Review: All the Lost Places

Posted on March 26, 2025 by Barbara Harper

In All the Lost Places by Amanda Dykes, Daniel Goodman is a former thief in 1904 California who is trying to make restitution. He saves money from his lowly wages to repay those he robbed from. He has not seen his mother since he got out of prison: he feels he can’t face her until he has righted his wrongs.

When he hears that his mother may lose her home due to lack of finances, he looks for additional work. A seemingly chance encounter finds him interviewing with a man whose boss wants to make a “little Venice” in CA. At first Daniel applies just for physical labor. But upon finding out that someone is needed to translate one of Daniel’s favorite books and travel to Venice to sketch famous buildings, Daniel pushes hard for that role. His mother had come from Venice. She had sent him the book in question when he was in prison. He used to be able to draw–a head injury has left him unable to draw from memory any more, but he can draw something if he can see it.

The man is skeptical at first, but when Daniel draws a nearby building for him, the man agrees.

Daniel had kept himself pretty isolated after his prison confinement, so traveling and interacting with so many people is a strain on his nerves. He barely arrives in Venice when he literally runs into Vittoria, a bookseller. One of his tasks is to try to find the original copy of the book he’s supposed to translate, The Book of Waters. Daniel’s copy is one of only a few, which are all unfinished. It’s hoped that the original will have the closing chapters. He enlists Vittoria’s help to try to find the book.

As Daniel translates, he’s drawn into the story of Sebastien, who was put in a basket and floated toward an orphanage in Venice in 1807. Instead, a gondolier notices the basket, picks him up, and takes him to a guild of five artisans, who adopt him and train him in each of their skills. Though Sebastien loves his blended family, he wrestles all his life with his identity and purpose. One day, a woman washes up on the shore of the island Sebastien lives on, changing both their lives forever.

Sebastien’s story occurs when Napoleon had taken over Venice. Some Venetians planned that at some point, they would revolt and set up their Doge, or governor.

Sebastien and Daniel wrestle with some of the same questions. Though Daniel knows his origins, he can’t free himself from the guilt and losses of his past. Yet just as Venice was “the city that came from a swamp . . . a lost place that grew hope,” perhaps God can build something new and beautiful on the swampy places of a man’s life.

The Napoleonic era is one I know very little about, and I was glad to learn more of that time frame and Venice’s history. Amanda shares a lot of interesting details in in her end notes, including the fact that an Abbot Kinney really did build a “Venice of America” in CA in the early 1900s.

Some of the quotes that stood out to me:

Isn’t that the way of miracles? Something extraordinary because of the faithful ordinary (p. 53, Kindle version).

Found means someone was searching for you, running after you. You, the greatest treasure in all the world. That is what Trovato—Found—means. Sebastien Trovato, you are Found. Always and forever (p. 74).

Life had taught them hope was a dangerous and fragile thing . . . Faith sang a different song: hope was as necessary as breath, and so strong that it carried its own heartbeat (p. 115).

He dug instead for the tiniest slip of hope. And in doing so, hope became . . . purpose (p. 120).

Mosaic . . . it is the art of empty spaces. Broken things, harvested as treasure and pieced together into something entirely . . . different. Old, but new. Broken, but whole (p. 219).

“Do not be downcast, O your soul!’” He raised his face to the sun, reciting a psalm—or what sounded like one.
“Do you mean ‘O my soul’?”
“My soul is very happy in this moment. I mean your soul” (p. 249).

Perhaps you are becoming a new tool for a new work. God is not bound by the way things used to be (p. 254).

She stood before him, inches and a universe away, all at once (p. 285).

Amanda’s writings always touch the heart. This book took a little longer for me to get into than some of her others, but I loved how all the threads came together in the end.

(I often link up with some of these bloggers.)

Review: Up from the Sea

Posted on March 6, 2025 by Barbara Harper

Amanda Dykes’ novella, Up from the Sea is a prequel to Whose Waves These Are, one of my all-time favorite Christian novels.

Savannah Mae Thorpe was raised in Georgia, but is taken in by an aunt and uncle in Maine after her parents die. Savannah is more comfortable walking in the forest than the ballroom with her cousins.

When her cousins and their friends tell of an old legend, Savannah recognizes it as a variation on a story her mother told of a young woman who buried a small chest under what came to be known as the Atonement Tree, asking forgiveness while an unknown observer watched.

When Savannah discovers an updated version of the map her mother drew as a child, she goes with her cousins and Alistair Bliss, a local woodsman and employee of the family, to see if they can find the tree. What they discover has ramifications for all of them.

Along with Savannah’s “fish out of water” story, there are hints of troubled secrets in Alistair’s past, Savannah’s uneasy relationship with the cousin she used to count as a friend, and some Revolutionary War history.

Some of my favorite quotes:

Darkness comes, Savannah my girl. But don’t you let it steal your light.

I have a feeling no matter how mixed up the problem is, the answer’s almost always the most simple thing hiding beneath all our worries. That if we scale it back and look for the simplest truth—there lies the thing to do.

So many dashed hopes between the three women present within, yet it felt like a gathering place. God’s hand moving and weaving, stitching these unlikely hearts to one another.

So far, I have loved everything I’ve read of Amanda’s. This was such a sweet story. I loved the development of Savannah’s relationship with Alistair (who becomes the father of the brothers in Whose Waves These Are). I think both books could be read on their own, but they go well together.

Review: Whose Waves These Are

Posted on April 24, 2024 by Barbara Harper

Whose Waves These Are by Amanda Dykes begins in September, 1944. Identical twin brothers in a small Maine village, Ansel-by-the -Sea, have just turned eighteen. Enlistment in military service has been closed “to protect the home-front work force,” but the draft is in effect. A letter arrives from the President ordering one of the twins to report for duty. Robert Bliss assumes, hopes, the letter is for him. He’s single, ready to go. His brother, Roy, is married to Jenny–the girl Robert has loved for years but didn’t speak up for soon enough. Roy and Jenny have just discovered they’re going to be parents.

But, no. The letter is for Roy.

Robert proposes that he could go in Roy’s place. They’ve stood in for each other many times. But Roy argues that it’s his turn to help save others.

Then we’re whisked to Chicago in 2001, where Annie Bliss crunches numbers. She was an anthropology major, but her first assignment to help a small village ended in disaster. In her current job, at least she can’t hurt anybody.

Then she receives news that her “Grandbob” back in Ansel-by-the-Sea is in grave condition in the hospital.

Annie speeds back to Maine, where she had visited as a child when her parents’ deployments overlapped and they left her with Bob. There she is known as “Bob’s Annie.”

While Bob is unconscious, Annie gets reacquainted with the people she knew. There’s one newcomer since she lived there, a quiet, brooding postman and EMT named Jeremiah Fletcher, or Fletch. Annie discovers boxes of rocks in a closet in Bob’s house. Jeremiah shows her even more in the boathouse. Bob has left her a key, but no word about what it belongs to. As Annie asks around town, people either don’t know or aren’t sharing what Bob was up to.

The point of view switches back and forth between these two time frames. The older one unfolds what happened with the brothers during the war and the years afterward. As one grieves the loss of the other, he writes the only poem of his life asking for rocks to represent people lost during the war. He plans to build something to represent hope and healing. But another tragedy halts his efforts.

The twenty-first century timeline shares Annie’s story and shows her discovering the pieces of her history that she had not known.

I loved this book. I just wanted to sit and hug it after finishing it. It left me wishing I could visit Ansel-by-the-Sea, if it were a real place and these people lived there. I love books with a strong sense of place, whose stories could not have taken place anywhere else.

I loved the characters. I loved the way the author unfolded and wove together everyone’s stories.

I also loved many of the author’s turns of phrases. A few:

A wake is a ripple left after a departure (p. 41).

He said it was time to be part of the unbreaking, of the making of something. He told me there was a Carpenter who was going to build me right up, too (p. 75).

She looks at Bob lying there, face mapped in wrinkles carved from compassion (p. 79).

She’s used to city life, rich in its own way, with an energy and bustle from the lives there, but where eye contact is a safety issue and a good neighbor is your insurance company’s tagline (p. 87).

Annie tries for small talk. Which, as she’d learned, could sometimes lead to large talk. Which made the small talk bearable (p. 131).

Don’t get stuck in the dark . . . There’s a whole lotta light . . . Go there instead (p. 171).

Saluting—a stance of the fiercest heartache schooled into firmest respect (p. 173).

The song she offered up was all the more beauitful in its wavering and brokenness. Courageous, and offering. The laying out of her broken heart before her God (p. 188).

Words begin to light up, pour right through, like someone turned on a faucet and he’s just trying to catch them. They’re not his, really, he’s just the one scratching them out (p. 188).

He slaps courage back into himself and goes to church (p. 202).

I choose to believe there is some shred of light left in him. A light I pray he fights for (p. 238).

His thoughts are becoming more like an ongoing conversation with heaven, these days—usually more questions than anything else. And this was a big one. What now? (p. 249).

He looks like someone who’s been cut loose to drift and hasn’t found shore (p. 252).

Not healed . . . but held. Like the pieces of him have been gathered right up, and that is enough for now. The rest will follow (p. 275).

The strength of the storm does not change whose waves these are. There is One mightier still (p. 348).

I was motivated to read this book because I had seen high praise for it. That praise was well-deserved. I’ll be looking up more of Amanda Dykes’ books to read.