Cover image for Keeping faith : a novel
Title:
Keeping faith : a novel
Author:
Picoult, Jodi, 1966-
Personal Author:
Publication Information:
New York : William Morrow & Co., 1999.
Physical Description:
422 pages ; 25 cm
Language:
English
Program Information:
Accelerated Reader AR UG 5.6 24.0 45208.
ISBN:
9780688168254
Format :
Book

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Central Library X Adult Fiction Central Closed Stacks
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Summary

Summary

"A triumph. This novel's haunting strength will hold the reader until the very end and make Faith and her story impossible to forget."
--Richmond Times Dispatch

"Extraordinary."
--Orlando Sentinel

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author Jodi Picoult (Nineteen Minutes, Change of Heart, Handle with Care) comes Keeping Faith: an "addictively readable" (Entertainment Weekly) novel that "makes you wonder about God. And that is a rare moment, indeed, in modern fiction" (USA Today).


Author Notes

Jodi Picoult was born in Nesconset, New York on May 19, 1966. She received a degree in creative writing from Princeton University in 1987 and a master's degree in education from Harvard University. She published two short stories in Seventeen magazine while still in college. Immediately after graduation, she landed a variety of jobs, ranging from editing textbooks to teaching eighth-grade English.

Her first book, Songs of the Humpback Whale, was published in 1992. Her other works include Picture Perfect, Mercy, The Pact, Salem Falls, The Tenth Circle, Nineteen Minutes, Change of Heart, Handle with Care, House Rules, Sing You Home, Lone Wolf, Leaving Time, and Small Great Things. My Sister's Keeper was made into a movie starring Cameron Diaz. She received the New England Bookseller Award for fiction in 2003. She also wrote five issues of the Wonder Woman comic book series for DC Comics. She writes young adult novels with her daughter Samantha van Leer including Between the Lines and Off the Page.

(Bowker Author Biography)


Reviews 3

Booklist Review

Picoult blends elements of psychology and spirituality into a mesmerizing morality play, where conventional notions of faith and honesty are put to the test by a seemingly impossible series of extraordinary events. After emotionally fragile Mariah White discovers her husband in an affair, she lapses into depression. Confused by both her mother's inertia and her parents' impending divorce, seven-year-old Faith White begins receiving mysterious visitations from a woman she refers to as her "guard." In addition to obsessing about her imaginary friend, the religiously unschooled Faith also begins spouting passages from the Bible and healing the seriously ill. Rousing herself from the brink of mental collapse, Mariah brings her daughter to see so-called experts, including a psychologist, a rabbi, and a priest. When the media jump on the bandwagon, Mariah and Faith are besieged by an alternately awe-struck and angry host of believers and nonbelievers. As her life spins out of control, Mariah must fight public opinion, the legal system, and her outraged ex-husband in order to retain custody of Faith. --Margaret Flanagan


Publisher's Weekly Review

Fans of Picoult's fluent and absorbing storytelling will welcome her new novel, which, like Harvesting the Heart, explores family dynamics and the intricacies of motherhood, and concludes, as did The Pact, with tense courtroom drama. In the small town of New Canaan, N.H., 33-year-old Mariah discovers that her husband, Colin, is having an affair. Years ago, his cheating drove Mariah to attempt suicide and Colin had her briefly committed to an institution. Now Mariah's facing divorce and again fighting depression, when her eight-year-old daughter, Faith, suddenly acquires an imaginary friend. Soon this friend is telling the girl how to bring her grandmother back from the dead and how to cure a baby dying of AIDS. As Faith manifests stigmata, doctors are astounded, and religious controversy ensues, in part because Faith insists that God is a woman. An alarmed Colin sues for custody of Faith, and the fear of losing her daughter dramatically changes meek, diffident Mariah into a strong, protective and brave womanÄone who fights for her daughter, holds her own against doctors and lawyers and finds the confidence to pursue a surprising new romance with TV atheist Ian Fletcher, cynical "Spokesman of the Millennium Generation." Though the novel feels a bit long, Picoult's pacing stabilizes the increasingly complicated plot, and the final chapters, in which Mariah fights for Faith's custody in court, are riveting. The mother-daughter relationship is all the more powerful for being buffeted by the exploitative and ethically questionable domains of medicine, media, law and religion; these characters' many triumphant transformations are Picoult's triumphs as well. Agent, Laura Gross. (May) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved


Library Journal Review

When seven-year-old Faith White and her mother, Mariah, swing by the house on the way to ballet class, they find that Daddy is home and he's brought a playmate. This is not the first time he's been caught cheating. After the fuss and feathers have settled and Dad has moved out, Faith begins talking to an imaginary friend who, it seems, is God. And God is not male but female. Faith is able to effect miraculous cures and is also occasionally afflicted with stigmata. When the media gets wind of this, the circus begins. The local rabbi takes an interest (Faith and Mariah are technically Jewish), and the local Catholic priest pays several inquiring visits. There is also a gaggle of psychologists. Throw in a professional atheist for the romance angle and a vicious custody fight with an egomaniacal lawyer, and you have a riveting read. Picot (The Pact, LJ 2/15/98) gets better and better with each book. If you can suspend disbelief on one or two points, this is an entrancing novel. Highly recommended.ÄDawn L. Anderson, North Richland Hills P.L., TX (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.


Excerpts

Excerpts

Keeping Faith Chapter One Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep. -- John Milton, Paradise Lost There are certain things I do not talk about. Like when I was thirteen, and I had to take my dog and have her put to sleep. Or the time in high school that I got all dressed up for the prom and sat by the window, waiting for a boy who never came. Or the way I felt when I first met Colin. Well, I talk a little about that, but I don't admit that from the beginning I knew we were not meant to be together. Colin was a college football star; I'd been hired by his coach to tutor him to pass French. He kissed me- shy, plain, scholarly--on a dare from his teammates, and even muddled by embarrassment, it left me feeling gilded. It is perfectly clear to me why I fell in love with Colin. But I have never understood what made him fall for me. He told me that when he was with me, he became someone different-a person he liked better than the easygoing jock, the good ol' fraternity boy. He told me that I made him feel admired for what he was instead of what he'd done. I argued that I wasn't a match for him, not tall or stunning or sophisticated enough. And when he disagreed, I made myself believe him. I don't talk about what happened five years later, when I was proved right. I don't talk about the way he could not look me in the eye while he was arranging to have me locked away. Opening my eyes is a Herculean effort, Swollen and grainy, they seem resolved to stay sealed shut, preferring not to risk the sight of something else that might turn the world on end. But there is a hand on my arm, and for all I know it might be Colin, so I manage to slit them enough that the light, sharp as a splinter, comes into view. "Mariah", my mother soothes, smoothing my hair back from my forehead. "You feeling better?" "No." I am not feeling anything. Whatever Dr. Johansen prescribed over the phone makes it seem as if there's a foam cushion three inches thick around me, a barrier that moves with me and flexes and manages to keep the worst away. "Well, it's time to get moving," my mother says, matter-of-fact. She leans forward and tries to haul me from the bed. "I don't want to take a shower." I try to curl into a ball. "Neither do I." My mother grunts. The last time she'd come into the room, it was to drag me into the bathroom and under a cold spray of water. "You're going to sit up, damn it, if it sends me to an early grave." That makes me think of her coffin table, and of the ballet lesson Faith and I never did manage to get to three days ago. I pull away from her grasp and cover my face, fresh tears running like wax. "What is the matter with me?" "Absolutely nothing, in spite of what that cretin wants you to believe." My mother puts her hands on my burning cheeks. "This is not your fault, Mariah. This isn't something you could have stopped before it happened. Colin isn't worth the ground he walks on." She spits on the carpet, to prove it. "Now sit up so that I can bring Faith in here." That gets my attention. "She can't see me like this." "So, change." "It's not that easy-" "Yes, it is," my mother insists. "It's not just you this time, Mariah. You want to fall apart? Fine, then-do it after you've seen Faith. You know I'm right, or you wouldn't have called me to come over here and take care of her three days ago." Staring at me, she softens her voice. "She's got an idiot for a father, and she's got you. You make what you want of that." For a second I let hope sneak through the cracks in my armor. "Did she ask for me?" My mother hesitates. "No ... but that's neither here nor there." As she goes to get Faith, I adjust the pillows behind my back and wipe my face with a corner of the comforter. My daughter enters the room, propelled by my mother's hand. She stops two feet from the bed. "Hi," I say, bright as any actress. For a moment I just delight in seeing her--the crooked part of her hair, the space where her front tooth used to be, the chipped pink Tinkerbell polish on her fingernails. She folds her arms and sets her colt's legs and mulishly presses her beautiful bow of a mouth into a flat line. "Want to sit down?" I pat the mattress beside me. She doesn't answer; she barely even breathes. With a sharp pain I realize that I know exactly what she's doing, because I've done it myself: You convince yourself that if you keep perfectly still, if you don't make any sudden moves, neither will anyone else. "Faith . . I reach out my hand, but she turns and walks out of the room. Part of me wants to follow her, but a larger part of me can't muster the courage. "She's still not talking. Why?" "You're her mother. You find out." But I can't. If I have learned anything, it is my own limits. I turn onto my side and close my eyes, hoping that my mother will get the hint that I just want her to go away. "You'll see," she says quietly, laying her hand on top of my head. "Faith is going to get you through... Keeping Faith . Copyright © by Jodi Picoult . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Keeping Faith by Jodi Picoult All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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