Jerusalem: The Eternal City, then, has a very specific audience. It is not a universal book about Jerusalem, and its limited audience does give the book some flaws. When I read this book ten years ago, prior to my own experience in Jerusalem, I was in love with everything to do with the city and its history, and this book got me more than a little excited to walk the streets of Jerusalem myself. Despite the flaws, I still enjoyed rereading Jerusalem: The Eternal City, and it reminded me of my time there.

Some of the flaws might be considered strengths. The ancient sections about the city rely almost exclusively on Biblical histories, and for those who want a scriptural overview of Jerusalem’s history, Jerusalem: The Eternal City amply provides that. The sections on modern political situations and possible solutions, while very interesting and seemingly balanced, did seem immature from my own immature political perspective. Of course, because the book is now 15 years old, such political perspectives may simply outdated. Each of the later chapters focused on a different part of recent history (political, religious, etc.) and were therefore repetitive about some historic events.

Finally, as a religious person myself, I did enjoy the religious perspectives of the book, but found myself hoping for more anthropological and archeological history in addition to the religious details. I think anyone approaching this book needs to understand that it’s a religious history and discussion before anything else. It’s not meant to balanced.

For me, the most interesting sections were those on Jerusalem at the Meridian of time (how the city was during the life of Christ) and the subsequent history of Jerusalem during the nearly two millennia that followed. (It started feeling repetitive during the discussions of the 1800s and after.) It was fascinating to see how three different dominant religions found the land and that specific city central to their faith. The later chapters, about possible religious futures for the city were, from a religious perspective, very interesting, and I liked reading the collection of scriptures about the city, all in one place.

Finally, because I had the opportunity to stay in the Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies, I was fascinated to read how such a center came about. I also have a separate book about the Center (Grafting In: A History of the Latter-day Saints in the Holy Land by Steven W. Baldridge), and I liked how Jerusalem: The Eternal City had the Center’s history condensed into one chapter. What I enjoyed about this history is how the Center was built into the land, and that the entire purpose to the center is historical and religious education (for college-aged American Christians) and unification of people and personality. It is right on the border between the West Bank and the city of Jerusalem, and when I lived there, the Center employed both Arabs and Jews, as well as Christians, a highly unusual arrangement. I am not sure that my 19-year-old self realized how unusual it was to have Arabs and Jews working side by side in the cafeteria in a West Bank educational center.

Since I read Jerusalem: The Eternal City as a reminder of my six to eight weeks living in Jerusalem (we also spent some time in Galilee, Jordan, and Egypt, although Jerusalem was our base), I think it might be appropriate to share some of my photos of the most beautiful city on earth. (A rabbi said that whoever has not seen Jerusalem in all its splendor has never seen a beautiful city in his life, quoted on page 2).

I used a dozen rolls of film when I was there. In retrospect I wish it had been the age of digital photography, since then I’d have taken more than twice as many photographs!

(Note: Click on a picture to see it larger. I scanned these pictures from the prints I have; they are out a bit fuzzy and somewhat out of focus. I was not a photographer and my camera was not an impressive one.)

The Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies (where I lived for 8 weeks). Hebrew University can be seen in the background.

The Western Wall

My study abroad group at the Dome of the Rock (I am in the second row for the bottom, sixth from the left)

View of the City of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives

Golgotha in two different seasons (the top is June when I left the area, the bottom is from April when I first arrived)

The Garden Tomb (my favorite retreat)

Me at the Garden Tomb

I read Jerusalem: The Eternal City in May and the first half of June as my project book.

• Palestine by Joe Sacco
• Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman + Giveaway (Used Book)
• Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss
• Moses, Man of the Mountain by Zora Neale Hurston
• Love in a Fallen City and Other Stories by Eileen Chang
• Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea by Guy Delisle
• Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan
• Chicago Poems by Carl Sandburg
• Nineteenth-Century Mormon Architecture and City Planning by C. Mark Hamilton
• The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas

And so, I come to the end of Paradise Lost. If you’re still reading it, feel free to leave your thoughts whenever you do finish it. There is no time limit to this project: read at your own pace and join in when you’ve finished.

For myself, I don’t think I “understood” it any better than I did the first time I read it seven years ago. That time, I was discussing it in a classroom. This time, I read it for enjoyment. We have been discussing it online, and I’ve been trying to further discussion through relevant questions and my own comments. I’ve come to a little bit of a discovery, though: everyone reads things in such a unique way that it’s very difficult to create relevant questions and it’s difficult to answer questions about something so huge as Milton’s Paradise Lost, even if you’re the one creating the questions to begin with. I think I need to read it a few more times in my life in order to better “discuss” it in any format.

This post, then, is a bit different. I leave us all with a series of related questions. My thoughts follow the jump.

• What was Paradise Lost about from your perspective? What did it mean to you as you read it?
• Milton says in the beginning that he wrote it to “justify the ways of God to men” (I.26). Did he succeed?
• In the end, what did you take away from Milton’s epic?

My Thoughts: Books 10-12 and The Entirety of Paradise Lost

I liked Book 10 but the last books kind of dropped off. I liked them, but they weren’t as majestic as the first few books, those with Satan. Was this intentional? In the commentary I read by C.S. Lewis, he suggested Milton got tired and hurried to an end, which I think is a bit silly to say. I would have to reread it myself to get the full effect. I think I got tired and wanted it to end.

For me, Paradise Lost was about obedience, choice, and consequence. Everything in the poem seems to revolve around laws and the consequences for disobeying them, as well as the wonderful example of human autonomy. First Satan, and then Eve and Adam made choices. Satan’s choice (rebelling against God) caused him to be cast out of heaven; Eve and Adam’s choice required that they leave paradise.

According to Merriam-Webster, “justify” means, in part, “to prove or show to be just, right, or reasonable b (1) : to show to have had a sufficient legal reason.” Did Milton “justify” God’s plan in Paradise Lost? I think he did, but that’s because so much of what Milton suggests resonates with my own Christian beliefs. My read was a personal one.

In the Norton Critical Edition, there is commentary by Scott Elledge following the text of Paradise Lost. He says a number of things that I found useful in putting my thoughts together, so I share them here.

The consequence of eating was knowledge of a certain kind – knowledge that good could be gained only by knowing evil. … Milton recognized in perfect Adam a thirst for knowledge that is best understood as a passion for contemplating God’s works for the right purpose – that of knowing God and glorifying him. (page 470)

The poem does not convince us that Adam should be glad he fell – only that Christians maybe glad that the consequences were so good for mankind. The final justification of God’s ways is the manifestation of his grace in the redemption of man through the incarnation and crucifixion of Christ. (page 471)

My person beliefs about the fall are that it was not a sin but a transgression, and that all “will be punished for their own sins and not for Adam’s transgression” (Article of Faith 2). That is not what Milton is saying: he follows traditional Christianity’s look at the Fall as the first sin of man. For me, though, Milton’s portrayal of God’s attitude toward Adam and Eve’s taking the fruit was similar enough that it resonated to me.

To explain: Milton’s God was not a vengeful God out to punish, but a God of laws and consequence that had the foresight to provide a second-chance plan (the Son of God) once he realized that Satan’s temptation would cause the two humans to fall. See God’s observations III, 80-134. (“I made him just and right, / Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.” III, 98-99.) The Son of God’s response is at III.227-264. (“Behold me then, me for him, life for life/ I offer.” III, 236-237.) This discussion occurs before Eve and Adam take the fruit, and Satan has not yet conversed with them. I certainly thought Milton gave justification to God’s ways.

At any rate, whether or not Milton succeeded in echoing my own understandings or in justifying God’s ways, what I got out of Paradise Lost overall is a sense of overwhelming need to reread complicated things. I didn’t reread this since I sat down to write these thoughts, and my first read was so long ago (seven years maybe?) that it seems a vague memory. I feel like I need to reread Paradise Lost a number of times in order to properly respond to it. And I suspect I’ll read it again. It could bear rereading every few years.

In addition to skimming some of the Norton Critical Edition end matter, I also read a few others books this month as I read Milton.

John Milton by Neil Forsyth

Neil Forsyth admits that his work is not a definitive biography. It is, after all, less than 250 pages. In his introduction to John Milton: A Biography, Forsyth writes:

I have tried to transmit to as wide a readership as possible the result of the scholarly researches of others, along with some of my own opinions. My task, as I saw it, was to write a biography of Milton that would excite readers who might merely be curious. (page 7)

I found this biography to be perfect for my needs. If anything, it lacked details on Milton’s personal life, but given the fact that this was 400 years ago, I suspect such things are hard to prove. As it was, it gave a great overview of Milton’s life, with his works placed in to a historical context. Since much of what Milton wrote was political and I am not familiar with his era, this was very helpful for me. I highly recommend this biography if, as he writes in the introduction, you are curious about Milton the man and his era.

A Preface to Paradise Lost by C.S. Lewis

Just as the biography of Milton gave Milton’s politics context, C.S. Lewis’ Preface gave context to Milton’s format (the epic) and religion (Christianity). Although I am Christian, Milton’s and Lewis’ Christianity follow different precepts, so I appreciated the background. That said, while I enjoyed Lewis’ commentary overall, I found it incredibly dry. I read about 120 of the 140 pages, skipping some parts of more boring chapters. There were quotes I enjoyed as I read that helped me put Paradise Lost into context, but I neglected to mark them and can no longer remember them.

The most interesting parts were C.S. Lewis’ opinion chapters on the specific characters in Paradise Lost. He is very emphatic on the fact that Satan is not a hero in this text. Satan was, I would say, the most interesting character, but I’d have to agree with Lewis on most points that he was not the one we’d like to spend any time with. He was a bit too selfish to be pleasant. At any rate, Lewis’ literary criticism is not what I’d recommend reading if you want commentary. He put some things into context, but it was a slog to get through.

• Milton in May Week 1: Introduction and Paradise Lost Books 1-3
• Milton in May: Paradise Lost, Books 4-6
• Milton in May: Paradise Lost, Books 7-9
• Milton in May: Paradise Regained
• Milton in May: Areopagitica and Adam and Eve’s Choice in Paradise Lost
• Milton in May: A Paradise Lost Read-Along
• Any Interest in a May Read-Along of Paradise Lost?
• Milton in May: Thoughts on Some Early Milton Poems
• Milton in May: Comus and Lycidas by John Milton
• May and Milton in May in Review + Challenges Update and Reading Journal

Silence

Yet, to some extent, Silence seems similar to the other Japanese novels I’ve read (Naomi, The Makioka Sisters, The Old Capital) because all occurs under the conflict of Japanese society versus western society; Silence happens to take place 300 years earlier, showing that such conflicts are long-rooted in Japan. Silence, although at its heart a Christian novel, is likewise a Japanese novel in the way it adopts the common struggle toward accepting western ideals that seems to recur in Japanese literature (at least, in the ones I’ve read: I suspect this is a common theme).

The main character in Silence is Father Rodrigues, a priest coming from Portugal to discover why the other fathers have disappeared from contact. Surely, those faithful men did not apostatize from the faith? At this point in the 1600s, Christianity has been made illegal, and anyone found practicing Catholicism is tortured, priests especially. Father Rodrigues is entering a place from which he will not emerge the same.

The novel’s writing felt uneven to me: it switched from first-person narration to third-person narration to “reports” by unknown officials. I didn’t like this writing style, I didn’t like the change in perspective, and it felt odd to constantly be searching for ground when I picked it up. I was not crazy about the novel for those reasons. The subject, however, made this a book I had to keep reading.

Although I am a Christian, I am not a Catholic. I don’t worship idols or images, nor do I consider such items sacred. The people’s specific faith and Father Rodrigues’ presence seemed very ritualistic and “western” to me. Father Rodrigues clearly had a strong faith in Christ. Yet, his relationship to the people seemed to be as a leader of ritualistic importance, from confession to providing rosaries and crosses. Despite the fact that the Catholic elements were not familiar to me, the need for missionary work in an area where it is not appreciated reminded me strongly of occurrences elsewhere in the world and in scripture.

The novel’s title, Silence, refers to the Father’s frustration with the heavens not stopping the atrocities happening to the faithful Christian people. He didn’t feel he’d received any understanding as to why these things were happening. Similar atrocities to people of faith have happened throughout history, from the early Christian missionaries to the Jews in the Holocaust.

One scriptural example from the Book of Mormon seemed to echo through my mind as I read Endo’s book. I share it simply because it gives me comfort to see that (1) God takes the righteous into his care; (2) God allows people to have agency, even when they choose poorly; and (3) God will hold people responsible for the ways they treat others, even if retribution is not evident here on earth.

Contextual note: After the missionaries Alma and Amulek taught the people in the community of Ammonihah, persecution arose and the missionaries were kept in jail while the righteous were tortured and killed. Amulek own family is probably among the wives and children.

8 And they brought their wives and children together, and whosoever believed or had been taught to believe in the word of God they caused that they should be cast into the fire; and they also brought forth their records which contained the holy scriptures, and cast them into the fire also, that they might be burned and destroyed by fire.

9 And it came to pass that they took Alma and Amulek, and carried them forth to the place of martyrdom, that they might witness the destruction of those who were consumed by fire.

10 And when Amulek saw the pains of the women and children who were consuming in the fire, he also was pained; and he said unto Alma: How can we witness this awful scene? Therefore let us stretch forth our hands, and exercise the power of God which is in us, and save them from the flames.

11 But Alma said unto him: The Spirit constraineth me that I must not stretch forth mine hand; for behold the Lord receiveth them up unto himself, in glory; and he doth suffer that they may do this thing, or that the people may do this thing unto them, according to the hardness of their hearts, that the judgments which he shall exercise upon them in his wrath may be just; and the blood of the innocent shall stand as a witness against them, yea, and cry mightily against them at the last day.  Alma 14:8-11

And so Silence also seems to me to echo the issues surrounding Milton’s Paradise Lost. People have agency to choose what they do, just as Eve and Adam did in the garden. The military leaders in Japan in the 1600s probably weren’t quite sure about Christianity; I don’t think those leaders fully comprehended the doctrine of the priests that they were torturing. Nevertheless, whether they did or didn’t, God knows: he will take all in to consideration and he will hold them responsible.

As for the novel: *spoiler* Personally, I don’t think Father Rodrigues truly apostatized, and maybe that is the point. He still believed. Putting one’s foot on an image, while breaking his faith to some extent, didn’t mean that he stopped believing in Christ. The last section of the novel, which was a series of “reports” from the era, seemed to suggest that Rodrigues was still secretly teaching of Christ. Christianity had to change tactics and go “underground.”

Silence is a Christian historical novel, and also a purely Japanese one. There is a definite conflict between East and West in it, and yet the main conflict is an internal one. It is a story of a man of faith coming to an understanding of the world and his place in it. Although his faith is tested in a violent situation, his story is one that I suspect resonates in Christians today, for who has not questioned the “why”s behind the relationships of God and man?

• Naomi by Junichiro Tanizaki
• Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan
• The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order by Samuel P. Huntington
• Abraham Lincoln: A Man of Faith and Courage by Joe Wheeler
• The Makioka Sisters by Junichiro Tanizaki
• Divine Songs by Isaac Watts (Poetry Friday)
• Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis
• The Old Capital by Yasunari Kawabata
• A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
• Father Brown by G.K. Chesterton

I admit that I slowed down a little bit in the last two weeks (hence, there was no Paradise Lost post last week). I got a head cold and I don’t think Milton is best considered on a cloudy brain. But, there is still a week left in the month, and I suspect I’ll still be reading Milton into the first week(s) of June. Once I picked up Milton again recently, I felt I needed to keep going. There seems to be some kind of momentum that comes from reading, and I always enjoy it once I do pick up Paradise Lost.

Discussion questions and thoughts on Books 7-9 after the jump.

Paradise Lost Discussion Questions: Books 7-9

Here are some questions if you aren’t sure how to respond to the section. I had a difficult time thinking in terms of “questions” this week; I was more inclined to just write my reactions to the section as a whole. Hence, this is shorter than in past weeks. If these don’t help you any, just tell us how your reading is going, and what your general impressions are of Paradise Lost at this point

• How does Raphael’s description of the creation (book 7) strike you? What about Adam’s description of his and Eve’s own creation (in book 8)?
• In book 8, Adam asks about the movements of the celestial bodies. Why do you think Milton included this section, and Raphael’s response?
• What did Milton’s portrayal of Eve and then Adam taking the fruit (book 9) tell you about their relationship? Did you like Milton’s approach?

My Thoughts: Paradise Lost books 7-9

A commenter the other week mentioned that it was interesting to read my religious reaction to Paradise Lost, since for that particular commenter it was an epic myth much as Homer. Yes, my reaction certainly is religious in nature: I don’t think I can approach Milton in any other way. I appreciate it all the more because it tells the religious traditions I believe in and blends in the epic proportions of Homer.

This next section, books 7-9, took me a while to get through. When I did finish, I’d developed a head cold, and I didn’t quite feel up to trying to write about Paradise Lost in my daze. Now, it’s been a few more days, so my thoughts are distanced from the reading. I recall I enjoyed portions of the section, but Book 9 was wonderful.

The story of the creation of the world (book 7) wasn’t as dull to me as were the story of the battles in the previous section’s reading. It was a nice change. I liked some of the beautiful language Milton used to describe the various stages of the world’s creation.

He scarce had said, when the bare Earth, till then
Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorn’d,
Brought forth the tender Grass, whose verdure clad [ 315 ]
Her Universal Face with pleasant green,
…..          That Earth now
Seemd like to Heav’n, a seat where Gods might dwell,
Or wander with delight, and love to haunt [ 330 ]
Her sacred shades: … (VII. 313-316, 227-331)

Then, the discussion about the heavens at the beginning of the next book (book 8 ) is an interesting albeit a slightly boring one. It seemed Milton was saying we should not worry about what we don’t need to worry about. Science is for scientists; we should not consider it a way of understanding heaven. Religious understanding should be separate from scientific understanding. As I read Forsyth’s biography, I learned that Milton had really enjoyed his visit with Galileo, then under house-arrest, when he visited Italy. Maybe this discussion of science in his religious epic was his way of saying that science should remain separate from religion. I still felt book 8 was weaker than the other books, but knowing Milton’s interest in Galileo (and his interest in astronomy), it seemed a little more interesting. Milton’s religious epic had to have a political aspect to it for it to be truly Milton, I guess.

The second half of book 8, Adam’s discussion of his own creation, seemed rather sexual, which seemed rather surprising. The angel’s warnings reminded Adam of the need for his love to avoid becoming lust:

… love refines
The thoughts, and heart enlarges, hath his seat
In reason, and is judicious, is the scale
By which to heav’nly love thou may’st ascend.
Not sunk in carnal pleasure for which cause
Among the beasts no mate for thee was found. (VIII.589-594)

I don’t think Adam was lustful at this point in the text. It seemed to me that Adam practically had to beg God for a companion because he was lonely, and he’s now very glad she is there. He loves having a companion. But Raphael’s warnings are all foreshadowing for Adam’s subsequent fall in book 9. Some commentary suggests that Adam’s epic weakness in Paradise Lost is his attraction to Eve.

Unsurprisingly, book 9 was my favorite book in this section, when Eve is tempted to partake of the fruit. Some commentary suggested that Milton portrayed Eve as partaking of the fruit without thought, but I thought her explanation to Adam to be quite thoughtful. Then again, this statement to Adam comes after she has partaken of the fruit, so maybe she’s already become wise:

… I
Have also tasted, and have also found
The’ effects to correspond, opener mine eyes,
Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart,
And growing up to godhead; which for thee
Chiefly I sought, without thee can dispise. (IX.873-878)

Despite her comment, it should be noted that on the page previous she’d debated sharing it with Adam. If she did not share it, she would be wiser than he, which greatly interested her. She decided she should share it in the end, because she would be jealous of another “Eve.”

Adam likewise doesn’t like the thought of a different “Eve,” so he partakes of the fruit too.

So forcible within my heart I feel
The bond of nature draw me to my own,
My own in thee, for what thou art is mine;
Our state cannot be severed, we are one,
One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself. (IX.955-960)

Forsyth’s biography (which I’ve since finished; more about that later) seemed to want to prove that Milton was not misogynistic. I am not sure if Forsyth succeeded or not in that. But Paradise Lost, itself, is interesting when one considers women. I didn’t find it to be misogynistic in places, but in other passages Milton writes things discriminatory toward women and I don’t like the attitude:

… Thus is shall befall
Him who to worth in women overtrusting
Lets her will rule; restraint she will not brooke,
And left to herself, if evil thence ensue,
She first his weak indulgence will accuse. (IX. 1182-1187)

These are Adam’s words. Are they Milton’s too? Maybe Milton puts such cruel words in Adam’s mouth because he wishes to show the discord that is now in their relationship, which is such a contrast to the conversation at the beginning of the book. I liked this contrast from the beginning to the end of Book 9, and I look forward to seeing how Milton resolves the epic.

• Milton in May (erm, and June): Paradise Lost, Books 10 to 12 + Two Reading Aids
• Milton in May: Paradise Lost, Books 4-6
• Milton in May Week 1: Introduction and Paradise Lost Books 1-3
• Any Interest in a May Read-Along of Paradise Lost?
• Milton in May: Areopagitica and Adam and Eve’s Choice in Paradise Lost
• Milton in May: A Paradise Lost Read-Along
• Milton in May: Paradise Regained
• Milton in May: Thoughts on Some Early Milton Poems
• Milton in May: Comus and Lycidas by John Milton
• May and Milton in May in Review + Challenges Update and Reading Journal

Welcome to Milton in May!

I hope you are as excited about this month’s reading project as I am.

I, personally, will be reading Paradise Lost, at a rate of about three books a week. In addition, I hope to revisit some other poems, I may read some essays, and I might read a biography of the man himself. When I was in college, I studied Milton for a semester. I read criticism. I discussed his works in depth. I am no longer in school, and my intentions this month as I revisit Milton are not college-level: I plan on reading and exploring some of his works, including Paradise Lost, for the pure pleasure of it!

You are welcome to join in by reading and/or writing about anything Miltonian this month. Each week, I’ll have a linky on this site, and you can link to any posts you write about Milton. I will also post some general discussion questions about the three books from Paradise Lost for the week. I hope this month can be an open discussion and a celebration of one of the world’s great writers. You can make your own participation be at whatever level you’d prefer, whether that is academic or not. You can write “review” posts or you can write discussion posts. If you don’t want to write your own blog posts at all, feel free to comment on your reading in the comments on this site.

After the jump, see discussion questions and then my own first impressions of this reread.

Paradise Lost Books 1-3 Discussion Questions

If you are joining in for the read-along and aren’t quite sure how to organize your thoughts, here are some questions to get you started. Of course, you need not answer these if you prefer not to.

1. Have you read Paradise Lost before? If so, what are your impressions on the reread? If you haven’t, what are your first impressions?
2. Epic proportions: Have you read other epics (like Homer or Virgil)? How does this compare so far?
3. What do we learn about Milton from his first-person comments on the story he’s telling? Do you like his asides?
4. The characters: Satan is the main character for most of the first three books. What do we learn about him? Is he appealing as the main character? Is he heroic? What do you think of Milton’s portrayal of the other devils in hell?
5. The setting(s): So far, we see a lot of hell, and not as much heaven. What is your impression of Milton’s portrayal of the two locales?
6. Will you continue reading?

References for the study questions (i.e., where you can go for more background and ideas): I did consult Cliffs’ Notes, which was not really any help, and SparkNotes online, which gave me some ideas. My edition of Paradise Lost is the Norton Critical Edition, so I may have gotten ideas from the footnotes and/or articles I skimmed. I also like this professor’s page of essay questions, although most of them relate to the entire book. Also, paradiselost.org has the full annotated text, lots of commentary, illustrations, and well, just about anything you’d like Miltonian.

My Thoughts: Paradise Lost, Books 1-3

I love it so much after the first 85 pages of this reread that Paradise Lost has just replaced The Iliad as a favorite on my lists. Just as The Iliad (which I read in the Fagles’ translation) has majesty and beautiful language, Paradise Lost is sweeping me away into a world of epic proportions. Milton’s language is just perfect for me, and unlike The Iliad I won’t feel compelled to go and compare translations: this is the original! I feel like it was written to demonstrate the  power of the English language.  I’ve always felt that English was rather ugly (sorry) compared to, say, Spanish (which I studied in school). But this poem demonstrates it’s beauty.

Also, I love the religious aspect. It kind of puts Homer into perspective. The original audience of Homer understood all the “religious” references in it. It was about their own gods. It wasn’t “foreign” as it felt to me when I read it. Paradise Lost, while it does base a lot of commentary on Greek and Roman and other “pagan” traditions, it’s main focus is Judeo-Christian. That I can relate to on an incredibly personal level, and I love it. I recognize the Biblical stories as they are mentioned and I can almost locate the scriptures when Milton quotes them. (I love having extensive footnotes to refer to when I am curious to know where the scripture is to be found!)

As for John Milton’s writing, wow. I always had him in my head as a great writer like Shakespeare. But from the first page of this reread, I was struck by how opposite to Shakespeare John Milton actually is. I love reading Shakespeare, really I do. The plays I’ve read (which hasn’t been many, I’m afraid) have been impressively well written, and a perfect mingling of emotions and/or humor. Yet, Shakespeare wrote to a common audience. He was a self-educated, country man writing for the masses. It’s great: Shakespeare, amazingly, created English as we know it by his use of such an extensive new vocabulary.

Milton, on the other hand, wrote for those who had a college education. He was born to a moderately wealthy London family, educated in the classics at college, and wrote as one with a degree of educational snootiness. I mean that in the nicest way. I love both writers. Milton’s is impressive in a way that Shakespeare is not! As I read, I was reminded time and again that Milton was blind as wrote this whole thing. How one could write without a computer for editing is one thing, but to write perfect iambic pentameter blank verse without being able to even read what has been written simply takes impressive to a new level.

The subject matter makes this all the more interesting to me: it’s not just the writing or the epic style that I am loving thus far: it’s the religious perspective. As this isn’t a religious blog, I’ll refrain from going in to all the quotes I love, although I will say I love God’s comment on his creation of humans:

. . .  I made him just and right,
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.  (Book III. 98-99)

I love how this is all about free will: and for me, that is what Christianity is about. Satan is so incredibly interesting; I had forgotten just how enticing his character is in this poem. So he still is today. Some things really never change.

I haven’t written a lot about the context of the poem itself, but I certainly look forward to reading more. Next week I’ll try to focus on writing about the context of the poem itself and my impressions, rather than gushing so much about the epic itself.

Have I convinced you to join in the read-along this month?

• Milton in May: Paradise Lost, Books 7-9
• Milton in May (erm, and June): Paradise Lost, Books 10 to 12 + Two Reading Aids
• Milton in May: Paradise Lost, Books 4-6
• Milton in May: A Paradise Lost Read-Along
• Milton in May: Thoughts on Some Early Milton Poems
• Any Interest in a May Read-Along of Paradise Lost?
• Milton in May: Areopagitica and Adam and Eve’s Choice in Paradise Lost
• Milton in May: Paradise Regained
• Milton in May: Comus and Lycidas by John Milton
• May and Milton in May in Review + Challenges Update and Reading Journal

At first glance, there is no mystery. The answers to “who, what, when, and where” seem self-evident, especially since the murder occurs center stage in the first 80 pages of the novel. Yet the “why” behind Raskolnikov’s crime arrests attention, and the mystery is determining exactly what is the “punishment” of the title. From the beginning section to the epilogue, Fyodor Dostoevsky’s psychological novel captures a disturbed mind in turmoil from its own philosophic ideals. Raskolnikov’s expectations for himself as a “Napoleon” above the law are distorted by his own inner turmoil, and his “punishment” may be realizing his place as a human in the midst of humanity.

But I say “at first glance.” The best facet of Crime and Punishment is its depth. An abundance of characters, some stereotyped and some individual, and layers of complexities of situation and personality illustrate just how each one of us has both a “devil” and a “saint” inside us.

As the Penguin Reading Guide asks, “Who among us is not a criminal? Who among us has not attempted to impose his or her will on the natural order?” I love Crime and Punishment because of the universality of that concept. The concepts do not seem specifically Russian or nineteenth century. Instead, it is universal in its look at human nature, and human nature has not changed much in the past 150 years, although the specific settings vary.

Upon this reread (probably my third reading), I was struck by some new things such as the structure, the variety of characters, and the family relationships. Most particularly, though, the religious elements stood out to me on this read. Although I realized before that there were religious elements to it, this time it seemed much more religious in retrospect. In my book group last night, I came to more of an understanding of the significance of the raising of Lazarus to the story. Raskolnikov’s request that Sonya read the passages from the scriptures was a way of asking her to help him with his faith. I have more thoughts about it, but since I am no longer in school, writing papers about such elements of the novel, I’ll leave that here for future reference: next time I read this book, I should consider Lazarus from beginning to end.

Crime and Punishment is a novel that I cannot praise sufficiently and that I could not reread frequently enough. Subsequently, I struggle to discuss it in an impersonal internet-post format. Just as with the murder motive, I cannot properly explain the “whys” behind my passion for this novel. I love it, and this post will have to remain as is. If I had more time, I’d do a three-part “why I love this” series as I did when I read The Iliad a year and a half ago. But I don’t have time for that anymore. Instead, I’ll look forward to yet another reread, and maybe then I’ll revisit it on this webpage.

I’ll just leave with a (rhetorical) question: How did Dostoevsky create such a complex psychological portrait? He did create a realistic and intimate portrait in this volume. Yes, there is such complexity in each person, yet Dostoevsky’s ability to portray humanity so realistically in text testifies that he is a truly great writer. I am in awe.

What novels leave you in awe of the author’s ability to create?

• Hunger by Knut Hamsun
• How Reading Order Affects Reading a Book
• Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
• The Student by Anton Chekhov: A Perfect Short Story
• Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
• A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
• The Beekeeper’s Apprentice by Laurie King
• A Stop in South Africa (Two Novels by Alan Paton) + Giveaway
• Reading Journal (May 4) and April in Review
• Reading Reflections (Reading Old Books) + Reading Journal (31 March)

Yet, despite that not-so-great beginning, I wanted to read more about genetics, so I also picked up The X in Sex by David Bainbridge, which focuses on the genetics of the sex chromosomes. It was a very engaging and easy to understand book, and it has left me even more interested in the chromosomes that make up my body.

Finally, my two-month-old hold request for Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species: A Graphic Adaptation by Michael Keller and illustrated by Nicole Rager Fuller came in too. Although this is not about genetics, it is about the evolutionary biology behind all species, and I found the beautiful graphic perspective to be a nice introduction to Darwin.

DNA by James Watson

Years ago, I’d read James Watson’s The Double Helix. While I don’t remember much about it, I recall it being more a memoir of how the structure of DNA was discovered, rather than about the science itself. I picked up DNA by the same author via a lucky bookmooch, and it is beautiful, full of color illustrations. But I didn’t really enjoy reading it. The best part was the pretty illustrations.

DNA’s biggest flaw was its inconsistent tone. I suspect, and I’m not sure why, that it was a ghost-written book, with James Watson’s name on the cover because he’s the famous scientist who discovered DNA to begin with. I could tell when Watson took over the writing: there were digressions and personal stories. A few chapters were chocked full of scientific explanations for how the double helix works, and I often found myself lost. Other chapters had some scientific explanations but were balanced with discussions of political and social impact of those explanations. Because the book is a glossy book, with color photos, I thought these less scientific chapters should have been the focus. It seems the book was trying to talk to both the experts and the non-experts at the same time.

Then again, maybe my inadequacy in science is to blame. It could be that the majority of the readers of nonfiction who pick this beautiful book up will be able to follow it without a problem.

There were a few things I enjoyed about the book, notably the overview of how genetics and genetic engineering makes the world a better place. I liked to see how genetic engineering of plants, for example, is a way of speeding up the evolutionary biology of plants. In another thousand years, the plants will have figured out how to resist certain bugs, and by producing genetically modified plants now, we are able to help for the better by speeding up the process. I also found the discussion of human genetics interesting, and I look forward to reading more on the subject, albeit in a more non-scientific format.

I finished reading DNA a month ago, and I’ve put off writing a review of it for a month because I’m not sure what else to say. It has plenty of flaws, and a few interesting parts. I’m glad I have the pretty book on my shelf to flip through, but I can’t recommend it for a straightforward overview for the non-scientific among us.

The X in Sex by David Bainbridge

The X in Sex has a steamy cover, which is a bit unrelated from the book. This book is not about sexuality in terms of passion and romance but rather about gender, specifically the sex chromosomes. David Bainbridge’s text seems to match the suggestive attidue of the cover because it is a readable and fascinating scientific look at the power behind the X chromosome.

What is it that makes a person male or female? Normally, it’s the presense of a Y chromosome that makes the developing fetus become male. That seems to be a powerful chromosome, and Bainbridge touches on the Y chromosome in his discussion. In reality, though, it is the X chromosome that has lots behind it. It is much larger than the Y and that is where the differences appear. Bainbridge discusses the sexual development of a fetus, he discusses Y-linked diseases, and he discusses what having two X chromosomes means for women.

The X in Sex is fascinating reading. I never thought about chromosomes before, and Bainbridge approaches the subject in an easy to read and succinct way. The book is about 180 pages, and Bainbridge is obviously comfortable in both science and non-scientific circles. I never once felt “over my head” as I read, and that’s saying something.

I found out about this book thanks to a review on Eva’s blog. Now I want to know more about the chromosomes that make me human – and that make me a unique human at that!

Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species: A Graphic Adapation

As a devoted reader of original classics, I’m not keen on the idea of “rewriting” them or retelling them. Why wouldn’t I read the original? Nonetheless, I decided to give this one a try, and I was not disappointed.

The recent graphic adaptation of Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species by Michael Keller (illustrated by Nicolle Rager Fuller) shows that there is a reason for adaptations, and I appreciated the way in which this project was approached: the graphic adaptation is not a retelling nor is it a straight forward portrayal of it. Rather, it is like an abridged annotation, with illustrations, to help get the superficial concepts of Darwin’s theory. It does not replace the original, and I still hope to read it someday, but for me, it gave me a great foundation for understanding what his purposes were.

The challenge to reviewing graphic books is that I can’t quote my favorite passages to illustrate how awesome they are! The pictures and the text or both integral, yet there is a note in the front saying copying in any format is against copyright, so I can’t even take a picture or scan it. When Nymeth reviewed it, she had permission from the illustrator to include a few of the awesome pictures, so definitely go check it out there if you’d like to see the art style.

The thing I loved most about this adaptation is that text with gray background was Darwin’s writing (from the original) and the pictures and text on the pictures were modern examples and illustrations of what he’s talking about. (Note: Some of these examples could have been in Darwin’s text but many of them are modern.) And I trust that all examples given are accurate science as well (when Darwin’s theory has been proven incorrect, the editors make a note), so I loved seeing the examples of the evolution of various animals. Since the pictures were so beautiful and in full color, this is a book that can be poured over.

And yet, one does not need to pour over it. It’s straight-forward, and easy to understand. I’m not intimidated by the Darwin I found in these pages. I still want to experience Darwin’s original text in full. This was, after all, only 190 illustrated pages, so much is left out. But now I know that an annotated text or discussion of Darwin might be a good way to go when I am ready to give Darwin a try. This was a great introduction, and I highly recommend this graphic adaptation if you are interested in evolutionary biology but have been afraid to approach Darwin himself. (I don’t blame you!)

Some Thoughts

I was struck as I read by Darwin’s struggles with religion. Even in the text, he ponders how and why “the Creator” may have done something. In the preface and afterward (also illustrated, these looked at Darwin’s life before and after writing On the Origin of Species), it seemed religious people were shocked by Darwin’s claims, but in the text, he never says anything that seems to discredit religion. His wife worried about him blaspheming the church, though he didn’t seem to want to. He just wanted to collect the facts and understand them; in fact, he seemed non-religious, not anti-religious. I felt for him. It’s hard to be first, and religious people seemed to blame him for what they couldn’t understand.

On the other hand, James Watson, in DNA, seemed to have a personal interest in discrediting God in his book. That sounds odd, but what I mean is he frequently (maybe three or four times in 400 pages) commented that the secret of life is in DNA, not a creator. I thought the snide remarks seriously took away from the academic tone of the book. Simply tell the story of DNA, and if you don’t believe in God, I don’t care, but don’t make snide remarks about it. (Bainbridge commented once about how life is in the chromosomes and not from God, but he wasn’t snide about it, and it didn’t bother me at all.)

As a religious person myself, I don’t have any qualms noting the resemblance of humans to apes. I believe I am a child of God but that’s not a scientific explanation, and I’m not going to pretend it is. I know I have DNA from my parents and my personal genome that makes my body as it is, evolved over the past millions of years from wherever, with God over it all since he created it to begin with. I don’t have any issues in believing in God as my Eternal Father and believing that life stems from my DNA. My only problem with science is the apparent need to discredit religion. I don’t think it has to be only one way, and I think the scientists should just leave religion alone when they are talking about science. Personally, I think God works through laws, even a big bang if necessary. I have no problems not understanding how the two relate. To me, not understanding how God works is a part of faith.

[/end rant]

The bottom line is I enjoyed learning about evolutionary biology and genetics, although some books were better than others. I do look forward to learning more.

What scientific nonfiction have you read lately? Can you remember any books about genetics? Do any of these interest you at all?

(I already have Matt Ridley’s Genome on my TBR.)

• Graphic Novels Challenge
• Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman by Richard Feynman
• Milton in May: Paradise Lost, Books 7-9
• Reading Reflections (Reading Old Books) + Reading Journal (31 March)
• A Few Science Book Reviews (The Great Equations by Crease and Two by Gawande)
• The Discoverers by Daniel Boorstin
• March in Review + New Challenges + A Brief Reading Journal (7 April)
• Palestine by Joe Sacco
• The Planets by Dava Sobel + A Giveaway
• Two Neuroscience Books (Proust was a Neuroscientist by Lehrer and Sacks’ Musicophilia)

All that said, I really liked reading Moses, Man of the Mountain. I have a fascination with retellings of the Exodus.* Because of that interest, then, I liked Hurston’s novel simply because of the premise: tell the story of Moses and the Hebrews basing it on African-American folkloric practices (hoodoo and magic).

Hurston tells the story in an easy-to-read style, and I personally liked the idiomatic speech. The story has some different aspects to it that make it a little different from the Biblical version, of course, since Moses is a hoodoo expert, but I liked that too. I just liked it over all.

To give you an idea for the writing style of the novel, here is a favorite passage (the burning bush).

The voice came again.

“Moses, I want you to go down into Egypt.”

“Into Egypt? How come, Lord? Egypt is no place for me to go.”

“I said Egypt, Moses. I heard my people, the Hebrews, when they cried, when they kept on groaning to me to help. I want you to go down and tell that Pharaoh I say to let my people go.”

“He won’t pay me no attention, Lord. I know he won’t.”

“Go ahead, like I told you, Moses. I am tired of hearing the groaning in my ear. I mean to overcome Pharaoh this time. Go on down there and I”ll go with you.” …

The Voice was hushed. The bush no longer burned. In fact, it looked just like it had yesterday and the day before and the day before that. The mountain was just as usual with the wind yelling “Whoo-youuu” against its rocky knots. (page 127)

Maybe you can tell in this passage that it’s not the strongest writing ever. I wouldn’t call Hurston’s characterization spectacular either.  Nevertheless, although the book may not be a masterpiece, I loved seeing how Hurston weaved it together simply because I love the subject and the setting. I’m willing to forgive any flaws simply because I like those aspects.

Is there any subject or time period that you love reading about, even if the book is not the best?

For the record, most of the Amazon reviewers also seem to enjoy it, rather than complaining that it’s “badly flawed.”

*Back when I thought I wanted to be a writer, I had a story idea related to the exodus. Instead of sitting down and writing that story, I read a lot about it as background. The story never was written. I guess I should say that by reading a book like Hurston’s, my passion to capture my own story dies. I could never create characters and a world so strong as this, and this is “badly flawed”!

[Really Old Classics Extra Credit: retelling of an old classic]

Related posts:

• Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales
• A Stop in South Africa (Two Novels by Alan Paton) + Giveaway
• Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage
• East of Eden by John Steinbeck (Thoughts on a Reread)
• Jerusalem: The Eternal City by David Galbraith et al
• My Introduction to the Harlem Renaissance
• Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel + Giveaway
• How to Read a Poem and Fall in Love with Poetry by Edward Hirsch
• Masterclass in Photography by Michael and Julien Busselle
• A Ruined Author?

image via Wikipedia

In the Robinson Crusoe tradition, Johann David Wyss created a story of a Swiss family that was shipwrecked on a desert island. Much as Robinson Crusoe, the family must learn to use the land to meet their needs. As with Crusoe, there is a religious element of learning to thank God for their blessings, but unlike Robinson Crusoe, the version of Swiss Family Robinson that I read had a lecturing tone that didn’t take long to irritate me.

Swiss Family Robinson may fascinate children. The family learns and explores natural science, mechanics, engineering, astronomy, biology, mathematics, and so much more through their experiences in a new place. I loved learning about the house in the trees and I was fascinated to hear how they built everything themselves. Maybe young children could relate to the four boys’ adventures in learning.

The main theme of the Swiss family’s story of survival is paradise: unlike Robinson Crusoe, this family loved their new home from the beginning. They ultimately don’t want to be rescued: they preferred to remain isolated in their paradisiacal home. Wyss added an impressive (and impossible) array of animals to the little island, and everything the family needed for survival conveniently appeared, from “candleberry trees” to flax and cotton. It truly was a paradise.

There are downsides to reading an island adventure for the 1800s that was specifically written for children. In this book, the downside was the “message,” although with a little tweaking, the message may have been fascinating.

Some aspects of the message were interesting. The self-discovery of learning to make things from what you have was fascinating to me. I imagine older children would love learning how to make a water wheel, how to carve stairs in a tree, and how to make cloth from flax for example (or maybe I’m just projecting my nerdy self on to some unknown nerdy kids). The father made everything into a teaching moment. For example, when the children were trying to figure out how long of a rope they needed to read the tree branch, the father showed them how determine it via mathematics:

My boys had been trying to measure the tree with the long canes I had brought, and came laughing to report to me, that I ought to have got them ten times as long to reach even the lowest branches. “There is a simpler mode than that,” said I, “which geometry teaches us, and by which the highest mountains can be measured.”

I then showed the method of measuring heights by triangles and imaginary lines, using canes of different lengths and cords instead of mathematical instruments. My result was thirty feet to the lowest branches. This experiment filled the boys with wonder and desire to become acquainted with this useful, exact science, which, happily, I was able to teach them fully. (page 66-67)

The downfall of Swiss Family Robinson, however, that it is told from the father’s perspective. Maybe you can tell from the above quote: he’s a bit of a know-it-all. In fact, time and again, I found myself hating this father of theirs. He was constantly scolding the children (and his poor wife!) for being too irreverent, too lazy, and too insensitive. Yet, because it was from his own perspective, I felt we were not getting the whole story. He seemed a bit “off” to me.

Another downfall was the completely unrealistic portrays of the children. Although more than four years pass on the island, the boys never seem to age. The youngest boy (Frances) was about eight at the beginning, but even when he is 12, he doesn’t seem any less needy. The two oldest boys, on the other hand, are at least 19 and 17 toward the end of the novel, and neither shows any interest in the prospects of his future. What I mean is I think most men that age would be hoping for a lady friend or something for themselves to be looking forward to. Instead, when there is a prospect of a ship, the oldest (at least age 18) says,

“If there should be any ladies amongst them, how pleasant it would be for mamma to have a friend!” (page 199)

Oh my, what a dedicated son to his mamma! The boys never felt realistic to me, and this is just one example.

I had a lot of other issues with Swiss Family Robinson. Because I remembered enjoying the Disney movie as a kid, I was looking forward to the book. In the end, though, I think this is a time to stay with Disney. There is a plot! There are pirates!

The novel Swiss Family Robinson was written in a time when pirates are not a worry, but savages. I should say that in the end, there is a little of a plot to drive it as the story resolves, but for the majority of the novel, the plot revolves around becoming more and more self-reliant as the family creates a modern paradise in their own Eden.

According to Wikipedia, Swiss Family Robinson has been retold through its translations, so it is impossible to know which one is the “original” story by Wyss. I listened to the audio and read via a Librivox.org and a Project Gutenberg translation that is missing two pages. It was the longest version of the story offered as an etext. There is no note as to who translated this version.

I visited Swiss Family Robinson as part of my Reader’s History of Children’s Literature project. It fits right in with the other island tales, and especially with Robinson Crusoe itself, the grandpa of the genre. It has interesting aspects, but I was ultimately disappointed in this version of the story. It was not something I’d like to read to my young son, simply because the father’s lecturing and the unrealistic portrayal of children is not inspiring for a child today. If anything, we’ll watch the Disney movie, which is fun.

Have you read Swiss Family Robinson?

Do you avoid “lecturing tales” for your children? Does this sound like it would bother you?

Would your child like to learn how to build things themselves?

• Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
• Robinson Crusoe Adaptations for Children
• Treasure Island and Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson
• Beauty and the Beast + The Complete Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault
• Pat the Bunny and Other Interactive Books for Kids
• Jerusalem: The Eternal City by David Galbraith et al
• The Adventures of Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi
• Mary Poppins by P.L. Travers
• Lord of the Flies by William Golding
• Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner by A.A. Milne

Perhaps it was Cather’s perfect capture of New Mexico: while I have never been to New Mexico, I feel I now can perfectly imagine the place, the pain, and the joy that the setting evokes. Also, while there are religious elements in the book (after all, it tells the story of the first Roman Catholic Bishop of New Mexico), Cather’s emphasis seems to be the human connections, the legends, and the memories of those living in a challenging yet beautiful era in American history.

Archbishop was a different classic to read: in some respects, it is a collection of stories, not a novel. When early reviews complained that book was hard to classify, Cather herself said “why bother?” She at times calls it a “legend” or a “narrative” (from the introduction, Everyman Library’s Edition).

Because of its loose structure and subtle plot, it tells of the Bishop Latour’s life and that of his friend, Father Valliant at a leisurely pace. In fact, my first read (three weeks ago) surprised me: I found myself struggling to be motivated to read it. (It was also during the Christmas holiday, so I was busy and probably not in the mood for a thinking book.) Because I’m preparing some discussion questions for my infant book group, I decided to reread it this week. (I was feeling horribly nervous about keeping a discussion going. Unfortunately, this is how I feel every month when I go to prepare for book club!)

So I reread Archbishop, knowing that it is slow, thoughtful, and not so much a novel but more a series of vignettes. And I loved it. The last 75 pages last night had me in tears as I pondered the life of the priests. While I loved My Antonia, this is my new, absolutely favorite Cather (of those two, at least). It has far more depth to the characters, the language, and the setting , and I was emotional moved as I read it. I may add it to the “Books Read in 2010 That I Love and Want to Reread Someday” list I’m starting in my head.

Note: Because I don’t believe Death Comes for the Archbishop can be “spoiled,” I discuss the book in below without hesitating to reveal some details.

I finished rereading Archbishop last night, after having finished Mrs. Dalloway on Tuesday, and maybe it was the slow-reading mood I’d had with Woolf that made Archbishop so rewarding this time around.

I am not a Catholic, but I do consider myself religious. Similarly, Cather was religious, but she was not a Catholic when she decided in 1927 to tell the story of the 1850s Catholic missionaries to New Mexico. Yet, her book is a religious one because she describes nature in terms of religion.

This mesa plain had an appearance of great antiquity, and of incompleteness; as if, with all the materials for world-making assembled, the Creator had desisted, gone away and left everything on the point of being brought together, on the eve of being arranged into mountain, plain, plateau.  The country was still waiting to be made into a landscape. (page 94-95)

The book as a whole is not overly religious. Rather than celebrating any organized religion, Cather is celebrating humanity and the beauty of nature. She almost gives more space to the Indian traditions, legends, and religious beliefs than she does to the Catholic priests’ beliefs. The priests are just her vehicle to the legends. Catholic, Mexican, and Indian legends are all fascinating to me, despite the fact that I don’t know much about any of them!

A good portion of Archbishop is about service and friendship. I suspect this post cannot possibly capture the beauty of the text and the emotions I felt as I read about those subjects in Cather’s words, but I will try to do my best.

Because Father Valliant went to seminary in France with Bishop Latour, they are close. They were very different: Bishop Latour always planned ahead and Father Valliant was always full of energy to go do what was needed right now. But these differences were what made the book so rich. Both served the Catholic and non-Catholic populations and touched people in different ways, and because they saw life so differently, the moments of togetherness were perfectly captured and realistic. Although other relationships among the people touched me, it was the friendship between the two missionaries that touched me most: they’d given up a life of ease for a life of struggle, all because they wanted to serve. Yet they still had each other to understand how hard it was. How they must have depended on each other! (I say as if they were real… Although Cather based them on real missionaries, the story was a fiction.)

Finally, Death Comes for the Archbishop actually is about death, but it’s also about life and memory. In her introduction, A.S. Byatt indicates that there is confusion with the title:

“It arouses expectations in the reader which are not fulfilled – that death and the Archbishop are of equal importance in the narrative, whereas in fact the Archbishop’s death is only one further incident in the series of frozen gestures, moments of insight, small comedies and agonies which make up the fresco.”

I agree that the Archbishop himself is of utmost importance. But so are the Indian friends, and the New Mexico landscape, and dear Father Valliant, none of whom are mentioned in the title. I think Cather chose to include death in the title because that is what life is: we live to die. I am dying right now. How we live (i.e., what we choose to do with our time) determines how we will eventually die.

As he entered his last convalescence, Bishop Latour gave this bit of wisdom:

“I shall not die of a cold, my son.  I shall die of having lived.” (page 267)

Death Comes for the Archbishop tells the story of Bishop Latour’s death, which is how he lived. He lived in service to others, looking ahead and planning for the future. Only before his death could he stop considering the future and recall, with fondness, his past. Cather’s narrative is absolutely beautiful in capturing his story!

Now that I’ve finished this reread, I am incredibly excited for my book club meeting next Wednesday night! I feel I have so much I want to discuss, and this book has much more in it for discussion than My Antonia (which I think many people read in high school or college). I have barely touched on all the themes that stand out to me after these two reads. I just really hope the others didn’t get hung up on the “slow” aspects as I did at first.

If you hated My Antonia, have you tried this one? I’m curious to know if those who dislike Cather know about this masterpiece. This is, of course, much slower than Antonia in pacing (believe it or not), but the end result is far more rewarding, I believe.

Have you read any books lately that moved you emotionally (not necessarily in a tear-jerker kind of way)?

• My Antonia by Willa Cather
• Silence by Shusaku Endo
• Reading Journal (25 November): Unplugged Edition
• Death in Children’s Literature: Love You Forever by Robert Munsch
• Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
• Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
• What the World Eats by Peter Menzel
• Death and War in Children’s Literature: Two Newberys about the Revolution
• January in Review: A Good Start to 2010
• Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

In terms of reading, I finished off my biography of Jesus on December 26. I was right: December was the ideal month for reading James E. Talmage’s 700+ page tome. Part gospel harmony, part historical explanation, and part doctrinal interpretation, Jesus the Christ follows the pre-mortal, mortal, and post-mortal mission of the Savior by interpreting the scriptures.

Talmage wrote his book in the first two decades of the twentieth century, in an era before computers could have helped him put things in order. The seamless nature of his book is therefore all the more impressive to me. Besides that, I really did enjoy the outmoded writing style. While Talmage’s scholarly tone makes it difficult to read quickly at first, I found it beautiful (and not as difficult) once I got used to it. It is clear Talmage is a Bible scholar, and he clarifies the context of the parables, the Jewish dissension, and other aspects of New Testament life with which I was unfamiliar: Talmage puts the New Testament events in context.

Talmage is also a scholar of Mormon doctrine, as his research and commentary gave me insights into the continuing nature of the mission of Jesus Christ. While he only briefly referred to the pre-mortal and post-mortal ministry of the Savior, he did regularly complement his New Testament commentary with references to Latter-day scripture.

As a whole, the book certainly focuses on the Latter-day Saint doctrines of the Savior, and therefore, I am not certain non-Mormon readers would find it so engaging or satisfying. Even Mormon readers need to keep in mind that this volume in one man’s interpretation of the key events and scriptures: I didn’t necessarily agree with all his doctrinal interpretations, and it’s interesting to consider the past 100 years of further gospel insight as I read. Talmage’s volume, although rather comprehensive, is still flawed and incomplete. Yet, reading it had encouraged me to better delve into the scriptures on my own and seek guidance and direction by reading the words of the living prophets.

This blog is not primarily a religious blog: it’s a reading blog. I’ll therefore keep this post brief by saying that I’m grateful I finely did submerge myself in this volume. While I was intimidated by its length and it does have some flaws, I found Jesus the Christ ultimately rewarding, especially at this Christmas season.

John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

We have this gorgeous illustrated edition on our coffee table, and I love browsing through my favorite pictures of Christ.

• Christ and the New Covenant by Jeffrey R. Holland
• The Life of Our Lord by Charles Dickens
• Milton in May: Paradise Regained
• Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling by Richard Lyman Bushman
• December in Review
• Silence by Shusaku Endo
• Nineteenth-Century Mormon Architecture and City Planning by C. Mark Hamilton
• Reading Journal (18 Nov): Planning for a Quiet December
• 2009 in Review (+ Lots of Stats)
• Jerusalem: The Eternal City by David Galbraith et al

Although I am glad I had a second experience with Paton’s South Africa, I still much preferred the first novel. I’d be happy to send you my lightly used copy of Too Late the Phalarope. See below for giveaway information.

Cry, the Beloved Country

When I read Cry, the Beloved Country as a teenager, it was on my mother’s suggestion. She loved the message of hope it portrays, and thought it would be one I’d enjoy. I recall that I did enjoy it, and while I remembered the basic plot and themes, I didn’t remember the details.

When I returned to it this year, I was a bit taken aback at first because the language is so difficult: it is in a Biblical style (I can’t think of a better way to describe it) and that adds a layer of complexity to the story. Dialogue is offset with only a dash at the beginning of the paragraph, so I was often confused where the dialogue ends and thoughts begin. This adds a surprisingly realistic feel to the man’s daily experiences in an overwhelming city.

To be honest, I didn’t like the writing style at first. As I mentioned, I did like the novel as a teenager, but this time, it really threw me off. I couldn’t read over breakfast or lunch or as my son played: I needed strict concentration – just me and the book – in order for the events and language to sink in. As I focused on the book, though, it gave back to me.

Cry, the Beloved Country is about two fathers, one white and one black. Stephen Kumalo is the Reverend of the very poor native community in the valley of Ndotsheni, and James Jarvis is the white farmer on the High Place above the valley. When Kumalo travels to Johannesburg in search of his son Absalom, the lives of the two men are inevitably brought together.

That sounds vague, as I don’t want to “spoil” the book. In some ways, Cry, the Beloved Country is about the dichotomy between being black in South Africa and being white. It is about rural life versus city life. It is about hatred versus forgiveness. As the black man and the white man come to know each other, they learn what it means to live and serve each other. They aren’t so different after all.

Alan Paton wrote Cry, the Beloved Country in 1947, and it was published in 1948, the year apartheid, the legal separation based on race, was made law in South Africa. It therefore portrays the country before whites were given legal permission to discriminate against the blacks. And yet, the traditional separation in the culture is obvious and heart-breaking. I believe that Paton’s purpose in writing the book is to illustrate how similar the two men (white and black) really are. Both are fathers, struggling to have a life full of purpose.  Ultimately, Cry is about the hope for the future if only the other people in the country could have the same realization of equality among the human race.

I reread Cry, the Beloved Country specifically for my book club and we had a great discussion about the themes in the book. Most enjoyed the book, although two people disliked it and found it depressing.  I personally wasn’t really crying throughout the book, but my throat kept getting all tight. It was painful to read. But I think it was necessary for me, because it helped me see the hope that comes from loving one another in our communities, even a community that is so full of inequality. It was a hopeful book to me.

One further note: I read most of a book of commentary and criticism (edited by Harold Bloom). While much of the criticism focused on the religious aspects and the symbolism, I found that many of the arguments felt like a stretch to me. Yes, this book is obviously intended to be a religious allegory: the writing style and the names, for example, hearken to Biblical elements. But for me, reading this book was about the hope I got from the character’s interactions, not about the symbolism.

Too Late the Phalarope

Alan Paton’s second novel, Too Late the Phalarope, has a different feel. It, too, has a Biblical tone to it and the dialogue is confused with thoughts. But I did not like the narrator, the spinster aunt Sophie, and writing style seemed affected and a little tedious. I’m not sure why the writing affected me in this novel, as it seems similar to the other. But the subject matter wasn’t as appealing to me either: it was not about hope.

Pieter is not just an Afrikaner lieutenant in the South African police corps, he’s also a star rugby player, husband and father, and once a star student. His father is pleased with his well-rounded son, but he has a little bit of reserve, since his son is too tender: he loves too much. Pieter, too, wishes that he, like the others around him, shrank away from black people and saw them as less than he is. But he cannot. Pieter loves people, regardless of race.

Ultimately, Too Late the Phalarope is about love. Pieter’s thoughts on love are complicated by his relationship with his wife, who is cold and distant to him. He loves her, and yet there is something missing between them. And Pieter’s deepest secret is that he is attracted to a black woman, which may be a capital offence in 1950s South Africa.

Too Late the Phalarope is not a happy book. Since Paton wrote it after apartheid had been made law, it seems he himself realized the backwards direction that the country was going: no longer is there the hope for a better future that he wrote about in his pre-apartheid book.

That’s not to say that a sad book isn’t good. It was good: it brought a painful issue to the forefront of political consciousness then, and there is relevance today as one looks at the issues of love it addresses. It just wasn’t my favorite book, and I don’t intend to reread it.

Would you like my lightly read copy of Too Late the Phalarope? Let me know in the comments.

I received this paperback used from a giveaway at Maw Books Blog more than a year ago, but it is in very good shape, with just slightly bent cover corners. This giveaway is open until Saturday morning, 4 December 2009. It’s open to anyone around the globe. If you are a regular reader (i.e., you have left a comment on Rebecca Reads before today), you get an extra entry in this giveaway.

A note on the title: A phalarope is a rare South African bird. I was very curious myself.

Have you read Alan Paton? Did you enjoy the writing style?

What books have you read with difficult or different writing styles? Did the writing style change your enjoyment of the book?

• A Meme, A Farewell, and A Giveaway Winner
• The Help by Kathryn Stockett
• The Book That Changed My Life, edited by Roxanne J. Coady and Joy Johannesson + Giveaway
• November in Review + Reading Journal (2 Dec)
• Victorian Second Helpings (The Moonstone by Collins and North and South by Gaskell)
• Beloved by Toni Morrison
• God’s Bits of Wood by Sembene Ousmane
• Reading Journal (4 Nov): Reading Progress and Library Loot
• My Antonia by Willa Cather
• Anthem by Ayn Rand + A Giveaway

When I was about 75 pages into my slim, 98-page volume of John Donne’s poetry, I was bored. But then I read the last section of the book: the Divine Poems. After reading that section, I’m pretty sure I’ll be revisiting Donne’s poetry again.

I didn’t hate the beginning portion of the book; I just wasn’t all that interested. Occasionally, a poem interested me, but most of the time I just was not loving Donne’s poems, which often seemed to be well-written yet confusing love poems. I liked the writing style (I like to read it the beautifully written lines out loud) but the poems were complicated and non-interesting to me.

I decided I’d make it to the end. After all, my volume was very short (albeit with very small print). Then I wouldn’t feel bad to admit that “I just couldn’t get in to it.” But then came to the last section of the book.

I truly loved John Donne’s Holy Sonnets. There was something so personal and real about his discussions with God. I could relate on a personal spiritual level.  And since I had just reread the play Wit, in which the main character discussed these poems as she prepared to die, it was emotional to read the poems.

I consider myself religious, so I related to Donne’s pleas to God for assistance and forgiveness. For example, in Sonnet 4, he calls out to his “black soul”:

Oh make thyself with holy mourning black,
And red with blushing, as thou art with sin;
Or wash thee in Christ’s blood, which hath this might
That being red, it dyes red souls to white.

There were so many other lines I loved:

…here on this lowly ground,
Teach me how to repent; for that’s as good
As if thou hadst seal’d my pardon, with thy blood. (Sonnet 7)

a space

One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die. (Sonnet 10)

a space

Batter my heart, three-person’d God …
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. (Sonnet 14)

a space

’Twas much, that man was made like God before,
But, that God should be made like man, much more. (Sonnet 15)

I found myself rereading these sonnets over and over again to make sure I understood, to fully internalize what Donne was saying about his own life and his personal desires for salvation.

In the end, I think John Donne is a poet to be reread and reread. Maybe then I will understand him a little bit more. I’m pretty new to poetry, and I don’t know how to “understand” it. But I do intend to revisit some of Donne’s poetry. In fact, I’m glad the volume I have is a slim collection, even if it did still take me a long time to work my way through this time around (I kept putting it off). I will pick it up again, and I will browse through it.

Some favorite poems include “The Good-Morrow”; “The Flea”; “The Bait”; “A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning”; “The Will”; the sonnets included in this volume (1, 3-7, 9-10, 12-15, 17-19); and “A Hymn to God the Father” (which has a funny play on his name “thou hast done”). I admit: as I go through the volume to pick out favorites, there are a number more that jump out at me as “reread me now, please” poems, and I like them more and more with each read.

I also picked up a slim volume of (Harold Bloom edited) criticism on Donne’ poetry, but I haven’t gotten to it yet (I’ve only read the intro and the biography of John Donne). I may browse through it this weekend, but I admit I liked reading the poetry myself. I’m beginning to think reading someone else’s interpretation of a short poem takes away some of the fun. (This is coming from a former student of English who loves literary criticism!)

Do you ever read criticism to help you understand poetry? Have you read Donne?

Links of Interest:

• Read John Donne’s poetry via Luminarium
• John Donne on Wikipedia

If you have reviewed or shared thoughts on your blog about any of John Donne’s poetry, leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

• Poetry Friday: Sonnet 73 by William Shakespeare
• Wit by Margaret Edson
• Poetry Friday: Christmas Poems
• Poetry for Young People: Lewis Carroll
• Rose, Where Do You Get that Red? by Kenneth Koch + Reading with Kids Challenge
• National Poetry Month + Call for Poetry Posts
• Reading Journal (26 Aug): Focused Reading
• Poetry for Young People: William Shakespeare
• Sailing Alone Around the Room by Billy Collins
• Poetry for Young People: Robert Louis Stevenson (edited by Frances Schoonmaker)

Anthologist and “historian of ideas” Joe Wheeler has also been fascinated by Lincoln, and he spent seventeen years studying the fascinating man and collecting stories about him. Abraham Lincoln: A Man of Faith and Courage is Joe Wheeler’s collection of favorite stories from the life of the sixteenth president, focusing on the development of Lincoln’s faith and morals.

I really enjoyed the stories Wheeler collected. The book was personable and readable, so it moved quickly. Because I am religious, I appreciated the emphasis on Lincoln’s faith, and the first-person, opinionated side-notes, while completely unnecessary, made it feel like I was sitting by a rocking chair listening to my grandpa (or someone else’s grandpa) tell his favorite stories from Lincoln’s life. It felt like a book of reminiscences.

Despite that pleasant approach, I still ended up being disappointed at times. It’s important to realize that Wheeler’s Abraham Lincoln is not an academic biography. I’m a compulsive endnote reader, so when I read a story or quote, I immediately want to see where it came from; I’m constantly flipping to the back of the book to look at the sources. With this book, it seemed many of the stories were not documented; none of the epigrams (quotes by Lincoln before sections in the chapter) were documented; and many of the stories that were documented were taken from other biographies, not “original” material.  To avoid being frustrated, I had to keep reminding myself that Wheeler is a compiler of stories, not an academic historian.

I tend to prefer my biographies to be fact rather than hearsay, and I tend to prefer a carefully written, non-personal narrator rather than a first-person narrator that writes in sentence fragments, even if the sentence fragments are more “readable.” But the purpose of this book was different: to build an image of the character of this man that so many people revere. The religious purpose behind the book was rather blatant, but because I knew what it was going in to it, I appreciated it. I wanted to read a book of stories about Lincoln’s faith.

Reading Abraham Lincoln: A Man of Faith and Courage as a collection of stories (and not as a biography) was certainly enjoyable. While reading Freedman’s Photobiography gave me a feel for the facts (Freedman was careful to only give information that was documented fact, claiming to refute the “myths”), Wheeler’s Abraham Lincoln gave me a feel for the traditional, inspiring personality that is the man Abraham Lincoln. I’m glad I read it, but unless you are specifically interested in the canon of stories relating to Lincoln’s faith, I’d probably recommend starting with something more factual and/or academic.

What type of biography do you prefer: academic (endnote heavy) or conversational (story-driven)?

I’ve only read these two biographies of Lincoln, although I have Team of Rivals on my upcoming radar. My interest in this man is still keen. What biography of Lincoln have you read and loved?

I read Abraham Lincoln: A Man of Faith and Courage for the U.S. Presidential Reading project.

If you have reviewed Abraham Lincoln: A Man of Faith and Courage on your blog, leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

• Lincoln: A Photobiography by Russell Freedman
• Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose
• August in Review
• Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling by Richard Lyman Bushman
• Nonfiction Five Challenge
• Reading Journal (29 July): Summer Mode to Blog Reading
• Reading Journal (22 July): Reading as a Priority
• Reading Journal (5 August): Library Loot
• Milton in May Week 1: Introduction and Paradise Lost Books 1-3
• The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester

Wit by Margaret Edson is a quick read (I think I read it in about an hour over the course of a day), but is poignant because of its emotional subject matter. Despite its brevity, it is packed full of various implications. I’m sure I miss most of the subtle meanings when I read it, so I enjoy rereading it. I get more out of it each time.

The play centers on Vivian Bearing’s last days in the hospital as she dies of ovarian cancer, with flashbacks to key moments in her life and career. Dr. Bearing is a professor of seventeenth century poetry, specifically of John Donne’s Holy Sonnets, and throughout the play, Bearing’s fears echo John Donne’s lines. Her impersonal medical care likewise parallels her own insensitive method of teaching students.

This play never fails to bring me to tears as I read it (or watch it), and I’m not certain why I like such intense emotion. I like the connections to words and how words can comfort and provide an imagined escape. I love the childhood books that are mentioned and the parallel between those books and the emotions that Dr. Bearing faces as her life comes full circle. I like the reminder that as people we need to recognize each other as such. This play had lonely people in it, and it made me want to make sure that others aren’t feeling lonely, whatever their stage in life.

The title, Wit, comes from the type of poetry that John Donne wrote, metaphysical poetry. The Wikipedia entry for “wit” says that “wit can be a thin disguise for more poignant feelings that are being versified” and cites John Donne as a great example of this. I certainly am not an expert at such things, so I can’t really discuss it. But reading Edson’s play is inspiring to me because I realize I have so much to learn. I love the way it makes me think. And now I want to go read John Donne’s poetry in depth.

And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die. (John Donne, Sonnet X)

Margaret Edson wrote Wit in 1995, when she was an elementary school teacher volunteering at a hospital cancer ward. The play won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1999.

I also rewatched the movie this week, which stars Emma Thompson. While it is certainly an adaptation of the play, it is very well done. I’ve never seen the play live, although I’d like too. It should be noted that the play itself has brief nudity at the end, which may be a bit surprising if one is not expecting it.

Other Reviews:

• Semicolon (review of movie)

If you have reviewed Wit on your site, please leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

Do you like to read emotional books?

Are any of your favorite books “tear jerkers”?

• A Selection of Poetry by John Donne
• The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch
• Rose, Where Do You Get that Red? by Kenneth Koch + Reading with Kids Challenge
• The Door by Margaret Atwood
• The Student by Anton Chekhov: A Perfect Short Story
• Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman
• Poetry Friday: Christmas Poems
• Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
• Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare
• Comfort Reading

I don’t usually read modern fiction; it’s just not my thing, and I can’t really say way. Maybe I’m just always reading the “wrong” modern fiction and so it has a bad rap in my mind. I did try to have an open mind when I read The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo. I think discussing it with others did help me to give it more of a chance. I probably wouldn’t have finished it, despite its brevity, if I didn’t know the book club meeting was coming up.

In the end, I thought the writing trite and the underlying message saccharine. The author was aiming for a specific religious agenda, and it seemed forced and inappropriate to me. Besides, the back cover of The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo claims, “Every few decades a book comes along that changes the lives of its readers forever.” I guess that just meant that I expected more from it.

In The Alchemist, a young shepherd dreamed of the pyramids in Egypt. The next morning, he met a mysterious king who told him to follow his dream, so he sold his sheep and moved to Africa in search of the pyramids. When he was robbed of his money, he had to find a way to earn more so he could continue to follow his dream. In the desert on the way to Africa, he found other people searching for their “Personal Legends” (i.e., their life-long dreams). One man was afraid to pursue his dream; one man was so distracted in searching for his dream that he missed seeing it right in front of him. The alchemist, a wizard who turns lead into gold, guided the young boy to the pyramids, teaching him how to read nature to find the meaning of the omens on his way to accomplishing his “Personal Legend.”

The Alchemist has been termed a fable. As such, it is telling the story of everyone’s journey through life. It’s a spiritual book. The king at the beginning was Melchizedek of the Old Testament 4,000 years later, giving Santiago the Urim and Thummim to guide him when he struggles. Melchizedek and the alchemist paraphrased biblical truths throughout the book.  Because The Alchemist is a parable of a spiritual journey, my thoughts about the book are spiritual and religious in nature.

The Negative

Of all the religious messages that are discussed in The Alchemist, one seems strangely absent: charity. Instead, it seemed to me that Santiago was encouraged throughout to be selfish in his quest, ignoring others (even a woman he loved) on the way. I believe that in reality, as Paul says many times in scripture, life is about serving other people.

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. …

Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. …

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. (KJV, 1 Corinthians 13: 2, 8, 11-13)

I felt that Coehlo was encouraging us to follow childish things: random dreams that don’t really build us. Is Santiago’s box of gold really supposed to symbolize something precious in our spiritual life? That seems contrary to the gospel Jesus preached:

But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal:

For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. (KJV, Mat 6:20-21)

The Positive

There was one part that I did like in the book, and that was Santiago’s work with the crystal merchant. Because Santiago wanted to continue his dream, he needed more money and therefore kept suggesting ideas to the merchant for improving business. At one point, the crystal merchant observed that because of the boy’s influence, he’d have to expand the shop, which may not be a good thing for him. He says,

I’m already used to the way things are. Before you came, I was thinking about how much time I had wasted in the same place, while my friends had moved on, and either went bankrupt or did better than they had before. It made me very depressed. Now, I can see that it hasn’t been too bad. The shop is exactly the size I always wanted it to be. I don’t want to change anything, because I don’t know how to deal with change. I’m used to the way I am. (page 57-58)

I do think it’s important for a person to be happy with the life he or she has chosen. Like the shopkeeper, we might be happy with the status quo when we realize our alternatives. Finding things that make us happy in our situations in life is very important. We should all have goals and dreams of some kind. Maybe this book can help people be proactive in finding those goals and dreams.

I do believe that personal dreams (or “Personal Legends,” if you insist) change as we grow older, as we make decisions, and as other people enter our lives. Our five-year-old dreams should grow up into adult dreams. Sometimes they may be similar, but they still have to be appropriate for adults.

And I think that loving and serving other people is a key to a happy life, not searching for physical treasure or selfishly abandoning others in order to pursue a childhood dream.

Did you like The Alchemist? Why or why not? Did you think Santiago was being selfish?

What was/is your dream? Has it changed throughout your life?

I had two dreams as a child: to write books and to travel. I’ve had the chance to travel (so someone’s going to say “but you already got your dream!”). It’s interesting: my family had the chance to spend a year living in Australia, and although I’d still love to travel through Europe, I’d be okay to never travel again. It’s really nice to stay in one place. I also no longer feel any compulsion to write a book. Raising a happy, healthy, well-developed son has replaced any other dreams I had. Maybe someday I’ll consider writing, but really, my dreams have changed since I was a child. I’m liking the motherhood and the reading things right now.

If you have reviewed The Alchemist on your site, leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

Other Reviews (I’m sure I missed a lot! These are just the first two pages from the search engine.)

• Caribou’s Mom
• Just a (Reading) Fool
• Andrea’s Book Nook
• Musings of a Bookish Kitty
• The Magic Lasso
• The 3 R’s: Reading, ‘Riting, and Randomness
• Adventures in Reading
• The Bluestocking Society
• Framed and Booked
• Lissa’s Long Yarn
• Bart’s Bookshelf
• Maw Book’s Blog
• A Reader’s Journal
• The Zen Leaf

• The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron
• Poetry for Young People: Robert Louis Stevenson (edited by Frances Schoonmaker)
• Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
• Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne
• The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls + Blog Action Day 2008
• A Selection of Poetry by John Donne

I hope no reader will suppose that “mere” Christianity is here put forward as an alternative to the creeds of the existing communions-as if a man could adopt it in preference to Congregationalism or Greek Orthodoxy or anything else. It is more like a hall out of which doors open into several rooms. If I can bring anyone into that hall I shall have done what I attempted. But it is in the rooms, not in the hall, that there are fires and chairs and meals. The hall is a place to wait in, a place from which to try the various doors, not a place to live in. For that purpose the worst of the rooms (whichever that may be) is, I think, preferable. (I apologize I don’t have page numbers; I had to return the book to the library.)

In the end, I certainly appreciated C.S. Lewis’s analogies and explanations of Christianity. It encouraged me to ponder my own understandings and determine what I believe. It reminded me of lots of things I should do to improve myself. There are so many quotable analogies!

For just one example out of many, I need to eliminate the “rats in the cellar” of my life, even if I don’t see them every day:

[S]urely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of a man he is? Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth? If there are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am. The rats are always there in the cellar, but if you go in shouting and noisily they will have taken cover before you switch on the light.

Mere Christianity, of course, describes what C.S. Lewis believes is core. In some respects, I think any Christian (well, if they were a good writer) could develop a similar book for their own understanding of the core of their faith. And while the “core” of this core would remain the same, I suspect there may be differences. Mere Christianity is not scripture, and Lewis is not a prophet.

I listened to the audiobook of Mere Christianity in March. While the book was only six hours long, it took me a few weeks to listen to it because my listening ended up being in 5 or 10 minute intervals. C.S. Lewis provides lots of analogies, and I was often confused how the analogy related to the point because my listening was so sporadic. I really didn’t enjoy listening to it, and I felt I needed to give it another chance, so I also read it in April. I am glad I gave it another chance because I enjoyed it a lot more.

I think part of the problem with audio format is that Lewis shares so many deep concepts that are meant to be pondered and applied to my own life. Listening to it in brief intervals confused me, rather than enlightened me. Reading it was much better.

C.S. Lewis’s strength lies in his analogies and his personal voice. His perspective is also significant, since he was an atheist until age 33. (He was 44 when he wrote this book.) The book was highly readable and personable, and the analogies followed his logic.

One of C.S. Lewis’s goals in writing this book was to bring everyone into the “hall” of Christianity (see quote above). Will atheists and other non-Christians be convinced of Christianity after reading this book? I don’t think so. I’m not a logic expert, but I’m not sure Lewis’s logic would convince anyone determined in their current beliefs. For me, a Christian, though, it was an interesting perspective on my faith.

Ironically, Mere Christianity began as a series of radio lectures, aired in the United Kingdom in 1942, in the midst of World War II. For me, it didn’t work in audio format. There were so many things to ponder and apply to my life that I feel it is a book to read and study in depth, probably more than twice. In the mean time, I should read the scriptures again.

What type of audiobooks work best for you? This month, I’ve been listening to children’s books and it is very pleasant. I often listened to nonfiction in the past, but this experience shared that some nonfiction doesn’t work well in 10 minute intervals.

Mere Christianity counts for the Dewey Decimal Challenge (200s).

Other Reviews:

• The Bookshelf Reviews

If you have reviewed Mere Christianity on your site, leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

• Founding Mothers by Cokie Roberts
• Poetry for Young People: Lewis Carroll
• The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop by Lewis Buzbee
• Is Reading Online is Making Us Stupid?
• April in Review
• What is Reading? and Audiobook Review of The Book Thief
• The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama (abridged audio, read by the author)
• Milton in May (erm, and June): Paradise Lost, Books 10 to 12 + Two Reading Aids
• Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman

Robinson Crusoe is the account of the life of a man by the same name, and it is an adventure story. I don’t tend to enjoy adventure stories, but this was one for me, for Robinson’s adventure was one of practical survival and religious realization. I also loved the language with which it was told, archaic and unfamiliar though it was.

Robinson was a young man who left his comfortable home in England for a life of adventure on the open seas. In the coming years, he was captured by pirates and sold into slavery. He escaped and immigrated to Brazil, where he joined in a partnership of a successful tobacco plantation. Ultimately, he determined to become richer by entering the slave trade, and when the ship he was on was wrecked in a storm, he was the only survivor. He then lived on a deserted island near the New World for almost 30 years, making his little island highly productive. He eventually befriended a Native American he named Friday and with whom he was able to escape his isolation (which we know will happen from the beginning, since he’s sharing his story in retrospect).

Robinson’s adventures were most interesting to me once he landed on the island. The novel told of his fear and despair, but it also detailed his clever cultivation of the land, the wild goats, the wild grapes, and more. Although in England Robinson had been the spoiled son of a wealthy merchant, on his desert island he had to sew, milk animals, farm land, weave baskets, hunt, build a shelter, and otherwise sustain himself. He was his own world. This adventure of survival was fascinating to me.

I also mentioned that Robinson Crusoe was an adventure of religious realization. To some readers, this may feel like a remnant of the age, and they may not notice or care so much about the religious part of the adventure. Robinson Crusoe of course has an undercurrent of “what does religion mean?” because it was written in an era when religion was a more significant part of life, at least in the literature. It was written just a few decades after the incredibly popular religious allegory Pilgrim’s Progress (thoughts here), after all.

I personally loved the undercurrent. Robinson Crusoe was a rebellious boy who didn’t care for religion at all: and when he finds himself alone in an abandoned island, he must determine what he believes. It takes him a few years to pull out his Bible and read it, but for him, that is a significant step in his personal development. He realized how superficial his life had been, and he longs for spiritual fellowship. He regrets his “wickedness” (like joining the slave trade). I felt this change was a significant “adventure” underscoring the rest of the novel, too, since it was the personal change of the main (and only) character. It made me think about how and what I’d feel given such dire circumstances. It made Robinson a real person to me.

And yet, all that said, I don’t think one needs to search for or enjoy the religious aspect of Robinson Crusoe to enjoy the novel as a whole. It is still an adventure, a struggle for survival.

I thought it was a delightful classic read, although I did read the entire book aloud to my son and I wouldn’t suggest that; it’s hard to read aloud because of the convoluted grammar and it took quite a long time. (We’re reading a true “children’s book” this time.)

I have heard (especially in the chapter I’m reading of Seth Lerer’s Children’s Literature) there are a number of “abridgments” and “retellings” of Robinson Crusoe for children. I’ll have more about this in a few weeks, but I suspect the magic of the text is missing from those. I always hesitate to embrace an abridgment.

I read Little Women abridged for the first time. It was very disappointing to me. I loved it once I read it in the original, though.

What do you think of abridgements and retellings? Do you get them for your young children? Have you had a bad “abridgement” experience?

The Effect of Robinson Crusoe

It’s interesting how literature ebbs into society. Robinson Crusoe is the basis for all sorts of survival stories, television shows, and movies, and it has also become a part of society.

I took an economics class in college, and I seem to remember a few lectures that revolved around Robinson Crusoe and Friday, along these lines (please note that I’ve forgotten the correct economic terminology):

“If Robinson Crusoe was faster at weaving baskets and Friday was faster at chopping wood, it would be economically practical for Robinson Crusoe to specialize in basket weaving and Friday to specialize in wood chopping.”

And then we’d graph their (made-up) speeds and determine their comparative productivity. How fast would Robinson Crusoe need to become at chopping wood for him to (practically) change his specialty?

This very sketchy background sparked my interest in Robinson Crusoe. I knew that it involved a shipwrecked man on an island, and another man named Friday, but I knew few of the details.

Have you heard of Robinson Crusoe in daily culture? What do you know about Robinson and Friday?

Other Reviews:

• Reading Comes From Writing

If you have reviewed Robinson Crusoe on your site, leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

• Robinson Crusoe Adaptations for Children
• Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss
• Treasure Island and Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson
• Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
• The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
• Poetry for Young People: Lewis Carroll
• Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift
• The Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter
• The Adventures of Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi
• Reading Journal (June 10): Book Clubs

Now, I’m a beginner at poetry. I don’t know how to write about it clearly and I don’t know how to interpret it “properly.” What I like about the poems in Babylon in a Jar, is that many of them don’t seem to need “interpreting.” Hudgins writes frankly and many of the poems are approachable simply as they are. Others have a bit of depth that I enjoy but that I’d rather not try to detail for you – simply because I’m probably “wrong” and don’t want to embarrass myself!

One common theme in Hudgins’ poetry is the ordinariness of life, along with the things that bring life out-of-the-ordinary. For example, in “Keys”, the narrator throws his keys in the air one pleasant afternoon, only to see them get stuck high above his reach. “In the Red Seats” tells of a drunk being a little too thankful at a baseball game. In two different poems called “Ashes”, two different characters at two different memorial services reflect on the cans of human ashes. The poems are humorous and yet painful as we recognize our own short sojourn on earth and how simple things can make us feel uncomfortable when we realize that.

Other poems have deeper meanings as Hudgins reflects on how the present time echoes the past civilizations that were once great (such as Babylon). Hudgins also has a deep distaste for organized religion that he expertly explored in such poems as “Stump” (a poem that I enjoy very much; the fact that I enjoy it strikes me as rather odd because [1] I consider myself religious and [2] the poem is about a chicken getting its head cut off). These “deeper” poems were also great, although I admit I don’t fully understand them.

The poem that stood out to me most upon this read of Babylon in a Jar was “We Were Simply Talking.” In this poem, a couple nearly crashes their car and the narrator realizes all that he loves and how much he does not want to die. This poem really stood out to me at this point in my life because I had an experience a few years ago when I realized I was going to die. (Moral: If you are going to swallow meat without chewing it, make sure an ER doctor is sitting behind you.)

Here’s how “We Were Simply Talking” ends:

Suddenly the radio roared, and by the car
a dog barked wildly and, yes, we were fine.
Fine. We were fine. But what was “fine,” I wondered,
and why do we always, always have to speak?

Note: I’d love to quote “We Were Simply Talking” in full, but due to copyright, I’m unable to do so. Please find a copy of it: it is incredibly powerful.

I loved revisiting Andrew Hudgins’ poetry in Babylon in a Jar. Visit Andrew Hudgins at Poets.org. Other books he has published are these:

• Ecstatic in the Poison (poetry; 2003)
• Babylon in a Jar (poetry; 1998)
• The Glass Anvil (essays, 1997).
• The Glass Hammer: A Southern Childhood (poetry, 1994)
• The Never-Ending: New Poems (poetry, 1991),a finalist for the National Book Awards
• After the Lost War: A Narrative (poetry, 1988), received the Poetry Prize
• Saints and Strangers (poetry, 1985), a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize

Have you read any of Andrew Hudgins’ poetry?

Other Review:

• Pif Magazine

If you have reviewed Babylon in a Jar on your site, leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

• The Collected Poems of Nikki Giovanni
• April in Review
• Chicago Poems by Carl Sandburg
• The Norton Introduction to Poetry + My Introduction to Poetry
• Poetry Friday: Christmas Poems
• Sailing Alone Around the Room by Billy Collins
• A Poem in Your Pocket: Introduction to Poetry by Billy Collins
• The Door by Margaret Atwood
• How to Read a Poem and Fall in Love with Poetry by Edward Hirsch
• A Shropshire Lad by A.E. Housman

Christ and the New Covenant

Elder Holland includes many extensive quotes from The Book of Mormon, and while he makes it clear that is not a substitute for personal scripture study, it was a nice book to read with my husband each evening (over the past six months).

Because it is written for a strictly Mormon audience, it probably holds little interest to those who are not Mormon. In fact, if you are not a believer of Mormonism, Christ and the New Covenant is probably not the place to start, only because Elder Holland’s purpose seems to be to inspire, more than to teach.

I debated whether or not I’d review this book for Rebecca Reads, since it is certainly out of my ordinarily scheduled reading. I finally decided to review it simply because it was a book that I would highly recommend to any LDS reader interested in a book of this nature. I enjoyed reading it, and I don’t want to forget that. (I’m now coveting the newly published illustrated edition, but my hardcover edition is quite pretty too.)

Do you review everything you read? Why or why not?

I honestly can’t remember if I have omitted any books from my reviews since I began blogging last May. For future reference, though, I probably will omit reviews if I didn’t like a book, if I don’t have anything to say about it, and/or I know there is very little interest.

• Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage
• The Life of Our Lord by Charles Dickens
• Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling by Richard Lyman Bushman
• Milton in May: Paradise Regained
• Milton in May (erm, and June): Paradise Lost, Books 10 to 12 + Two Reading Aids
• Silence by Shusaku Endo
• September in Review
• Jerusalem: The Eternal City by David Galbraith et al
• December in Review
• Two Books by Seth Lerer (Inventing English and Children’s Literature)

In The Life of Our Lord, Charles Dickens retells the major events in the life of Jesus Christ. He obviously omits a lot, but he focuses on what he wants his children to know. It is an intriguing look at the life of Christ and at the specific faith of Charles Dickens. I appreciated the way he wrote as if speaking directly to a child, and I am glad I read it.

All that said, I wasn’t very impressed with this short children’s book. Publishers warned readers not to expect a typical Dickens book from it, and I have to say I agree: I don’t think it’s typical. It was written for children and for specific children at that (his own). For that reason the tone is incredibly casual.

As I read, I kept thinking “I want to write something like this for my own child!” Because Dickens is writing for his own purposes, he writes what he feels is most important, explicating his own theological understanding on the events of Christ’s life. It is perfectly appropriate, and yet it made me want to do the same with my own understanding and beliefs about the life of Christ. I want my children to know what I believe and what I love from the life of Jesus Christ.

While he was alive, Dickens asked that The Life of Our Lord never be published while he was alive; he wrote it for his family and wanted it to say in the family. In the 1930s, it was published by his descendants.  More information can be found at Wikipedia.

The bottom line: I recommend reading The Life of Our Lord if you’re interested in Dickens’ faith and understanding of the life of Jesus Christ. The Life of Our Lord may interest you and inspire you, but I don’t think it’s full of quality Dickens writing. I’m not very inclined to whole-heartedly recommend that you read The Life of Our Lord; it’s purpose wasn’t for me or you or anyone else to read it. I felt like I was reading a personal letter Dickens wrote to his children.

Do you think it was right of Dickens’ descendants to publish The Life of Our Lord? Dickens hadn’t asked that publication be avoided forever, but he obviously wanted to keep it in the family. If you wrote something you never wanted published, what would you think if someone published your writing against your wishes? What if you’ve been dead a long time?

Have you reviewed The Life of Our Lord? Leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

• Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
• Four Christmas Novellas by Charles Dickens
• A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
• Christ and the New Covenant by Jeffrey R. Holland
• Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage
• Silence by Shusaku Endo
• A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
• Lord of the Flies by William Golding
• The Life of Wilkie Collins (Biographies by Clarke and Peters)
• Abraham Lincoln: A Man of Faith and Courage by Joe Wheeler

Equality 7-2521 lives in a dark futurist dystopia in Ayn Rand’s novella Anthem. He has no words for love or self, and being alone is a crime. Yet, as do characters in countless other dystopian novels, he still finds moments to write his story of discovery.

By itself, Anthem is slim – just 100 pages – and quick to read. I enjoyed the story of Equality 7-2521′s literal self-discovery and I love the concepts within it: What is joy? What is pleasure? What is self?

Anthem has its faults, notably a complex ideology that Rand obviously hopes to impart to the reader. For me, this philosophy seemed to overshadow the story of Equality 7-2521 a bit too much. But, because it is a slim story, it was still a worthwhile reread for me.

Rereading this novella reminded me of the need to reread the classic dystopian novels: Animal Farm, 1984, and so forth. From my dim memories, Rand’s dystopia most reminds me of the dystopia in The Giver, for, like Jonas, Equality 7-2521 learns of what life was like before the dystopia, which in Equality 7-2521′s case is called “the Unmentionable Times.” The difference is that in Jonas’ world, the high councilmen (can’t remember what they are called) have kept a person that has those memories (called The Giver); in Anthem, even the memories are gone and all must be rediscovered.

In some respects, I found Anthem to be much more compelling than The Handmaid’s Tale, another dystopia-tale I read recently, because the narration made sense in Anthem. If Equality 7-2521 doesn’t have a word for something, he uses words he does have. Tense don’t shift. It is written in one chronological time frame, although he does share some flash backs of his life history as he writes in his journal. (It still bothers me that I can’t explain how the handmaid in Atwood’s novel told her story since the tenses were so “off.”) That said, Anthem is a completely different story than The Handmaid’s Tale and it has a different agenda. While The Handmaid’s Tale looked at religion as totalitarian disaster, Anthem does not. This dystopia is godless and religion-less, as is Equality 7-2521′s ultimate escape. The only god in Anthem is the individual. And that is to what the novel sings an “anthem” to.

This also reminded me of Ella Minnow Pea, silly as it was. In that novel, once or twice Ella mourned the day the “I” would fall off of the memorial and she’d no longer be able to express herself: “I love you.”

And celebrating the power of “I” is also Rand’s goal in her writing. My volume has a 10-page introduction and a 10-page appendix discussing Rand’s philosophy and how Anthem is a precursor to her further philosophical treatises/novels (Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead). Rand developed her own philosophy, called objectivism. I’m sorry to say, reading this novel and the front and end matter has only confused the issue of “objectivism” in my mind. It seems quite complicated. But the gist seems to be that no overarching power – government or religion – is more powerful than each individual; by extension there is no god and there is no faith because truth is given power only through reason. For more information on objectivism, visit Wikipedia’s entry, The Ayn Rand Institute, or the user-created Objectivism Wiki.

As one who believes in God and faith, though, I didn’t find Rand’s political agenda to be remarkably or annoyingly atheist, however. I believe celebrating the individual can go in harmony with religion and Anthem was an appropriate “hymn” to that individual.

Martel-Harper Challenge

In reading Yann Martel’s letter to Stephen Harper about this book, I have to say, he gave up the entire plot. Although his letter is amusing and sarcastic, don’t read his letter until you read the book. I’d be annoyed if I were Stephen Harper. Sometimes I really hate spoilers! (Other times I read the last page first.)

A Giveaway

My copy of Anthem has the most recent publication of the novel as well as a facsimile of Rand’s edits to the original 1938 U.K. publication. (Publishers in the U.S. would not publish Anthem until 1946, apparently for political reasons.) I’ve read the novella twice; the first time was for a book club, so I marked two or three passages with pen in the margin. Other than that, it’s in excellent condition.

I’d like to giveaway my copy. (Remember my poll about giving away used books? This book is used and does have pen markings in it. If you don’t want it for that reason, I understand.) If you would like to be entered into the drawing, tell me in a comment below. I’ll select a winner next week.

NOTE: GIVEAWAY IS OVER.

What is your favorite dystopian novel? I’m in the mood to read some more of them.

Have you read Ayn Rand’s masterpieces? What are your thoughts on objectivism within those books? Is the plot overshadowed by philosophy?

If you have reviewed Anthem on your site, please leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

• The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
• We by Yevgeny Zamyatin
• Winner of Anthem + Swamped
• Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar by Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein
• Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984) by George Orwell
• Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman + Giveaway (Used Book)
• The Stranger by Albert Camus
• My Antonia by Willa Cather
• A Stop in South Africa (Two Novels by Alan Paton) + Giveaway
• Utopia by Thomas More

The tragedy is this: Slowly but surely, the letters are falling off of the national memorial:

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Unfortunately for Ella and her friends, the local government believes that this is a sign from the God-like Nevin Nollop, the native-son who created the pangram (the sentence above, which uses each letter of the alphabet). Therefore, when the first letter falls, it is decreed that no one in Nollop is to implement said letter in speech or in writing: Nollop himself is challenging the citizens of the country from beyond the grave to better express themselves.

Fortunately, that letter is “z.” No one will miss “z,” will they? But when the “Q” and “D” and “J” also fall, writing and speaking to each other becomes a little more difficult.

At first glance, Ella Minnow Pea is what you’re probably thinking:

A quirky novel with pages of zany, jumbled lexicon.

But at second glance, this is a story of a dystopia, and a reminder to all word-lovers of the significance and influence of each letter, A to Z.

Ella Minnow Pea has its faults (limited setting; predictable plot development; superficial characterization). But I believe it meets its goal (satiric commentary on religion and totalitarian dystopias) in a delightful way that resonates with me, a word-lover.

One of the reviews on the back cover of the book calls Ella Minnow Pea a “satire of human foibles, and a light-stepping commentary on censorship and totalitarianism.” So it’s a good thing I defined satire a few weeks ago; now I can actually recognize it as such!

Of what, then, is Ella Minnow Pea suggesting a remodeling, through its humor and wit? I think it’s suggesting that religionists get a little overboard with attributing things to “divine will.” It’s also suggesting that governments take on too much power, as this should never have been a “governmental” issue.

But Ella Minnow Pea is also a commentary on freedom of speech, on censorship, and on how quickly a heaven-on-earth can change into a totalitarian state, once those freedoms are gone. What freedoms do we take for granted? More specifically, what letters do we take for granted?

All that said, Ella Minnow Pea is “zany.” It’s fun. And, if you like and appreciate words, it’s full of fun language that plays with words. It helps you see how we need each and every letter: we use them all all of the time.

One person is banished for using a “d” in her letter. I had to read the letter three times to find the “d.” It was interesting to see how quickly my eyes pass over it, how easily we take each letter for granted.

I think I’d personally be most sad to lose the letter “R.” I couldn’t say my R’s until first grade (thank you Speech Teacher!), and so I guess I want to keep the wonderful sound in my repertoire. Not only is “R” an imperative part of my first, middle, and last names, but it’s so much fun to roll, especially in Spanish: “Relámpagos!”

I suppose I would be least sad to see “Z” go. We could start spelling many words with an “S” as they do in the British Commonwealth and substituting an “S” in other places.

What letter do you most appreciate? Which letter could you do without? Can you write your own pangram? (It’s harder than you think!)

Other Reviews:

• The Novel World
• Penny’s Pages
• 5-Squared (Amanda)
• 5-Squared (hamilcar barca)

If you have reviewed Ella Minnow Pea on your site, leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

• Anthem by Ayn Rand + A Giveaway
• The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
• A Few Fairy Tale Reviews
• Abecedaria (aka Alphabet Books)
• Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare
• Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984) by George Orwell
• Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov + Giveaway
• Possession by A.S. Byatt
• A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift
• HTR&W Prologue: Why Read?

Bushman does not omit controversy from Joseph’s life; rather, controversy surrounding Joseph is carefully researched in the context of early 1800s America. As a fellow believer in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormon Church), I readily enjoyed what I felt was a balanced examination a person I consider a prophet in his era. While Bushman’s account is certainly biased toward Joseph Smith as a prophet, I felt it was a fair look at both man and prophet.

Joseph Smith’s World

In his May 2005 lecture at “The Worlds of Joseph Smith” conference at The U.S. Library of Congress, Richard Bushman examined the various histories given to Joseph Smith:

The context in which [Joseph Smith] is placed effects how one sees the prophet. It colors everything about him.

In his biography, Bushman attempts to put Joseph Smith in the cultural context that helped form him in to the man and prophet that he was: the subtitle is “A Cultural Biography of Mormonism’s Founder.”I think he did an excellent job.

The Life (and Controversy) of Joseph Smith

Because Joseph Smith only kept a personal journal for six months, much of what we know is from other’s journals, public reports, and the cultural context of his life. Though he only lived 39 years, Joseph Smith profoundly believed in the revelations he had received. He also lived with an abundance of persecution. (More about Joseph Smith here.)

Revelation and Faith

Joseph Smith was a teenager when, following a personal prayer, he had a vision. Years later, he was led to an ancient record and given the power to translate it, which resulted in the Book of Mormon.

While for Joseph these experiences were calls from God for him to lead, he seldom talked about his visions: he instead emphasized baptism and repentance, among other things. He had boundless hope for personal salvation. One facet of the Mormon religion is the fact that each person is able to receive personal revelation to help them through their lives.

Joseph Smith’s life was formed by what seems to be miraculous religious experiences, and as he said on many occasions,

I don’t blame you for not believing my history[;] had I not experienced it [I] could not believe it myself. (page 551)

He certainly believed he had these experiences: he never doubted himself. Reading his history shows me his optimistic hope.

Persecution for Religion and Politics

When Joseph first discussed his miraculous vision with local church leaders as a teenager, he was scorned and told his vision was of the devil. Thus began a lifetime of persecution, for young Joseph was certain his vision was from God. His family and followers were driven from New York State and later Ohio. In Missouri, Mormons were driven out by mobs. Ultimately, he was murdered in Illinois and the remaining Mormons were driven from the state.

Surprisingly, much of the persecution stemmed from politics. For example, in Ohio, a failed economic cooperative angered the locals; in Missouri, Mormons were northerners settling in a slave state. In Illinois, Mormons sought redress from various political parties, rewarding loyalty to any leader supporting them. Joseph Smith, frustrated by the government’s lack of any redress for the violence against his followers, decided to run for president himself.  The cultural background for persecution was fascinating to discover.

Some persecution was religious discrimination. I also found the cultural rationales for this discrimination interesting.

Polygamy

The Mormons in 1843 Nauvoo, Illinois, could not imagine living in a polygamous society. Bushman did a marvelous job at expressing the shock that this doctrine had on the small community of Mormons. Joseph had doctrinal reasons for instituting the practice, and divine inspiration convinced him it was of God. Personal revelation allowed others to likewise feel divinely inspired, as Bushman showed. Bushman does not apologize for the practice but rather provides a fascinating look at the cultural context.

(While I do believe that Joseph Smith was inspired, I also believe that polygamy practiced today is not; I personally cannot explain why it was necessary to be practiced in Nauvoo in the 1840s. For the church position on polygamy in the past and today, visit the LDS.org Newsroom.)

Unbiased or Not?

Is it possible to provide an unbiased account of a man many consider to be a prophet? Bushman is an expert of Puritan and early United States history as well as a practicing Mormon. In his introduction, he discusses the challenges to writing Joseph Smith’s biography:

… To protect their own deepest commitments, believers want to shield their prophet’s reputation. On the other hand, people who have broken away from Mormonism … have to justify their decision to leave. … For a character as controversial as Smith, pure objectivity is impossible. What I can do is to look frankly at all sides of Joseph Smith, facing up to his mistakes and flaws. … (page xix)

To get inside the movement, we have to think of Smith as the early Mormons thought of him and as he thought of himself – as a revelator. (page xxi)

The Bottom Line

Bushman is a believer in Joseph Smith as a prophet, as am I. Is his history of Joseph Smith biased? Yes, of course. But his history would also be biased if he didn’t believe Joseph Smith was a prophet. As it was, I loved Bushman’s biography of Joseph Smith, and I learned about a man who was certainly not perfect. I appreciate Joseph Smith and his life’s work and sacrifice all the more knowing he’s imperfect.

Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling has been widely received in academic circles. I imagine that anyone interested in a well-researched cultural biography of Joseph Smith and the founding of Mormonism would probably appreciate Bushman’s biography. It’s the only one of its kind.

It probably doesn’t exist, but I’m now looking for a balanced biography of Brigham Young. Any recommendations?

If you have reviewed Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling on your blog, please leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

• Nonfiction Five Challenge
• Christ and the New Covenant by Jeffrey R. Holland
• Nineteenth-Century Mormon Architecture and City Planning by C. Mark Hamilton
• Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage
• Ongoing and Personal Challenges – 2009
• Will in the World by Stephen Greenblatt
• Reading Journal, October 6
• Alexander McCall-Smith
• Milton in May (erm, and June): Paradise Lost, Books 10 to 12 + Two Reading Aids
• A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith

In the attitude of George Orwell’s 1984, Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, Lois Lowry’s The Giver, and I’m sure many others, Atwood’s dystopia is a dire reminder of the danger of extremism. It is a chilly tale of life under fanatical leaders and the danger of swinging from one extreme to the other. It was an intriguing story of how a changing law changes one’s moral acceptance of things. I literally had a hard time putting down the captivating story.

I enjoyed the narrative. I enjoyed the pacing of the story. I sympathized with the narrator. I was fascinated by the political warnings of what the world could come to. But I can’t say I loved The Handmaid’s Tale. It is one that many people should read, but it’s not a favorite that I will reread.

What I Didn’t Like

While I found Atwood’s tale to be engaging and fascinating, I disliked a number of things about this book.

Religion

My main dislike was the negative portrayal of religion. Certainly, religious extremism is real on the earth. However, I personally found some concepts in this book to be a horrible distortion of religion (for example, that sex with a nameless handmaiden in a distorted “ceremony” is more sacred than IVF or other methods of conceiving a child in love). As a religious woman who believes in God’s command to “Multiple and replenish the earth,” I still believe in birth control. I still believe in a woman’s right to choose (although I personally disagree with abortion). I still believe sex is a beautiful gift from God, not a distorted “ceremony” only for conception of children. One can believe in religion without being extreme.

Reading a book showing distorted Christianity helped illustrate to me why followers of Islam might be frustrated when people assume that fanatical Muslims represent all Muslims. I can better sympathize to that frustration now.

Sexuality

In The Handmaid’s Tale, sexuality was a political tool, and obviously, the handmaid (the narrator) was defined by her ovaries. I don’t read books with lots of sexuality in them, and I wasn’t unduly concerned with sexuality in this book since I knew the premise of the novel when I began it. However, I can’t see myself rereading it, and I would hesitate to recommend it to anyone easily bothered by excessive sexuality in fiction.

The Narrator

Woman in the dystopia were not allowed to read or write, and the unnamed narrator had no materials for writing. Supposedly, this story was told on to cassette tapes found 150 years later. However, the story was told mostly in the present tense, as events were happening. I had a hard time determining how the narrator could tell her story on to cassette tapes as events were happening. It seemed so unrealistic that it bothered me throughout the narrative.

Suspension of Disbelief

I had small disbeliefs, but my main disbelief was in the basic premise: over the course of five years or so, the U.S. government was slaughtered in a massacre, a religious fanatical group took over, banks denied access to all women, and second marriages became illegal and children of those marriages confiscated by the government. Not only that, but children were suddenly very scarce because most people didn’t want to become pregnant, women couldn’t become pregnant, and one in four children were born with horrible birth defects that made the child mortality rate very high. I had a hard time believing that all these things would suddenly allow the creation of a society where a formerly married woman accepts being a handmaid for a married man. I realize Atwood wanted to create a society within the narrator’s viable childbearing years, but the rapid development of such a radical society was so unbelievable as to bother me.

What I Liked

As I read, I kept disbelieving: is it really possible that an outrageous political group could take control of the country and turn the nation, in five years, from a free society to one where women had to be veiled? Is it really possible that Japanese tourists would visit the former USA and take photos of such oppressed women?

There is no way the world would let it happen. I thought time and again. The population of the country would never support such radical moves. There is no way they’d accept such propaganda.

And then I remembered: 1932. The National Socialist German Workers Party was democratically elected to power. Within six years, non-Nazi leaders and Jewish peoples were being taken to concentration camps.

The Nazis, an “extreme” political group, came to power because people let them; the people were politically apathetic. The rest of the world let the Nazis take over; after all, they were elected.

When I read Einstein’s biography a few months ago, I learned that Einstein himself expressed apathy to the political situation in the early 1930s: “It will blow over once the economy improves,” he said to reporters. But the Nazis didn’t go away. They took more and more power and made their agenda into a World War.

Other societies on earth deny freedoms, and the world likewise watches.

The Bottom Line

The Handmaid’s Tale, then, is an important addition to dystopian literature and an important reminder of our individual role in political affairs. I certainly don’t like Atwood’s image of the world before the government takeover (pornography is rampant; high pollution causes birth defects; low birthrates encourage kidnappings in supermarkets).  But Atwood’s warning-dystopia is even more disturbing.

Let us each take some role in our governments; let’s not let either extreme happen. Vote if you can: Your society depends on your voice.

It seems most people love The Handmaid’s Tale; I’m probably the small minority that only “liked” it, although I’m sure some people hated it. What did you think of The Handmaid’s Tale? Why did you love it? Did anything bother you about it, or am I the only one?

Other reviews:

• In Spring it is the Dawn
• Passion for the Page
• things mean a lot
• ChainReadings
• 5-Squared (Amber)
• 5-Squared (Amanda)
• The List — Books for the Obsessive Reader
• Reading Room
• Melody’s Reading Corner
• The Bluestockings
• Bold. Blue. Adventure.

If you have reviewed The Handmaid’s Tale on your site, please leave a link in the comments and I’ll add it here.

For the rest of October, I’ll donate 10 cents to World Food Programme for every (non-spam) comment I receive on any post of Rebecca Reads. See most post on Blog Action Day 2008 here. I’m also donating any proceeds (4%) from my Amazon Store.

I’m giving away books! Visit here to enter the contest.

• Anthem by Ayn Rand + A Giveaway
• Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman + Giveaway (Used Book)
• We by Yevgeny Zamyatin
• The Door by Margaret Atwood
• Utopia by Thomas More
• Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome (narrated by Martin Jarvis)
• The Odyssey by Homer: The Story
• Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
• March by Geraldine Brooks
• Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel + Giveaway