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Sarah Clarkson


Sarah Clarkson is a freelance writer who hails from the dappled foothills of Colorado and plans to write at least one great novel in her lifetime. In the meantime, she studies literature and writes about the wondrous world of children's stories. She is the author of Read for the Heart, a parents' guide to a healthy reading life for their family.

The Oxford Chronicles: Bod Card

The room where I now sit is pleasantly dim. A fire burns in an old black grate nearby, it’s light painting gold over the dark wood wainscot on the lower walls of this square room. The bee hive hum of a pub is all round – people hunched over pints and good conversation as the evening draws to a close and the windows fog up with breath and cold. I too have my pint of cider and sit perched on a stool at a small wooden table, my eyes in a wander over the honey-toned walls with their black-and white photos in weathered frames. But one small sign catches my eye. It hangs at the archway entrance and and has two rather marvelous words etched upon it:

Rabbit Room.

That’s right folks. I greet you tonight from that Rabbit Room, the one in the Eagle & Child Pub, right in the heart of Oxford. The room where C.S. Lewis and Tolkien and a small host of thinkers like them tossed thoughts and growing tales back and forth amidst many pints and much laughter. The room in which the stories that shaped us all had at least a little of their making.

Postcards from England

It’s been a month since my body arrived back in Colorado from my time in England. My mind and soul have taken a little longer to settle back in the circles of ordinary life. But this doesn’t phase me, because I’m not restless, or angsty, or resistant to normal life. It’s more as if the taste of my time away tinges my time here at home. The peace of it lingers. I’m loathe to let it go. Who knows, maybe it will stay.

Maybe the time I spent wandering amidst long, sheep-starred, dapple down hills…

Beauty Never Lies

One great delight of having a composer for a brother is the fact that he passes the best of his studies on to me. Joel explores reams of classical music that I could never find on my own, and every time he’s home from school he loads my iPod with a [...]

Call Me Jacob

You can call me Jacob today, for I intend to wrestle with God. Sometimes, there is no other way to know him. Sometimes I must grip him with the hands of grief or I will not be able to grasp him at all. This fight has brooded long in my soul, this struggle has grown like a storm on my horizon, for I have had a year of confusion. This has been one of those seasons in which every thing I thought God gave me to do fell through. The doors I thought he opened slammed shut. The grace I thought he gave turned to grief.

Ode to a Shelf of Homeopathic Remedies

Smack on the corner of the busiest street in Asheville, North Carolina, scrunched between a rickety old neighborhood and the black snake of the freeway is a health food store. I know this because Asheville is one of my favorite towns in the world and when, in my travels, I can snatch a [...]

Dreamers and Keepers

It is always a bit of a mental jolt to discover that one of your best-loved authors greatly dislikes another of your very favorite authors. I felt this way recently as I read an essay by Wendell Berry in which he took great umbrage with the wanderlust of Tennyson’s title character in the poem, Ulysses. [...]

Book Review: Island of the World

I came fully awake very early this morning, and opened my eyes to a window full of sheer crimson light. One of those rare, red mornings that come sometimes in autumn had visited the mountains. I wonder if beauty can be so great that it wakes you even from physical sleep, because I was exhausted. [...]

A Many-faced Mercy

I’m up to my neck in a Jeremiah study this fall.

There’s a Bible study in Kentucky of which I am an honorary, if distant, member. When I lived in Nashville, I drove up once a week to pore over this or that book in the Old Testament with these people, and six years later, I’ve [...]

Aptin’s Feast

From the minute I stepped off the plane that brought me home to Colorado from Hutchmoot, I’ve had this post in my head. “Better late than never,” is an adage I am coming to embrace as a writer, because I never get things written as quickly as I think I will. But Hutchmoot has followed [...]

Lessons in Shared Dreaming

“This is your first lesson in shared dreaming.”

Talk about a line to get a writer thinking. The minute Dom, a major character in the movie Inception, said it, I sat up straight and wished I had a pen in hand. I went to the theater expecting an action flick, I came out feeling that I [...]