Dear Outlook Readers,
Nearly a dozen years ago, my family’s spring break included a drive from Sedona, Arizona, to the Grand Canyon. It’s not a long journey, but the stark differences in terrain gave the illusion of passing through multiple countries. We left suburban sprawl behind and entered the desert, where only an occasional wooden structure interrupted the barren landscape of red dirt and stone. We soon realized these were individual homes, their nearest neighbor often miles away. As our cell service gave out, a sense of isolation crept in.
This experience taught a new lesson: the visceral ways we experience the world depend a great deal on our landscape and location. If I lived in a remote desert rather than in a bustling city, I would likely view key issues quite differently. A gun might represent safety, not a threat … the need to conserve or recycle could appear laughable with the vast empty space outside my window, and immigrants might sound completely foreign, if I didn’t encounter unfamiliar people on my daily neighborhood walks.
Immersing ourselves in foreign cultures and distant places isn’t always within reach, and so reading can fill in the gaps. The Outlook recently offered fictional and journalistic glimpses into rural America from Wendell Berry and Art Cullen, Joan Didion’s familial connection with substance abuse, and David Evans’ insights into the role White allies played (or didn’t) in the Black liberation movement. And this month’s featured book is a memoir from journalist Beth Macy (author of Dopesick) that invites us to be curious and empathetic in our understanding of others.
Our February issue of the Outlook explores empathy — the willingness to fully share in another’s feelings. In these early days of Lent, I am reminded that we worship a God who chose not to pity (or dismiss) us from afar, but instead to become one of us. Jesus is the epitome of empathy; may we follow his example.
Amy Pagliarella
Book Review Editor |
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BOOKS OF THE MONTH Paper Girl: A Memoir of Home and Family in a Fractured America
Beth Macy
Penguin Press, 368 pages
Published October 7, 2025
Childhood in Urbana, Ohio, was a tough road for Beth Macy — her dad was an alcoholic and the family lived in poverty. Encouraging teachers and a Pell Grant made college possible, and a degree from Bowling Green University offered a path forward. Macy’s thriving career in journalism and stable marriage to a teacher led to a comfortable middle-class lifestyle, situated in Roanoke, Virginia, an “urban blue dot in a sea of rural and red.”
When Macy returned home in 2020 to care for a mom in hospice, she barely recognized her hometown. Paper Girl is Macy’s attempt to understand the widening gulf between her world and that of old friends and family. Siblings and nurses who tenderly cared for her mom grew enraged by the “stolen” election … an old boyfriend prepped for the end times … and their class reunion organizer spread QAnon conspiracy theories.
In the words of an old friend, “These are super nice people who, if a neighbor’s sick, they’ll go and mow their grass and do their farm chores … But they feel threatened because the world’s changing in ways they can’t understand. They worry they’ll be left out and what limited success they do have is going to be cut off. They see things through a lens of fear and scarcity.”
Macy is curious and compassionate in her reporting, giving voice to those who still live in Urbana — teachers, guidance counselors, the high school band director, a truant officer, and numerous students and graduates. She gently probes into family estrangements such as a sibling who failed to protect her daughter, Macy’s niece, from childhood sexual abuse, and the difficulties of maintaining relationships with family members who view Macy’s LGBTQ kids as “abominations.”
She writes with genuine affection and recognizes (without criticism) that the mobility required to succeed in America (e.g. get a degree/move to where the jobs are) often runs counter to the deep roots and relationships many rural Americans have with their hometowns. Readers may hear her quietly cheering for the young people she features, like Silas and Liza, and for the Urbana Youth Center who supports them.
The challenge with memoirs like Macy’s is to permit them to open our eyes without engendering pity and condescension. As many have argued, the patronizing attitudes of “liberal elites” have led to many of our divisions.
Perhaps the greater challenge is that memoirs like this one leave us wondering, “What can we do?” Paper Girl is not a policy recommendation, and yet Macy clearly has ideas. She contrasts her experiences as a Pell Grant recipient with those of the young people who currently struggle to attend community college (while caring for younger siblings/addicted parents and unable to afford reliable transportation). She describes the grant as a way of “pushing back on the false narrative that poor people weren’t worthy of investment.” The government has whittled away at the program since 2011, curtailing the number of young people who benefit. If we are to rely on community colleges to provide affordable education and job training, we need to get real about the other barriers.
Macy, whose career in journalism started with a delivery route as a “paper girl” for the Urbana Daily Citizen notes that this struggling local paper is no longer a daily. With increasing distrust in the “mainstream media” and dwindling sources of local news, Americans often rely on unreliable internet sources. The problem is clear — the solution, not so much.
While Paper Girl stirs up these frustrations, we can also allow it to deepen our respect and empathy for those who encounter personal and systemic barriers to their flourishing. Beth Macy’s gracious reporting does most of the heavy lifting for us, should we choose to open our hearts to receive the stories of Urbana, Ohio. |
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“I wish the Great Waking Up would start now.” (Anastasia said).
“The prophets say the Great Waking Up will follow the coming of the Deliverer,” her mother replied. “And I know the Deliverer, Jesus, is here.” |
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| Book Giveaway! Congratulations to Page Turners reader Glenn Weaver. Thanks to our friends at Fortress Press, they received a copy of Alphabet of Faith by Walter Brueggemann.This month, one fortunate reader will receive a copy of The Great Waking Up, written by Sarah Shin and Shin Maeng, generously donated by our friends at WaterBrook Children's.If you're reading this note, then you're all set! Know someone else who should be reading Page Turners? Send them this link and they'll get entered for a chance to win, too. The contest closes on March 17. |  |
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OTHER READSMarce Catlett: The Force of a Story
In "Marce Catlett," Wendell Berry shows how stories of land, labor, and loss shape generations and our sense of belonging. Chris Taylor offers a review.
Damned Whiteness: How White Christian Allies Failed the Black Freedom Movement
"Damned Whiteness" is a sharp call to move beyond White allyship toward real, liberating action, writes Jessica Rigel. Christlike Acceptance Across Deep Difference
Amy Pagliarella calls "Christlike Acceptance Across Deep Difference" a generous, honest invitation for churches to keep listening and learning across deep disagreement. Notes to John
Joan Didion's "Notes to John" is a helpful tool for pastors, chaplains and others initiating difficult conversations with families in crisis, writes Andrew Taylor-Troutman. Dear Marty, We Crapped In Our Nest: Notes from the Edge of the World
Alfred Walker reviews Art Cullen’s "Dear Marty, We Crapped In Our Nest," a sobering look at climate change, farming and red-state politics. |
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