Two More Molly Clavering Novels

My first Clavering novel was Dear Hugo, which I read two years ago. It got some negative reviews for not having the requisite “happily ever after” ending, but I liked it for not being too formulaic.

Sara Monteith is a young woman who lost her fiancé, Ivo, in WWII. Years later she moves to the village where he grew up to try to bring some closure. She gets to know the townspeople and writes about her experiences to Ivo's brother, Hugo.

I enjoyed the lovely writing and the vignettes of small-town life in 1950s England. Of course, any book with casual nods to the Bible, Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Gunga Din, Kubla Khan, Cranford, Sir Walter Scott, the Brontës, Louisa Mae Alcott, and The Book of Common Prayer would be sure to make my literature-loving heart sing for joy.

Because of the reviews, I braced myself for the ending, but, honestly, I didn't mind how it all played out. Sara lives an unimpressive life as far as book heroines go, but I loved it that her quiet steadiness couldn't help but have an impact on her community.

Yoked with a Lamb was my fourth Clavering novel. It was much more adult than the other novels in terms of language (mild swearing) and subject (adultery), but still very chaste by modern standards. 

Lucy and Andrew are trying to put their marriage back together after his dalliance with another woman. They do not love each other, but various motives propel them to try again. Their relationship is the background for much of what happens in the novel, but the story is peopled with many other strong characters such as Kate Heron, Robin Anstruther, and Robin’s formidable Aunt Jean. The ending was not quite as tidy as I had hoped it would be. But Clavering had her own way of resolving the Lucy and Andrew's situation that was satisfying enough. I wasn’t expecting to like the book as much as I did. 

I'm glad my library has four more Clavering titles!

Blessings,

The Dazzling Darkness by Guy Bowden

I bought The Dazzling Darkness (1950, Longmans, Green and Co.) mostly because it was the perfect size for reading in bed at night. It was also hard cover, inexpensive, and about a subject that I always enjoy. The subtitle is “An Essay on the Experience of Prayer” and the main title is taken from Henry Vaughan’s poem, The Night. I couldn’t find any pertinent information on Bowden so I went into the book “blind,” which was an advantage since I couldn’t judge the content by any pre-conceived notions.

Bowden opens the book self-deprecatingly: Books about golf are usually written by experts; so are books about Prayer. This one is not. It is written by one who has made, by personal experience, most of the mistakes it is possible to make in praying, and has discovered by the method of trial and error a great deal about “How Not to Pray.” His advice is extremely practical and his excellent prose is sprinkled with quotes from a variety of writers such as St. Teresa of Avila, St. Francis de Sales, Anthony Trollope, C.S. Lewis, E.M. Forster, Shakespeare, Dante, biblical authors, and Carl Jung (more about that later).

Although Bowden does not deny the mystical aspects of prayer, he affirms again and again that it is often just plain hard work. Yet it is a "duty" that brings rich spiritual dividends. I loved his constant emphasis on prayer as willful obedience – not as a slave to a master, but as a son to a beloved father. If we wait until we “feel like” praying, it will rarely happen.

To realize His presence is a very different thing from having sentimental fancies of sugary religiosity in which we can imagine ourselves to be enveloped as it were in the eiderdown of His protective care. To seek for an emotional thrill in every prayer is sentimental nonsense. If the emotion comes, it comes; let us thank God for the refreshment, take courage and go forward. If it does not come, it does not; we have to accept the fact.

We must not think, then, that because there may be very little pleasure in prayer, we must, therefore, be failing miserably. To judge the worth or the value of prayer by the amount of pleasure it affords is to apply far too subjective a test. It directs attention to us and our feelings rather than to God and His purpose and thereby makes us the center of interest instead of Him. If we expect prayer to be always pleasant, we are saying in effect, “Every time I say my prayers I ought to be provided with appropriate feelings” – presumably by God. But the assumption that God ought to do anything wrecks the whole relationship between soul and God, because it puts God in the position of a servant who is expected to perform certain duties, whereas He is King and sitteth between the cherubim. (p. 24)

My only quibble with the book is Bowden’s occasional nod to psychology. He never lets it take precedence over true faith, but he interjects a Jungian understanding of the soul when he talks about repression and the subconscious in chapter 10. That did not, however, dampen my enthusiasm for the book. It was a great encouragement to me to be more diligent in this area of my Christian life knowing that God is greater than all my weaknesses. And that the rewards far surpass any effort involved.

Blessings,