{"id":1328,"date":"2009-04-21T18:59:04","date_gmt":"2009-04-21T23:59:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=1328"},"modified":"2009-04-21T18:59:04","modified_gmt":"2009-04-21T23:59:04","slug":"the-unquiet-bones-by-mel-starr","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=1328","title":{"rendered":"The Unquiet Bones by Mel Starr"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n
Mel Starr<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

The Unquiet Bones<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Monarch Books (November 4, 2008)<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>Mel Starr was born and grew up in Kalamazoo, Michigan. He graduated from Spring Arbor High School in 1960, and Greenville College (Illinois) in 1964. He received a MA in history from Western Michigan University in 1970. He taught history in Michigan public schools for thirty-nine years, thirty-five of those in Portage, MI, where he retired in 2003 as chairman of the social studies department of Portage Northern High School.<\/p>\n

Mel married Susan Brock in 1965, and they have two daughters; Amy (Kevin) Kwilinski, of Kennesaw, GA, and Jennifer (Jeremy) Reivitt, of Portage, MI. Mel and Susan have seven grandchildren.<\/p>\n

***No author photo available. The church pictured is The Church of St. Beornwald (part of the setting for The Unquiet Bones). Today it is basically unchanged from its medieval appearance. Except for the name: in the 16th century it was renamed and since then has been called The Church of St. Mary the Virgin.***<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $14.99
\nPaperback: 256 pages
\nPublisher: Monarch Books (November 4, 2008)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 0825462908
\nISBN-13: 978-0825462900<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Uctred thought he had discovered pig bones. He did not know or care why they were in the<\/p>\n

cesspit at the base of Bampton Castle wall.<\/p>\n

Then he found the skull. Uctred is a villein, bound to the land of Lord Gilbert, third Baron Talbot, lord of Bampton Castle, and had slaughtered many pigs. He knew the difference between human and pig skulls.<\/p>\n

Lord Gilbert called for me to inspect the bones. All knew whose bones they must be. Only two men had recently gone missing in Bampton. These must be the bones of one of them.<\/p>\n

Sir Robert Mallory had been the intended suitor of Lord Gilbert’s beautious sister, Lady Joan. Shortly after Easter he and his squire called at the castle, having, it was said, business with Lord Gilbert. What business this was I know not, but suspect a dowry was part of the conversation. Two days later he and his squire rode out the castle gate to the road north toward Burford. The porter saw him go. No one saw him or his squire after. He never arrived at his father\u2019s manor at Northleech. How he arrived, dead, unseen, back within–or nearly within–the walls of Bampton Castle no one could say. Foul play seemed likely.<\/p>\n

I was called to the castle because of my profession; surgeon. Had I known when I chose such work that cleaning filth from bones might be part of my duties I might have continued the original calling chosen for me: clerk.<\/p>\n

I am Hugh of Singleton, fourth and last son of a minor knight from the county of Lancashire. The manor of Little Singleton is aptly named; it is small. My father held the manor in fief from Robert de Sandford. It was a pleasant place to grow up. Flat as a table, with a wandering,<\/p>\n

sluggish tidal stream, the Wyre, pushing through it on its journey from the hills, just visible ten miles to the east, to the sea, an equal distance to the northwest.<\/p>\n

As youngest son, the holding would play no part in my future. My oldest brother, Roger, would receive the manor, such as it was. I remember when I was but a tiny lad overhearing him discuss with my father a choice of brides who might bring with them a dowry which would enlarge his lands. In this they were moderately successful. Maud\u2019s dowry doubled my brother\u2019s holdings. After three children Roger doubled the size of his bed, as well. Maud was never a frail girl. Each heir she produced added to her bulk. This seemed not to trouble Roger. Heirs are important.<\/p>\n

Our village priest, Father Aymer, taught the manor school. When I was nine years old, the year the great death first appeared, he spoke to my father and my future was decided.<\/p>\n

I showed a scholar\u2019s aptitude, so it would be the university for me. At age fourteen I was sent off to Oxford to become a clerk, and, who knows, perhaps eventually a lawyer or a priest. This was poor timing, for in my second year at the university a fellow student became enraged at the watered beer he was served in a High Street tavern and with some cohorts destroyed the place. The proprietor sought assistance, and the melee became a wild brawl known ever after as the St. Scholastica Day Riot. Near a hundred scholars and townsmen died before the sheriff restored the peace. When I dared emerge from my lodgings I fled to Lancashire and did not return until Michealmas term.<\/p>\n

I might instead have inherited Little Singleton had the Black Death been any worse.<\/p>\n

Roger and one of his sons perished in 1349, but two days apart, in the week before St. Peter\u2019s Day. Then, at the Feast of St. Mary my third brother died within a day of falling ill. Father Aymer said an imbalance of the four humors; air, earth, fire, and water, caused the sickness. Most priests, and indeed the laymen as well, thought this imbalance due to God\u2019s wrath. Certainly men gave Him reason enough to be angry.<\/p>\n

Most physicians ascribed the imbalance to the air. Father Aymer recommended burning wet wood to make smoky fires, ringing the church bell at regular intervals, and the wearing of a bag of spices around the neck to perfume the air. I was but a child, however it seemed to me even then that these precautions were not successful. Father Aymer, who did not shirk his duties as did some scoundrel priests, died a week after administering extreme unction to my brother Henry. I watched from the door, a respectful distance from my brother\u2019s bed. I can see in my memory Father Aymer bending over my wheezing, dying brother, his spice bag swinging out from his body as he chanted the phrases of the sacrament.<\/p>\n

So my nephew and his mother inherited little Singleton and I made my way to Oxford. I found the course of study mildly interesting. Father Aymer had taught me Latin and some Greek, so it was no struggle to advance my skills in these languages.<\/p>\n

I completed the trivium and quadrivium in the allotted six years, but chose not to take holy orders after the award of my bachelor\u2019s degree. I had no desire to remain a bachelor, although I had no particular lady in mind with whom I might terminate my solitary condition.<\/p>\n

I desired to continue my studies. Perhaps, I thought, I shall study law, move to<\/p>\n

London, and advise kings. The number of kingly advisors who ended their lives in prison or at the block should have dissuaded me of this conceit. But the young are seldom deterred from following foolish ideas.<\/p>\n

You see how little I esteemed life as a vicar in some lonely village, or even the life of a rector with livings to support me. This is not because I did not wish to serve God. My desire in that regard, I think, was greater than many who took a vocation; serving the church while they served themselves.<\/p>\n

In 1361, while I completed a Master of Arts degree, plague struck again. Oxford, as before, was hard hit. The colleges were much reduced. I lost many friends, but once again God chose to spare me. I have prayed many times since that I might live so as to make Him pleased that He did so.<\/p>\n

I lived in a room on St. Michael\u2019s Street, with three other students. One fled the town at the first hint the disease had returned. Two others perished. I could do nothing to help them, but tried to make them comfortable. No; when a man is covered from neck to groin in bursting pustules he cannot be made comfortable. I brought water to them, and put cool cloths on their fevered foreheads, and waited with them for death.<\/p>\n

William of Garstang had been a friend since he enrolled in Balliol College five years earlier. We came from villages but ten miles apart — although his was much larger; it held a weekly market — but we did not meet until we became students together. An hour before he died William beckoned me to approach his bed. I dared not remain close, but heard his rasping whisper as he willed to me his possessions. Among his meager goods were three books.<\/p>\n

God works in mysterious ways. Between terms, in August of 1361, He chose to do three things which would forever alter my life. First, I read one of William\u2019s books: SURGERY, by Henry de Mondeville, and learned of the amazing intricacies of the human body. I read all day, and late into the night, until my supply of candles was gone. When I finished, I read the book again, and bought more candles.<\/p>\n

Secondly, I fell in love. I did not know her name, or her home. But one glance told me she was a lady of rank and beyond my station. The heart, however, does not deal in social convention.<\/p>\n

I had laid down de Mondeville\u2019s book long enough to seek a meal. I saw her as I left the inn. She rode a gray palfrey with easy grace. A man I assumed to be her husband escorted her. Another woman, also quite handsome, rode with them, but I noticed little about her. A half-dozen grooms rode behind this trio: their tunics of blue and black might have identified the lady\u2019s family, but I paid little attention to them, either.<\/p>\n

Had I rank enough to someday receive a bishopric I might choose a mistress and disregard vows of chastity. Many who choose a vocation do. Secular priests in lower orders must be more circumspect, but even many of these keep women. This is not usually held against them, so long as they are loyal to the woman who lives with them and bears their children. But I found the thought of violating a vow as repugnant as a solitary life, wedded only to the church. And the Church is already the bride of Christ and needs no other spouse.<\/p>\n

She wore a deep red cotehardie — the vision on the gray mare. Because it was warm she needed no cloak or mantle. She wore a simple white hood, turned back, so that<\/p>\n

chestnut-colored hair visibly framed a flawless face. Beautiful women had smitten me before. It was a regular occurrence. But not like this. Of course, that\u2019s what I said the last time, also.<\/p>\n

I followed the trio and their grooms at a discreet distance, hoping they might halt before some house. I was disappointed. The party rode on to Oxpens Road, crossed the Castle Mill Stream, and disappeared to the west as I stood watching, quite lost, from the bridge. Why should I have been lovelorn over a lady who seemed to be another man\u2019s wife? Who can know? I cannot. It seems foolish when I look back to the day. It did not seem so at the time.<\/p>\n

I put the lady out of my mind. No; I lie. A beautiful woman is as impossible to put out of mind as a corn on one\u2019s toe. And just as disquieting. I did try, however.<\/p>\n

I returned to de Mondeville\u2019s book and completed a third journey through its pages. I was confused, but t\u2019was not de Mondeville\u2019s writing which caused my perplexity. The profession I thought lay before me no longer appealed. Providing advice to princes seemed unattractive. Healing men\u2019s broken and damaged bodies now occupied near all my waking thoughts.<\/p>\n

I feared a leap into the unknown. Oxford was full to bursting with scholars and lawyers and clerks. No surprises awaited one who chose to join them. And the town was home also to many physicians, who thought themselves far above the barbers who usually performed the stitching of wounds and phlebotomies when such services were needed. Even a physician\u2019s work, with salves and potions, was familiar. But the pages of de Mondeville\u2019s book told me how little I knew of surgery, and how much I must learn should I chose such a vocation. I needed advice.<\/p>\n

There is, I think, no wiser man in Oxford than Master John Wyclif. There are men who hold different opinions, of course. Often these are scholars Master John has bested in disputation. Tact is not one among his many virtues, but care for his students is. I sought him out for advice and found him in his chamber at Balliol College, bent over a book. I was loath to disturb him, but he received me warmly when he saw t\u2019was me who rapped upon his door.<\/p>\n

\u201cHugh . . . come in. You look well. Come and sit.\u201d<\/p>\n

He motioned to a bench, and resumed his own seat as I perched on the offered bench. The scholar peered silently at me, awaiting announcement of the reason for my visit.<\/p>\n

\u201cI seek advice,\u201d I began. \u201cI had it in mind to study law, as many here do, but a new career entices me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLaw is safe . . . for most,\u201d Wyclif remarked. \u201cWhat is this new path which interests you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSurgery. I have a book which tells of old and new knowledge in the treatment of injuries and disease.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd from this book alone you would venture on a new vocation?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think it unwise?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at all. So long as men do injury to themselves or others, surgeons will be needed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen I should always be employed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d Wyclif grimaced. \u201cBut why seek my counsel? I know little of such matters.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do not seek you for your surgical knowledge, but for aid in thinking through my decision.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHave you sought the advice of any other?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen there is your first mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho else must I seek? Do you know of a man who can advise about a life as a surgeon?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIndeed. He can advise on any career. I consulted Him when I decided to seek a degree in theology.\u201d<\/p>\n

I fell silent, for I knew of no man so capable as Master John asserted, able to advise in both theology and surgery. Perhaps the fellow did not live in Oxford. Wyclif saw my consternation.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you seek God\u2019s will and direction?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh . . . I understand. Have I prayed about this matter, you ask? Aye, I have, but God is silent.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you seek me as second best.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut . . . t\u2019was you just said our Lord could advise on any career.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI jest. Of course I, like any man, am second to our Lord Christ . . . or perhaps third, or fourth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you will not guide my decision?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid I say that? Why do you wish to become a surgeon? Do you enjoy blood and wounds and hurts?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I worry that I may not have the stomach for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI find the study of man and his hurts and their cures fascinating. And I . . . I wish to help others.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could do so as a priest.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye. But I lack the boldness to deal with another man\u2019s eternal soul.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou would risk a man\u2019s body, but not his soul?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe body cannot last long, regardless of what a surgeon or physician may do, but a man\u2019s soul may rise to heaven or be doomed to hell . . . forever.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd a priest may influence the direction, for good or ill,\u201d Wyclif completed my thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust so. The responsibility is too great for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould that all priests thought as you,\u201d Wyclif muttered. \u201cBut lopping off an arm destroyed in battle would not trouble you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cT\u2019is but flesh, not an everlasting soul.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou speak true, Hugh. And there is much merit in helping ease men\u2019s lives. Our Lord Christ worked many miracles, did he not, to grant men relief from their afflictions. Should you do the same you would be following in his path.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI had not considered that,\u201d I admitted.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen consider it now. And should you become a surgeon keep our Lord as your model and your work will prosper.\u201d<\/p>\n

And so God\u2019s third wonder; a profession. I would go to Paris to study. My income from the manor at Little Singleton was L6, 15 shillings each year, to be awarded so long as I was a student, and to terminate after eight years.<\/p>\n

My purse would permit one year in Paris. I know what you are thinking. But I did not spend my resources on riotous living. Paris is an expensive city. I learned much there. I watched, and then participated in dissections. I learned phlebotomy, suturing, cautery, the removal of arrows, the setting of broken bones, and the treatment of scrofulous sores. I learned how to extract a tooth and remove a tumor. I learned trepanning to relieve a headache, and how to lance a fistula. I learned which herbs might staunch bleeding, or dull pain, or cleanse a wound. I spent both time and money as wisely as I knew how, learning the skills which I hoped would one day earn me a living.<\/p><\/div>\n

MY REVIEW:<\/strong><\/p>\n

I had a little trouble getting into this book, mainly because it is very different from what I usually read. But because I had committed to it, I forced myself to continue. I am glad I did because I ended up finding it very good.<\/p>\n

Young\u00a0 surgeon Hugh de Singleton had just started his practice in Oxford when he successfully treated Lord Gilbert following an accident. In appreciation, Lord Gilbert asked Hugh to move his practice to Bampton. Hugh soon found himself asked to identify bones that had been found at the castle and as a result of his conclusions, was also instructed to find the murderer.<\/p>\n

The story grows more interesting as Hugh discovers more victims and spends more time looking for a murderer than in his surgery. The Unquiet Bones<\/a> is a skillfully written tale with enough drama and humor to keep most readers engrossed. I personally liked the way Hugh made his decisions based on his faith.<\/p>\n

I\u00a0 found the glossary at the beginning of the book to be very helpful. It was a thoughtful addition. But I never did get comfortable with the cover illustration – not sure how it tied in.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1328","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1328"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1328"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1328\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1330,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1328\/revisions\/1330"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1328"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1328"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1328"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}