The Literary Lives of the Inklings by Philip and Carol Zaleski

My greatest challenge in reviewing this 500-page book (600 if you count the endnotes) is knowing what quotations to leave out since the whole thing was so wonderfully written.

Philip and Carol Zaleski have given us a great gift with their painstaking research on each of the major inklings (J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Charles Williams and Owen Barfield) and how their lives and writings intertwined. The name “Inklings”, according to Tolkien, was little more than a “pleasantly ingenious pun suggesting people with vague or half-formed intimations and ideas, plus those who dabble in ink.” But History would record that, however modest their pretensions, their inkblots were no mere dabblings.

The group came together at a strategic time. WWI had left many in despair, but in others it had instilled a longing to reclaim the goodness, beauty, and cultural continuity that had been so violently disrupted. The Inklings came together because they shared that longing; they believed, as did their literary and spiritual ancestors, that ours is a fallen world yet not a forsaken one, which was a belief that set them at odds with many of their contemporaries. Lewis described the Inklings to Williams as “a group of Christians who like to write.” The Zaleskis add that they shared more common characteristics than that including intellectual vivacity, love of myth, conservative politics, memories of war, and a passion for beef, beer, and verbal battle.

The book highlights the idiosyncrasies of each member of the group beginning with Tolkien’s rapid, slurring, unintelligible lectures, which students endured because, as one student remarked, “Tolkien could turn a lecture into a mead hall in which he was the bard and we were the feasting, listening guest. Speaking in Anglo-Saxon turned Tolkien’s leaden tongue to gold.” I was particularly interested in the details of Charles Williams' life because of C.S. Lewis' glowing accounts of him in his letters. The Zaleski's paint quite a different picture of him as a very strange man!

They also describe the periodic friction between the members, particularly Tolkien’s impatience with Williams because he disliked William’s fiction, but also because he distrusted Williams’ fascination with the occult. Lewis and Barfield disagreed often (and strongly) on the principles of anthroposophy. At times Tolkien and Lewis clashed in their literary views, but their friendship endured through the decades. When Lewis died, Tolkien wrote, “So far I have felt the normal feelings of a man of my age – like an old tree that is losing all its leaves one by one, but this feels like an axe-blow near the roots.”

Of course, in 500 pages, you are bound to find lots more information (trivia?) than in other books. It was fun to read that some of the early reviews of The Lord of the Rings called it “juvenile trash” and “an overgrown fairy story” (!)

According to the Zaleskis, By the time the last inkling passed away on the eve of the 21^st century, the group had altered, in large or small measure, the course of imaginative literature, Christian theology and philosophy, comparative mythology, and the scholarly study of the Beowulf author, of Dante, Spenser, Milton, courtly love, fairy tale, and epic; and drawing as much from their scholarship as from their experiences of a catastrophic century, they had fashioned a new narrative of hope amid the ruins of war, industrialization, cultural disintegration, skepticism, and anomie.

For three months this was my bed-time book, and it brought me many hours of pleasure.

Blessings, 

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

I have avoided Anna Karenina for decades, but felt encouraged by the Literary Life podcast group to finally take the plunge. The main thing that helped me overcome my fears was finding out it was not "all about Anna." It was a relief to find the novel peopled with other interesting characters whose stories were woven around hers to make a rich tapestry showing man's longing for love and for meaning. An essential parallel story is that of Levin and his search for faith.

It's hard not to give spoilers, so I'll give the only one that I think everyone already knows: Anna's unhappy marriage and her search for love elsewhere. I marveled that her lover encouraged her to be flirtatious and never had a moment's agony over other men's attention toward her. Levin, on the other hand, was often unreasonably (it seemed to me) jealous over any attention his wife received.  As I pondered this, I thought of the holy jealousy of God as expressed in the Scriptures, which is not pettiness because His desire is for the good of the loved one. His purpose to have a deep, loving relationship with His people means that any rivals must go. So even though Levin comes off as more plebian and Vronsky as more sophisticated, the reader knows that their difference in attitude is a significant expression of their characters.

The biggest challenge was the sheer length of the book (and learning everybody's names), but it was not hard to understand at all. I found my mind wandering during the bits about politics and farming, but was able to appreciate those sections when I switched over to the audiobook. (free on YouTube or at Librivox) 

Tolstoy was a master at conveying the longings and disappointments of his protagonists, portraying them in all their glory and their brokenness. This is unquestionably a masterpiece. 

Has anyone else tackled it? Any thoughts?

Postscript on the various translations: I am no expert on translations, but sometimes I much preferred the Nathan Haskell Dole version (1899) at Librivox to the version I own (2004). Here's a brief example from the end of Book 8.

[After the storm,] they gathered up the wet napkins; the nanny took the baby out and carried him. Levin walked beside his wife and, guilty on the account of his vexation, squeezed her hand in secret from the nanny. (Peavar/Volokhonsky)

[After the storm,] they hastily picked up the wet diapers, the nurse took the baby, and Levin, ashamed of his vexation, gave his arm to his wife and led her away, pressing her hand gently. (Dole)

By the context we know that the baby had to be changed, which kept the two women from getting home before the rain storm. The use of the word "napkins" is awkward. ("Napkins/nappies" are diapers in British English, but this translation was done by an American and his Russian wife.) This highlights the problem of "literal vs dynamic equivalent" methods of translation. One tries to be true to the Russian-sounding phrases and goes for more of a word-for-word rendition. The other tries to render the translation with flow and beauty. In this case, I preferred the smoother flowing sentences.

The most readable version by far was the one I checked out from my library (Mint Editions - no translator listed): "They gathered up the baby's wet belongings; the nurse picked up the baby and carried it. Levin walked beside his wife and, penitent for having been angry, he squeezed her hand when the nurse was not looking."

 

Blessings,

Victober Book Plans

Kate Howe is a delightful Booktuber whose channel has great reviews of mysteries, fairy tale retellings, and classic literature. Every October she hosts a reading challenge of her favorite genre, Victorian literature. Since my last few months of reading have been heavy on theology, I'm looking forward to joining her for some lighter books.

First, I'll be doing the read-along of Jane Eyre. (My 12th time to read it.) In addition I've combed through my Kindle to see if I have any books from that era that I might tackle. Here are the top contenders:

A Dish of Orts - Essays by George MacDonald

Scenes of Clerical Life by George Eliot (three of her early novellas)

Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskell (or Gaskell's bio of Charlotte Brontë)

Apologia Pro Vita Sua - Spiritual autobiography of Cardinal John Henry Newman (or his novel Loss and Gain)

I'd like to explore at least two of these Victorian poets: Francis Thompson (GK Chesteron was a fan), Thomas Hood, John Clare, Mathilde Blind (who wrote poems in protest of Darwin's view of man), William Ernest Henley, Jean Ingelow or Algernon Charles Swinburne.

I'm also considering a book of love letters between Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Should be fun!

The link to Kate's introductory video is here. 

Blessings,

How Books Help Put us Back Together Again

Children's author, Katherine Paterson, reflects on her love for good literature:

And when you close Homer, there are the books of Jane Austen and Joseph Conrad, and great fat volumes of Tolstoy.  There is the Bible, perhaps the most over prescribed and least taken of any.  There is Flannery O’Connor and Anne Tyler.  There is William Shakespeare and Jacob Bronowski.  There is The Yearling and A Tale of Two Cities.  There is The Secret Garden and The Wind in the Willows.  There is Ramona the Brave and Where the Wild Things Are.  I have only begun to name what I especially love.  There are countless others - really good books.  Good or even great because they make the right connections.  They pull together for us a world that is falling apart.  They are the words that integrate us, stretch us, comfort and heal us.  They are the words that mirror the Word of creation, bringing order out of chaos.

(p. 238 from her book of essays The Invisible Child)

Blessings,

Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens

G.K. Chesterton called Nicholas Nickleby Dickens’ first real novel. The previous three publications had been Sketches by Boz (no hero), the PickwickPapers (older hero), and Oliver Twist (child hero). This was his first novel with a proper and dignified romantic hero; which means, of course, a somewhat chivalrous young donkey. Chesterton's description captures the personality of our young hero perfectly.

Nicholas is a young man who suddenly loses his father and must do his best to provide for his mother and sister. But in order to do so he must overcome the evil machinations of his uncle and his entourage of seedy companions. There were times when I almost despaired of a happy ending, but chapter 64 finally arrived and all was right with the world. I can’t be sure if the tears that pricked my eyes were from happiness or from relief that I finally finished this 731-page tome.

While I liked the book very much, I did not love any of the principal characters. The bad ones were far too bad and the good ones were far too good. Honest, simple John Browdie, a minor character, was my favorite (reminding me of Joe from Great Expectations). He is an uneducated man with an innate sense of right and wrong, but unlike Joe, he has an enormous sense of humor and self-confidence.

I’m working my way through the Dickens’ canon, and though this was not a favorite, I still relished the hilariously drawn lesser characters and the lovely writing. Take this description of Arthur Gride's house: Meagre old chairs and tables, of spare and bony make, and hard and cold as misers’ hearts, were ranged, in grim array, against the gloomy walls; [tall cupboards], grown lank and lantern-jawed in guarding the treasures they enclosed, and tottering, as though from constant fear and dread of thieves, shrunk up in dark corners, whence they cast no shadows on the ground, and seemed to hide and cower from observation. A tall grim clock upon the stairs, with long lean hands and famished face, ticked in cautious whispers… (p. 590)

I like Chesterton’s suggestion to read the novels in order of publication to watch the progression of Dickens' talent. If you read Nicholas Nickleby (or, better yet, listen to Mil Nicholson read it free at Librivox), follow it up with Chesterton’s witty commentary from Appreciations and Criticisms of the Works of Charles Dickens. (free for Kindle)   

Blessings,

Persuasion by Jane Austen

It's been over thirty years since I read a print copy of Jane Austen's Persuasion. In fact, when I read it in 1988, I didn't like Anne who seemed like too much of a doormat; when I watched the 1995 film with Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds, I saw Anne in a completely different light. Since then I've listened to the audio version two or three times. Now thirty years later I revisited the actual book and loved it unequivocally. I laughed out loud at Mary's overgrown sense of importance. I relished each carefully crafted sentence. I agonized over Anne's losses. And I identified with her in a new way. She and I are both #2 on the Enneagram! Please beware of spoilers throughout this post.

The title of the book took on much more depth this time through. It not only refers to Anne who had been influenced to give up Wentworth as a young girl but also to Louisa Musgrove. Louisa declares she could never be persuaded to give up the man she loves, but later proves that implacability can be the same as pigheadedness. Even Wentworth admits that he was persuaded (by his own pride) to give up Anne too easily. The nuances of persuasion are noted in Anne's reflections after Louisa's accident. She is sitting next to Wentworth and wonders whether it ever occurred to him now, to question the justness of his own previous opinion as to the universal felicity and advantage of firmness of character; and whether it might not strike him that, like all other qualities of mind, it should have its proportions and limits. She thought it could scarcely escape him to feel that a persuadable temper might sometimes be as much in favor of happiness as a very resolute character. Later Austen writes of the necessity of distinguishing between steadfastness of principle and the obstinacy of self-will. In the end we find in Anne the perfect mingling of fortitude with gentleness.

Chapter 23 is pure literary comfort food as Anne and Harville debate over who is more faithful in unrequited love: men or women? And then there's THE LETTER from Wentworth to Anne. As Austen herself wrote, Such a letter was not soon to be recovered from.

If you haven't read this Austen title yet, please rush right out go online and get a copy. Preferably a hard copy that you can read, re-read and underline at your leisure.

Blessings,

My Antonia by Willa Cather

Ten years ago I read Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather and was underwhelmed. Several readers encouraged me to try My Ántonia. They also encouraged me to change my expectations and treat Cather's books less like novels and more like gorgeous word pictures of the American West. Their advice helped to make my second Cather title a rich experience.

Jim Burden is a ten year old orphan who moves to Nebraska to live with his grandparents. He meets a a family of Czech immigrants and forms a lifelong friendship with their daughter, Ántonia. Cather weaves together stories about Jim and "Tony's" families, adding in anecdotes of other settlers. Although Jim loves Ántonia, it is a many-faceted attachment (rather than just romantic attraction). Even when she marries, Jim continues to care deeply about her.

In addition to her powerful story-telling, Cather has a gift for fresh, lyrical prose. Jim describes the enthusiasm of a girl he took to a play: Everything was wonderful to her, and everything was true. It was like going to revival meetings with someone who was always being converted.

Near the end of the book, he meets Ántonia and sees that she has been battered by life. I was thinking, as I watched her, how little it mattered. I know so many women who have kept all things that she had lost, but whose inner glow has faded. Whatever else was gone, Ántonia had not lost the fire of life. She could still stop one's breath for a moment by a look or gesture that somehow revealed the meaning of common things. She had only to stand in the orchard, to put her hand on a little crabtree and look up at the apples, to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting.

And this description: The rains had made channels of the wheel-ruts and washed them so deep that the sod had never healed over them. They looked like gashes torn by a grizzly's claws.

No, this is not a typical novel with plot twists and happy endings, but it was very satisfying to visit the Old West, to catch a glimpse of some of its first settlers, and to savor their beautifully-told story.

Blessings,


P.S. I listened to this via Audible's free quarantine downloads, but I see that YouTube has quite a few audio versions of it. It's also available via Kindle Free.

On Reading Well by Karen Swallow Prior

Many reviewers gave On Reading Well a lower rating because “Prior did not convince them to read any of the books.” But they missed the point. Prior was making the case for the Great Books as teachers of virtue and she does a fine job. The introductory chapter is worth the price of the book.

It is not enough to read widely. One must also read well. One must read virtuously. The word virtue has various shades of meaning, but in general, virtue can most simply be understood as excellence.

Reading virtuously means, first, reading closely, being faithful to both text and context, interpreting accurately and insightfully. Indeed, there is something in the very form of reading – the shape of the action itself – that tends toward virtue. The attentiveness necessary for deep reading (the kind we practice in reading literary works as opposed to skimming news stories or reading instructions) requires patience. The skills of interpretation and evaluation require prudence. Even the simple decision to set aside time to read in a world rife with so many other choices competing for our attention requires a kind of temperance.

Therefore, even as you seek books that you will enjoy reading, demand ones that make demands on you: books with sentences so exquisitely crafted that they must be reread, familiar words used in fresh ways, new words so evocative that you are compelled to look them up, and images and ideas so arresting that they return to you unbidden for days to come.

After the intro, Prior presents ten chapters, each one linking a specific virtue with a famous classic. Some novels teach by showing the protagonist making good choices (Christian demonstrating diligence in Pilgrim’s Progress). Others show the necessity of a particular virtue by showing characters who make bad choices (Jay Gatsby's lack of temperance). My favorite was the discussion of chastity based on Ethan Frome. When I read the book years ago, I was oblivious to many of the important themes that Prior brings out in her analysis.

I did not understand Silence by Shusako Endo any better after reading Prior’s chapter on faith, but I thoroughly enjoyed her insights into Anne Elliott’s patience and Huck Finn’s courage. And I gained a much greater appreciation for several books and authors that I had dismissed as “not my style,” especially Flannery O’Connor.

Blessings,

Appreciations and Criticisms of the Works of Charles Dickens by G.K. Chesterton

Even though the title is a mouthful, this book isn't as hard to understand as many of Chesterton's other works. Appreciations and Criticisms of the Works of Charles Dickens is simply a compilation of introductions that G.K. Chesterton wrote for each of Dickens' novels. He reviews the books in chronological order and shows how Dickens developed as a writer. He praises Dickens' genius while at the same time commenting on some of the weaknesses of his works.

There are occasional Chesteronian phrases like: It is not the death of Little Nell, but the life of Little Nell, that I object to. and You cannot love a thing without wanting to fight for it. You cannot fight without something to fight for. To love a thing without wishing to fight for it is not love at all; it is lust. (p. 23) But for the most part, Dickens, and not G.K., is on center stage.

Some samples of his commentary:

Pickwick Papers will always be remembered as the best example of everything that made Dickens great; of the solemn conviviality of great friendships, of the erratic adventures of old English roads, of the hospitality of old English inns, of the great fundamental kindliness and honor of old English manners. First of all, however, it will always be remembered for its laughter. (p. 24)

Oliver Twist is by far the most depressing of all his books; it is in some ways the most irritating; yet its ugliness gives the last touch of honesty to all Dickens' spontaneous and splendid output. Without this one discordant note, all his merriment might have seemed like levity. (p. 39)

What I loved the most was this observation: All of Dickens' books are Christmas books. All of them have the element of drama, of waiting anxiously for something to happen, "a crisis of happiness" (advent). Secondly, they all take place in the "winter" of hardships where characters manage to celebrate in spite of the cold. And thirdly, is the element of the grotesque. Poets and painters have striven to express happiness by means of beautiful figures. Dickens understood that happiness is best expressed by ugly figures: the corpulence of Tony Weller and the red nose of Mr. Stiggins.

He goes on to describe The Christmas Carol as the best of the Christmas books because it has those three elements in spades: the sudden conversion of Scrooge, the winter scenes, and the undignified rejoicing of Scrooge's final happiness. The turkey that Scrooge bought was so fat, says Dickens, that it could never have stood upright. That top-heavy and monstrous bird is a good symbol of the top heavy happiness of the stories. (p. 112)

If you are not already a Dickens fan, you might find the book dry. But it made me want to read the whole canon. Also, each chapter contains spoilers so it's probably best to read the novels first and then see what Chesterton thought about them.

Blessings,

Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens

'Tis a sad gift, that much applauded thing, a constant heart. - Ella Wheeler Wilcox

This was by far my biggest literary emotional ride in 2017. I agonized with Florence's unrequited love, chortled at Dickens' sly jabs at human nature, dreaded the villains, and rejoiced with the book's true-hearted characters.

The title is ironic since the book focuses on the lives of several women. Young Florence, the main character, is rejected by her father for not being a son. Beautiful Edith has been groomed by her mother to marry for wealth. Even Alice Marwood,  a beggar's daughter, has been wrongfully used by her mother for selfish gain. The powerful secondary male characters are the prideful Mr. Dombey, the odious Carker, the gallant Walter, the devoted Toots, and the well-meaning Captain Cuttle.

Chesterton wrote that Dickens could make inanimate objects come to life in his novels and never have I seen that more than I did in Dombey and Son. The statue of the midshipman plays a prominent part in the narrative. And the descriptions of Carker's teeth are fundamental to the reader's understanding of Carker's various moods.


Capt. Cuttle and the Midshipman

I tried to watch the movie version of this book and it was too depressing. Dickens is MUCH easier to enjoy through his novels because he injects joy and hope in places that the movies have difficulty replicating. Yes, Florence's plight is horrific, but her moments of despondency are interwoven with scenes of the loving Toodle family, the humorous Captain Cuttle, and the bumbling, but loveable Mr. Toots.

Dickens makes delightful jabs at Victorian scholastic methods: It was part of Mrs. Pipchin's system not to encourage a child's mind to develop and expand itself like a young flower, but to open it by force like an oyster; he refers to this type of education as the perpetual bruising of intellectual shins. Then there are all the private jokes between the author and the reader (impossible to convey on film) like frequent mentions of Mrs. Pipchin's husband and the Peruvian mines and Captain Cuttle's precious sugar tongs. I was also amused by an early example of the phrase, "If he doesn't like it, he can lump it."

Dombey and Son has its share of unhappy situations, but the ending is satisfying. I appreciated the fact that various characters experienced redemption, but the changes in them were true to the limits of their personalities. 

My listening pleasure was doubled by the fantastic (free) narration done by Mil Nicholson at Librivox. It was worth every minute of the 40 hours.

Blessings,

Poetry of Alexander Pope - Vol 1

Thackeray called Alexander Pope (1688-1744) the greatest literary artist that England had ever seen. When I heard Professor John Sutherland say  that, "Pope is the greatest poet of the 18th century from whom elegant language flowed as easily as conversation," I figured it was time for me to become better acquainted with him. 

I was familiar with a few of his famous lines such as Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw, and A little learning is a dangerous thing, drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring, but had not read any of his complete works.

I was pleased to discover a depth and richness of his poetry. Even if you don't agree with everything he writes, he's worth the effort. Many of his poems are quite long and are sometimes hard to follow, but the beauty of language kept me going.

I loved the extensive "Essay on Man," but several passages stood out to me as worthy of reading and re-reading. In epistle three, he writes uniquely about sexuality and procreation:

Each sex desires alike, 'till two are one.
Nor ends the pleasure with the fierce embrace,
They love themselves, a third time, in their race!

Who knew you could write about this topic so succinctly and beautifully (and chastely)?

If you'd like a lengthy introduction to Pope's work, Volume one is available free for Kindle. The Essay on Man is available by itself. And a smaller book of poetry is here. I liked him so much that I ordered a hard cover copy of his poems to dip into again this coming year.

(Though well-known for his satire, this volume of poetry seemed more religious and philosophical in nature. I checked out Volume One from my library (digitally) and it has a different amount of pages from the Volume One at Amazon. So I'm not even sure it's the same book.)

Blessings,

The Classics of British Literature by John Sutherland

Political correctness has made the study of classic literature a scary proposition. Now that all white male authors are taboo, what exactly are we supposed to read? Knowing the propensity of modern scholasticism to disparage traditional classics,  I went into this series with some trepidation, but, happily, my fears were relieved.

Professor John Sutherland covers 600 years of British literature in witty, bite-sized chunks and he isn't afraid to give each author his due. It's true that he occasionally gives a nod to political correctness, but for the most part I found him to be even-handed. He doesn't ignore the Bible's impact on literature. Nor does he try to portray Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë as ardent feminists.

One reviewer said the lectures were superficial, but what would you expect with a half hour lecture on Milton? Or Dickens? Several authors merited two lectures (Shakespeare and Austen for example), but most were given a brief overview - just enough to whet your appetite for more. Sutherland is so apt at drawing out the positive traits of each author that he made me want to read every book he mentioned (even the ones I've hated in the past.)

Sutherland extols the beauty of specific novels and plays, while at the same time using precise and lovely language himself. I enjoyed his description of the "verbal technicolor" of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and of a non-Spenserian knight (i.e. one without a pure heart) as "just another brute on horseback."

Another delight was the way he cited opinions of authors about other authors. One example was that the members of the Bloomsbury group (no paragons of virtue) spoke of James Joyce's works as vulgar. E.M. Forster said, "He covers everything with mud." This brings me to another plus: Sutherland's discretion. He describes sexual tawdriness in books (and in the lives of their authors) without a hint of crudeness, which is no easy feat.

I picked up these 48 lectures when they were on sale at Audible. Little did I know what a bargain I was getting. I look forward to revisiting them in the future. A lovely overview of many wonderful classics.

Blessings,

Book Lovers' Guide to Great Reading by Terry Glaspey

I thought I'd given up reading books about books since my TBR list is so long that I'll need two lifetimes to complete it. And my tastes have matured enough that I no longer feel I have to read everything the "experts" tell me to read. But when this book lover's guide became available through PaperBackSwap, I couldn't resist. Glaspey shares my desire to be well-read and to be able to discern the important messages in both Christian and secular books.

There is nothing wrong with reading for entertainment. That is certainly one of its valid functions, and a noble one at that, because many of the very greatest books are extremely entertaining. But people who read only for entertainment are robbing themselves of one of the true pleasures of reading: that of expanding the mind, the heart, the soul, and the spirit. When we stop learning, we stop growing. (p. 198)

He begins the book with a list of Christian classics that everyone should read (Paradise Lost, Pilgrim's Progress, Augustine's Confessions, etc.) , and follows that with several chapters on secular books with "big ideas" that are important for Christians to read and evaluate. (John Locke, Machiavelli, and Voltaire are just a few suggested authors.) Glaspey calls the gaining of insights from godless men "plundering the Egyptians" (from Exodus 3:22) and challenges his readers to be unafraid to dialogue with these thinkers.

I found his suggestions of specific translations of several classics to be very helpful. He recommends John Ciardi's annotated translation of Dante's Divine Comedy and Peter Kreeft's condensed version of Aquinas' Summa Theologica, for example.

If you are a regular reader of this blog you will resonate with this guide to non-fluffy literature. Glaspey convinced me to try a few of the Greek classics, and he also encouraged me to try a few books I had ignored in the past as "not for me." I'll be reviewing them in the months to come.

Blessings,

On Stories by C.S. Lewis

I've read and appreciated The Chronicles of Narnia and half a dozen other C.S. Lewis titles, but one of my favorites is his lesser known An Experiment in Criticism (which I reviewed in 2009). On Stories is a book of essays that continues with the same theme of literary taste, what it means and how it is formed.

I thoroughly enjoyed Lewis' thoughts on fairy tales, Tolkien, Dorothy Sayers and children's lit because those are subjects dear to my heart. (This is the book with the famous quote, "A children's story which is enjoyed only by children is a bad children's story.") He makes a valiant effort to define good art vs. bad art in his essay, "Different Tastes in Literature." The other essays (on authors and topics that were unknown to me) required perseverance. This is a perfect book for reading in short spurts, giving yourself time to mull over and digest its ideas.

Lewis had a wide range of reading tastes and mentions many authors who were popular during his lifetime but who have since dropped off the scene. The third essay was a tribute to new-to-me author E.R. Eddison. The day after I read that chapter, I saw Eddison listed on Nick Senger's list of 50 classics. (It's #22 - The Worm Ouroboros.) I love making reading connections!

Other authors mentioned by Lewis that sent me scurrying for more information were Tobias Smollet, Mervyn Weakes, (Peake?) John Collier and Alfred Mee. Lewis compliments Henry Rider Haggard for the first lines of the book She and H.G. Wells for When The Sleeper Awakes. He has high praise for James Stephens' Deirdre (published in 1923) and calls David Lindsay's Voyage to Arcturus a "shattering, intolerable, and irresistible work."  His referral to Edwin Abbott's Flatland and George William Russell's poetry also added to my "books to investigate" list. Lewis admits that some of these authors have more imagination than writing skill, but that their stories are compelling nonetheless. Happily, most are free for Kindle so it won't be an expensive to explore them.

Blessings,

The Genius of Jane Eyre

As an INTJ I rarely gush, but I could jabber like a fool about Jane Eyre. I've read it so many times that I've lost count. I remember writing a paper about the book for my Freshman Composition class in college and having my professor scoff at my infantile gleanings. Whatever.

Thirty-five years later I may not be any more of a literary expert, but I am certainly much more familiar with its main characters and themes. I've read the Brontë family canon and various books about the siblings, but Jane Eyre still stands out to me as the brightest of the family gems.

It's stunning to think that a sheltered pastor's daughter in Victorian England was capable of such beautiful writing, witty repartee, and insights into human nature. This time through I saw dozens of metaphors. parallels, and incidents of foreshadowing that I never noticed before. If you've never read Jane Eyre, please read no farther because I'll be including spoilers.

I loved it that the previous owner of my copy of Jane Eyre
had marked one of my favorite passages.

My favorite discovery was looking up the meaning of Bridewell, one of Rochester and Blanche's charades in Chapter 18. Oh my word! Is it just a coincidence that Bridewell was the first English prison? Could the reference possibly refer to Rochester as a prisoner in a loveless marriage?

Several rich contrasts hit me for the first time in this reading: Jane visited her dying aunt in the room where she had been sent as a child to ask forgiveness for wrongs she had never done. Eight years later she gives her full and free forgiveness there. Then there were the two horrible Reed sisters vs. St. John's sisters. And both Rochester and Jane disdain the worth of their rivals so much as to not be capable of feeling any real jealousy (Miss Vale's lover and Blanche Ingram respectively.) Both St. John Rivers and Mr. Rochester exert a certain power over Jane. She gladly calls one of them her "master" and retains her own identity in his company, but she says of Rivers, "vivacity in me was distasteful to him. I did not enjoy my servitude."

I loved all these revelations because it shows high tightly-knit the story is. It's MUCH more than a  Victorian sensation novel. Someday I'd like to read the annotated version. I'm sure it would reveal even more of Brontë's genius.

Blessings,

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

I knew from earlier experience (Ethan Frome) that Edith Wharton could be heavy and gloomy, so I braced myself for The Age of Innocence.

Sure enough, Wharton paints a vivid tale of the empty lives of upper crust New Yorkers in the 1880s. The story is written so well that it won the Pulitzer prize for fiction in 1921 - the first time that prize was accorded to a woman.

Young Newland Archer is a rich, semi-employed lawyer (he doesn't really need to work, but he goes through the motions) who is in love with beautiful socialite May Welland. They are unquestioningly following all the conventions for their crowd when suddenly May's "bohemian" cousin, Ellen Olenska arrives from Europe.

Madame Olenska is fleeing an abusive husband and seeking divorce. Newland is persuaded by the family to talk her out of it since they want to avoid scandal and unpleasantness at all costs. As his relationship develops with Ellen he reconsiders all of his former values.

Wharton convinces the reader that throwing caution and convention to the winds is the surest road to happiness, but will our protagonist be brave enough to do it? As a believer in the sanctity of marriage vows, I was in constant agony throughout the book that he would leave his "dull"  wife and flee with the exciting cousin. Thankfully, Wharton does not give us a fluffy Hollywood ending. And, frankly, I was stunned by the clear-sightedness of the women in the story who had a firmer grip on reality than Archer, who thought his love for Ellen was the only "real thing."

I couldn't help but compare this book to Tuck Everlasting, a story in which a young girl chooses a prosaic life over one of adventure and it is seen as the more noble act. In Age of Innocence, the domestic life is seen as the cowardly choice.

This book is masterfully written, deeply disturbing, and surprising in its insights.

Heroes and Legends in Literature

I purchased Heroes and Legends: The Most Influential Characters of Literature with a free credit from Audible.com.

Professor Thomas Shippey (who is a Cambridge-educated expert on Medieval literature and a leading world scholar on the works of J.R.R. Tolkien) gives each of the 24 lectures. Each talk offers important insights into the world's great works of literature and why their heroes have lived on in our hearts and imaginations. How could I not love this series when it started out with a most unlikely hero, Frodo Baggins? Shippey explains why the world needed such a hero at that time in history.

Some of the lectures share additional, unknown information about famous characters (such as Robin Hood). Others walk the listener through the character's most famous story (Odysseus). I enjoyed the variety (In Lecture 16 he explains how people gained a taste for lighter reading. In Lecture 22 he talks about fairy tales and their modern feminist versions.) Although the final lectures include people that I would not have selected as literary heroes (Celie from The Color Purple and Winston Smith from 1984, for example), Shippey argues convincingly for their importance.

Shippey's enthusiasm for his subject keeps you listening. It doesn't hurt that he has a marvelous British voice and dry sense of humor. Although he deals with several indiscreet protagonists, he manages to keep the lectures at a PG level. I appreciated that he wasn't too politically correct to note when a character was helped by faith in God.

I've been listening to this off-and-on for three months and thoroughly enjoyed it. It was a refresher course on books I'd already read, and whetted my appetite for some of the others, except for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which sounds horrific. I have my doubts about that choice, but figure it was added to appeal to 21st century readers. Otherwise these lectures are highly recommended to literature fans.

(They are ridiculously expensive on the Great Courses site, but are $30 at Amazon/Audible.)

Paradise Lost for Dummies (like me!)

It's been two weeks since I finished Paradise Lost and I'm still speechless. It is a work of astonishing beauty and unforgettable imagery, which rightly deserves its place in the canon of the world's greatest literature.

But here I must make a confession: It took a tremendous amount of determination to finish it. And I only made it through with the help of several other resources. First, I found John Milton's Paradise Lost In Plain English which included a simple paraphrase along with the original text. I am pretty good at reading antiquated English, but even so I needed the "translation" about half the time.

As a child I was not fond of peas and was often sent to the basement to finish my meal. Reading Paradise Lost was a bit like sitting on those basement steps, struggling to get down each bite. But, lo and behold, I discovered an ally in Leland Ryken who encouraged me to keep going via his series, Christian Guides to the Classics. 

Ryken, an English professor at Wheaton College, has written a booklet outlining the major themes of Milton's masterpiece. He also supplies discussion questions and many insights into the book of which I was unaware, especially that PL mirrored all the great epic stories while at the same time turning them on their heads.

I could keep on gushing about the book, but luckily for you I have a bad cold and I'm leaving Brazil in less than a week (!) and don't have the time or energy to write more. I'll leave you with a few examples from the book.

After Adam and Eve sin, Christ says to his Father:

I go to judge on earth these thy transgressors, but thou knowst, whoever judged, the worst in me must light, when time shall be, for so I undertook before Thee; and not repenting, this obtain of right, that I may mitigate their doom on me derived. (Lanzara's paraphrase: I'll go judge the sinners. But you and I both know I'll be the one who gets the worst of the punishment. I promised it so they wouldn't have to die and I have no regrets.)

Examples of Milton's lovely prose:

Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou livst, live well. How long or short permit to Heav'n. XI-553

Satan mocks God's angels by saying they praise Him with "warbled hymns" and "forced hallelujahs." (II-243).

Contrast that to Milton's view of angels in heaven who "eat, drink, and in communion sweet quaff immortality and joy." V-637

This is another favorite book of mine for 2015.

Intimidating Classics

Although I was an English major in college and have a masters in philosophy and theology, I am intimidated by certain books. I sometimes wish I still had an English teacher to walk me through them. But I've discovered the next best thing: simplified (but not dumbed down) versions.

The less-daunting language helped me get over my qualms about these titles and it didn't take long to recognize their well-deserved classic status. The books I have tackled this way are:

Beowulf (Serraillier's children's version)
Paradise Lost (comes with a plain English version next to the poetic version)
The Odyssey (retold by Charles Lamb)
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Morpurgo's version for young people)

Another favorite method for getting through a difficult book is to listen to the audioversion, but this doesn't always work for books that requires careful, slow reading. Here are a few titles I would not have read (and enjoyed) if it had not been for the audioversion:

Shakespeare plays, The Turn of the Screw by James, Heart of Darkness by Conrad, Emma & Northanger Abbey by Austen, Daniel Deronda by Eliot and Moby Dick.

Even though I know they are worth the extra effort I'm still avoiding:

Anna Karenina, The Brothers Karamazov, Spencer's Faerie Queen, Canterbury Tales, The Aeneid, and Dante's Divine Comedy. Oh, and Uncle Tom's Cabin.

What about you? Are there any books you've been afraid to try?

Kindle Deals - Books about Books

Sometimes I like to pretend my TBR list isn't already a thousand books too long and I pick up a book about books (with a zillion more recommendations). That happened again last night when I saw these Kindle deals at Amazon:

Honey for a Woman's Heart: Growing Your World through Reading Great Books - 99 cents 

Honey for a Teen's Heart: Using Books to Communicate with Teens - 99 cents

Lit!: A Christian Guide to Reading Books - $1.99

The Christian Tradition in English Literature - 99 cents (I bought this one a few weeks ago, but since it's still on sale, I decided to add it to the list.)