Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The Next Queen of Heaven: A Novel
    The Next Queen of Heaven: A Novel
    The Next Queen of Heaven: A Novel
    Ebook384 pages7 hours

    The Next Queen of Heaven: A Novel

    By Gregory Maguire

    3.5/5

    ()

    Switch to audiobook
    Read preview

    About this ebook

    “A delight….[A] funny and warmhearted exploration of the sacred and the profane.”
    —Washington Post


    “Reading The Next Queen of Heaven is like hanging on to the back of an out-of-control carnival ride—terrifying, thrilling, a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.”

    —Ann Patchett

     

    New York Times bestseller Gregory Maguire—who re-imagined the land of Oz and all its fabled inhabitants in his monumental series, The Wicked Years—brings us The Next Queen of Heaven, a wildly farcical and gloriously imaginative tall tale of faith, Catholic dogma, lust, and questionable miracles on the eve of Y2K. The very bizarre and hilarious goings on in the eccentric town of Thebes make for a delightfully mad reading experience—as The Next Queen of Heaven shows off the acclaimed author of Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister and Mirror Mirror in a brilliant new heavenly light.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateOct 5, 2010
    ISBN9780062023711
    Author

    Gregory Maguire

    Gregory Maguire is the New York Times bestselling author of the Wicked Years, a series that includes Wicked—the beloved classic that is the basis for the blockbuster Tony Award–winning Broadway musical of the same name and the major motion picture—Son of a Witch, A Lion Among Men, and Out of Oz. His series Another Day continues the story of Oz with The Brides of Maracoor, The Oracle of Maracoor, and The Witch of Maracoor, and his other novels include A Wild Winter Swan, Hiddensee, After Alice, Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, Lost, and Mirror Mirror. He lives in New England and France.

    Read more from Gregory Maguire

    Related to The Next Queen of Heaven

    Related ebooks

    Humor & Satire For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      As 'Adventure Time' Wraps, A Look Back At How The Series Broke Barriers And Changed The Genre

      Aug 31, 2018

      In 2010, a new cartoon debuted with these bold lines. "Princess Bubblegum," asks Finn, a human boy, "when we bring the dead back to life, will they be filled with worms?" "No," Princess Bubblegum replies. "If my Decorpsinator serum works, then all th

      9 min read

    • Article

      The Southern Book Club’s Guide To Slaying Vampires

      Mar 25, 2020

      RELEASED 7 APRIL 408 pages | Paperback/ebook/audiobook Author Grady Hendrix Publisher Quirk Books Grady Hendrix writes women beautifully, never more so than in his terrific coming-of-age horror My Best Friend’s Exorcism, so it’s an absolute joy to re

      1 min read

    • Article

      View And Manage Your IPhone Widgets

      Aug 15, 2019

      Although it’s fair to say that many of us overlook widgets, they can be very useful. By grabbing snippets of information from apps and services or allowing easy access to a specific feature, they’re invariably productive or fun. Apple thinks so, whic

      1 min read

    • Article

      Mr. Rain Jacket

      May 20, 2019

      Mr. Rain Jacket
      10 min read

    • Article

      Madly, Deeply: The Alan Rickman Diaries Review – Great Actor, Keen Shopper, Sharp Wit

      Oct 16, 2022

      Alan Rickman’s voice was a purr, but it masked sharp claws. This was evident in the memorable baddies he played and now you can hear it in the feline prose of these selected diaries. “John Major said, ‘You have given us so much enjoyment.’ ‘I wish I

      3 min read

    • Article

      The Quarantine Bookshelf

      Mar 19, 2021

      The Quarantine Bookshelf
      4 min read

    • Article

      The After Birth

      May 7, 2021

      The After Birth
      30 min read

    • Article

      The Family Plot

      May 7, 2020

      The Family Plot
      10 min read

    • Article

      Proverbs Of A Faceless Time

      Dec 1, 2023

      Proverbs Of A Faceless Time
      9 min read

    • Article

      Above Santa Cruz

      Jul 2, 2019

      Above Santa Cruz
      5 min read

    • Article

      The Fortune Teller

      Jul 10, 2021

      My head has a liquid feel to it as I stumble down the street. The bottle of red wine in my belly making it seem like my limbs have become balloons, and at any moment they might float away. Next to me, Michael has a stupid whiskey grin stretched acros

      18 min read

    • Article

      Tomorrows

      Mar 15, 2022

      The night, as most nights, was like a dream. At ten, once I’d fed the dog the last scraps off the stove. Once I’d cursed the cat for scratching up my mama’s antique furniture, then welcomed him back into my arms. Once I’d slicked my hair into a ponyt

      26 min read

    • Article

      Cast Out

      Jul 10, 2021

      Verity pushed back the quilts, rolled off her straw mattress onto the floor, felt for the poker, and stirred the ashes. The embers glowed. She wouldn’t have to go fire-borrowing again. Her chilled hands were clumsy. One glowing bit of wood rolled fro

      21 min read

    • Article

      All AT SEA

      Jan 17, 2023

      All AT SEA
      6 min read

    • Article

      The Duplex

      Jun 9, 2020

      I moved to Los Angeles to sing. When was this? August? June? I was twenty-nine, and those were shapeless months, when the days blended together and I refused to pull them apart. My landlord was unusually close to her adult son. His name was Jeffrey,

      21 min read

    • Article

      I, Von Economo

      Oct 10, 2022

      I’d never seen a Bentley Mulsanne in the flesh, not even in the chop shops where I sold the luxury cars I boosted. Yet there it was, parked behind an inner-city soup kitchen with its signature hood ornament of silver wings stretched wide to the heave

      12 min read

    • Article

      Summer Reads

      Dec 30, 2019

      Summer Reads
      7 min read

    • Article

      The Walled Garden

      Apr 30, 2020

      The Walled Garden
      4 min read

    • Article

      The Postmenopausal Fairy Tale

      Feb 4, 2019

      The Postmenopausal Fairy Tale
      9 min read

    • Article

      J. Jezewska Stevens

      Dec 15, 2017

      The party was a failure. I can’t even tell you what a failure it was. There are no words. Only a great pain in my chest when I wake up. On the veranda. It’s better when I sit in the chair. Oh, but then I can see around. The gauzy curtains, pushed by

      15 min read

    • Article

      Running Away

      Feb 22, 2021

      Leaving London behind her, Millie drove faster, picturing thousands of crazed fans in pursuit, desperate for what – a lock of her hair? Or Julian; except after the last gig, somehow she knew he wouldn’t follow. She knew from bitter experience that di

      5 min read

    • Article

      Cricket League

      Sep 1, 2022

      First prize 10 and under Tang Li, age 9 Palmetto Bay, FL My name is Anisa. I was in Hawaii on vacation. I enjoyed sipping refreshing drinks, overlooking the turquoise ocean, and dancing with others, before I overheard that the priceless Fire Ring wa

      10 min read

    • Article

      The Silence of Witches

      Dec 10, 2019

      The Silence of Witches
      6 min read

    • Article

      The Book of Loki

      Mar 12, 2018

      The Book of Loki
      20 min read

    • Article

      Rescue Buddy

      Apr 1, 2022

      LETTY POUNCES ON me the instant I step into homeroom. “Izzy,” she cries. “I need a favor.” Alarms go off in my head. Letty’s my best friend. If she’s in trouble, I won’t hesitate to lend a hand. However, “favors” for her always end up turning into

      6 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for The Next Queen of Heaven

    3.5/5

    34 ratings30 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

    • 3/5
      I have been a great fan of Maguire since Wicked was first published. His first books, especially Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister (my favorite), were sharp witty and fun to read. As for The Last Queen of Heaven--To be honest, it took me forever to read. He seems to have moved away from taking well known stories or legends and turning them upside down to make us see the other side of the tale. It was funny at times, but quite dull at others. On top of that (and I'll grant you I have a certain bias about these things), I'm Catholic and resent the heck out of his portrayal of the Church. Just one example: I know many priests and nuns--my sister, to name one-- and not a single one would refuse practice space to a group of gay men, one of whom has Aids, who need to rehearse for an Aids benefit. In fact, I find the suggestion that they would infuriating. So there!
    • 3/5
      Gregory Maguire is known for his retelling of children's stories (i.e. The Wizard of Oz, The Little Match Girl, etc.) This is the first of his novels that I see that he has come up with a purely fictional story. I must confess that I did have some trouble with the amount of characters in this novel and I found myself more than once trying to get a grip on what was happening because I had one of the characters mistaken. It did get a little easier to read after a while, especially once I got the characters in the right order. And I do have to say that there were many instances where I found myself laughing out loud. I couldn't help it - there were just so many things going on and the more I thought of them, the funnier I found the whole thing to be. It was silly. The characters were over the top and the situations they found themselves in were unbelievable. There's a little bit of everything in this book - religion, sexuality, HIV, two feuding churches, teen pregnancy, musicians, even elderly nuns. It was pure mayhem! With all the crazy and zany antics throughout, there was also the more serious tone of finding and believing in oneself. I also really enjoyed that the book takes place around Christmas - and I think Mr. Maguire did a great job in capturing the Christmas spirit - in his own quirky way. I can't say that I loved this book, but I can definitely appreciate it. I found it too busy for my tastes and I felt that the ending lacked a little. I would have liked more closure for some of the characters. All in all, I can't say this is a book for everyone but I can see where many would still enjoy it.
    • 2/5
      I have read some good things about mr. Maguire and he has been recommended to me a couple of times, but I don't really see what is so great about him. I was really irritated with the constant inane chatter the characters keep indulging in. It seems as if they are uncapable of stringing together a coherent sentence of more than five words and when they do it is just to say very little interresting about nothing at all. The actions all seem quite random and whatever is supposed to be so very funny completely escapes me. Mind you, there are some bits I smiled at a little, but it was never a terrifying, thrilling, once-in-a-lifetime adventure as the book cover promised. I was disappointed to say the least. I tried and failed, guess we weren't meant to be!
    • 4/5
      I'm a fan of Gregory Maguire's books. I enjoy his alternative views of stories like the Wizard of Oz, Snow White, or Cinderella. But this book is quite a bit different than the others that I've read. In The Next Queen of Heaven, Maguire tells the story of the residents of the small town of Thebes, NY in the final months of 1999. Two storylines are woven together. Teenager Tabitha Scales struggles to care for her mother after she is hit on the head by a falling statue in the Catholic Church, while the Catholic choir director Jeremy Carr prepares for Christmas and cares for his friend Sean who has AIDS. Although this is a book about real people, not wicked queens or wizards, the town of Thebes is anything but ordinary. For the most part, I enjoyed this book. The main characters, Tabitha and Jeremy, are flawed and interesting. The supporting cast, especially the nuns, add depth and sometimes humor to the book. But I was never quite certain what to think of the story. Maguire creates a story that blends real life with some out-of-the-ordinary events that kept me feeling a bit off balance. At times, I was expecting some supernatural event to bring the book to the end, but the ending was surprising and somehow fitting. I'm glad that I read this one, but I guardedly recommend it. I think it is one of those books that will delight some and frustrate others.
    • 3/5
      While I was reading this, I was really enjoying it, but now that I look back, I can't quite figure out what it was trying to do. There's a lot of humor and a fair bit of tragedy, but not a whole lot of story. A woman goes mad when she gets clonked on the head by a statue of the Virgin Mary. A trio of gay men befriend a gaggle of elderly nuns. A teenage girl is self-righteously angry but also rather hilariously dumb. A man with HIV gets ill. People mistreat each other. A man is hopelessly obsessed with his married ex. But when the story ends, nothing's really all that different from when we started. I guess you can assume that everybody gets over their issues and and turns over a new leaf, but who can tell?On the bright side, Maguire doesn't trot out the thesaurus quite so often as he does in his fairy tale retellings (Wicked, et al), which made for a less frustrating read. All in all, it's not bad for a free book, but not something I'd want to read again. I like books that tell a story, and I felt like one wasn't really told here. I can deal with the open-endedness, but I finished this feeling more like the plot was simply set up and then left as an exercise for the reader.
    • 2/5
      If I had clicked that this book was written by the man who had written 'Wicked' I would never have picked it up. Not that it is anything like the usual 'fractured fairytales' Maguire usually writes but it was still poorly written pap. A vaguely entertaining cast of characters but a pointless read. The only part I liked was the relationship that developed between the group of ageing nuns and the three gay men who rehearse in the nunnery - other than that the book has nothing to offer.
    • 4/5
      Gregory Maguire is best known for his books centering around the Wicked story, and while I”m a huge fan of the Broadway show, the book just didn’t do it for me.I’ve read a few more of Maguire’s books along the way and finished each one with a feeling of confusion – I just didn’t get it. I didn’t get the humor, the satire, the subtle jokes everyone else is apparently getting. So in an attempt to understand what exactly I didn’t “get” about this book let me break it down into sections.Characters: The characters in The Next Queen of Heaven were easy to relate to. Tabitha and Jeremy’s voices were the loudest and it was easy to fall in to their lives and to figure out how the events unfolding were impacting them. I admit, I’m a bit of a prudish reader when it comes to language (mostly because I like to recommend clean-language novels, and it makes me cringe to read some really harsh words at the start of a book) and The Next Queen of Heaven is definitely not a book if you have a hard time getting past some of the more crude language out there. Tabitha has just about the most foul mouth I’ve read from a character lately and, considering some of the books I’ve read in the last month, that’s really saying something. Still, I liked the characters – aside from the language issue, and I found myself rooting for them and feeling their pain and struggles. So it wasn’t the characters that brought the story down for me.Plot: I think this may be where everything falls apart. The plot felt like it began to fall apart about half-way through. I started to lose track of which nun was which, and… I’m still trying to understand why certain events took place in the Catholic church toward the end of the story (but that may be because I’m not Catholic?). Because the plot had me confused, some events that should have triggered an emotional response from me, ended up not triggering much at all.Setting: The setting was fine. I grew up in a town much like the one in this book, so it was easy for me to get a feel for the area and the people.Religion: This is, I think, one of the things that made me the most uncomfortable. Although I enjoyed reading Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, I had a difficult time with the irreverence of it, and – in much the same manner – I felt uncomfortable reading parts of this book as well. I also didn’t like the movie Dogma, but – many folks do and to each their own. I think I feel safe in saying if you enjoyed Dogma or Good Omens, then this is probably a book that you’ll enjoy as well.So I guess it comes down to the fact that I just felt confusion with the plotline. Everything else was fine and I read the book quickly, so it wasn’t a difficult read. Another Maguire checked off the list – I’m sure I’ll find one someday that I’ll fall in love with!
    • 4/5
      This book is something new for Gregory Maquire, as far as I know. The best way to describe it is an Ann Patchett novel written by Maguire. It is extremely character driven, and it's the characters that actively cause the plot to develop. While I enjoyed many of the characters (Tabitha, Jeremy, and Kirk), I found the others to be flat and lifeless. At the end of the novel I realized I knew nothing about Leontina, despite the fact that she was supposedly the catalyst. I even had trouble telling the pastor and the priest apart at times, which is a big problem in a novel about the differences between two religious groups. But it was nice to read about a community in which the Catholics are not the close-minded extremists. When it comes down to it, the reason I read Gregory Maguire is for the fairy tale retellings. So I'll stick to those.
    • 3/5
      LIke so many others, I bought this book because Gregory Maguire wrote it. It is very different from his other books -- no fairy tale recasting here. This is the story of Tabitha Scales, a teenaged delinquent being raised by her three-time divorced mother, Leontina. Tabitha has two 1/2 brothers, each with a different father and both named after TV characters, too: Hogan and Kirk. When Leontina is struck on the head by a statue of the Virgin Mary and begins behaving strangely, Tabitha and her brothers have to look after her and themselves.This is also the story of Jeremy Carr, the gay choir director of the Catholic church, who is coping with unrequited love and with the terminal illness of a close friend.At first, I just loved this book. It had me laughing aloud at the clever dialogue and various anxieties of the characters on the eve of Y2K. Part way through, though, I stopped laughing. In part, the plot became more serious; at the same time, it became less interesting.All in all, I liked the various perspectives presented by the different characters on issues such as religion, faith, sexuality and friendship. I only wish the ending had been as strong as the beginning.
    • 5/5
      Leontina Scales is a thrice-married (and divorced) mother of 3 sullen teenagers. She is a devout member of the Radical Radiant Pentecostals, who share a parking lot with the Roman Catholic church next door. One morning, having forgotten to bring milk for the after-services coffee, she sneaks over to the basement of the Catholic church to borrow some, and is conked on the head by a falling statue of the Virgin Mary. When she wakes up, her behavior and speech have changed dramatically, but since the clinic can find nothing particularly wrong with her, they release her to the care of her children.Jeremy Carr is the gay music director for the Catholic church, trying to get over the love of his life, to care for Sean, a friend with AIDS, and to find a rehearsal spot with a piano so he can win a competition in New York. Sister Alice offers him the use of the music room in the Motherhouse of the Sisters of the Sorrowful Mysteries, currently used as a retirement home for the nuns. And the story begins. This is a wild ride, and I alternately laughed hysterically and cried like a baby. It is a small town, and everyone's lives cross back and forth between each other. The Catholics feel responsible, the Pentecostal Pastor worries that they are trying to convert Mrs. Scales while he tries to seduce her 15 year old daughter Tabitha, who goes from being the town brat/slut to having to care for her mother (in spite of her own worries), and there is an absolutely fabulous conversation between the musicians and the retired nuns, comparing the gay life to the cloistered life. Gregory Maguire is one of those authors that you can't pinpoint, because all of his books are different. This one is great. Each person and each institution is equally lauded and denigrated, and I just came away from it feeling like we all have our own demons to fight, so let's just get along. Highly recommended (although there is some "bad language" if that's offensive to you).
    • 3/5
      Why: Wicked is one of my top twenty favorite books ever, probably, and so I read Maguire every so often.Away from his usual territory Maguire is. No fairy tales or Oz. Just regular people, in regular ol' America, the tiny town of Thebes, NY, upstate, to be precise. I have really mixed feelings about this book. I found it quite funny, the characters, the dialogue, the scenarios Maguire set up. He is jointly satirizing religion and exploring themes of faith, which can be compelling. You know, but it's not. It's just not. He split the view between two characters: fiesty teen slut, Tabitha, and wimpy gay Catholic church music director, Jeremy. Tabitha has all the fun, and all the fun scenes, and nutty, unpredictable thoughts. Jeremy has a friend dying of AIDS, gets no respect, and endures regular emotional torture from the now-married-to-a-woman love of his life. What a drip. Well, I guess the reasons for the mixed feelings are apparent. I can't recommend this book, and I can't not recommend it. I mean, the guy gives great prose. If only he'd used it to send Jeremy flying over a cliff.
    • 2/5
      I really wanted to like this book, but I didn't. I could not connect with the main characters, I thought Tabitha, Jeremy and Kirk were annoying, I thought the members of the church and choir were just silly. I did not chuckle once, I was sick of all the name dropping and pop culture references that won't matter in 30 years. I really liked the whole free book and the charity idea, that is the best thing about this book. Being a Catholic I didn't find any of the situations funny or cute. Although I think this book would appeal to more mainstream readers, those who are into the Catholic faith might not find it appealing.
    • 3/5
      I think my 3-star rating of this book may be a bit generous as I sit down to write this review. I had to force myself to finish reading this story mostly out of curiosity as to how it would end. And, now that I am finished, admitedly, I find myself asking, "So what?"A collection of wacky characters and their inter-related life stories are the backdrop of the storyline that includes a three-time divorced mother (Mrs. Leontina Scales) who is a member of the 'Cliffs of Zion Radical Radiant Pentecostal Church' and her 3 dysfunctional children (Tabitha, Hogan and Kirk), her pastor (Pastor Jakob Huyck) who develops a crush on Tabitha, a choir director (Jeremy) in the adjoining Catholic Church (Our Lady of Something or Other) and his gay friends Sean and Marty. Jeremy has never gotten over his love for Willem, who is now married with the perfect family. Jeremy is also the twinkle in the eye of Kirk, the youngest of Mrs. Scales' three children.And, there are the Sisters of the Sorrowful Mysteries, (Mother Clare du Plessix, Sister Alice Coyne, Sister Maria Goretti, Sister Jeanne d'Arc, Sister Felicity, Sister Perpetua, Sister Clothilde, Sister Magdalene). I have to admit the Sisters were my favorite characters. They were smart, funny, witty and sincere.One of the more interesting passages for me came from Mother Clare when she was speaking to Jeremy and his friends:"The whole notion of the cloister still espcaes you, doesn't it? At least one of the many reasons one enters is not to escape the world because it is too painful, but because it is too beautiful to bear."
    • 3/5
      The story focuses on small town America and the role that religion plays in this setting. The cast of characters rely on religion in various ways for various purposes, some spiritual, some skeptical while others are going through the paces of their lives looking for ways to connect and finding them in different churches. The book is set in the small town of Thebes, New York in the late 1990's.

      Jeremy Carr is the choir director at the local Catholic parish. He is hoping to make his big break after Christmas as he has won a place in a musical revue in New York. Jeremy is gay, and his singing group is made up of his friends who are also gay; one fighting AIDS. What has kept him in Thebes outside of a sense of obligation is his inability to stop loving Willem, who had a fling with him before Willem got married. Jeremy knows his love is impractical, but is stuck and can't bring himself to leave.

      Another part of the book revolves around the Scales family. Mrs. Scales is raising three children by herself, and looks to religion to help her get through the days and provide a structure for her children. She is met by indifferent success, at least by the measures of traditional success. Tabitha is the oldest and the town scandal as she moves from man to man. The middle son is Hogan, a dropout who is interested in cars and garages and video games, but not much else. The youngest is a son named Kirk, who is interested in music and drama and doesn't fit in well in a traditional school setting. Mrs. Scales, who is a fundamentalist Christian, is transformed when she goes next door to the Catholic church and gets hit over the head with a statue.

      It's not "Wicked", but, it's a quirky & different type of story. If you like different and enjoyed the story of "Wicked", then you'll enjoy this book.
    • 4/5
      Many of the reviews here start with a note that this is not a retold fairy tale, but actually it is--well maybe not a fairy tale, depending on your religious beliefs, but it is certainly a retelling of the Incarnation of Jesus, with theological appropriate meditations on bondage and freedom, tolerance and intolerance, and death and new life.It is also, as many reviewers have said, a story about real people with real problems in the real world. It deals much more pointedly with themes Maguire has wrestled with in many of his books.If you haven't actually read the Biblical accounts of Christmas recently, you might want to read the first couple of chapters of the gospels of Matthew and Luke while reading this book.
    • 5/5
      This book has one of the most diverse cast of characters I've ever seen. We start out with the rebellious teenage girl (Tabitha) and her super religious mother (Leontina - a Pentacostal). The two brothers of the family - one an attention starved young man that would do anything to please and the other surprisingly like Tabitha. Next we meet the Catholics (they share a parking lot with the mother's chuch). The way we meet them is rather interesting. Leontina sneaks into the Catholic church one morning to "borrow" some cream and gets knocked out by a falling virgin Mary statue.This is where things really get interesting as Leontina seems to have lost her mind and is left at home with her three children to care for her. But back to the Catholics. My favorite was Jeremy, the gay choir director, and his two friends are trying to find a place to practice for an AIDS benefit concert. Well, the only place they can find is a nunnery. A nunnery full of old retired nuns that ask only for some conversation in exchange for letting the boys used some space there.Somehow Maguire manages to get all these people tied up into the same story line as Christmas is quickly approaching. I won't want to say too much more or a lot of the surprises would be spoiled. An amazing book, that actually has you looking at a few serious issues of the world in a new way without even realized it until you're finished.5/5
    • 4/5
      It's 1999 in Thebes, New York. When Leontina Scales is knocked on the head by a falling statue of the Virgin Mary while pilfering from the refrigerator of the Catholic church, things get a little out of control. For Leontina, a single mother who is raising three wayward teenagers, the bump on the noggin is just enough to throw her over the edge. Soon she begins to act very strange indeed, speaking in tongues and reverting back to a simpler time in her life. Meanwhile, Jeremy, the parish choir director, is trying to assemble a group of friends for a shot at the musical big time, but is finding obstacles creeping up along the way. Jeremy is a Catholic of a very different variety, and along with his friends is trying to keep a lid on his often misunderstood lifestyle. Added into the mix is an ancient group of nuns that Jeremy and his singing group befriend and one very antagonistic and foul-mouthed teenage girl, making the little town of Thebes, New York on the cusp of Y2K a very strange place indeed.I've read quite a few of Magiure's books and was eager to get the chance to read this one as well. I thought that Wicked was pretty darn incredible, and though I liked it's sequels a little less ferociously, I think Maguire has a really interesting talent for taking fairy tales and twisting them into thrilling and novel new permutations. So when I started this book, I was a tad confused. This book was really a departure for Maguire, as not only was it a different genre, the inclusion of so much humor was also different for him. While it took me some time to adjust, I ended up really enjoying this book despite my preconceived notions about it.This book was really thought-provoking in the ways it examined the fragile bonds that hold a community together. There was a small town feel to the story and as the book progressed, there was a great feeling of peeking into the microcosm of small town America. Part of the story was about two opposing churches, and while I wouldn't call it a rivalry exactly, there were some definite undercurrents of us versus them that were gradually hurdled as the narrative moved forward. Both church leaders had strong ties to the community, albeit in very different ways, and both of them found themselves coming to Leontina's aid in some pretty surprising ways. One of the things I found most interesting was the tentative relationship that began to develop between Jeremy's group and the nuns. They were as different as different could be but they seemed to find common ground to put aside the bonds of convention and be supportive of one another in a few unexpected and touching demonstrations of unity.I liked that Maguire found the humor in religion and its trappings without becoming derisive and mocking. Yes, the churches had their problems, and yes, there was a lot to poke fun at, but Maguire handled his subjects with a great deal of respect. A lot of the religious stereotypes were represented in relief but there wasn't a feeling of moral judgement hanging over the story like a pall. There was a certain amount of reverence attached to these things and Maguire's attitude towards it all was mildly surprising and pleasing. In my opinion, it's hard to write about religion and spirituality without becoming either too fawning or too dismissive, but Maguire seems to hit the right note, making his characters lovable but flawed.Though this was a rather comedic book, there were a lot of more somber and reflective aspects to the story, particularly the sections dealing with spiritual confusion and the plight of gay individuals afflicted with disease. The way Maguire mixed these mediums was done with a grace and compassion that I haven't seen in his other writing. These sections weren't depressing or maudlin but rather more matter-of-fact and thoughtful. I'm always surprised when a favorite author manages to tread sensitive new ground with aplomb and was glad to see that Maguire didn't try to cheapen the emotion of his story by becoming flippant and trite. A few revelations had me a little misty eyed at times, and though the emotion could run high, there wasn't a sense of over dramatization in the more somber reflections of his characters. This book was populated by a lot of unusual characters, which is something I always enjoy when it's done well. From the morally conflicted pastor to the wizened and sarcastic nuns to the very strange Leontina Scales herself, Maguire did a wonderful job of making this cast of characters colorful and surprisingly fresh. The characters were not at all what I had been expecting and it added another whole level of unpredictability to this story. Not all of these characters were likable; some were a little off-putting or even repugnant, but like those that were better loved, they were drawn with complexity and dimension that made them easy to relate to and understand.As I mentioned before, this book is a departure for Maguire, but although it was different than what I had been expecting, I found it to be a really involving read. Readers that appreciate a good dose of humor inside a dramatic framework would really love this book and those who don't mind reading about the lighter side of spirituality would probably also have fun with it. After seeing what Maguire can do when he steps out of his box, I'm eager to see what he has in store for his readers. This book was unexpectedly successful with me, as I think it would be for a lot of others, so I think it might be something to take a chance on.
    • 3/5
      I'm a big fan of Maguire's fairy tale retellings, so when I won this from LibraryThing I was quite excited. I mean, Maguire on weird religious stuff! But I ended up a bit disappointed. The characters were interesting, the whole idea of a fundie getting hit on the head by a statue of the Virgin Mary when trying to "borrow" milk from the Catholics then ending up speaking in tongues amused me. But something just didn't hit the mark for me. I'm not quite sure what it was. Maybe it's that there were no huge revelations, though even that works very well in the story, since it takes place right before Y2K and is rife with all the nutty theories that abounded and came to nothing. Perhaps it's that in fairy tales, there's an ending that ties up everything with a pretty (if bloody) bow. Not so here. And so I was left feeling a little unfinished.
    • 4/5
      It is 1999 and Y2K is just around the corner, is all hell breaking loose?Mrs. Leontina Scales, a weekly church-goer, gets hit over the head and is no longer the same person. Jeremy Carr, church choir director, has a lot on his plate to deal with in his personal life. The lives of Leontina's children are also in tormoil- daughter Tabitha, is having man problems while her son Kirk, is confused about his feelings.It is a story about everyday life, something one does not come to expect from Gregory Maguire. As a fan of Wicked and Confessions of an Ugly Step Sister I was waiting for the supernatural or fantasy aspect of the story to kick it, it never arrived. It kept me wondering how it would all come together, especially the story line of Jeremy Carr. It was an good story, not a page turner for me but some may be surprised at the story.
    • 4/5
      The Next Queen of Heaven is a departure from the normal Gregory Maguire tale. There are no fairy tales retold or mythic beings. It's life at its messiest and how people deal with it which makes for an interesting journey.
    • 4/5
      This is very interesting book, and very different from his other books. This time there is no re-writing a fairy tale--it's straight up fiction. What IS the same is his deft, and often humorous, crafting of his characters and the situations they find themselves in. The story is kick started by Leotina Scales, single mother of 3 variously troubled teenagers, getting knocked out by a teetering statue of the Virgin Mary in the basement of a Catholic Church--in which she is NOT a member. When she wakes up, she's definitely a different person, and the rest of the book is pretty much how members of her family, two churches, and others in town go about dealing with the change along with their own problems. Religious rivalries, lechery, closeted homosexuality, AIDS, teen pregnancy, ancient cloistered nuns and music are all part of the deal in very amusing way. Yet, while entertaining, there is a serious underlying theme of finding yourself and being true to that self. It's rather a busy read with so many characters doing so many things, but a very enjoyable one.
    • 1/5
      I have tried countless times to finish this book, but alas I cannot. Every time I start becoming invested in the characters the plot changes and I am left feeling like the author does not care. There also seems to be several different stories taking place at the same time. I think if the author had stuck with Mrs. Scales being injured and her childrens attempt to care for her, and not adding adding the side story of Jeremy Carr, the book would flow smoother and be an easier read.
    • 2/5
      Normally, Maguire writes about characters in such a way that I feel I know them and if I met them on the streets,I could recognize them. In The Next Queent of Heaven, he only accomplishes this for one or two of his characters. Most of them, I didn't understand, empathize with, or relate to at all. This book seemed to lack his normal wimsy and humor, not to mention his ability to take a story and turn it on its head. It looked like an interesting experiment on his part, but I hope he sticks to his forte from now on.
    • 5/5
      In "The Next Queen of Heaven", Gregory Maguire leaves behind the twisted fairy tales that we all know and love him for and embraces a real world fiction which he makes fantastic without any fantasy. Maguire brings to life the joys and problems related to living in small town America. His characters are well-rounded and complete and totally believable. There's humor mixed with just the right amount of drama (or vice-versa if you prefer). And it all leads up to a crazy Christmas Eve service that will never be forgotten. My only problem with the book it is that it ended just a little too soon. The stories of Jeremy and Tabitha were dealt with perfectly; just the right amount of closure while leaving the horizon wide open. I could have used a little more time spent with Mrs. Scales and Hogan at the end though. Overall I though the book was amazing. Maguire has certainly shown that he is more than just a one-trick pony (not that it was ever much in doubt) by stepping away from his normal niche and exploring other areas. Definitely a worth-while read.
    • 4/5
      I am a huge fan of Gregory Maguire's work and have read virtually everything he has written and was consequently very excited to receive this as an ARC. At first I was a little thrown off because this book is not what I expected and is quite a bit different from his other books like Wicked where he takes a fairy tale and changes it into something very different. But as I got into it I was pleased to see that The Next Queen of Heaven has the same wry sense of humor that kept me laughing out loud and the same complex and inviting characters that I love from all of his other books. By turns laugh out loud funny and unexpectedly moving, The Next Queen of Heaven was delightful to read and further proof that Maguire is a master of his craft.
    • 3/5
      I love Gregory Maguire's adult fairy tale stories, but this is something very different. It is a magical fiction story set in upstate New York in the 1990s and follows an incredibly dysfunctional family through its single-mother's descent into craziness after a statue of the Virgin Mary falls on her head. While the events are difficult to believe, and the characters are completely over-the-top, Maguire uses the events to present some interesting and funny bits about the clash of cultures between Evangelicals, gays, Catholics and small town folk trying to live a "normal" life. Maguire nicely captures the awful period in the HIV epidemic before drug therapy reached its current ability to help people lead life with a chronic rather than fatal disease with a good subplot involving three gay men. A good beach read, but I like the usual Maguire stuff better.
    • 4/5
      Sad and hilarious. Ignorant and intelligent. A true look in the mirror for today's myth believers and skeptics alike. Successfully, Gregory Maguire has managed to write of the flip side(s), the less acknowledged side, of a common story - the lives of individual people. Instead of focusing on the alternative view of a fairy tale, Maguire peers into the world of the living, telling 'human tales', detailing the variable impacts one of the modern world's most prevalent tales has on its characters and their emotional interaction, or lack thereof, with one another.This story is different from Maguire's previous novels, and yet still very much the same.
    • 3/5
      This is one of those novels where you care... but then you don't. For some reason, as interesting and extraordinary as the characters were supposed to be, most of the time I could not bring myself to *really* want to know what was going to happen. Maybe because they were *all* written as extraordinary, they all became ordinary within the novel.I will be more specific. You have a stereo-typical evangelical christian who gets conked on the head while sneaking in the basement of the neighboring catholic church with, of all things, a statue of a catholic figurehead, her "slutty" and "stupid" daughter, her bully son, and her other highly effeminate, "confused" son. After being hit in the head, Leontina (the mother)'s behavior becomes bizarre---though never quite bizarre enough---cutting off the beginnings of her words, acting like a child in many ways, and eventually shutting down (much more interesting examples exist, but I do not wish to spoil any of the story). This all happens while her children, 17, 15, and 13 (ish.. I am not sure of the age of the youngest), are "taking care of" her and attempting to move forward and grow in their own lives. Just to add a little more, the daughter is also suffering from a boyfriend who is suddenly unavailable, as well as being the object of grown men's attentions.And that's just one of the story lines. The other centers around three gay guys in this small new york town who need to practice for their singing group in a building housing a dozen or so elderly nuns. One of the guys, who also happens to be the musical director for the catholic church in which Leontina hit her head, is fighting demons from his past, another of the guys is fighting his too-catholic parents as well as a life-threatening disease, and the third is jewish.In under 300 pages, the book became a series of events instead of a novel wherein the reader could actually feel attached to any of the characters. In the end, it was difficult to feel anything---sympathy, joy, laughter, pain---for the characters because they had all become caricatures of who they could have been.Criticism aside, Maguire is still a great writer with interesting approaches, good ideas, and a nice use of words.I would recommend this book to people whose favorites books are among the "drama" or "life" books.
    • 4/5
      The blurb on the back of this book leads you to believe it is a hysterically funny novel - and it is in many ways. You have Tabitha, the slut of Thebes, New York and long-suffering daughter of Leontina Scales. You have Jeremy Cobb, gay chorus leader who only wants out of Thebes and the sooner the better, except....You have Tabita's brothers - Hogan and Kirk - who have their own issues and lots of them. And then you have the Sisters of the Sorrowful Mysteries who are doomed to extinction because there are none among them under seventy.This collection of characters makes The Next Queen of Heaven a delight. They interact unknowingly in many ways but are so dependent on each other that to leave out one would ruin everything. When Leontina gets conked by a statue in the basement of the Thebes Catholic church while in search of milk for the Pentecostals next door, Tabitha's world does a neat 180 and goes to hell in a heartbeat as she becomes not only a caregiver/caretaker but an expectant mother as well. How she deals with this is the heart of the book but it is by far the only tale to be learned. Gregory Macquire has another hit and one that should be read by anyone who loves an unexpected ending and many complications happening on nearly every page.
    • 3/5
      Summary: A few days before Halloween of 1999, Mrs. Leotina Scales sneaks into the basement of the Catholic church of Thebes, New York (to steal milk for the coffee of the Radical Radiant Pentecostals, next door). While down there, she gets bonked in the head by a statue of the virgin Mary, and begins speaking in tongues. This is too much for her foul-mouthed, dropout, troublemaker daughter Tabitha to deal with, especially since she's got her own problems to deal with: useless brothers, absent fathers, and a boyfriend who's avoiding her and who town gossip says is engaged to someone else. But things are not much brighter for the Catholics of Thebes... Jeremy Carr, the choir director of the church, is desperately trying to get his side project - a gay men's chorus - into shape for an audition in New York City that might represent his last hope of breaking out of the orbit of his only ex-boyfriend (who is now happily married with kids). But the singing isn't going so well either, since one of the members is HIV-positive and is deteriorating quickly, plus their options for rehearsal space have been reduced to the convent of the aging Sisters of the Sorrowful Mysteries. Christmas is coming, as is Y2K, but its unclear whether the citizens of Thebes are in for Yultide miracles or millennial disasters.Review: For starters, I'd like to give credit where credit's due: bravo for Gregory Maguire for stretching his wings a bit. The Next Queen of Heaven is *very* different from his other books - no retold fairy tales or historical fiction settings here. I imagine that so radical of a departure from an author who is so well established in his own particular sub-genre can't be easy, and I appreciate that Maguire was willing to take that leap.I had a bit of a hard time telling whether or not he hit the mark, however. I'm not sure whether the fault was mine, the book's marketing, or the novel itself (or some combination thereof, most likely), but I spent most of my time reading this book with a severe case of cognitive dissonance. The wacky small-town characters in mildly contrived situations, the religious elements, the just-before-Christmas setting, and the book-jacket blurb describing it as "frantic, funny, and farcical" were all making me expect Christopher Moore's The Stupidest Angel. Only, when I would sit down to read, what I got was more like The Stupidest Angel with all of the funny bits removed and replaced with sadness and depressive ennui. I kept waiting for the farcical part to start, and instead, I got a pastor with inappropriate feelings towards a teen girl, and a gay man dying of AIDS. Whee.I would write this all off as a case of mismatched expectations, but it seems like the book itself thinks its funnier than it is. There are some genuinely funny lines, and some scenes (particularly the ending) that actually feel like effective farce. The problem is, the book seems like it has to work too hard to achieve these bright bits, and they don't do enough to dispel the bleakness that clings to the rest of the story. Which is not to say that the book is bad just because it's bleak - not at all; I like a good bleak book now and again - but don't sell yourself as a farce if that's not really your strong suit, y'know?And the thing is, The Next Queen of Heaven does a lot of things right. The parts where Maguire drops the farce angle and gives himself unabashedly to the pathos of the situation felt true and moving. The plot's a little rambling and somewhat haphazard, but he makes the disparate pieces work together well, and even come together in the end. The character building was impressive - while I didn't really like any of the characters much, they still felt like multidimensional individuals. Maguire's setting is equally well-done; I've lived in upstate New York, and he captured it perfectly. The writing style is light but substantial, and is the one thing that identifies this book as Maguire's work. Finally, I thought he did a very nice job writing a book that deals so intimately with matters of religion - of multiple religions - without veering too much into either proseletyzing or bashing.So, in sum, this book had a number of good things about it, and the potential for even better things, but I felt like it couldn't decide whether to be a comedy or a drama, tried to be both, and got stuck at an uncomfortable point in the middle. 3 out of 5 stars.Recommendation: If you like Gregory Maguire's style, or serious books wrapped in wacky dressings, and can ignore the promises made by the cover copy, then you've got a pretty good shot of liking The Next Queen of Heaven more than I did.

    Book preview

    The Next Queen of Heaven - Gregory Maguire

    1

    TO TABITHA’S REMARK that the town’s first speed-trap camera was totally unfair and kind of kinky, Mrs. Scales replied, after a prayerful silence, Why don’t you think of it as the Eye of God?

    God doesn’t do three strikes you’re out, last I heard, said Tabitha. Or give tickets. Big Brother’s more like it. I bet Jack Reeves sits in his mayor’s spy room somewhere taking notes and feeling himself.

    I doubt it, said her mother. But Big Brother, that’s good. You’re doing some reading.

    Don’t count on it. It’s just the forensic club is going Big Brother this, Big Brother that, at the No More Columbines pep rally.

    Well, you can relax about surveillance from anyone but me. Besides, they say the camera isn’t hooked up yet. It doesn’t see anything. So it can’t do anything.

    Tabitha inhaled around the gum she had tongued against the back of her front teeth. Maybe you’re right about it being, like, the Eye of God.

    Praise you Jesus, thought her mother, she’s coming around at last.

    Totally fucking blind.

    They coasted past the hapless aperture, a heady four miles per hour over the limit. A little frostiness of mood, not so bad in itself. Union Street curved north into downtown Thebes—what passed for downtown—and the silence locked mother and daughter together. Better than the usual smackdown session, thought Mrs. Scales.

    She took advantage of the time out to practice her Inner Breathing. Breathe east. She imagined, miles out of sight, the softwood heart of the Northeast, the Adirondacks.

    Breathe west. In the slant light of dusk—daylight savings time taking its bite again—she glimpsed the first iteration of America’s liquid prairie. It looked like chemical water on fire in the gloaming. The Lakes, the Lakes. Ontario, Huron, Superior, Erie. That other one. Not for the first time did Erie seem the word to cover them all.

    Breathe north. Montreal (more or less). Breathe south. Syracuse. Compass rose breathing. Center yourself, for Christ’s sake.

    Mrs. Scales considered her dilemmas. Maybe this very moment, in the car hurrying past nasturtium-edged clouds, Tabitha was undergoing a conversion. Evolving from potty mouth to docile daughter. It could happen. Leontina was praying for it hard enough, wasn’t she? Or did this mean that her prayer, like her backhand and also according to the dental technician the care of her gums, was sadly lacking?

    At the light by Croton Drugs, old Mrs. Chanarinjee in her push-walker and sari paused in the crosswalk. She leaned down at the open passenger window and chuckled a hello across Tabitha to her mother. Tabitha, recoiling as if she were being nosed by a dog, muttered, She has curry coming out of her cunt, and flipped her the bird. Mrs. Chanarinjee reached in and grabbed Tabitha’s middle finger and squeezed it till she squealed. Inner breathing north east south west. Discernment, please. Was Mrs. Chanarinjee dispensing the wrath of a savage foreign god she’d never quite abandoned, or was she just unclear on the execution of the American handshake?

    Let the fuck go a me. Aren’t you supposed to be like on some burning pile of furniture or something?

    I’m supposed to be on Percoset for my hips, said Mrs. Chanarinjee. All business now. This Sunday, Mrs. Leontina Scales. Is it your turn to do the milk or mine?

    I think mine, Savitra. Better get to the curb before the light changes.

    Before the light changes, yes, yes.

    Stupid bitch. Tabitha exercised no volume control. "Stupid holy cow. Who wears tablecloths in fucking October?"

    Breathe. The compass rose again. Inner Breathing of the spirit. It wouldn’t hurt you, Tabitha, to try to be nicer to people.

    "It wouldn’t hurt me if she fell down dead in that paisley bed-sheet."

    The next day Tabitha’s mother met with Pastor Jakob Huyck and put it to him in hypothetical terms. If there was a child who had a mouth on her, who seemed determined to drive her single parent into an early grave, what would Pastor Huyck recommend? Prayer, said Pastor Huyck promptly. He nodded his head and picked at his straw-colored goatee as if it had lice in it. He was about fifty-five, and Mrs. Scales thought the goatee seemed rather a loose-cannon approach to Modern Maturity. Prayer, and a good example, said Pastor Huyck in his coming-attractions baritone. Does she have a good example at home, Leontina?

    An example of what?

    I’ll do the praying. You be the good example. Don’t forget your Inner Breathing. Also your pocketbook, it’s there by the plant.

    On her way home, Mrs. Scales considered his advice. Be a good example? Had he meant her to be an example of goodness? She already had that one down cold, and it wasn’t working. So he must mean be a good, effective example of badness. To show Tabitha how objectionable it was.

    Centering herself by Inner Breathing and through flexing her rump muscles in rotation against the car seat, she veered off course and headed to the high school. Thought I’d surprise you with a ride home, she called brightly into the clot of sullen teenagers loitering between parked cars.

    No way, said Tabitha, refusing to be separated from the human camouflage. Caleb Briggs gets done at the plant at three, and he’s taking me to the Ames in Cleary Corners. The new Boss Bitch CD is out.

    I’ll take you. I have to get some milk for Sunday anyway.

    Shit, said Tabitha. She left her bosom companions without comment. They looked into middle distances, perhaps hoping for this charade of family life to conclude lest they became virally infected. Not for the first time, Mrs. Scales wondered if anyone actually liked her daughter. They didn’t seem distressed to have her flushed out of their midst.

    Leontina Scales used her blinker and peered both ways before inching out.

    This is so embarrassing, said Tabitha. Nobody’s mother has picked them up since like fourth grade. You’re like demented. This is like Auschwitz.

    We’re clear. You can sit up.

    I like it down here. I think I’ll die down here.

    I have to go to the Grand Union first. Then to Maxy’s Hardware. You want to come in?

    What the fuck for? I’d rather squat here and read the Bible.

    Oh? Mrs. Scales felt a pleasant shock. This was turning out better than she thought.

    "Earth to Mom. Only kidding. I’m not a, you know. Loser."

    Mrs. Scales took her time in the Grand Union. She did Inner Breathing to steady her resolve as far as the fish aisle, but the ice smelled old. By the time she got back to the car, Tabitha was fake snoring, nasally sucking in the word fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck and exhaling on shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

    Very funny. Next stop, Maxy’s.

    Can I get out there and walk home?

    I thought I was taking you to the Ames to get that new CD. The Boss Lady.

    "Boss Bitch, Mom. Bitch." Apparently Tabitha liked the sound of that. Bitch, Mom. Bitch, Mom.

    Tabitha.

    Her daughter muttered a profanity so cutting-edge that Leontina couldn’t place it as scatological, theological, sociological, or erotic. That isn’t very nice. She hoped a generic response wasn’t too lame.

    Depends on who does it. A snort.

    After Maxy’s, Mrs. Scales steered the car over Irish Hollow Road and came the back way into the Crosswinds Shopping Center parking lot. Tabitha opened her eyes. Look, that’s Caleb’s motorcycle? That one? I’ll get out here and go with him? Caleb Briggs? He musta called in sick to work. I’ll go home with him. You know. Caleb Briggs.

    Oh no you won’t. Go in and pick up your new CD. I have to go to the ATM first. I’m all out. I’ll meet you in a little while at the cashier.

    Mrs. Scales sat in the car with her hands clenched on the steering wheel. The minute hand twitched seven times. Then she got out. It felt as if she were going to the doctor. All dry mouth and nervous stomach. She aimed the door-lock rays at one of her new bumper stickers. I brake for Communion. When Leontina Scales had raised Tabitha in such decency, why was she so contrary? Why?

    At the door of the Ames she looked in. This was the busy time. She saw Mrs. Prothero from church, with Mrs. Getchen and Mrs. Howe. Old Man Getchen was nodding off on a bench in the mold-blue light of fluorescence, trying to outlive his wife. Through the glass Mrs. Scales thought she could see Tabitha way down at the back. She didn’t know if Tabitha had found her CD yet. A formation of teenagers dawdled in front of the checkout lines, apparently waiting for one of their herd to reappear. Great. An audience. This wouldn’t work without an audience.

    Mrs. Scales pushed the door open. Afternoon, Vivian, hello there, Pauline. Mrs. Howe. This wasn’t going to be easy. Mind my language for a moment. She wasn’t sure they had heard her. She took a deep Breath, Inner from all four quarters of the compass. Pastor Huyck recommended this, she reminded the Lord. Tabitha! Tabitha Scales! Tabitha!

    The chattering yielded at once to an all-strings version of Beauty and the Beast. Cashiers turned. Mrs. Prothero, Mrs. Getchen, Mrs. Howe turned. Mrs. Scales gave a wave and a bright-eyed smile that verged, she knew, on the hysterical. Tabitha Scales, she yelled, a gritty, carrying, outdoorsy bray, you get the hell over here, or I’ll kick your ass so hard the shit is going to paralyze the fucking fan! There. Four, count ’em, four Little Uglies in one sentence. Leontina had been good in English composition in her day.

    Mr. Getchen stood up. Pauline, get a move on if you know what’s good for you. Mrs. Getchen gaped at him as if he’d orchestrated all this.

    Picked out by perspective, Tabitha appeared at the far end of an aisle. Her hands theatrically up on either side of her head, a pantomimed shrug you could have read through a beer glass. "What’s the matter, what are you doing?" she called. I’m coming, okay?

    Mrs. Scales let it rip some more. I don’t know why in tarnation I put up with a bitch like you. Did you get your stupid music? Tarnation was a choke cribbed out of her own mother’s mouth; Mrs. Scales hoped no one noticed.

    Tabitha was all but sprinting. "Chill! Chill, will you?" She breezed past the few customers in line.

    Mrs. Scales waited until Tabitha was right in front of her. She used as ordinary a voice as she could manage. What a shame. Didn’t they carry the CD you wanted? Dear?

    Forget it. I’m here. Let’s go. Are you mental? Are you, like, having sudden onset industrial menopause? Why are you doing this?

    For the love of Christ. Leontina passed her friends from church, who were staring palely at her. She hesitated. The teenagers had all clustered near the bottle deposit cash window as if ready to dive through it for safety in the event that Mrs. Scales was packing heat. Empowered, Mrs. Scales raised her voice to them. A little demonstration of contemporary slang. Would you like to hear me improvise—?

    Mom.

    Some store manager had just turned the Muzak up three notches and was probably calling Jack Reeves over at the police station. Well, next time, then, said Mrs. Scales. She couldn’t resist adding, Thank you for not listening. She strode out across the mud mat. Tabitha skulked after.

    The parking lot was a relief for them although, with her pulse racing, Mrs. Scales couldn’t keep track of the order for Inner Breathing.

    I was, like, dying of embarrassment. What’s the matter with you?

    Well, honey. She made a show of gripping her car keys in a way that suggested she could use them to gouge out her own daughter’s eyes if attacked. Now you know how I feel when you use coarse language in front of my friends. It’s not a whole lot of fun. Is it.

    Total silence in the car on the way home, which these days was the only way to escape Tabitha’s spontaneous profanity. But it was a start.

    2

    FOR THREE DAYS Tabitha managed a civil tongue, but the ceasefire failed on Saturday night. She went out and didn’t come home till eight a.m. next morning. Welts on her arms, her clothes disheveled, a rubber Halloween mask of Richard Nixon slung onto the kitchen table like the head of John the Baptist or Holofernes. Its nose a half inch deep in margarine. Where have you been, young lady? asked Mrs. Scales, swallowing back her alternative opening gambit, Has some pervert deflowered my firstborn because he was turned on by the thought of a cross-dressing Tricky Dick?

    When she was ready to reply, Tabitha managed, "Bliss out, life is adventure, and after all, Halloween’s coming tonight, isn’t it? So go to Sunday service, and trick or treat already."

    I need to talk to you about hymen integrity.

    Mom, I’m not talking about anything till I zone out for a while. I’m, like, so wasted.

    Leontina moved the margarine away from the rubber mask. And you know Pastor Jakob forbids the children of the Cliffs of Zion Radical Radiant Pentecostal Church plastic masks and costumes. Disguises of all kinds promote dishonesty, and dishonesty is an open invitation to You Know Who. A recipe for trouble and no mistake. Though I gather you’ve been experimenting with making mistakes.

    Tabitha, letting out a laugh that yodeled into a shriek, impounded herself in the bathroom. The water ran suspiciously noisy. Are you weeping in there? said Mrs. Scales, ear against the door. Her sons emerged from their separate dens, blinking and scratching like the animals they were. "Tabitha’s been out all night. I believe she’s been drinking, or something," said their mother. And I have to go to Meeting even if nobody else is, and I don’t want to leave her in this condition without you boys knowing.

    She’s drinking? At this hour? Attagirl, said Hogan, and went back to bed.

    I’ll fix her some coffee and find some aspirin, Mom, said Kirk. "You go on to Meeting. Go. Go."

    She left feeling that she was living and driving a lie, with her car sporting the other new bumper sticker that said Grace Happens. Happens to whom? That’s what she wanted to know. Maybe the bumper sticker was missing a line: GRACE HAPPENS TO VANISH.

    Mrs. Scales tiptoed into Meeting with a red face. In this claustrophobic town, someone at Meeting would be ready to share new gossip about the Hussy of Thebes, Tabitha Scales. How much more shame could Tabitha heap upon her family? Was she aiming for an entry in Guinness World Records?

    And—oh, but her mother could hardly tolerate thoughts at the clinical level—what yowls of pleasure or pain had Tabitha emitted at the infliction of those wounds? And that aroma of sex … soft baby asparagus cut with a weak solution of Clorox. Despite her own clammy celibacy in that regard, currently, Mrs. Scales remembered the characteristics of intercourse all too well.

    Leontina found it hard to focus during Pastor Jakob Huyck’s homily. She fretted with a frozen smile until the announcements, when Pastor Huyck reminded them, The Radical Radiant Pentecostals and the Roman Catholics enjoy an unholy alliance. We share the parking lot between our buildings. And I’ve promised Father Mike Sheehy you won’t mow down any Catholics today. Prove me prophetic.

    Devotion yielded to committee sessions and study circles. Leontina Scales excused herself a few minutes early from the Inner Breathing class that Savitra Chanarinjee always called Remedial Prayer. She would set up the coffee for the break. She plugged in the twin Mister Coffees—or Misters Coffee, as Kirk would have it. (Mister Fastidious.)

    Then Leontina realized that what with her rage and worry she’d forgotten to stop and get 2 percent milk from the Stewart’s. What milk did lurk in the back of the Cliffs of Zion fridge was giving off an almighty odor. So Mrs. Scales prayed briefly for the courage to change the things she could, and she crossed the parking lot, weaving between Roman Catholic and Radical Radiant Pentecostal cars. She sneaked through the back door of the church of Our Lady Something or Other. (Our Ladies were like Barbies: new ones seemed to be issued annually.)

    She couldn’t find a light switch, but descended the stairs anyway. Overhead the folksy choir was insisting All We Have We Give to You. Mrs. Scales hoped that the sentiment extended to non-dairy creamer.

    Mrs. Scales was a devout woman when the mood struck, and regularly on Sunday mornings the mood struck with some aggression. However, as she felt her way down to Our Lady’s kitchenette, she found herself wincing. Wurlitzer piety it was not.

    What a week. Ruefully she remembered a few days ago, Tabitha waffling on about an Eye of God that had accidentally gotten unplugged somehow. A God that had suffered some sort of seizure and was cognizant but paralyzed. It was hard to imagine His Eye following her down these dark steps.

    The argument this morning with Tabitha has thrown everything awry, thought Leontina. I can’t even begin to locate my Inner Breathing. My mind’s too worked up with Halloween images. A menace underneath the stairs. A creature in the dark. Slobbering its syllables together: OPEN YOUR MIND TO ME. Hackneyed, of course, B-movie quality at best, but better than OPEN YOUR LEGS.

    But even that thought: a violation. She shuddered and wished she were the type to wear a Burberry scarf so she could clutch it now, but uh-unh. Not with the shoulders of a stevedore as her own mother, the redoubtable Ida Prelutski, used to point out. Honey, can’t you hunch a little and try to appear normal?

    Open the door to worry, and look what happens: a junior assistant of Beelzebub tempts you to abhor your own firstborn child. Turn her into an embodiment of one of the deadly sins. Plainly put—or in words that would have been plain enough in Ida Prelutski’s mouth—a floozy. A strumpet. A tramp. A harlot. (Wasn’t there an eatery in that Syracuse mall called Harlots? What were they thinking?)

    Harsh words, these, but thinking them as she navigated the stairs of a Catholic church only made her descent the more alarming, as Mrs. Scales didn’t hold with religion of the Roman variety.

    She paused for a minute in the dark. Halfway down and halfway up.

    The stairwell proved exceedingly dark. There’d be a switch at the bottom, surely? Her thoughts returned to Halloween coming tonight—your children will turn to beasts before your eyes, was that legitimate Biblical prophecy or was it a movie trailer voice-over? She was beset by beasts, the nameless kind. They had waited all her life to get her. All she’d ever wanted was to be free. But free, free of what? If you couldn’t name the beasts, see them, you couldn’t process your prayer request with any accuracy. Being a devoted study circlist has never helped me much, she thought.

    She imagined marching to Tabitha and saying, No more, young lady; out of my house. In the sight of God I can be shamed by my own flesh and blood no longer. Get out. And take that severed head of Nixon with you. She knew Tabitha would only snort some lewd reply.

    She drew herself together—this is what happened when you didn’t sleep all night out of worry. You went stark raving un-Christian. And she a middle-aged pillar of the Radical Radiant Pentecostals. (Also Republican, with some standards.) Take a good look at yourself, she remonstrated. Behind enemy lines, sneaking into the Catholic stronghold. During Mass. Of course, I’ll replace the milk.

    At length she made it to the bottom of the stairs without twisting an ankle. She still couldn’t find the switch, but the refrigerator—a Kelvinator dating to the last days of the Eisenhower administration, by the look of it—would probably feature a twenty-watt bulb in the ceiling panel inside the door. It did. The light came on just in time for Mrs. Leontina Scales to see a semi-retired statue of Our Lady with a Chip on Her Shoulder perched up top. It shifted, with a faint sound of grit giving way, and glissaded off the pockmarked appliance.

    It was a heavy statue. It bounced against Mrs. Scales’s skull and then smashed to the linoleum. She registered that the noise was substantial, even thunderous, but that was all.

    3

    UPSTAIRS, THE CHIEF of the collection basket brigade, Turk Schaeffer, heaved himself from his kneeling position, made a perfunctory genuflection, and trudged off to investigate. Father Mike sat in his chair, eyes closed in contemplation of austere mystery.

    Nearing the end of the third chorus, the choir stumbled since the music director, Jeremy Carr, remained paused, his head cocked as if expecting further tympanic crashes. Should they wait for his cue? Or continue on as they’d rehearsed? Under the lead of the loudest soprano, Peggy Mueller, the choir charged into the fourth verse, reminding Jeremy of his obligations to his all-volunteer army of would-be soloists. His arm started wagging again.

    Turk Schaeffer found Mrs. Leontina Scales out cold in a puddle of full cream milk. Shards of grayish porcelain were scattered around her. Turk, a retired lineman with Niagara Mohawk, had seen his share of accidents. He could tell that Mrs. Scales, whom he knew only to nod to when he ran into her at the Grand Union, wasn’t hurt bad. She was breathing. No blood pinked up the milk. But a lump the size of an eggroll pushed up through her thinning hair.

    Mercy, Turk, what’s up? said Polly Osterhaus, an alto whom the choir director had sent downstairs, as backup. Altos were good in a crisis.

    I can take care of this, said Turk.

    Is that Mrs. Scales from over on Papermill Road? What happened to her?

    Our Lady took her out, looks like, said Turk. Polly, why’ncha go to the rectory and get the clinic to send someone over? And grab some ice from Father Mike’s icebox—this freezer has been out of commission since before Vatican II. And bring a towel. He leaned and peered. And if you see a quart of milk, better bring that too. There’s nothing left for coffee hour, especially now that there’s something for everyone to hang around and yak about.

    Polly Osterhaus felt Mrs. Scales’s wrist first. Well, her pulse seems good. I guess she’s okay. You better not move her till the experts get here. Should I run across and interrupt the Radiantics at their seance? You think?

    Not that serious, I’m guessing.

    Polly left. Turk mopped up the milk. When he took the woman’s head into his lap, the bump was growing a yellowy mauve-brown like an onion found at the back of the cabinet. His stomach lurched.

    A taciturn man can be an observant man. Turk knew a few things about Leontina Scales, a few things he would rather not say. He didn’t want to wake up and find himself married to another Mrs. Turk Schaeffer anytime soon, though his first wife was dead these four years already. So with strictly charitable intentions he patted Leontina Scales’s forehead and the stiff, Brillo-paddy structure of her hair (reinforced by strategies enacted at Linda Pearl’s House of Beauty, no doubt; round this edge of Oswego County, women’s hair didn’t come by such an exoskeletal quality without the interventions of Linda Pearl). He hoped, for her sake, that Mrs. Scales would recover quickly enough so that no one would need to send for her daughter. A piece of work, that one. But the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree, in his humble opinion.

    LEONTINA SCALES BLINKED herself awake thinking, at first, that she had gotten drunk and passed out. So it was alarming to find the music ministry of Our Lady Comfort of the Concussed standing in a semi-circle around her. At least they weren’t singing. Which was something of a blessing. As she emerged a bit further she realized that she couldn’t have blacked out in an alcoholic haze as she didn’t touch liquor any more.

    She struggled to speak and couldn’t. She thought of her second husband, Wally, and how he would grab the end of his necktie with one hand, stretch it out taut like a razor strop, and slide his whiskey sours along the incline, a runway directly to his mouth. Leontina had admired his ingenuity and then she had left him, because she’d hated his taste in ties, and ingenuity wasn’t enough to sustain a marriage.

    Due to Wally’s example, she’d sworn off alcohol. So she couldn’t be drunk. She had been attacked by a demon. Had something beneath the stairs gotten her? An eyeless Nixon? Or was this a stroke?

    Jeremy Carr crouched down at her side and touched her hand. Are you with us? he said. For a minute Mrs. Scales thought the choir director meant was she joining his papist cowboy chorale. But perhaps he was being sympathetic in a sort of psychological way. Men are from Mars, women are from Venus, but Catholics are from another space-time continuum altogether. Mrs. Scales shook her head when she meant to nod, which confused herself as well as him.

    Don’t crowd the lady, said Turk Schaeffer.

    The clinic’s sending an ambulance over, said Polly Osterhaus.

    How’re we feeling, eh there? Turk bobbed his head down into Leontina’s line of vision. Mrs. Scales was glad to see someone nearer her own generation hovering like an Old Testament patriarch or like Dan Conner on Roseanne. You want we should call anyone? Tabitha? Hogan?

    Oh, said Mrs. Leontina Scales, though she meant to say No. Oh, oh. She sounded like a geriatric sequel to a kindergarten primer. Dick and Jane Lose Their Marbles. The Second Childhood of Dick and Jane. She nodded her head though she meant to shake it.

    Tabitha’s home, I guess? asked Turk.

    Yes again, she said, and nodded, though once more she had meant to shake her head, and say Guess again. Turk disappeared from view. The choir filled in. Starting to remember what had happened, she closed her eyes.

    In vestments Father Mike came billowing by. Forgive us our trespassers, he said. It’s Leontina Scales, isn’t it? Well, the milk of human kindness isn’t a bad thing to take a morning bath in, Mrs. Scales. Don’t you worry, we’ll have you up and out of here and back across the way before you can say—

    Go to hell, said Leontina. Astounding herself as much as the others, she passed out again.

    Better call the family, said Father Mike. Turk, you up to it?

    As he hauled himself up the basement steps, Turk found himself wishing he wasn’t quite such a pillar of the church. The Scales family specialized in odd ducks as far as he was concerned. Small towns probably don’t have more lunatics per capita than cities do, thought Turk, they just show up easier. And around here gossip was both a sin and a competitive pastime, the way bridge had been to his parents’ generation.

    Turk Schaeffer recalled some story about Tabitha Scales as a kid. Suggestible, as the young always are. At the age of seven she had spent three-quarters of a year with a clothespin on her nose, trying to keep witchcraft from winging itself through her nasal passages. That’s what comes of naming your kids after TV characters, thought Turk.

    Tabitha was now, what? Seventeen? As far as Turk knew she spent more time dawdling at home waiting for someone to offer her a job than she did going to school. Turk knew about Tabitha because he played cards with Jack Reeves every other Tuesday and Jack—the town’s police chief, fire chief, and high school principal—had a habit of dishing the dirt after the third beer or so. Rumor had it that Tabitha was in and out of that police station so often that she had taken to decorating her own cell. Supposedly it was appointed with a Kurt Cobain poster and an old Aerosmith poster and a pink and black afghan that her mother had made.

    Tabitha was too pretty for her own good. Anyone at all coming to town was of interest to her. Because Tabitha’s prettiness attracted trouble in the form of roadies with motorbikes throbbing between their legs.

    She was slender, pouting, wide of eye and glazed of skin, skin with a puddingy sheen that suggested intelligence when all other evidence pointed to the contrary. She was crowned with an airy storm of pale chestnut hair. Men tended to lose their center of gravity for a minute when she passed by. Back when Tabitha was all of twelve, she was already pungent as eucalyptus.

    The middle child, Turk Schaeffer remembered, was Hogan. Hogan Hero Scales. There was something wrong with him, having to do with small animals and microwaves. Oswego Electronics had put their collective foot down and refused to repair another appliance at the Scales home. Warranty or no.

    Turk didn’t remember what the third kid was called. Probably Kermit or Fonzie or something.

    THE DEVOUT OF Cliffs of Zion Radical Radiant began to worry when they’d filed out of Meeting for Consanguinity Hour only to discover that the Mister Coffees (regular and decaf) were still cold and empty. Mrs. Scales usually took her Coffee Ministry seriously. She was nowhere to be found. So Pastor Jakob Huyck himself went sniffing about the back door of Our Lady’s. Jakob, we’ve landed one of yours, Father Mike Sheehy said, seeing him there. What’ll you give for her release?

    Mike, she’s a secret agent. You found her out, you keep her.

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1