Not long ago, I finished Beneath the Ancient Dust, a memoir of sorts by Melissa Myers about her nine years serving in Afghanistan. That book was a departure for me, an unknown female author roughly my age writing about all the Lord had taught her during her time overseas. As one who’s written his fair share of private travelogues and keeps a daily spiritual journal, I don’t usually want to read the musings of others, specifically the amateurs. I was very pleased with Myers’ offering, though, so I thought I’d venture into the same territory again with this, Infinitives, by then 26-year-old Becca Nelson.

Truth be told, the real draw for me was the fact that she’d be writing about Guatemala, a country my sister frequents and where my novel-in-progress is situated. I was excited to gain some insights into this distant land from an American perspective. Sadly, I found that Nelson’s description of the land and its people is very limited (likely because her time there was also limited), mentioning just one local girl—a beggar—and one site, Lake Atitlan. Beyond this, she merely muses about places she’s never seen. The photographs help, but they’re not worth a thousand words. The book might as well have been written on the El in Chicago for all it tells of Guatemala. The setting of the book is her heart.

The musings are the soul of this short book. I like how she begins with a discussion of how we long for the past, and how that longing often softens the edges of memories so that we remember only the good. How true it is, especially for me, a guy ten years her senior whose post-college experiences closely mirror hers. These impressions of loneliness and love and wondering where exactly “home” is, they all remind me of myself at 23. I read these short essays with sentimentality and a soft chuckle, not because they’re funny, but because I know that if I had read this sixteen years ago, I’d likely be searching the internet for Becca’s phone number. Kindred souls and all.

You might call this a Christian book, because she does share some Scripture, but neither the Gospel nor her relationship with God are main characters in this work. The book consists almost entirely of relational and existential thoughts, questions without answers in short, concise chapters. She’s apparently Episcopalian and discusses the “tired, worn-out words” of the traditional prayers, yet I wouldn’t be surprised if Becca eventually found great delight in praying personal, private prayers to the Friend who sticks closer than a brother, rather than depending on such vain repetitions. The musings in Infinitives are themselves almost prayers, but are directed toward, well, no one in particular. Aiming them at Christ through the Spirit might open a life-altering dialogue for her. Something to consider.

I really enjoyed the bold-faced lines situated with pictures early on, like a chapter summary for her readers to remember. But this habit ended after Chapter 3, and I’m not sure why. If she ever updates the book, she ought to make this consistent, chapter to chapter.

I enjoyed the book and would recommend it those caught up in wanderlust across the globe, especially those just out of college. I think they’ll find much which resonates with their own souls.

©2018 E.T.