08/22/2016
Moore's debut novel is certain to draw myriad readers familiar with her bestselling Bible studies (The Law of Love) and faith-based leadership guides and self-help books (So Long Insecurity). Those who love her down-home Southern style will be pleased to find it in this tale set in New Orleans, where a former church is now an apartment building named Saint Silvanus, often referred to as Saint Sans. Olivia Fontaine faces the death of her only child, Raphael, with her usual iciness, but her reserve cracks when police discover Rafe was killed. Olivia's granddaughter comes to attend her father's funeral . Readers will come to love Saint Sans building manager Adella Atwater and the residents, as well as the NOPD cops who solve Rafe's murder. The novel is not without flaws—slow pacing, overuse of colloquialism, odd leaps back to the early days—but it remains endearing and entertaining to the end. Moore's many fans will no doubt flock to her first work of fiction; whether they'll be willing to read the whole long thing is less clear. (Sept.)
The Undoing of Saint Silvanus
Narrated by Shannon McManus
Beth MooreUnabridged — 12 hours, 20 minutes
The Undoing of Saint Silvanus
Narrated by Shannon McManus
Beth MooreUnabridged — 12 hours, 20 minutes
Overview
What Adella didn't tell her was that the apartment house wasn't a house at all - and that whatever it was,*it bore the dead weight of a long and painful history. As soon as Jillian meets the odd assortment of renters and*realizes that her grandmother had no idea she was coming, she hatches a plan to escape. But the investigation into*her father's death quickly unfolds and Jillian is drawn into the lives of the colorful collection of saints and sinners*who pass through Saint Silvanus. She soon discovers there is more at stake than she ever imagined. Who is behind*the baffling messages and the strange relics left on the steps? Is it possible that her family is actually cursed? Or is it*just this crazy old house that holds them all under its spell?
Jillian walks into a web of spiritual and personal danger borne out of her family's broken history, and despite*Adella's wiliest efforts, only God himself can orchestrate the undoing of all that is going on at Saint Silvanus.
Editorial Reviews
Well known Bible teacher Moore blasts into the world of fiction with a page-turner that is personal, emotional, and spiritual. Enter the doors of an old church-turned-apartment house in New Orleans, a building with a dark presence since its formation. Jillian, the owner’s estranged granddaughter, reluctantly stays there after her homeless father is discovered murdered. This California girls gets immersed in the foreign world of the Deep South, surrounded by strangers, and simultaneously becomes the next target in the murderer’s vengeful plot. Each intrinsically written character adds much to the story, but Jesus is the ultimate hero. Murders, broken families, bitterness, abortion, and occultism all are a part of this story, but God redeems it all. Told through a woman’s lens and primarily for a female audience, this story beautifully illustrates God’s power and desire to crush strongholds and evil in all His children’s lives.
In her anticipated fiction debut, The Undoing of Saint Silvanus, Beth Moore weaves an introspective, genre-bending narrative. Moore, a popular author of Christian nonfiction and founder of Living Proof Ministries, tells the story of Jillian Slater, who travels to New Orleans after receiving news of her alcoholic father’s death. . . . . Though it’s a fast-paced story, The Undoing of Saint Silvanus also contains moments of introspection—both for Jillian and for the reader—that are among its strongest scenes. Moore’s vivid and often delightful descriptions of New Orleans, Saint Silvanus and the multiple supporting characters add a lively sense of place. The gripping mystery will keep readers engaged till the end, where Jillian finds both answers and a new relationship with God.
When the mysterious death of Jillian Slater’s estranged father is deemed a possible murder, she heads to New Orleans in search of answers. She also needs to see her frosty grandmother, who owns a church building with a painful history. Saint Silvanus is now home to a hodgepodge of apartment residents and the ever- faithful apartment manager, Adella Atwater. As the murder case unfolds, strange objects begin appearing on the steps of Saint Silvanus, throwing the precarious household out of balance to the point that only a higher power can see them through a storm of suspicion, deceit, and absolution. In her fiction debut, beloved Christian speaker and author Moore dives into uncharted territory with gusto. Simultaneously heartwarming and chilling, this tale has wide appeal with its mix of mystery, evangelism, history, suspense, and love. Moore brings southern culture to life, and thoughtfully poses questions of belonging, sin, and self-worth. From its gritty start to its redemptive finish, Moore’s ambitious first novel spotlights her gifts for humanizing the biblical experience and the search for faith.
When the mysterious death of Jillian Slater’s estranged father is deemed a possible murder, she heads to New Orleans in search of answers. She also needs to see her frosty grandmother, who owns a church building with a painful history. Saint Silvanus is now home to a hodgepodge of apartment residents and the ever- faithful apartment manager, Adella Atwater. As the murder case unfolds, strange objects begin appearing on the steps of Saint Silvanus, throwing the precarious household out of balance to the point that only a higher power can see them through a storm of suspicion, deceit, and absolution. In her fiction debut, beloved Christian speaker and author Moore dives into uncharted territory with gusto. Simultaneously heartwarming and chilling, this tale has wide appeal with its mix of mystery, evangelism, history, suspense, and love. Moore brings southern culture to life, and thoughtfully poses questions of belonging, sin, and self-worth. From its gritty start to its redemptive finish, Moore’s ambitious first novel spotlights her gifts for humanizing the biblical experience and the search for faith.
09/01/2016
Learning that her estranged father has been murdered, Jillian Slater travels to postHurricane Katrina New Orleans and receives a glacial welcome from her grandmother Olivia. What starts as an awkward and unwanted visit on both sides turns into a journey of discovery for Jillian and the emotionally distant Olivia. As Jillian delves into her family's past, which revolves around their apartment house, the Saint Silvanus, a series of sinister events endangers her fledgling relationship with her grandmother. Someone wants revenge on her family, but they will gladly take it out on Jillian instead. Strong female protagonists dominate this novel, and memorable supporting characters provide levity and depth. The secondary story line of the origins of the curse on Saint Silvanus is overshadowed by the present-day portrayal of its residents. VERDICT Making her fiction debut, best-selling inspirational author Moore (Audacious; Breaking Free) delivers an absorbing, suspenseful read. Readers who prefer a story focused on finding faith through adversity will savor this beautifully written novel. [See Q&A with Moore, p. 89.—Ed.]
2016-07-20
A young woman finds home, her people, and God in a Christian-based coming-of-age tale with dramatic family elements set in New Orleans.Jillian Slater gets an enigmatic phone call asking her to come back to New Orleans for her father’s funeral only to discover it wasn’t Olivia Fontaine, her grandmother, who invited her but rather Adella, the woman who manages Saint Sans, the building Olivia owns and lives in, a repurposed church with three renters. Adella hopes the two estranged relatives will reconcile, but instead they are both angry with her, and Jillian leaves in rushed outrage just as the police arrive to inform Olivia that, after further inspection, they’ve realized her son, basically a homeless man, was murdered. Jillian returns home to San Francisco and her problematic relationship with Vince, the wealthy and domineering owner of the restaurant where she works. Believing he’s about to throw her out of the apartment they share, she leaves town with barely the clothes on her back and $1,000 she takes from him—since he controls her finances and she has no money. With nowhere else safe to go, she heads back to New Orleans and turns up at Saint Sans. Adella convinces Olivia to let her stay for a week, a period of time which grows longer and longer, as Jillian and Olivia soften toward each other, Jillian settles in to her new life, and all the residents of Saint Sans grow closer together, especially when they have to confront a strange enemy who’s leaving malevolent tokens on the doorstep. Evangelist Moore moves into Christian fiction with an engaging storyline and occasionally great writing, though at times the overly simplistic “this is good, this is bad, righteous people get miracles” messages may make some readers pause, and the small, secondary historical storyline seems dropped in with little context and a jarring Job-like note. A compelling, redemptive story.
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940169113945 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Oasis Audio |
| Publication date: | 09/20/2016 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
Read an Excerpt
The Undoing of Saint Silvanus
By Beth Moore, Kathryn S. Olson
Tyndale House Publishers
Copyright © 2016 Beth MooreAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4964-1647-6
CHAPTER 1
PRESENT DAY
Sergeant Cal DaCosta glanced at the digits on his dashboard as he threw the car into park. "Sheesh. Eighty-four degrees and barely daylight. That body's going to be ripe." Several patrol cars were already at the scene, zigzagged all over the pavement. The lights were flashing but they'd saved themselves the sirens. As he shut the door and walked toward the small circle of officers, he took a few seconds to absorb how odd the ordinariness of it was. Only a handful of spectators were lurking. The few people on their way to work at this hour took the other side of the street to avoid the inconvenience. This was the nocturnal side of town, where the night was as the day. The patrol officers seemed almost as detached, chugging down weak coffee from a convenience store and eating something unidentifiable out of clear wrappers.
Sure enough, he got hit by a whiff of the body from twenty feet. "How do you guys do that?"
"Morning, Sarge. How do we do what?"
"How do you eat with that smell? Can't you taste it?"
One of them mumbled as he stuffed the last bite of a sticky bun into his cavernous mouth. When the man licked his fingers, Cal decided he'd pass on breakfast.
The odor radiating from the sidewalk wasn't so much the smell of death. Not yet anyway. It was the smell of filth, blown his way by a hot, humid gust that seemed to belch from the underworld. Frank Lamonte, Cal's closest friend and former partner, said what all of them were thinking. "Finally drank himself to death."
Cal imagined those five words etched beneath his own last name on a granite marker. At least half a dozen family members on his daddy's side were vying for the same epitaph. He'd considered going to a couple of meetings to try to dodge the family fate, but opening up to people wasn't exactly his strong suit. Anyway, his alcoholism wasn't in a glass. He was scared it was in his blood.
"Any chance we've got a name?"
Frank took off his hat and tried to rub out the permanent dent it had made in his forehead. "No, but I've seen him around here enough to tell you that this was his corner. He held that old cardboard sign over there and sat right here with his back against these bricks."
Cal glanced over at the sign and saw the usual scrawl with a black permanent marker. Out of work. Hungry. God bless! The words need a job had been scratched out with a blue ballpoint.
Another officer joined them, out of breath. "Hey, guys. Sorry I'm late. The light's out at Canal."
Frank nodded at him and continued. "To tell you the truth, I've seen him passed out in that alley as many times as I've seen him awake. I'm not sure how anybody could tell he was dead."
But he was dead alright. He'd probably been dead a long time. His lungs were just the last to know. He had that look a person gets when he's tried too long to make friends with the sun and enemies of his organs. Concrete made a poor cushion no matter how drunk you got. Cal squatted down beside the crumpled corpse, gave a firm grip to the right shoulder, and turned him faceup. The eyes were half-open and the teeth were almost as dark as a rotted pumpkin.
The late-arriving officer suddenly heaved and coughed until everybody still on their feet scattered like mice. Why Bully couldn't do them the courtesy of turning away when he pulled that stunt was a mystery to Cal. He said it was because he never actually vomited — he just had a weak gag reflex.
Bully was a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound anomaly. He had the sensitivity and the stomach of a nine-year-old girl. All of them had seen him cry on the job at least once. This was first on the list of top-ten reasons Billy Bob La Bauve was the most picked-on member of the NOPD. And, some would say, the favorite. For Cal, it depended on what day it was. It wasn't today. Honestly, if he started sniffling, Cal was going to send him home.
Once they recovered, Frank bent over toward Cal and the corpse. "You've seen him before, haven't you? I've threatened to haul him in a few times for harassing people for money, but these days there are so many just like him, who knows where to start? The old rules don't hold near as well this side of the levees." Frank forgot every now and then that Cal had joined the force after the hurricane. This was the only New Orleans he knew from behind a badge.
To Cal, cops didn't get much better than Frank. He'd never once caught him in a lie. He didn't have a foul mouth about women. He had a wife he apparently liked going home to. He worked with Midnight Basketball for kids at risk and was the closest thing some of them had to a father. He'd told Cal recently that he was studying up on soccer because the YMCA had asked him to coach a team. He'd never played, but no one else would volunteer. Frank actually had a life outside the force.
Cal answered Frank's question. "Yeah. I've seen him around here. How old a man do you think he is?"
Bully had pulled himself together by now. "Well, he looks a hunerd."
"He's not nearly as old as he looks. He's only gray at the temples and beard." The thick mop of matted hair looked out of proportion on the body's slight frame. Only God knew what color the man's hair was naturally, but the sun had turned it some faded shade of auburn. He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants and an old plaid Western shirt with snaps on the pockets. No shoes.
"We've got everything we need here. Y'all want to let us at him or do you want to carry him to the morgue yourself?"
The officers stepped aside and watched the coroner's team lift him onto a stretcher like he was a five-pound sack of Idaho potatoes. Cal was particularly impressed that one of the heavy lifters was a woman. He knew a lot of faces on the response teams since they were destined to gather at the same scenes, but names were another story.
Cal's big brother, a politician from diaperhood, had tried to teach him how to make name associations at a barbecue one Sunday. It was particularly humiliating because he'd had to go around the picnic table and practice associating the names of a few of their family members with memorable images. Maybe it was his imagination, but his aunt on his dad's side had acted cold ever since the word horse popped out when he got around to her. It was the dentures, his mom explained later. Either they were a size too big for her or the front teeth needed filing down.
"Sarge, anything else you want done here?" Bully wanted to know.
"Yeah. You and Sanchez ask around and see if you can get a few of the others who hang here to tell you anything about him once we've cleared out. They usually network. Maybe we'll get lucky and his prints will turn up a name pretty quickly. I'll head back in and handle the paperwork."
Some days Cal would almost rather shoot off his little toe than fill out forms. At least he'd be indoors with the AC. He and the rest of them already had sweat rings halfway to their belts and it wasn't even midmorning. With all the talk about cutbacks and financial woes in the department, he was glad no one had cut back on the air-conditioning. Raw meat would keep for a solid week on his desk. AC was something to be thankful for in a triple-digit June, and lest people forget, the cantankerous unit would freeze up and shut down at least two or three times a summer. It was no mystery to Cal why crime spiked in the sweltering summer. Heat sometimes made him want to haul off and hit somebody too.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Undoing of Saint Silvanus by Beth Moore, Kathryn S. Olson. Copyright © 2016 Beth Moore. Excerpted by permission of Tyndale House Publishers.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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