light from Heaven, as in all her Mitford books are my friends! If you haven't read the Mitford series, you're in for a treat. Start at the beginning of the series and immerse yourself in the lives of these delightful people. A cure for stress!

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  • Posted January 24, 2009

    I Also Recommend:

    Absolutely Wonderful

    This series is the best I have ever read! I never grow tired of the characters or the story. When I finish one book, I yearn for the next. I am so sorry the author is no longer writing this series. I have every one of these books and I treasure them all.

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  • Posted December 26, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    Enjoy as usual!

    Great story - It had been a while since I had read the others and I tend to forgot things so I wish it would have reminded me more about who the characters were but not a big deal.

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  • Posted December 18, 2008

    Mitford Series

    This is the one of the best book series I have ever read. I feel a sadness every time I finish one of these books & was especially sad when Jan Karon ended the series. I've come to love the people of Mitford & wish this was an actual place!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 31, 2006

    Wonderful Finale

    Finally and sadly Karon has posted her last installment of the 'Mitford Series'. For me and my wife the career and life of 'Father Tim', his wife and the 'country folks' she knows so well has enthralled us and now, as the last book has been devoured, we are left with a hole in our literary hearts. One can only hope that Jan Karon will create a sequel to these wonderful books that will continue to blend the characters she has so skillfully woven into a new novel(s). A suggestion to the reader: Start the Mitford Series at the beginning and follow through to this final novel. They will become addictive in the most pleasant way.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 2, 2006

    Very disappointing

    I couldn't get past the third tape in the audio version. The narrator made everyone sound illiterate. There were too many characters, new and old, to keep track of. I was hoping for better as I had enjoyed all the previous books in the series. Very disappointing.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 10, 2005

    Disappointed only because it's the last

    I've always described Jan Karon's books as 'brain vacations.' Each has allowed me to sit down, flip the page, and enter another world in the mountains of North Carolina. Jan Karon invites the reader into the homes, thoughts, and hearts of each character to the extent that you're all but convinced these people actually live and breathe on Wisteria Lane, at Meadowgate, and in The Local. 'Light from Heaven' is yet again another Karon masterpiece of charm, pleasure, and amazement, especially at her remarkable ability to create afresh such believable personalities (Agnes, Clarence, and Jubal, for instance), whose histories and experiences are so detailed and rich, that you just want to go and thank them for sharing their story with you. These are books to cherish, re-read, and share with those who haven't yet become acquainted, as we had the privilege to do recently. A dear friend of ours lost her own 'Fr. Tim,' who had ministered faithfully in the Episcopal Church for 40 years until his death in November. I introduced his wife to the books of Mitford, and they were perfect tonic to ease her exhausting journey throughout his illness. And now, they comfort her still. This is the gift Jan Karon gives to so many--the comfort, strength, and inspiration of God's goodness and grace, no matter what the circumstances. Thank you, Jan, for blessing us with the blessing you've been given. Yet this is the end of Mitford, and 'there's the rub.'

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 6, 2005

    It's a Feel Good Read

    Jan karon has published several books in the past years that were simply commercial endeavors at the expense of the Father Tim series, but this book is really nice. It has a good storyline and lots of heart. I really enjoyed it.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 22, 2006

    What happened

    I have enjoyed reading the early books but it has been a down spiral the last few books in this series. I thought this last book was to wrap up all the loose ends, but very few were wrapped up and why add new characters??? Unless this is really NOT the last of the Mitford series

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 4, 2006

    Wonderful, touching, inspiring reading.

    Post 911, it is so comforting to read such down-home literature. Mitford is a place in which one can escape after a hectic day. Father Tim and Cynthia provide hope and inspiration for this aging lady. JanetB

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 16, 2005

    KUDOS TO JAN KARON

    I have read ALL of the Mitford Series and am heartbroken that Light From Heaven is the final book in the series. In this day and age of war and all bad news, it was wonderful to sit back and become a character along with these wonderful people. I am very disappointed that it ended and it seems so final. However, Jan Karon is a wonderful, clean author. To those that haven't read the series and want to feel warm and fuzzy with a good series, do yourself a favor and start reading from Book 1 on.

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