Summary
Hennie Comfort is eighty-six and has lived in the mountains of Middle Swan, Colorado since before it was Colorado. Nit Spindle is just seventeen and newly married. She and her husband have just moved to the high country in search of work. It's 1936 and the depression has ravaged the country and Nit and her husband have suffered greatly. Hennie notices the young woman loitering near the old sign outside of her house that promises "Prayers For Sale". Hennie doesn't sell prayers, never has, but there's something about the young woman that she's drawn to. The harsh conditions of life that each have endured create an instant bond and an unlikely friendship is formed, one in which the deepest of hardships are shared and the darkest of secrets are confessed. Sandra Dallas has created an unforgettable tale of a friendship between two women, one with surprising twists and turns, and one that is ultimately a revelation of the finest parts of the human spirit.
Author Notes
Sandra Dallas graduated from the University of Denver with a degree in journalism and began her writing career as a reporter with Business Week.
While a reporter, she began writing nonfiction which include Sacred Paint, which won the National Cowboy Hall of Fame Western Heritage Wrangler Award, and The Quilt That Walked to Golden, recipient of the Independent Publishers Association Benjamin Franklin Award.
Turning to fiction in 1990, Sandra has published a number of novels including Buster Midnight's Cafe, Alice's Tulips, and Prayers For Sale. She is the recipient of the Women Writing the West Willa Award for New Mercies, and two-time winner of the Western Writers of America Spur Award, for The Chili Queen and Tallgrass. In addition, she was a finalist for the Colorado Book Award, the Mountain and Plains Booksellers Association Award, and a four-time finalist for the Women Writing the West Willa Award.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Maggi-Med Reed's rendering of 86-year-old Henny Comfort and 17-year-old Nit Spindle, who forge an unlikely friendship in the middle of the Great Depression, is lively-and especially memorable when, over lengthy quilting sessions, Henny tells the girl stories about their neighbors in the little gold-mining town of Middle Swan, Colo. As narrator, however, Reed is uneven, sometimes even monotonous, giving little verve to Dallas's vivid descriptions of landscapes or weather that alternate with Henny's histories. But the bonds between old folks and young ones are a beloved theme in recent literature (e.g., The Senator's Wife, Tuesdays with Morrie) and listeners who enjoy this theme will be able to overlook any weak points and relish this audio. A St. Martin's hardcover (Reviews, Oct. 6). (Apr.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
*Starred Review* The idea of selling prayers conjures images of pre-Reformation Catholicism or, at the very least, stops you in your tracks to think a bit. When Nit Spindle, a newcomer to Middle Swan, Colorado, spots Hennie Comfort's sign, Prayers for Sale, she stops to buy a prayer and gains a friend. At 86, Hennie has a passel of stories to tell (one is how she got her name) and finds in Nit an eager listener and kindred spirit. In the telling of Hennie's life her two marriages, her brush with evil, her dead babies and in the gradual elicitation of Nit's lonely ponderings, the reader is treated to an oral history of a mountain town and the women who run it while the men are chasing their dreams of gold. Hennie considers passing along her stories and her knowledge of mountain life to Nit a fit pastime, in preparation for her departure from town. Like the lives narrated, this novel, by the author of Tallgrass (2007), runs the gamut of heartache, hardship, and happiness as Dallas skillfully weaves past into present and surprises everyone at the end. Fans of Lee Smith (Fair and Tender Ladies, 1988), Sue Monk Kidd (The Secret Life of Bees, 2002), and Kaye Gibbons (Charms for the Easy Life, 2003), will love this book.--Baker, Jen Copyright 2009 Booklist
Excerpts
The old woman peered past the red geraniums in her deep front window at the ?gure lingering in the moon-white snow at the gate. In the gloom of the late winter afternoon, Hennie Comfort did not recognize the woman, who stood like a curious bird, her head cocked to one side as she looked at the fence, then the front door, and back at the fence again. Hennie watched, thinking it odd that anyone would wait there, mute as the snow itself. Why would a body stand in the cold when she could come inside by the stove? Hennie had gone to the window to read her letter in the winter light, because the heavy snow had weighted down the wires, causing the electric to go out. It was too dark inside now to read, although Hennie knew the words wouldn't be any different from what they were when she read the letter at the post of?ce that morning. For years, Mae had urged her to move out of the high country. This time, she'd made it plain that if Hennie insisted on another winter on the earth's backbone, Mae would come to Middle Swan herself and pack up her mother and take her below, to Fort Madison on the eastern edge of Iowa. Mae was a loving daughter, but she was as stubborn as Hennie. "You can spend your summers in Middle Swan, Mom, but I insist that from now on, you live with us during the winters. What if you slipped on the ice and broke your leg? You could freeze to death before somebody found you." Mae was right, Hennie admitted to herself. If she fell, the snow would cover her up, and nobody would know where she was until she melted out in the spring. It was foolhardy for a person as old as she was to stay another winter on the Swan River. Besides, it was sel?sh of her to let Mae worry, and Hennie was always sensible of the feelings of others. But Lordy, she didn't want to live on the Mississippi. Hennie set the letter on the table and returned to the window to look at the woman, covered now in white ?akes. She'd be frozen solid as a fence post if she didn't move soon. So the old woman opened the door and walked into the snow in her stout shoes, her hands tucked into her sleeves. "Hello to you," she called. The stranger looked up, startled, a little frightened. She was a new-made woman, not much more than a girl, and Hennie had never seen her before. "Oh!" the stranger said, clasping and unclasping her bare hands, which despite the poor light, Hennie could see were red and chapped. "I don't mean to be nosy, but I was wondering how much?" "How much for what?" "A prayer." The girl tightened the triangle of plaid wool scarf that covered her head before she thrust her hands into the pockets of her thin coat. Hennie was confused for a moment, and then realizing what had confounded the girl, she laughed. "That sign's been there so long, I forget about it." "It says, Prayers for Sale . I'm asking how much do you charge, and is it more if you're in need than if you're wanting just a little favor? Do sinners pay more than the righteous? And what if the Lord doesn't answer? Do you get your money back?" The girl asked all this in a rush, as if she didn't want to forget any of the questions she had pondered as she stood frozen- still in the cold. "That sign's older than God's old dog." "How come you to sell prayers?" "I don't." "The sign says so. I've seen it three times now. I came back because of it," the girl persisted. "I can pay, if that's what you're thinking. I can pay." Hennie chuckled. "That sign's a story. I'll tell it to you if you'll come inside." "I've got a nickel. Is that enough for a prayer?" "Lordy, are you needing one? No money will buy a prayer, I tell you, but I'll give you one for free, if you're in need of it." Hennie put her arms tight around herself to squeeze out the cold, for she had gone into the storm without her coat. "I need it. I do." "Just you come inside then and tell me why." "I can't. I've got to get home and ?x Dick's supper. But I'd be obliged to you if you'd say a prayer--a prayer for Sweet Baby Ef?e, sweet baby that was, that is. Maybe you could ask that wherever she is, she's not taken with the cold--I never knew it to be so cold--but just any words will do." "I'll ask it," Hennie said, turning and gesturing toward the house, but the girl wouldn't follow. Instead, she took a step backward. "I thank you," she said, carefully laying her nickel on the crosspiece of the fence. Then she turned and ?ed. Rubbing her arms now against the cold, Hennie watched until the little thing disappeared into the storm. Then she picked up the ?ve-cent piece and went inside, placing the coin in a mite box that she kept for Bonnie Harvey to take to church. Hennie herself didn't attend ser vices, hadn't in a long time. As she sat down in a kitchen chair, Hennie picked up the letter, but instead of holding it up to the window to read again, she pondered the young girl. Something about her was familiar, although Hennie was sure she'd never seen her before. It might have been the way she said her words, which told Hennie she was from the South. Or perhaps it was because the girl was new in Middle Swan and appeared to be not a day older than Hennie herself when she'd arrived long years before. Hennie looked out the window again, but there was no sign of the girl returning, no sign that she'd even been there, in fact. The old woman wondered why the girl wanted a prayer; she seemed to have a powerful desire for one. Well, Hennie knew the need for prayer in her life, and she would do what she could. So slowly, she knelt on her old knees beside the chair, clasped her hands together, and asked God to keep Sweet Baby Ef?e warm. Then she mumbled, "Now, Lord, there's a girl, a poor girl, by the looks of her, that's needing your help--and maybe mine, too. I'd like it right well if you could tell me what to do." She paused and added, "And I'd be grateful if you'd ?nd a way short of dying to keep me from moving in with Mae." Excerpted from Prayers for Sale by Sandra Dallas Copyright (c) 2009 by Sandra Dallas Published in 2009 by St. Martins' Press All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher Excerpted from Prayers for Sale by Sandra Dallas 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.
