The Monk’s Widow
When all was overturned into widowhood, my entire world collapsed on itself. Everything fell through. My husband David and I ...Read More
Funerals are totally acceptable. As long as a widow doesn’t audibly cry, tears are allowed to come down her face ...Read More
I had to reenter David’s death room to finish this book. Being inside David’s death room again intensifies all the ...Read More
A trauma memoir nearly destroys, certainly changes, the author. The best of the genre have been written with extreme anguish ...Read More
David’s palliative care doctor had just predicted that his funeral would be in 3 to 6 months. That brought us ...Read More
Everyone understands the term “midwife,” but there is no term for describing the person who travels with the terminally ill ...Read More
No matter how we would like to deny it, we all will die. But, unless we have a heart attack ...Read More
We received the deadly diagnosis on September 23, 2013. By the next month, I had started recording our conversations. In ...Read More
Today, May 18, 2018, is David’s third death date. The term “death date” assumes huge proportions. The first year, I ...Read More
When The New York Times published an early excerpt from Roz Chast’s Can’t we talk about something more PLEASANT?, I ...Read More
People do not understand dying at all. In our case, dying was very, very slow. Knowing you’re going to die ...Read More
In September, 2013, when my husband David got a deadly diagnosis with a prognosis of 12 to 15 months, maybe ...Read More
I stayed in the retirement home where David had died until the first anniversary of his death. After having a ...Read More
My husband, Dom Philip, died on May 18, 2015, of a very rare liver cancer. For 26 months, 2.2 years, ...Read More
My Mountain Life
When I moved back to DC, searching for a place to live, my made-in-heaven basement apartment turned into a disaster ...Read More
August 7, 2018 Tuesday afternoon, and I just returned from Garth Newel. I arrived there around 11 AM and watched ...Read More
An Infinity of Little Hours
An Infinity of Little Hours: Today, if you enter the grounds of the Carthusian Charterhouse at Parkminster, England, you will walk up a long path until you reach the heavy, double-oak doors of the main entrance.
You will pull the bell rope and wait expectantly.
An Infinity of Little Hours
After a long pause, you will hear the rasping sound of metal on wood as a bolt is pulled back … and… ever so slowly… a small window in one of the doors opens.
You will dimly see the brother Porter of Parkminster. His job is to keep outsiders from the inner sanctum, to protect the solitude of each monk.
“No visitors are allowed,” he will say, if you don’t have an appointment.
But, since you are inquiring about the book, An Infinity of Little Hours, you do have an appointment.
I invite you to join the many readers who have explored the secret life inside the Charterhouse. One reader called it a page turner, another the very best sort of psychological thriller, or a stunner of a book. A New York literary agent said it “knocked my socks off”. Don’t believe me. You can read their comments in the review section of this website. And, twelve years later, the book is still selling and still being reviewed.
Nancy Klein Maguire