Friday, June 24, 2011
I have been a Quaker since 1977. That’s a long time, and I’m the first to admit, I don’t feel like a very good Quaker. I’m a fast Quaker, not a slow one. By slow, one might mean Quakers who dress in the traditional black and white and live simple lives. I’ve never thought anything was particularly simple, although I’ve learned a lot from Quakers. I’m more patient and willing to wait for a way to open. Those things count when you’re a writer. Here I am, writing. How long did that take?
I had the good fortune to live in a small Quaker community surrounded by some really good people. Many were Quakers, many were not. Small towns are a special place for me. Gregory David Roberts said in his novel, Shantaram, “Every city in the world has a village in its heart. You will never understand the city unless you understand the village. Go there.” In my novel, The Quaker Café, I want to take you there. It’s a great place, but life is far from simple, even for Quakers.