Books Read in February 2020
Novels
The Secret History, by Donna Tartt: A very good book. This is the story of Richard Papen, a Californian kid who despises his shallow, lower-middle class family life, and so heads to Hampden College in Vermont. There he encounters a picturesque world which seems entirely removed from his childhood existence, yet whose temptations draw him into the deepest imaginable sin. Most notably he falls in with a teacher and small group of extraordinary students studying the language and worldview of ancient Greece. This circle is highly educated, urbane, moneyed, elite, of the belief that it has transcended conventional morality. Led by the brilliant Henry, the some of the group attempt an ancient Bacchanalia, which leads to an accidental murder and a sequence of events which tear the group and each member of the group apart. It could well be that the students are living through a type of purgatory - some of the imagery certainly suggests it, and both Dante and Milton are mentioned. Yet no sins are purged, and little growth if any is evidenced. Quite the opposite in fact. Which suggests perhaps they are in a type of hell, or better yet Hades, given their Greek studies and the allusion at the end to Orpheus’ journey to the underworld. Regardless, the story is a magnificently told morality (or amorality) play. I hesitate to compare any book to Crime and Punishment, which I hold up as the greatest novel ever, but this book is clearly attempting to tread some of the same ground (and Dostoevsky is specifically invoked a few times). This novel isn’t Crime and Punishment, and it is a little bloated in its repetitive descriptions of these students’ lives. Yet something big was attempted here, and it is a worthy effort.
Indian Horse, by Richard Wagamese: Another gem from Waganese, and another spiritual and emotional gut-punch. Wagamese writes his fiction biographically, here using elements of his own life story to weave a tale about the love of hockey and the ravaging pain of abuse in the residential schools. The story is full of pain, fierce hope, the power of tradition, the viciousness of unchecked power and racism, and the baleful and ongoing effects of trauma.
Theology
A People’s History of Christianity, The Other Side of the Story, by Diana Butler Bass: A very well argued history lesson that looks for the thread of “progressive” Christianity throughout the 2000 year life of the Church. Fair, balanced, with an emphasis on compassion and excellent scholarship, this book is a very good companion to other works such as Justo Gonzalez’s The Story of Christianity. It all leads up to a current expression of faith that some might call too liberal, too vague around the edges, but it isn’t just woolly liberalism. There is a great deal to learn here, and a great challenge to people who have a set way of reading Christian history.
The Life of Moses, by Gregory of Nyssa: Gregory writes to his friend who has asked him about how to progress in the virtuous life. Gregory takes him through the life of Moses, both the historical account and the spiritual meanings of each moment as Moses ascends the mountain towards God. Gregory is one of my favourite theologians, one of the Cappadocian Four, and here he shows his deft touch with the text, surprising the reader with interpretations that always point towards Jesus and towards the Good. Especially delightful are his explanations of how Moses’ leprous hand and the tabernacle in the dark cloud both prefigure Christ, yet in very different ways. And there is a fulsome description of Gregory’s theology of spiritual progress which I consider of fundamental importance. There is some stuff in here that is dated - Gregory’s metaphorical take on the “feminine life” for instance - but overall this is an extraordinarily helpful - and very readable - book about the virtuous life.
The End of Religion, by Bruxy Cavey: A short but ringing critique of religion, set in contrast to the liberating, relational hope given to us by Jesus. Bruxy outlines the crimes of religion in graphic detail, and then demonstrates how Jesus’ own words and ministry were a deliberate, insider take-down of the rigid structures of religion. He did not come, Bruxy says, to give us an alternative religion, but to give us an alternative to religion. Definitely worthwhile reading, especially for his extended metaphor of a romantic evening gone awry.
Ye That Stand in the House of the Lord, by Lazar Puhalo: It is extremely difficult to “rate” this book, concerned as it is with the Divine Liturgy of the Orthodox Church, which within that tradition (and according to this book) is essentially a portal into glory. The Liturgy is meant to bring about humanity’s participation with the angel’s hymns, with Hebrew prophecy, with the story of the gospel, and with the death of resurrection of Jesus. To say it is taken seriously is a serious understatement, even a misunderstanding of what the Liturgy is. It is not a “worship” service, it is the tearing aside of the veil between realities. This book explains the various stages of the Liturgy beautifully, reveals how they are all deeply founded in Scripture and in the lived experience of the earliest Church authorities, and demonstrates how a life lived according to these Kingdom of Heaven rhythms is designed to set one entirely at odds with the secular, Western world. In that way it is a powerfully challenging book, one which leads me to deeply reconsider how I understand and participate in prayer, worship, Scripture, and tradition. (this book perhaps balances out some of Bruxy Cavey’s critique of religion).
Sci Fi / Fan
Monstrous Regiment, by Terry Pratchett: A classic from Pratchett, the 25th Discworld book I have read to the boys. Tells the story of Borogravia, and a regiment of soldiers trying to fight an absurd battle for the sake of a god who has gone crazy. But the real story is the soldiers, who are not what they seem. This is Pratchett’s take down of traditional gender roles, done with humour, grace, and incisive social commentary. The character of Jackrum is one of his best.
Spiritual Transformation
Tattoos on the Heart, The Power of Boundless Compassion, by Gregory Boyle: Just a beautiful account of Father Greg Boyle’s 20 years in LA working with gang members. Boyle, a Jesuit priest, draws out the lessons of love, forgiveness, generosity, heartache, resiliency and kinship that the homeboys and homegirls have taught him. The book is at times hilarious, at times devastating, always fully honest about pain, loss and frustration (he has buried hundreds of homies that he knew, loved, and had got jobs for) but also fully hopeful that God is present in love and transformation. It is a book about the challenge of compassion, about 98th chances, about discovering beauty where the world only sees ugliness.
George MacDonald, An Anthology - C.S. Lewis: MacDonald is a fascinating preacher and writer, author of some of my favourite works of fantasy, and a theologian who pushes at the very boundaries of sainthood. Very challenging stuff, but also remarkably inspiring. One of C.S. Lewis’ major influences, which is why he compiled the book, which is a collection of quotes from MacDonald’s stories, sermons and theological works.
Poetry
Book of Hours, Love Poems to God, by Rainer Rilke: One of my favourite books of poetry that I keep coming back to. This is a stunning description of devotion and love:
“Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you.
Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you,
without a mouth I can swear your name.
Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you
with my heart as with a hand.
Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.
And if you consume my brain with fire,
I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.”
The Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson: Dickinson, an isolated recluse in the 19th century, wrote 1700 unpublished poems that were discovered after her death by her sister. They display a deeply contemplative spirit which meditated upon nature, time and eternity, love, and God. Bees were her especial favourite, it seems. I doubt there is another poet who composed as many verses about bees. I do find poems about flowers tiresome after awhile, but Dickenson’s reflections on God are endlessly fascinating. Here is a brief poem I particularly like:
Who has not found heaven below
Will fail of it above.
God’s residence is next to mine,
His furniture is love.
And this is a portion of what is perhaps her most famous poem:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.
Non-Fiction
Eichmann in Jerusalem, A Report on the Banality of Evil, by Hannah Arendt: A staggeringly powerful reporting on the trial of Adolf Eichmann in Jerusalem. Eichmann was responsible for the forced emigration/deportation of millions of Jews from around Europe, which was a key component in the “Final Solution” of mass administrative extermination. He had eluded judgement for 15 years by escaping to Argentina but was kidnapped by Israeli forces and smuggled back to Jerusalem for trial. Arendt attended the two year trial and wrote her reflections upon it. She deals with the controversies of the trial, and agrees that it should have been held by an International Tribunal, given that the crimes were not simply against the Jewish people, but against humanity as humanity, though primarily visited upon the bodies of Jewish people. Most interestingly she depicts Eichmann not as a sadistic, perverted monster, as the prosecution wanted to show him, but as a mediocre man whose overarching concern was his own career advancement. He was no Iago, no Macbeth, no Hitler even. He was thoughtless, banal, in the sense that he did not think about what he was really doing. And what he was doing was, in his context, “legal”. This was administrative, bureaucratic genocide, a new crime and a new type of criminal, and there did not exist international or national laws to adequately deal with it. Yet in spite of the fact that Eichmann was acting on orders, and that everyone around him was also agreeing to these horrors, he was still entirely guilty. Collective guilt, if such a thing can even be defined, does not excuse individual guilt. Arendt is clear therefore that in this case it is Eichmann who is on trial, not humanity, not Christianity, not Germany. She strongly defends the notion of individual moral responsibility, something under grave assault then and now.
Sickness Unto Death, by Soren Kierkegaard: There are three authors I have read who seem to me to have plumbed the depths and meaning of despair more than any others: Dostoevsky, Simone Weil, and Kierkegaard. While this sounds morbid it really isn’t, as all three examine this topic so as to offer some means of understanding and even hope within this human condition. Kierkegaard grounds his thinking in the dialectic of the human self, which is between our temporal and eternal selves. Every human is in despair as a result of the tension in this dialectic, and the more conscious a human is of this tension the more in despair they feel themselves to be. But that is a good thing. We must know and acknowledge that despair, in order to discover the faith in God that is the only true resolution to our condition. There is a despair where the human wills not to be himself or herself, and a despair where the human wills to be himself or herself. One type of despair that Kiekegaard describes absolutely stopped me in my tracks, as I have known it so well. It is the despair of the one with “inclosing reserve”, who is willing to confess - to him or herself - inner weakness. But the person does not realise that it is really pride inside, and that the only way through it is to admit not simply the weakness, but the unwillingness to confess the weakness or to let the self be broken. Without this true confession and vulnerability, Kiekegaard says, this despair most often leads to suicide. Lord, have mercy.
