MSI Press Blog

  Today's book excerpt comes from  Blest Atheist  by Elizabeth Mahlou. Defiance, part 2 My childhood contained two compartments: home and not-home. Not-home was a special place that I kept carefully separated to prevent the excesses of home from tainting it. Not-home was the place where I received validation, especially from teachers who encouraged me in many ways. Several of my elementary school teachers used me as a reading group teacher. Others encouraged my propensity for writing poetry and mysteries. Still others brought me whole libraries of books from their homes which I would inhale the way I had inhaled all the books in our small school library. My French teacher in high school encouraged me to write French poetry for our bilingual school journal. As even more validation, I won awards for public speaking, drama competitions, spelling bees, and other competitions that my teachers encouraged me to try.  I also won the city’s history-writing award. Years earlier, someo

  Today's book excerpt comes from  Blest Atheist  by Elizabeth Mahlou. Mercy, part 2  I began fighting Ma at a young age. When I was small, Ma was like a god, a strong, mean, and angry one. She loomed large, powerful, and seemingly omni scient. As I grew older, however, I learned that I could fight this god and retain my dignity, and as I grew even older I found that I could fight this god and win. Perhaps my growing ability to vanquish the earthly god in my life colored my own disposition toward God the Almighty.  Small, with “dark eyes that could sparkle with delight or flash with fire,” according to relatives who remember those days, I apparently exhibited from birth a pro found orneriness. The pediatrician could not calm me at my six-week checkup and strapped me to a table, waiting for me to stop screaming. For two hours, my screams pierced the doctor’s closed window, causing passersby in the city square below to stop and wonder what was happening. The doctor sent Ma to

  Today's shared blog post comes from Elizabeth Mahlou, author of A Believer-in-Waiting's First Encounters with God and Blest Atheist :   My cooking is well known -- for how bad it is. In fact, the topic figured prominently in Doah's book,  Mommy Poisoned Our House Guest . My mother gave up on teaching me to cook years ago, saying that it was too expensive because I ruined so much of what I touched. My kids quickly learned that it was better to have Donnie do the cooking, and I could almost always get them to do whatever I asked by threatening to cook. There is, however, one thing I can cook well: ham. So, for this new year's New Year dinner, I made a ham. Now, we usually go out to dinner on special occasions since it really is only Donnie, Doah, and I. However, this year, it was rainy and cold and seemed perfect for a ham dinner and fire in the fireplace. Doah was not so certain, however. Right after that, he ran hollering to Donnie, "Come quick! Mom's cookin

  Today's book excerpt comes from  Blest Atheist  by Elizabeth Mahlou. Defiance  Physical abuse quickly became routine for us. We just expected to arrive home to a daily rain of blows, kicks, bites, deliberately inflicted sprains, or airplane rides.  We all feared Ma’s airplane rides. She would grab one arm and one leg and rotate in the middle of the room like a dervish, swinging us around and around in circles, allowing the free arm and leg to hit pieces of furniture one after another after another until she was out of breath and let us go. When she let go and we flew into the wall or the furniture, the impact was stunning, and often we lost consciousness from it. Not only were the airplane rides painful, but also they left us feeling dizzy and disoriented whether or not we lost consciousness.  As we got bigger, airplane rides became less manageable for Ma, and these were replaced with sled rides (being pulled down a flight of stairs by our hair). I did not accept that typ

Today's book excerpt comes from Blest Atheist by Elizabeth Mahlou. Mercy   The Samaritan stopped because he was filled with mercy. He also had clearly been blessed with the resources to help. I stopped by habit. Very early I internalized the concept that helping even one person toward a better life is a way to justify one’s own existence. That may well have given a positive balance to the daily abuse I experienced throughout my childhood. Knowing that someone was better off because of something I had done—whether it was teaching a kindergarten class when I was in first grade, working as the teachers’ helper in conducting an extra reading group for the struggling readers in my elementary school classroom, or serving as an evening telephone resource to the eighth-grade members of my advanced mathematics class whose teacher kept confusing us with high school juniors—established a sense of self-worth that logically should never have appeared, given all the abuse I experienced