2020 Books
I read many very beautiful and challenging books this year, and a few (very few) bad ones. I started the year with philosophy, especially the nature of tyranny and existentialism, but moved into books that focused on world issues, especially gender relations and then racial justice. I have started this list with my 20 "favourites" of the year, but I really could have put more there, especially from the philosophy, theology, world issue and spiritual development sections. So I urge you to at least peruse the whole list, if you are interested.
20 Favourites of the Year
Novels:
Medicine Walk, by Richard Wagamese: A near perfect novel, from an author who is quickly becoming one of my favourites. This is the story of Eldon and Frank Starlight, part-Ojibway father and son who barely know each other. Frank has been raised, well, by the “old man”, not by his father, and through the course of the novel we discover why. Eldon is dying, drink-sick, and he asks Frank to bury him in the wilderness in the old Warrior Way. On their journey towards Eldon’s death the story of his life is finally shared with his son. The writing is so powerful, the relationships so real, the description of the wild and a way of being in the wild so transformative and honouring.
Housekeeping, by Marilynne Robinson: Another masterful work by Robinson, centering around the life of a family in a small town surrounded by mountains and marked by a lake filled with tragedies. Two sisters, whose mother committed suicide in the lake, live with their aunt in a house built by their grandfather, who also died in the lake. Their aunt had been living a transient life on the rails, and does not know how to keep a house. The two sisters are close but grow into two very different personalities, one in conformity the other in the footsteps of her aunt. It is a poetic reflection on light and dark, nature and the human desire to tame it or carve a home in it, and the ambiguous inheritance of family.
London, by Edward Rutherfurd: A massive 800+ tome that details the narrative history of the city of London from before the Roman occupation to the present day. The story follows multiple fictional (but realistic) families as their fortunes wax and wane and as their descendants intertwine to form new families. Major events of London’s history are captured as the story runs through ancient, medieval, renaissance, Victorian and modern times. The characters are taken from royalty, peasantry and East End squalor. It honestly took me about 300 pages to really get into it, but once I did I could hardly put it down. Very, very fun.
SciFi/Fantasy:
The Sparrow, Maria Dori Russell: This book is very, very difficult to shake. It is the story of a team of missionaries, lead by Jesuits, who discover alien radio broadcasts and make their way to this first contact across the galaxy. They are sensitive, seek to learn and understand and not to dominate, and are dealing with their own doubts, loves, fears and hopes. Yet even with the very best of intentions things go bad. Really, really bad. Worse than you are imagining. You know things are going to turn tragic from the beginning as part of the tale is told from the perspective of the future looking back at the ill-fated journey. But you don’t know just how dark things will get until the very end. There is a type of hope and redemption present in the story, and a lot of discussion around faith. But you must be warned that there are descriptions of the very worst kind of alien behaviour, behaviour all too well known in human society as well.
How Long Til Black Future Month? N.K. Jemison: A book of short stories of the fantastical variety focused not on mythical middle ages Europe but on other stories and peoples. Specifically, these stories weave in people of colour to the world of sci fi and fantasy, and genuinely enrich and challenge the genre by doing so. Some of the stories are better than others, of course, but some of them are genius and could easily be made into longer works. I look forward to reading a lot more of Ms. Jemison.
Under the Pendulum Sun, by Jeannette Ng: A bizarre and wonderful work of gothic fantasy, very much in the vein of the Brontes or Lord Byron. It follows the story of Catherine Helstone, sister of Laon, on their problematic missionary journey into Fairyland. Fairyland, in this alternate history, was discovered by Captain Cook on his journeys and subsequently became much desired for trade and missionary endeavours. It is a place of mists, shadows and mockery, with a pendulum sun and a moon that is actually a giant salmon. But the Fae are not so easily converted, and they have their own agendas at work. This novel is brilliantly written, suffused with that fairy light that is so strange and threatening. It is also very, very dark, and certainly not up everyone’s alley. But it does seem to take the Gospel seriously, and genuinely asks the question of how Queen Mab and her Arcadian retinue – who are presumed to have no souls – could find salvation.
Theology:
The Prophets, by Abraham Heschel: Such an important book. A massive and intricate look at biblical prophecy (Old Testament) set in context and contradiction to many of the world’s ideas about prophecy. Heschel powerfully describes what kind of man the prophet is (he only deals with the masculine) - someone who has sympathy for both God and humanity, someone who represents God to Israel and Israel to God. He rails against the notion of God’s impassiveness, arguing persuasively for God’s pathos as an essential quality of the prophetic engagement. God is interested, God participates, God is affected. This is what, in Heschel’s view, makes sense of God’s wrath - it is a temporary suspension of God’s patient love. Where I part with Heschel is in his refusal to accept the notion of humanity’s union with God, but I appreciate that from his view point that idea is blasphemous. I further appreciate that union with God, when considered from a strictly human perspective and attempted through human means (such as ecstatic or religious trances, meditation, etc…) is ludicrous. Heschel argues that God’s revelation to the prophet induces terror, not union, and this is evident in the accounts of the biblical prophets. But something changes when considering the life of Jesus of Nazareth, something Heschel does not do, for obvious reasons. Heschel denies the idea that God prophecy is God’s self-revelation, as God can never be revealed to us. I believe Jesus opens the door to knowing God in a new way, and is himself God’s ultimate self-revelation, a revelation which is continuing through the indwelling of God’s Spirit. I found the first half - which goes through each prophet in turn and describes the context of their message - more interesting than the second half, in which Heschel takes on what he considers various mistaken ideas about the source and meaning of the prophetic.
Rescuing Theology From the Cowboys, An Emerging Indigenous Expression of the Jesus Way in North America, by Richard Twiss: A profoundly important theological treatise and counter-balance to the Euro-centric view of doctrine, mission and Church. This work calls for a genuine theology and practice that is embedded within Indigenous cultures and worldviews, and sees Western theology and Church as the compost from which this new way can grow - though in order for this to happen, the old way has to move aside. The question is: can this be done within a largely resistant Church structure, or will a new, Native ecclesiology need to be developed for this comprehensive “sacred and honouring gospel-telling” to find a home?
On Being Rich and Poor: Christianity in a Time of Economic Globalization, by Jacques Ellul: Another game-changer from Ellul, the French Christian-Anarchist-Prophet-Theologian-Sociologist. He takes on Amos and James in a series of lectures that turn our traditional moral and sacred/secular interpretations completely on their heads. Through careful exegesis and deft application, Ellul shows how the words of the prophet and the letter from James do not speak about social justice - these are our words - but about our freedom to follow to follow God from the place of our poverty, and the wailing of the wealthy because wealth inhibits our freedom, keeps us from following, and turns us against humanity. Too much to really sum up more, but I highly recommend this book.
Jesus and the Disinherited, Howard Thurman: The book that MLK Jr was said to always have in his pocket. A powerful prophetic statement on how Jesus is to be found particularly with those whose backs are up against the wall.
The Academy of the Poor: Towards a Dialogical Reading of the Bible, Gerald O. West: I would love everyone to read this book. West speaks theologically and experientially about the inherent problems of socially aware and engaged bible scholars reading the Bible amongst the poor. It is not enough to “listen to them” he says. We must be clear about our own implicit and explicit agendas, as well as the hidden script that is created by the poor as a defense against and resistance to domination from cultural powers. West identifies where there may be space for socially engaged scholars to actually engage, but also establishes important boundaries and limits there. Will give you a new appreciation for how the Bible may be read for personal and social liberation.
Philosophy:
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.
Kierkegaard, A Single Life, by Stephen Backhouse: One of the best books I have read this year, a beautifully written tale of the life and thought of Soren Kierkegaard. Kierkegaard was a singular person, a genius and a pursuer of the authentic life of the Christian, a man who attempted to reintroduce Christianity to Christendom, but without any hope or desire of starting a movement or gaining converts. He sought to pull the individual out of the crowd towards authenticity. This book is the best possible introduction into his life, and also contains a summary of all his writings at the end. Truly excellent.
Racial Justice/World Issues:
The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Color-Blindness, by Michelle Alexander: A true must-read which details the way slavery led to lynching and Jim Crow, and which has now led to the New Jim Crow of mass incarceration. In many ways a terrifying read of the grasping – and hugely effective - power of white supremacy. The numbers alone will stagger you. It paints a vivid picture of lost generations of young black men essentially still enslaved within the prison system.
Crashing the Idols, Will Campbell and Richard Goode: A wonderful book exploring the ideas and life of Will Campbell, a Mississippi Southern Baptist preacher, integrationist, anarchist, and idol smasher.
From the Ashes, My Story of Being Metis, Homeless, and Finding My Way, Jesse Thistle: One of the best books of the year, a true tale of deepest pain and degradation, but also of hope and recovery. It is rare to find a book so vulnerable, and also so well written. Another must-read.
Unsettling Truths: The Ongoing Dehumanizing Legacy of the Doctrine of Discovery, Mark Charles and Soong-Chan Rah: A book which details the power and principality of white supremacy, buoyed up by the heretical Doctrine of Discovery. This Doctrine gave (and still gives) legal and social-imaginative authority to the displacement and enslavement of people considered “less-than” white Europeans. This idea is still at the very heart of the political strife of Western nations. Charles and Rah trace the development of this doctrine historically, theologically and legally, and show how it has helped to create a diseased cultural mythos and imagination. This is in many ways a painful, but necessary, book.
Spiritual Development and Prayer:
The Communion of Love, by Matthew the Poor: So difficult to sum this up in a short paragraph. Matthew the Poor is an Egyptian Coptic monk who spent decades in the wilderness. He has written here a number of chapters focusing on the spiritual life of love and union with God. His chapters on Reading the Bible, Unity in the Body, and especially Repentance (which I re-read every day for a week) are among the most beautiful and powerful I have ever encountered.
Poetry:
Psalms, by Ernesto Cardenal: Life-altering poetry from this Nicaraguan priest, a friend of Thomas Merton. Cardenal fashions the Psalms, the ancient prayer book of Israel, Jesus and the Church, into a modern setting, complete with praise, petition and lament. Oh, the lament! I have spoken on the scandal and beauty of lament a lot lately, but these Psalms get to the heart of lament in a way I have never been able to accomplish. The language is stripped of religious sentimentality (not that the Psalms were written with that, but we have attached it to the biblical language) to the point where even I thought, “Maybe this goes too far?” No, it doesn’t. It expresses the pain of the corruption, the disappearances, the hopelessness felt by the people in opposition to ruthless dictatorships. But, as with the biblical Psalms, it ends with praise, with the great “And yet…” that reorients us towards the ultimately victorious kingdom of God.
Graphic Novels
Jung, A Graphic Guide, by Maggie Hyde: An extremely helpful and engaging introduction to the life and thought of Carl Jung, founder of Analytic Psychology. Reading this one sees just how influential even his categories and vocabulary continues to be: introvert and extrovert; projection; synchronicity; shadow self, and more are all concepts currently very much in vogue. He is even one of the founders of personality types, which (in a bastardised version) are all the rage these days. Jung’s main work may have been trying to find a unity between the rational and the mysterious, the scientific and the spiritual. And he went pretty far out there in his thinking. I don’t agree with much of Jung’s thought, but I do recognise a person who was searching intently, and who applied his genius intellect in a way that was designed to help bring healing to humanity.
The Rest, Many of Which are Also Great
Novels
The Beekeeper of Aleppo, by Christy Lefteri: A heartbreaking yet hopeful story of a couple from Syria who, after losing their son to a bomb, make the long and dangerous trip through Turkey to Greece and then England. The husband is a beekeeper, the wife - who is blinded by the blast that killed her son - an artist. The story powerfully illustrates the immense difficulties faced by refugees. The author spent several years as a worker with refugees in Athens with the UN, so the narrative reflects many of the experiences of those she met who were fleeing their homelands for safety and hope. Ultimately the book is about what it means to “see”, and how tragedy and hopelessness can blind us every bit as much as a bomb.
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.
San Manuel Bueno, Martyr, by Miguel de Unamuno: The simply told tale of a saintly (and sainted) village priest who believes that he does not believe, yet lives and teaches as if he does believe, in order to help his village believe. The question asked is this: does a life lived as if one believes mean that one does in fact believe, even if one believes that one does not believe?
The Festival of Insignificance, by Milan Kundera: An absurdist tale of four friends in Paris who discuss angels, “erotic eras”, navels, Hegel, Kant and Schopenhauer, and mothers and children (Stalin, Krutschev and Kalinin are also heavily featured as characters, sort of). The main theme is the deception of significance, the overrating of genius, and the ultimate victory of insignificance. Stalin at one points explains to his Politburo how Kant was wrong to believe there is a real Thing behind every representation. Schopenhauer, Stalin argues, was correct that only representations exist which can be manifested through a strong enough will (such as his own, but even that in the end seems wasteful). The only way to confront such a meaningless, insignificant world is through humour, except that jokes are now impossible: there is no access to an “infinitely good mood” which Hegel says is necessary for any true humour. So anyway, this novel is awfully strange, but kind of sticks with you.
Beirut Hellfire Society, by Rawi Hage: Set during the Lebanese Civil War, this is a fascinatingly written story of Pavlov, the son of an undertaker who believes in nothing but dogs. The only characters that are filled out in this novel are those who retreat to apathy, absurdity, hedonism and nihilism in response to the madness of war. Anyone with any faith or hope is caricatured. Everything ends in fire, which is presented as a more fitting fate than any faith-filled ceremony. It is an understandable motif from someone who experienced religious war and came out angry, and the style is extremely engaging and authentic. But there is nothing edifying here. The story revels in depravity, and is a deliberate assault on any notion of righteousness or hope. I cannot recommend it.
Go Set A Watchman, by Harper Lee: This is NOT a sequel to To Kill a Mockingbird. It is genuinely not, in that it was (apparently) written first and rejected by publishers, leading to the classic novel for which Lee is famous. It is also not a sequel in the sense that the tone and ideas are pretty jarringly different. A 26-year-old Scout returns home to Maycomb, Alabama from school in New York, near the beginning of the Civil Rights movement which is hugely impacting the South. At first her conflicts with her family are benign and winsome. The first half or so of the book is quite charmingly and humorously written - I laughed out loud several times at the way the characters turn phrases. But the second half of the book turns into a series of bitter shouting matches, having to do with Scout’s family and intended husband seemingly compromising with racist doctrines and groups that oppose the NAACP. It is a strange admixture of Lee’s political and cultural musings, and it really does not seem to fit at all. It does an excellent job of reducing Atticus Finch from a noble man to frail, flawed individual, which seems to be part of the point. But, in my view, it just doesn’t work, and I agree with those who argue that it should not have been released. Though if anyone wants to read about Scout screaming at Atticus Finch and calling him a ring-tailed son of a bitch, this is the book for you.
The Captain and the Glory, by Dave Eggers: An attempt at contemporary political and cultural satire in the vein of Swift’s “Gulliver’s Travels” and especially “A Modest Proposal”. Eggers uses the metaphor of a huge, successful ship - the Glory - to represent the USA, and foists upon it the horror of The Captain, a paper-thin symbolic representation of the current President. The Ship begins to suffer the same disasters that Eggers sees America suffering today. The book works about as well as the monologues of late-night talk show hosts. These are obvious jokes for the in-crowd. If you align with Egger’s worldview and appreciate any attempt to lambaste the 45th President I suppose you might dig this book. If you don’t, you won’t make it past the first few pages, and its unread contents will only serve to stoke your resentments. Either way it won’t have the intended impact. My main trouble with it is that it isn’t really funny or particularly clever. And it is entirely without subtlety. There are some memorable bits, to be sure, but it just seems like an opportunity for Eggers to vent his spleen. Maybe an absurdist satire just won’t work when reality is already so absurd? I will say this though: the ending was lovely, and indeed hopeful.
The Only Harmless Great Thing, by Brooke Bolander: An alternative history in which an elephant that was electrocuted for public entertainment does not go quite so quietly as she did in our version of history. A beautiful story from the perspective of human and elephant women of the power of story, the power of the WE, the power of resistance and sacrifice even unto death.
Ten Mysteries of Father Brown, GK Chesterton: Dated, but still very fun mystery yarns, focusing more on the moral nature of crime than on mere physical clues.
Sci-Fi/Fantasy
Flowers for Algernon, by Daniel Keyes: I have been wanting to read this book for a long time. It is the story of a man named Charlie who has an IQ hovering around 70. He works at a bakery, had a horrific childhood which he barely remembers, and is generally mocked by everyone around him but does not know he is the object of mockery. He is chosen however as the subject of an experiment that will make him a genius, a procedure they have already successfully tried on a rat called Algernon. The story is told through Charlie’s “Progress Reports” which are barely legible at the start of the book, but slowly transform into evidence of incredible intelligence. The book does a great job of slowly marking this transition. It also highlights serious problems with the way people with disabilities are treated, and illustrates that one’s intelligence quotient is not everything. Excellent book, but very sad.
Noir, by Christopher Moore: Every Moore book is an opportunity to laugh several times per page, meet bizarre characters (including in this case the original Men in Black; a moonman; a seven-foot black man who wants to be in the secret service; and a deadly mamba snake named Petey) and enjoy a ripping yarn. Set again in San Francisco, like many of his books, but this time in 1947, Moore weaves a tale noir or a ordinary palooka caught up in a dizzy, convoluted set of schemes and counter-schemes as a result of falling for a beautiful dame. Not as good as his previous novels like Lamb, Bloodsucking Fiends, or A Dirty Job, but better than Fool or The Serpent of Venice.
Mr. Splitfoot, by Samantha Hunt: A strange and haunting (literally) novel about cults, cons, and especially about the relationships between mothers and their children. Hunt weaves two tales together. One is of a young boy and girl raised in a religious cult of a foster home and who escape, but not really to safety, after “discovering” the ability to speak with the dead and taking up with a con man who can make use of this skill. The other is of the original girl, years later, on a silent and uncertain journey with her niece. The novel is dream-like, perhaps a con all the way around, with very genuine depictions of the pain that accrues when parents abandon or abuse. There is a pretty heavy critique throughout of faith and of the idea of God, but the ending casts doubt even on that cynicism.
Friday Black, by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah: The debut book of a major up-and-comer. Adjei-Brenyah tells a number of short stories in this book, some of which are connected around a fictional mall and coat store; another of which takes place in a hyper-realised racial environment; and yet another in a post-apocalyptic loop where the characters experience the same day repeatedly, but with their memories and abilities retained or enhanced. The writing is superb: short, sharp sentences and confident prose. The author seems to be drawing from his own experience as a retail worker and a black man in America, but with the extremes pushed slightly into the fantastical (Friday Black refers to the Black Friday shopping day at the mall, where the shoppers are zombified, the body count is high, and employees casually dispose of hundreds of corpses that are trampled or beaten to death.) Three of the stories in particular are incredibly violent, graphic and disturbing.
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.
Artemis, by Andy Weir: In the same mode as his amazing first novel, The Martian, Weir imagines the technical details of what a colony on the moon would be like around 20 years into its existence, and then weaves a narrative around those details. It is super nerdy, to the point where you begin to wonder, Wow, is everyone science-smart but me? Because all of his characters are able to come up with detailed scientific solutions to problems pretty much off the top of their heads, and all are extraordinarily skilled in engineering, chemistry, maths and metallurgy. Also, the story is told in the First Person Present, which is a little distracting because it doesn’t exactly make sense why Jazz, the protagonist, is talking to you, the reader. It did in The Martian, but I think maybe Weir got trapped in the conceit. Anyway, it was a very fun speculative read and a pretty good heist-in-space story.
Stardust, by Neil Gaiman, illustrated by Charles Vess: One of my favourite stories, a fae tale for adults. I read it in novel form, watched the movie (not quite as good) and now in a format that includes nearly two hundred beautiful illustrations. As always, Gaiman paints a picture of the frightening and the strange other world, but in a way that shines the mirror-light back onto our culture and society.
The Return of the King, by JRR Tolkien: Re-reading for a discussion group I am in called Eucatastrophe, wherein we explore the writings of Tolkien for the presence of unlooked for joy, hope and beauty. My friend Renee from the group said that in a time when we can’t travel, getting back into these pages is like journeying through old, beloved lands. Couldn’t agree more.
American Gods, by Neil Gaiman: I had been meaning to re-read this excellent, bizarre, hilarious and rambling monster of a novel for some time, and the quarantine seemed the perfect time to do it. Gaiman allows us to travel across the highways and back roads, roadside attractions and forgotten towns of America, in the company of Shadow, sometimes his dead wife Laura, and often a host of gods that were brought to America in the heads and hearts of immigrants from every land. The chief god who employs Shadow as his bodyguard is Wednesday, otherwise known as Grimnir, god of the gallows, the all-father, Odin. Gaiman reveals Odin as the disreputable two-bit con artist he is, but also displays his remarkable charm and persuasiveness. At times shockingly violent or sexual, this book is not for everyone (and the television series even less so).
Fragile Things, Short Fictions and Wonders, by Neil Gaiman: Once you start reading Gaiman it is hard to stop. I knew this book of short stories - all of them fantastic, most of them funny and macabre, perhaps a little uneven in quality - ended with the further adventures of Shadow, on his journey through Scotland. So I had to keep going. I will read pretty much whatever Gaiman writes.
How the Marquis Got His Coat Back, by Neil Gaiman: Just keeping the Gaiman train rolling. This is a novella that carries on the story of the Marquis de Carabas from Neverwhere, as he attempts to retrieve his unique coat in London’s Underground. Deals especially with Elephant and Castle and Shepherd’s Bush, and gives more insight into the Marquis and his family.
The Hobbit, by JRR Tolkien: Listened to Andy Serkis (Gollum) read this aloud at 2am, as he was raising money for the NHS. He is an amazing voice actor and this made for a very surreal experience. Still one of my favourite all-time stories. I especially listened to this for the chapter “Riddles in the Dark”.
The Fellowship of the Ring, by JRR Tolkien: I began reading the first chapter one day as I had nothing else particularly to do, and found that I had read a hundred pages once I looked up. It has been awhile since I allowed myself the pleasure of reading this book to myself (I have read parts of it to the children over the last decade), and so I carried on. It is as good - better even - than I remember.
Leaf by Niggle, by JRR Tolkien: A curious little story by Tolkien, one that seems more allegorical than you would expect from the anti-allegorist. It feels more like a C.S. Lewis tale to be honest, though it certainly contains Tolkien’s love of nature and his deep belief in the sub-creative work of the artist. Niggle is a seemingly unimportant man, pretty Hobbit-like in certain respects, who wants to create art (and isn’t that great at it) and also has something of a care for his neighbour, but more out of duty than love. The story tells of his inability to finish his great work (a landscape picture that starts with a leaf) but of the eventual completion of the work - and of his life and character development - in a type of purgatory before glory. It is a challenging story about neighbouring, friendship, creation, love and glory.
The Two Towers, by JRR Tolkien: I remember this book being my least favourite of the three, but this time around it hit me with a new charm, particularly at points where the movie diverged from its story. The Ents especially struck me as noble and tragic on this reading, and Faramir is so much better in the book than in the movie that he is hardly the same character at all.
JRR Tolkien, Sub-Creation, And Theories of Authorship, by Benjamin Saxton: A wonderful long article about how Tolkien’s views of authorship, authority, sub-creation and applicability contrast with Barthes’ views on the necessity of the death of the Author (like the Death of God) for the reader to be free. Tolkien believed there was a meaning to a text that an Author creates, but not that the Author is omnipotent (and even the omnipotent God, or Eru, delegates and gives the primary gift of freedom to His creation). Readers create new significance to the story and are free to make those assignations, while not changing the meaning of the story.
Dracula, Bram Stoker: A very Victorian novel, full of morals and noble sentiment and deep flights of faith-filled exclamations, but also perfectly frightening, dark and dealing with real risk - in fact, eternal risk. Puts a lot of the recent vampire literature to shame, as it should.
A Brightness Long Ago, Guy Gavriel Kay: More in Kay’s series of historical fictions, taking place in an alternative reality version of Europe and Asia at the time of Sarantium’s (Constantinople’s) fall. Kay is a masterful writer and story teller, and his novels are always worth the time, though they rarely ascend to the heights of his first work, The Fionavar Tapestry (which is really the foundation of all his subsequent works).
Buried Giant, Kazuo Ishiguro: A strange re-telling of the fall out of the Arthurian legends. What happens when people forget, and then remember, the genocide of their people?
The Silmarillion, JRR Tolkien: The master-work that Tolkien himself was most interested, essentially a mythical “Old Testament” for the Lord of the Rings, filled with tragedy and beauty and sub-creation.
Theology
Commentary on Romans, Volume 1, by Karl Barth: Barth’s mammoth commentary on Paul’s letter to the Romans, this first volume deals with chapters 1-7. It is impossible to truly summarise. Barth rails against the notion that sin and grace are simply two human possibilities, and pushes constantly towards the impossible possibility - that in Christ - by the Krisis of his death and resurrection - we are dead to sin and law and religion. Religion is the ultimate human possibility, but it is still in the realm of that which must die. The only salvation from death is to become alive to grace, which is the power unto obedience. We are, in grace, new people, new creations, on the other side of an uncrossable abyss, and not by our own power. The very best we can do is to know that all we do in this life leads us to death. The gift of the law, of religion, is to point out our impossible situation. And yet, the old Adam is dead, and the new Adam is alive, and brings us to life. It is a terribly disturbing and still hopeful message, one which sees no common ground between human effort and divine grace, but still calls us into the full expression of that effort, so we could know the full gift of grace.
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).
Ecstasy and Intimacy, When the Holy Spirit Meets the Human Spirit, by Edith Humphries: An excellent, excellent, relatively unheard of book. Deeply Trinitarian, this book outlines a theology of ethics, worship, church and family life based upon union with God the Father in Jesus Christ through the Spirit. Tautly argued but also incredibly accessible, this book is an extremely helpful addition to a practical/mystical theology of holiness, compassion and love.
Ezekiel: Vision in the Dust, by Daniel Berrigan, Art by Tom Lewis-Borbely: Berrigan’s poetic and prophetic re-telling of Ezekiel, making the story come alive through a profound exegesis and a potent application to modern day events. Ezekiel was called to acts of outrageous drama and doom-saying, and he was largely not attended to. It is a miracle that we still have his writings, much in the same way it is miracle we still know of Berrigan and his Plowshares work against Vietnam and Nuclear weapons. Prophets don’t always get to die of old age.
Stations of the Cross: A Latin American Pilgrimage, by Dorothee Soelle: A series of essays concerning the poor throughout Latin America by a brilliant practitioner of liberation theology. These essays are convincing in their social, political and cultural story-telling, in their prioritising of the plight of the poor, in their calling-out of the powers and principalities that the Western Church has frequently ignored or idolised. This was written in the 1990’s but is still so important for us to grasp today.
Whiteman’s Gospel, by Craig Smith: A very helpful introductory work for people trying to get their head and heart around how the Church has poorly presented the Gospel to the First Nations people. Smith, a Navajo man and a Christian, writes very charitably but also very honestly, explaining how the Gospel does not and never has “belonged” to the white man, yet this, he says, is the prevailing understanding within much of the Native community. The theology he presents is very evangelical, but the suggestions he makes for repentance and change are more radical, though very sensible.
In the Parish of the Poor, Writings from Haiti, by Jean-Bertrand Aristide: A letter and three sermons from Aristide, before he was made the first democratically elected President in Haiti’s history (and before a military coup ousted him again and sent him into exile, from which he has only recently returned). It is a powerful appeal for a theology of liberation, a theology and and ecclessiology that provides an option for the poor. Aristide and his congregation stood up to incredible pressure, beatings, arson, jailings, torture and murder in their resistance to the tyrannic regimes of Haiti in the 80’s and 90’s. His letter is a call to others who are facing similar struggles. And it is all based in love.
The Beatitudes, by Darrell Johnson: A beautiful walk through the Beatitudes. Careful scholarship and the heart of a preacher set this book apart. The writing is extremely accessible, but the ideas subversive. This is not your regular interpretation of the Beatitudes, which tends to be more concerned with explaining them away. This book confronts us - gently, but insistently - with the invitation of Jesus into his life and into his Gospel.
A History of Christian Thought, Vol 1: From the Beginnings to the Council of Chalcedon, by Justo L Gonzalez: A masterful work of theological and philosophical history by Gonzalez, who pieces together the doctrines, councils and controversies of the first 5 centuries of Christian thought in this volume. It is fascinating how many of our tried and true doctrines came out of the deepest wrestling and argument, which is no knock against them (though some of the strategies employed by the combatants, particularly with regard to currying imperial favour, are pretty distasteful).
Poverty of Spirit, by Johannes B. Metz: A profound reflection on what it means to be poor with Jesus, and what are the consequences of failing to grasp this poverty. Utterly moving and powerful in its simplicity.
Black Theology and Black Power, James H Cone: Cone's seminal treatise on the connection between black theology and black power, written in the 1960's but so relevant for today.
Native: Identity, Belonging, and Rediscovering God, Kaitlin Curtice: An exploration of what it means to stand in the identity of both Native and Christian. What does it mean to be true to both without losing either?
The Black Christ, Kelly Brown Douglas: In many ways a follow-up on the works of theologians like James Cone, with an analysis of the "blackness" of Christ and what that means especially for the Black Church today.
Recovering, Aaron White: My own book, which I re-read when I got a physical copy to see if I still believed everything I wrote
One Church Many Tribes, Richard Twiss: An early work by Twiss, still quite evangelical, on the beauty and the blessing of Indigenous people, the struggles they face within the Church, and the potential they have to bring blessing to the Church and the world
Philosophy:
The Rights of War and Peace, by Hugo Grotius: The classic 16th century work that systematised the notion of rights and justice in war and peace, and in particular the rights and duties between nations. It was the first major attempt to do so, and much of our modern sense of international law is based upon Grotius’ work, even if few people have read it or would agree with it in the modern world. It is revolutionary even in the notion that there are laws and customs that should govern the behaviour of “sovereign” nations. (It also proved exceptionally dangerous, in that it defines the ‘Law of Nations” in ways that only accepted European ideals of governance and statehood, clearing the path for such atrocities as The Doctrine of Discovery and the subjugation of Indigenous peoples around the world). He details the requirements for a war to be just and to be pursued justly, requirements which would curtail most occasions of war today if taken seriously. He describes a just war as one based in a nation’s “right” to punishment, defense, or compensation - and this “natural” right is quite expansive in Grotius’ mind - but also points out that just because a nation has a right to act does not mean that it should, based upon the commands of love and mercy from Scripture. A dense, difficult read, but very illuminating.
The Ethics of Ambiguity, by Simone de Beauvoir: de Beauvoir tries to land the great existential problem introduced by Kant, Nietzsche, and especially her mentor Sartre: if there is no god, no plan, no universal morality, no infinite, then how do we make ethical decisions in a finite existence? Do “ethics” even make sense in that light? de Beauvoir grounds her thought in the ultimate “value” of individual freedom, but always tempered and conditioned by the intertwining of relationships between free individuals. There is lots that is very important and good here, even for those of us who do believe in God and a divine plan/personality to which we may conform. “We repudiate all idealisms, mysticisms, etcetera which prefer Form to man himself.” I suspect Jesus would agree. Each person is to be treated not as a means, but as an end, and each scenario must be exhaustively examined in the ambiguous light of freedom to determine what is right and what is wrong. It is a type of situational ethics, guided by certain pre-determined “values.” And it is largely how people do make decisions now, or at least how we all like to imagine we make decisions (I think most people are far more conditioned than free). But the issue remains: how did we come to these pre-determined “values”? Personally derived “values” which are based upon internal integrity are meant to replace God’s commandments or any kind of externally imposed morality. But why should we trust these values? And have not certain values already been assumed as good? Why should the freedom of individuals matter so much, if the thought just springs from our own will? Why should we expect good will? I don’t believe she has overcome the essential issue of the source of “goodness” outside of God. de Beauvoir uses the word “must” a lot, but I do not think she has created any foundation for its use. However, her method does have a lot to recommend it. She reckons with reality, with the demands of love and conscience, and rejects any escape into Hegelian infinities (though she admits they are comforting). And she rightly points to the importance of a revolutionary subjectivity in faith, politics, and art which gets subsumed under the “seriousness” of objective, systematised norms and rules. Once again, I think Jesus would say Amen.
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, Kierkegaard says, this despair most often leads to suicide. Lord, have mercy.
Limits to Medicine, Medical Nemesis: The Expropriation of Health, by Ivan Illich: Illich books are so difficult to summarise, because they cover so much ground and in such revolutionary ways. Illich loves to take on sacred cows, and in this book he takes on the modern medicalisation of society. He uses the phrase iatrogenesis to describe the ill-health and death that have resulted from the widespread medicalisation of our bodies, our thinking and our culture. This can be because of doctor’s mistakes or the widespread pharmaceutical monopoly on health (the giving of bad or too many drugs, the reliance on pain killers), or the loss of our long-held ability to care for ourselves and one another. He argues, convincingly, that this medicalisation has not really increased life expectancy, and it certainly has not improved our quality of life - it has simply changed our expectation of life, health, and the type of death we require. This was written in 1976, and I can only imagine what he would be saying now. Above all Illich argues that we must wrestle back the idea of control over our own bodies, our own wellness. We must not allow others - especially a medicalised bureaucracy - to have the final say over what sickness means and if we are sick or not. The book is unbelievably researched, dense and powerful.
On Fairy Stories, by JRR Tolkien: I read this as part of an online discussion group called Eucatastrophe. I do not put this under sci-fi and fantasy, though the topic is fairy stories, because Tolkien’s very definition of fairy stories would not allow this work to go there. He treats fairy stories seriously, in some ways academically, and he is very concerned with precision in the term (as he always is). His concluding point is the most important, the presence of Eucatastrophe (and unlooked for, unhoped for happy ending, the sharp turning from despair to joy) as an essential quality of fairystories. It is essential because it links these stories with the great Eucatastrophe of the Incarnation and Resurrection, and ushers the reader into the place of genuine Joy.
Politics/Racial Justice/World issues
Lean In: Women, Work and the Will to Lead, by Sheryl Sandberg: An accessible argument for the need for women and men to work together towards a cooperative and participatory equity in life and business. Sandberg, who worked at high levels for the Treasury, Google and Facebook, uses her own stories, victories, fears and failures, along with careful research, to make the case for women “leaning in” to their careers. There is little to no critique of the basic late-market capitalist model in which Sandberg has forged her career, nor would I expect one, but it did make me wonder if in the desire to make the current system more equitable we are overlooking injustices inherent in the heart of the matter.
Women and Power, A Manifesto, by Mary Beard: A two-part manifesto about how we hear (or don’t hear) women’s voices, particularly in public leadership and concerning issues that aren’t considered “women’s issues”, and about the access women have (or don’t have) to power. Specifically Beard suggests that a change in the way we view power is essential. Power is not something we have, but something we can use. And within this shift comes a dismissal of both hierarchies and the cult of personality. There is a different possible way of being together, and Beard gives an excellent contribution to our thinking on how to get there.
491 Days, Prisoner Number 1323/69, by Winnie Madikizela-Mandela: Notes and letters kept by Winnie Mandela’s lawyer for years. These detail the 491 days she spent as an awaiting-trial prisoner, enduring torture, deprivation, sickness and fear. The journal entries often speak of the daily monotony of being in isolation in a tiny cell, without books or clothes or edible food. She worries about her daughters as she doesn’t know where they are or who are caring for them. She worries about her upcoming case and her fellow accused. And she worries about how to clean herself, deal with her medical issues and do her laundry. She is unbelievably resilient, and faced more physical trial than her husband Nelson - as she says in a postcript, they wouldn’t dare lay hands on him, but her (and the other women) they felt free to try to crush. Her words at the end of the book, written in the present day, are both a fierce and proud account of how she continued to organise and fight despite all the restrictions and oppression, and a critique of what she sees as the betrayal of the ANC leaders. Winnie’s name has been either dragged through the mud or forgotten, and this book helps show how vital she was to the anti-apartheid cause.
I’m Still Here, Austin Channing Brown: A first-hand account of the obstacles and prejudices faced daily by Black people, inside and outside the Church. Also a defiant and holy cry of victory and perseverance.
Stand Your Ground, Black Bodies and the Justice of God, Kelly Brown Douglas: An incredibly powerful book detailing the historical, philosophical and theological “justifications” for the privileging of white bodies over black and brown bodies, especially in America. Douglas wrote this as a scholar, a theologian, and a mother of a child with a black body, one whose safety and indeed existence is threatened by these notions. It speaks to the stand your ground laws in the States which make legal arguments for denying space and life to black bodies. I knew this book was powerful because even displaying the cover on my facebook page evoked anger from those who dislike their privilege being threatened.
They Fight Like Soldiers, They Die Like Children, by Romeo Dallaire: A heart-breaking and inspiring book about the scourge of child soldiers, written by a former Canadian General who witnessed this evil first hand during the Rwandan genocide. Dallaire has spent the last few decades trying to bring people together to understand and overcome this horrific “weapons system” which is employed around the world to terrible effect. His writing is compelling, his strategies sound, and the cause urgent. His last chapter on “What We Can Do” is the only weakness as he rests a great deal of his hope on Enlightenment Reason and the New Media, in an attempt to inspire the youth of the world. A noble cause but a flawed argument there, unfortunately. Otherwise, an excellent book.
We Are Not Refugees, by Agus Morales: First-hand stories from around the world of migrants and displaced people who have been forced to flee, many of whom are not officially designated refugees and who are surviving without any governmental help. Most interesting to me were the stories from the southern border of Mexico, and from Syria/Lebanon, places I visited this past year. It was chilling to hear the stories from places where I stood and prayed. Morales emphasises throughout the stories that these are not victims, not refugees, not migrants, but people. She insists that we do not lose that humanity within a political category.
The Political Economy of Agriculture and the Social Economy of Local Sustainable Agriculture in Kansas City, by Laura Cardwell: An extremely helpful dissertation by my friend Laura, who examines the state of profit-driven farming in America today, with reference to the Government policies, economic theory and technological determinism which has brought it to this point. In short, agriculture has become a business for producing profit, at the expense of the production of good food or health or sustainable ecology. Laura suggests a move towards a social economy in agriculture which puts public needs ahead of private rights. She backs this up with a case-study of CSA’s in Kansas City which are operating according to this philosophy, and suggests a number of policy advances which could help make this financially and culturally attainable on a broader scale. It is a clear case to me, though bottom line profits and wasteful convenience are awfully hard opponents to overcome.
Brother to a Dragonfly, Will Campbell: Campbell's first autobiography, detailing his unique life and especially his relationship with his brother who was caught in addiction, alongside the epoch-changing fights over racial justice that Campbell was fully engaged within.
The Scottish Tartans, Johnson and Bacon: Just don’t know where else to keep this wee book about ma Scottish heritage. I suppose it is about the governance of the Scottish clans?
Spiritual Development and Prayer
The Interior Castle, by Teresa of Avila: A classic, a beautiful and peculiar book on the depths of prayer, composed by a woman who knew of which she spoke (though she constantly disparages herself and her wisdom throughout the book). Teresa writes for her monastic sisters, counselling them on what to expect as they enter their own souls in prayer, the place where they will meet the Master of the House. She warns them of the distractions and suffering they will meet as they move deeper and deeper into the castle of prayer, and also speaks movingly of the benefits and favours to be found through union with Jesus. It is not easy to read or understand everything Teresa writes; she sometimes refers to things she has told the sisters at other times or in other writings, and one suspects there is a language and culture they are all familiar with, but with which we are not. Still, this is an extremely important guide to contemplative prayer, and to the virtuous life that should emanate from prayer.
One Story, One Song, by Richard Wagamese: Another beautiful, grounded, and wise book of meditations by Wagamese. These are reflections from the Ojibway writer concerning marriage, the natural world, his struggles with the Sixties Scoop and being fostered and adopted, the rooming house he and his wife ran with compassion, and the confluence of Native tradition and spirituality with a broader understanding of God, faith and life. Wagamese’s style is funny, simple, confident, yet vulnerable. He laments and jokes in equal measure, and is not afraid to compare life’s deepest heartaches and hopes with the game of baseball. He is kind, generous, and truthful.
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.
Better Together, by Danielle Strickland: Danielle’s new book is a timely and well-crafted call to be unflinchingly truthful about the inequity of the world when it comes to gender and power; to be obedient to the Lord in the call to share power and privilege; to be wisely strategic in the development and nurturing of inclusive leadership teams; and to be looking forward with hope, not backward with blame. Her chapter on power is especially important, I think, in a “zero-sum” world that believes (from all sides) that power can be won and lost, but not shared.
The Spirituals and the Blues, by James H Cone: Cone traces the development of spirituals to gospels, and the Blues to Jazz and Rap. All of this music comes from the same place - the pain of black people trying to survive and assert their being in the face of structures and powers that would negate and destroy them. The music is not simply performative - it is declarative of existence, of humanity, and of hope in the face of impossible opposition. Spirituals look beyond the grace for redemption, but not exclusively. They include calls to resist, to flee, to steal away. The Blues locate the struggle entirely on the worldly plane, but in these and the spirituals there is no clear dualism between the sacred and the secular. Essentially, Cone argues that this music IS black experience and history, and can only be rightly understood and created by those shaped by that history.
Abide in Love, by Ernesto Cardenal: An interesting book of meditations on love, written by the Guatemalan poet while a novice monk under the tutelage of Thomas Merton. The meditations assert that everything is love: gravity, evolution, the way animals interact, all of our ways of being. It is all love, though often it is misdirected love, unsatisfied love. Everything, Cardenal claims, works according to God’s loving will except sin, which is the imposition of human will. But even our sin is just love spent in the wrong way. The meditations contain a way of thinking that is similar to de Chardin’s view of divine evolution, as well as the true mystic’s emphasis on the knowledge of love above all theology. Love is Cardenal’s theology. It is good, but honestly a little repetitious, not seemingly written to be shared but for the author to reflect upon.
Didn’t See It Coming: Overcoming the 7 Greatest Challenges That No One Expects and Everyone Experiences, by Carey Nieuwhof: Really helpful book, very well-written and coming out of Nieuwhof’s real experiences with cynicism, compromise and burn out. It isn’t just leaders who should read this, but anyone who wants to ready themselves now for the hardships that are indeed coming. I resonated with almost every chapter, and his diagnosis and prescription seem really on point and wise to me.
Talking the Walk, by Marva Dawn: An interesting book, wherein Dawn attempts to recover the meaning and use of many “Christian” words that have, in her estimation, become corrupted. The names of the Trinity, the idea of Atonement, the work of salvation and the church are all examined in short essays. It is good, not great, and perhaps only those who really care about the power and use of words would spend much time with it.
Markings, Dag Hammarskjold: One of my favourite journals, the private and prayerful thoughts and concerns of the former UN Sec Gen. I resonate with much of his fear of being fraudulent.
Common Prayer for Ordinary Radicals: Prayed in the morning in front of Jacob’s Well, and in the evening around the dinner table with our community. This is the 8th time through the book.
A Prayer Journal, Flannery O’Connor: A short work from O’Connor’s early life, where she wrestles with writing and faith and prayer and the worry that she is merely mediocre. Some deep prayer here, and some stunning turns of phrase for a young writer.
Hildegard of Bingen, a Visionary Life, by Sabine Flanagan: A very thorough survey of Hildegard's life and works. I was looking more for examples of her hymns and poetry, though, so the parts I enjoyed most were less the analysis, more the transcription of the thought and theology of this incredible 11-12th century anchoritess.
Poetry
The Temple, by George Herbert: 16th century poet, contemporary of John Donne and also a priest in the Church of England. Herbert’s poetry is devotional, doctrinal, convicting, and sometimes confusing due to the difference in time and culture between his era and ours. I love his poem “The Church Militant” and also “Aaron” (not just because it is my name). There are lines within many of his poems that I had to stop and write down because they express a truth so aptly and succinctly.
To Bless the Space Between Us, by John O’Donohue: I have heard a lot about O’Donohue, but this is the first book of his I read, at a friend’s house. It is a series of poems of blessing, designed for everyday life moments - morning, transitions, work, fear, wounds, meals, homes, death, sleep. They are beautiful and simple, and helped me prepare for a few meetings I had that were causing me some anxiety.
Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman: Whitman’s great, ranging ode to American Democracy, and his comprehensive vision of the American ideal of the 19th century. Whitman writes about America with the same hope and even worship that I might write about Jesus, and this is concerning. But he evidently really believed, and categorically so. Many of his poems are long lists of the elements of the Nation, physical, biological, technical, martial, political, economical and more. The poems are mostly unbound by metre or rhyme (he is called the father of free verse) and are aggressively populist rather than elitist. I would liken Whitman to Metallica in that respect. And, along those lines, no poet has ever loved the exclamation point as much as Whitman! My favourite from this collection is Respondez, which I take as horrifically prophetic, as Whitman looks at the ways his beloved society could become depraved and degraded.
Poems, by Gerard Manley Hopkins: A beautiful collection of sacred poems from the 19th century Jesuit poet. I found this stanza so powerful, from his poem “Carrion Comfort”: My own heart let me have more pity on; let / Me live to my sad self hereafter kind, / Charitable; not live this tormented mind / With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun by JRR Tolkien: Well, now I really know where Tolkien drew his inspiration from. These are poems in the Norse style, composed (or interpreted) by Tolkien as a result of his long study and teaching of the Sagas, Eddas and Lays of the North. These two long Lays tell the story of Sigurd and Brynhild, the Volsungs, and Sigurd’s wife Gudrun (who was herself faithful, but who he married as a result of her mother’s deceit, to everyone’s doom). Within these poems can be traced the origins of Tolkien’s Mirkwood, Aragorn, the curse of rings, dragons, Hurin and Turin (especially) and much else besides. The poems are accompanied by commentary from Christopher Tolkien, who fills in details from the original stories where possible and highlights his father’s process where he can.
Autumn Testament, by James K Baxter: Baxter was a New Zealand poet whose faith compelled him to embrace poverty and participate in a mixed community of Maori and white people called “Jerusalem”. By the time he wrote Autumn Testament, just prior to his death (in his forties), the community had faded and so had his sense that he needed to “climb a ladder” towards God. He remained poor, he continued to live in a smaller community, he retained his relationships with the poor around him, and he become more receptive to the grace and mercy of God. His poetry is simple, like talking, and filled with Maori words and phrases. The poetry is laced with humour, pathos, and daily human tasks, and doesn’t take itself too seriously: "I think the Lord on his axe-chopped cross / Is laughing as usual at my poems." It is so beautiful.
God’s Trombones, Seven Negro Sermons Set to Verse, by James Weldon Johnson: a beautiful series of poems based upon the “Negro Sermon”, which Johnson portrays as a staple in black Churches and in all-comer revivals from the late 19th century on. But, as it was in danger of disappearing, Johnson sought to immortalise the words, ideas and rhythms of the Negro sermons in seven powerful poems. He likened the voices of the Black preachers he knew in his youth to trombone - deep, melodic, punctuating, and capable of every note on the scale.
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 Dickenson: Dickenson, 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.
Graphic Novels
Embroideries, by Marjane Satrapi: From the author of Persepolis, this graphic novel offers a glimpse into a world I would never otherwise see: the “discussions” of Iranian women when their men are napping after lunch. Satrapi records the concerns, jokes, stories and advice offered around things like keeping (or faking) one’s virginity; marriage and divorce; Iran versus Europe; being a mistress versus being a wife; and much more. Again, this is not a world I know at all, and it is fascinating.
Weirdos From Another Planet (Calvin and Hobbes Collection Vol 7), by Bill Watterson: This is good heart and soul therapy, both sentimental and still hilariously funny. Calvin’s takes on the world - sometimes appropriate to a precocious six year old, sometimes clearly more the ponderings of a middle-aged man - are still relevant and pithy. I love his philosophical queries as he hurtles down the mountainside in his wagon with Hobbes, but I also love the absurd and silly entries. My favourite from this collection is maybe the simplest of all the jokes. Frame one has Calvin blowing a bubble from a bottle of bubble mixture. Frame two sees the bubble rise in the air. In frame three the bubble gently pops. Frame four has Calvin breaking the fourth wall, turning to the reader and, clearly underwhelmed, saying “Whee.” So simple, so genius.
The Sandman: Overture, Neil Gaiman: I read the Sandman Chronicles again as a treat. So darkly inventive, frightening, profound, and sad. Perhaps the greatest graphic novels of all time.
The Sandman: Prelude and Nocturne
The Sandman: The Doll’s House
The Sandman: Dream Country
The Sandman: Seasons of Mist
The Sandman: A Game of You
The Sandman: Fables and Reflections
The Sandman: Brief Lives
The Sandman: World’s End
The Sandman: The Kindly Ones
The Sandman: The Wake
Hellboy, Descent Into Hell, Mike Mignola: a guilty pleasure of a book, the story of Hellboy, freshly killed by a dragon, taking a Ebenezer Scrooge-like journey through Pandemonium to see his possible future, mixed his his present and past. Hellboy consistently refuses his “demonic” heritage and stands for the Good.
Hellboy in Hell, Mike Mignola: A graphic novel detailing Hellboy’s death and descent into Hell, where he is supposedly destined to reign, but where he simply doesn’t want to be. Once again Mignola explores the tension between one’s “destiny” and one’s choices.
Laid Waste, Julia Gfrorer: Set in a medieval village in the midst of the Black Death, a woman with supernatural strength tries to keep a semblance of life going even as she takes care of the bodies accumulating around her. Dark, disturbing, yet still holding onto a shred of hope in the middle of despair.
Scripture
Exodus
James
Ezekiel
Mark
Jonah
1, 2 Thessalonians
1, 2 Timothy
Titus
Colossians
Philemon
1, 2 Peter
Amos
James
1, 2, 3 John
Jude
Ruth
Ephesians
1-2 Corinthians
Joel
Micah
Galatians
Nahum
Habbakuk
Zephaniah
Haggai
Zechariah
Matthew
Jonah
Ezra
Nehemiah
Revelation
