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About Barbara
I’m Barbara Falconer Newhall and I’ve got a serious case of the human condition.
I’ve done it all: career, family, house, garden, and a prize-winning book, "Wrestling with God." The result: I'm a woman of years, lots of them, who can't help seeing things from the funny side.
Tucked away on this website are hundreds of riffs on life. I hope you’ll seek them out – and keep me company as I discover the humor, if not the meaning, in what life throws my way. Learn More
THE LATEST
A New Roll-Out for ‘Wrestling with God’ — Just in Time for the Holidays
Big news! Today is the day. It’s a new roll-out for my prizewinning book “Wrestling with God.” Join the celebration. Buy a copy or two! Read more.
BARBARA’S BOOK
★ Publishers Weekly, starred review
Any seeker of any faith will be blessed to read the words of this fine author and observer. Read more.
An inveterate doubter for most of her adult life, journalist Barbara Falconer Newhall embarks upon a quest to find a way to believe in God in the twenty-first century.
The result is Wrestling with God: Stories of Doubt and Faith, which details her search for the Divine in the lives of diverse Americans – from a fundamentalist Christian to a progressive Muslim to a Buddhist monk.Seekers of all persuasions will feel represented here, from priests, ministers, and rabbis to engineers, physicists, and avowed non-believers . . . a riverflow of a book. — Phil Cousineau, host of PBS’s Global Spirit
Recent Riffs on Life
I’m Not Going to Rant About the Election Results. Here’s Why
I’m not going to rant about the election results. The world doesn’t need another angry argument. I’m going to write about my garden. Or try to. Read more.
Widowed: Some Thoughts Before Election Day — From Jon
Thoughts before election day: My husband’s 2010 opinion piece on the Pledge of Allegiance assumed a social trust that’s since gone missing in America. Read more.
DON’T MISS!
Tulips and Sex — Writing as If Everyone I Know Were Dead
I want to write about tulips today. I don’t want to write about sex. The trouble is, for me, writing about tulips means writing about sex: something about their juicy curves brings erotic metaphors to my particular mind. I had thought that once my mother — and father — were no longer alive and reading over my shoulder, I’d be able to write my heart out, but . . . Read more.
There’s a Pollinator in My Pollinator Garden
The columbine, the statice and the armeria had been planted only a week earlier, but already there was a pollinator in my pollinator garden. Read more.
The Politics of Housework, Revisited
As a feminist conversant with the politics of housework, I tried not to be too preoccupied with clean. Then I learned I was allergic to the dustballs under my marital bed. Read more.