Lory
I've read this book multiple times and its mythic images have deeply impressed me. The image of Orual reading her “great work” at the end and seeing what she is really saying is powerful and rings true with much that I have myself experienced in life. Our true motives are so often hidden from us, and coming face to face with them can be a shattering experience. The message of hope and reconciliation at the end is reassuring and I believe also true to the way things are in the deeper reality. The divine world wants us to become worthy of standing in its presence, but we have to do some hard work to get there.
I think it's better not to see the novel as an allegory but as an imagination which embodies truths about the human soul and spirit. In that regard I think it's Lewis's finest work.
Read for the Sylvia Townsend Warner Reading Week at A Gallimaufry. This was quite striking as an evocation of medieval life, with all its stinks, vermin and diseases, along with the persistent human doggedness that was needed to keep people going through all that. Lively and discursive as Chaucer's pilgrims, it's not at all a conventional narrative, leading the reader along a winding road that seemingly goes off into thin air at the end.
Strangely for a story centered around a convent, there was absolutely no sense of the immanence of God nor any striving after Christian love. The primary concern of nearly everyone is money, as they struggle along to keep the convent going, preserve their small luxuries, and keep the threatening and hungry poor at bay. Not a single nun is more than mildly inoffensive, or perhaps too stupid to offend, and most of them are quite unsavory characters, up to and including a murderess. Hers is not the only sin that is never discovered or punished; in this “holy” place, the temptations of the world seem to be hiding in plain sight. I'm not sure whether this is meant as an expression of Warner's own views against religion as an empty and hypocritical exercise, or as a portrayal of the kind of corruption in the religious life that led within a couple of centuries to the Reformation.
For me, it provided an interesting excursion, with often beautiful and highly original language, but I'm not sure what to think about the underlying message.
Modern industrialized human beings are incredibly stupid – especially the ones who would seem to be the most highly educated, like doctors and university professors. That's the thought that came to me after reading some of the stories in this book, which demonstrate the idiocy that passes for cleverness today, doing untold harm to children and other vulnerable people, to our entire planet. And out of stupidity, evil is born: not that stupid people are necessarily evil in themselves, but the reiteration of adverse, uninformed treatment brings about increasingly adverse and evil results in an expanding circle, a snowball effect that has created the looming catastrophe we see all around us.
We need wisdom, real wisdom and insight, to come to our aid and reverse this barrage of stupidity. Wisdom that is not cold, empty cleverness, but filled with the boundless warmth of love, and the skill and flexibility to do its work through relationships, not fixed notions, systems, and ideologies. It's the kind of wisdom that is also demonstrated in this book, which tells not just the story of the individuals concerned, but the story of Dr. Bruce Perry's learning a new way of understanding and working with human beings, a way that is truly healing.
He learned it from the children, by listening to and observing them, in an open-hearted way, without the blind prejudice of his psychiatric profession, but with the discipline of a mind trained in clear thinking. If only we could all learn to do the same; our world would be utterly transformed.
Another understatedly comic novel from Barbara Pym, this one with a number of self-referential “metafictional” touches – the people (who don't know they are characters in a novel) talk about how different things would be if they were in a novel, and so forth. One of Pym's own books is found in a bookcase, characters from a previous novel make a brief appearance, and an unnamed woman novelist visits a hotel the characters are frequenting (and who else could it be but Pym herself?). I've enjoyed all the novels from Pym's first publishing phase, and will now take a break before tackling the ones published after her long exile from the literary scene.
Reading Paula Byrne's biography gave me the urge to read all of Barbara Pym's books. I'd only read the first three, so I started this binge with her fourth published novel, and enjoyed it very much. It's set among a circle of anthropologists and anthropology students, a slyly humorous way of getting us to stand back from our mating rituals and social customs and regard them for the oddities they are. Though she's frequently compared to Jane Austen, JA (for all her wit and humor) has a kind of high moral earnestness that I find Pym sidesteps quite deftly. She sees us as “less than angels,” indeed, and yet still conveys the warm appreciation of humanity that shines through all the best comic writing. I'm definitely glad I followed my impulse and will be reading more Pym soon.
My son was reading this and it made me want to re-read it too. A pleasure as always. My favorite part is when Cat takes back his magic – a recurring motif in DWJ books, in which characters are frequently being magically exploited or used. When the seemingly weaker, but actually stronger young person reclaims their power and agency, it's an immensely satisfying moment.
Even though it was filled with exhaustive detail, often drawn directly from Pym's diaries and notebooks (she loved the minutiae of daily life), this biography left me oddly uncertain of the underlying motivations and even the personality of its subject. I felt that I had encountered lots of externals but very little of her inner being. The narrative made it clear that Pym's life had been marked by a succession of attachments to unavailable, uncaring, or downright repellent men (including one Nazi!), yet I could never understand quite why she subjected herself to this treatment, nor what she ultimately made of it all. (It doesn't help that the most important pages from the diaries about some of her most traumatic or embarrassing experiences were ripped out and destroyed.)
Byrne argues that Pym “enjoyed sex” and this made her ahead of her time, that she was a liberated woman and that should encourage and inspire us readers, but it seems to me that this is the sort of liberation that frees MEN to enjoy a woman's favors without offering anything in return in the way of real love or commitment. It's sad, not inspiring.
This does not deter me from wanting to read Pym's novels; on the contrary. I now want to read all of them because I think that I'll find more of Pym's spirit there than in the biography. Her personal life may have all the more given her insight into human relationships, which is what has brought her a loyal and enduring base of fans. I have already enjoyed her first three novels, but now I'm especially interested in reading the later ones that come out of her maturity.
The “therapy memoir” seems to be a new or at least an increasingly popular genre – a therapist tells the stories of her patients (in forms disguised for privacy) while threading in her own life journey and what she's learned through her work with others. Dr. Eger's is a remarkable and moving example, drawing on her experiences as a Holocaust survivor and pioneering psychotherapist for a riveting, page-turning, beautifully written and heart-wrenching chronicle of human suffering turned into wisdom and love. What she discovers is that we need each other in order to survive, a theme of the primacy and sanctity of human connection that I'm finding confirmed over and over again in various ways. Recommended to anyone who wants to find meaning in the darkness.
I enjoyed this alternate historical romance, set in a Europe where Napoleon prevailed over Wellington; it's interesting to consider how the balance of power would have shifted, and gives a welcome twist on Regency tropes. The political intrigue took second place to the characters, who were pretty standard types (attractive rake with an underlying yen for commitment, feisty girl with a guilty secret) yet I grew fond of them anyway. I raced through the last 100 pages to find out what happened to them, even though I was sure the right ones would end up together and the bad ones would be punished, given the genre. I had not realized that this is a follow-up to two earlier novels, which give some important background. (There's no indication that I noticed that one character is Black, for instance.) A series that will give a lot of pleasure to Regency fans, in a much darker and grittier strain than Georgette Heyer but still with relatively happy endings.
Sharp's first novel was apparently written in one month, and it's a remarkable accomplishment if so! I found Ann quite endearing and her adventures in choosing the right man, and becoming herself against the weight of her overbearing but beloved family, an entertaining diversion. Like all Sharp books that I've read, light but not lacking in depth.
Finally read this popular guide by a British resident of Switzerland. I could do without the stupid jokes and bathroom language – it's so middle school to find it funny when acronyms in a foreign language spell FART, etc. Spare me. Also, saying “So very Swiss (or un-Swiss)” got tiresome and was unnecessary since we KNOW he's writing about the Swiss, and also, they are not so monolithic as all that, quite the contrary. But there was some useful and interesting information to be found as well, including a pocket history of the country, and advice on some customs and traditions. I was left feeling there was a lot missing, though ... little on literary connections, art, or on connections with health and wellness, for example. Truly, for such a small country Switzerland seems to have endless depths to mine.
Read for my “Make me read it challenge” – blog readers told me which of five choices on my TBR shelf to complete.
I'm not sure I would have gotten through it without the challenge, because this is a helluva bleak dystopian vision of America 30 years in the future – that is, now. It is fascinating how much Butler got right – a California devastated by drought and fire, rampant and destructive drug use, people walling themselves off in fear and distrust and turning to guns as the only answer for self-protection, a hopeless government that is selling out its own people ... I could go on, but you get the idea. Butler could see the writing on the wall, and even though things are not quite as dire as portrayed in this novel, it increasingly feels as though we're teetering on the brink of such total chaos.
The response of the young protagonist is to venture out looking for a place to build a better life, gathering a chosen, trusted set of people as her community, and inventing an artificial, made-up religion she calls “Earthseed” to give them hope and purpose. This latter does not get much actual play in this book, other than verses from her journal at the head of each chapter, and a few scenes in which she tries to explain it to other characters. To their credit, none of the characters seem very excited about the idea, and some of them consider it absolute bosh – but they like her, so they will go along with it anyway. I can only say, just asserting that something feels true to you, does not make it true. That's not religion, that's fanaticism.
The idea of Earthseed is that human beings need to escape from this hopelessly damaged planet and find a new place among the stars. I think it would be far more interesting to consider how people could deal with the problems on this world than just run away to another one. The human mind seems irresistibly attracted to pouring resources, energy and ingenuity into creating complicated machines, rather than transforming and healing relationships. This is probably why I'm not a huge science fiction fan.
Another random aspect of the story is the main character's “hyperempathy,” a fetal-drug-induced condition that means she shares the feelings of other people, or rather what she thinks their feelings are. This brought up the question for me of why she couldn't train herself not to imagine their feelings – but I suppose that would make her a psychopath. As it is, the condition has led her to be very cold and calculating about feelings and sensations, and (ironically) not very sympathetic in a normal sense. A creepy romance with a man 40 years older than her adds another bizarre touch.
I was curious by the end how the community's experiment would turn out, so I will probably read the next book, but I'm not terribly hopeful that it will be an enjoyable experience, based on this one.
Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle
I loved this book and want to read it again and take better notes. I think that the new approaches to trauma and recovery that have been growing in the last few decades form the most exciting development of the current century. We have an unprecedented potential to get beyond our habitual, unconscious, reactive ways of living, which generally involve hurting ourselves and each other in a misguided attempt to protect ourselves, and lead to an unending cycle of violence and/or disconnected woundedness. We now know that “disconnection is disease,” as Perry puts it, and that connected relatedness is the cure – grounded in a wise understanding of how the human being is built. That is, from the bottom up, starting with bodily sense experience and not with abstract, disjointed concepts that misinterpret and further damage the person to whom we apply them.
Correct thinking is built upon the foundation of healthy, robust, self-regulating, and above all humanly connected body-and-soul experience, and if we don't start to support this development with all the resources at our disposal, we may see the end of civilization at the hands of people with fatally incorrect, damaged thinking. If only the ideas in this book would be taken seriously on every level, from personal relationships to public policy, it would truly change the world. Everyone can make a start with their own lives – I see many of my own habits and those of my family, friends, colleagues and opponents in a new light. I'm excited to see how I can implement more healing practices myself.
I would like to know more about how to work with people who are so sensitized that even the well-meant question “What happened to you?” provokes resistance and denial in them. I think the answer lies in the practices that Perry calls “regulating,” which bring rhythm and balance to a disturbed person. I'll be looking for more resources about this aspect.
Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle
Read for Daphne du Maurier Reading Week 2021 (and finished on her birthday!)
I enjoyed this memoir that covered du Maurier's early life, from childhood through the publication of her first book and ending with her marriage. It was fascinating to learn how she was already a storyteller from age four, wondering about and questioning the things and people around her, already creating her own imaginative world to escape the social mold expected of her. Her fascination with Cornwall and with the house Menabilly that figures so importantly in Rebecca and other novels is also interesting to learn about. But the writing gets sketchier and hastier at the end, as she finds freedom through her writing and then escapes on a boat with her new husband. The reality must have been more complex, but one senses that as in her fiction, she plays with both hiding and revealing information to the reader.
I really love Rohr's core message in all the books I've read. I do wish he would resort less to emotionally-charged assertions and sweeping generalities and ground his argument more in well-developed, thought-through particulars. In this case, I think one could better pinpoint what “second-half-of-life” spirituality really involves. What he's talking about does not happen exclusively after middle age, nor is it an inevitable development – it is possible to age and not mature, while there are young people who are wise beyond their years. And what exactly is it about the process of aging that brings us to the challenging point of transformation? Once more, I find much more satisfying explanations in the ideas of anthroposophy, which give a thorough picture of the different “members” of the human being and of how their relationship to each other and the outer world metamorphose through life. On the other hand, Rohr's compassion, humility, and heartfulness are refreshing, and much needed in order to enliven more cerebral considerations. I wish these two streams could come together for a powerful, fully effective approach to the desperate spiritual needs of our time.
Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle
For an immersive journey into the ancient Roman empire, look no further – but beware, it's a harrowing experience. Harper lifts off the obscuring veils through which we look back at Rome, as the source of our systems of government and justice, of pompous prose and marble statues, and shows how degrading and brutal it really was for the female slaves at the bottom of the hierarchy, the town prostitutes of Pompeii.
The lives of five of these “she-wolves” are traced through the course of several months, centering on Amara, an intelligent doctor's daughter from Attica fallen on hard times. Each one is richly characterized and human, showing the strength of the human core that survives in such difficult circumstances, looking for love and connection, even when sometimes it is cruelly betrayed or cannot be expressed.
It's inevitable that some will fall into despair and be lost, some will be victims of the unjust who reign supreme, but some will rise through their refusal to be defined by the bullies who exploit them. For those who wonder how it is to read a book based on institutionalized sexual violence, I found that Harper struck a fine balance between exposing the realities of the women's lives, and leaving much of the detail respectfully off-stage. She also made marvelous use of the visual evidence left from Pompeii in her descriptions, adding authentic atmosphere that did not scream “historical research” (though it whispered it at times). A brief but crucial appearance by Pliny the Elder is similarly a touch that adds historical weight, without feeling gratuitous.
This is apparently the first in a trilogy, and I'll certainly be looking forward to the next book, and to the ultimate fate of the she-wolves of Pompeii.
Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle
A classic work on Centering Prayer and an excellent introduction that covers the method in detail as well as many questions that may come up, background information, and an overview of the holistic Christian viewpoint out of which this practice grew. I am sure I will return to it many times for reference and inspiration.
Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle
The authors puncture several everyday illusions in a way that can make us both laugh and think. It can be a little unsettling to realize how unfounded many of our assumptions about our minds, and thus the world we perceive with them, really are — but if you are strong enough to take it, the reality check is exhilarating. This is a work of popular science, so the explanations of cognitive processes and experimental methods are simplified for the layperson, while the presentation is engaging and personal - with examples from the authors' own experience as well as their studies. Fun to read as well as enlightening. (I only wish the word “assumptions” had been used instead of “intuitions” – I think it would be more accurate.)
Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle
I appreciate Rohr's emphasis on universal love and seeing God in all things, but this book had too much fuzzy logic, ungrounded assumptions and muddled references that undermined the argument, such as it was. Other reviews have pointed out some of the issues, like a misunderstanding of the nature of neutrinos and misquoting Richard Dawkins; others that I noticed were Rohr making much of a Greek word spoken by Jesus (who presumably spoke Aramaic, not Greek) and saying that the New Testament was mostly written by Jesus and Paul (Jesus did not leave any writings whatsoever). A good editor should have caught these howlers before publication!
Aside from that, I could not be so startled as Rohr seems to expect by the revolutionary new way of seeing Christ that he is proclaiming, perhaps because it is not new to me. Indeed it has always seemed obvious to me that the nature of Christ cannot be sectarian, or even limited to one religion, and a Christian path cannot be solely about individual salvation. Is it because I was not raised in any ironclad religious mindset that I don't find this a huge revelation? It seems to me that there are other writers and thinkers who have talked about the universal Christ in a much more lucid and cogent way, Rudolf Steiner being the one who has brought me the most coherent insights.
I'm sorry the message is marred by lack of intellectual rigor, because it is important, and Rohr is clearly very passionate about it and a person who wants to bring light and healing to many. There are some pointers here in the right direction, but also some that may lead off to false paths, I fear. Embracing a Christ who loves and is present for all humanity does not mean losing all sense of distinction and borders between ideas and phenomena, as Rohr does when he makes sweeping statements like “The whole world is Christ.” Some sifting and discernment needs to be done to discover what's what. No spiritual text should ever be swallowed whole and unthinkingly, but this one could have done with a bit more digestion before going out into the world.
Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle
More capers with Uncle Fred. In this case, the impostures multiply and ramify and are combined with the continuing pig-stealing gag at Blandings (which is actually more of a subplot here) for sustained comic mayhem. Though this comes chronologically before Uncle Dynamite I read it second, and I found it less enjoyable for some reason – maybe too much of the same too soon, or maybe UD really was better, I'm not sure.
Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle
In need of some comic relief, I wanted to read through the Uncle Fred stories starting with this, the book in which he first appears. He's only in one of the short stories – “Uncle Fred Flits By” – but that one is a prize of the collection. It's a hilarious episode in which said Uncle Fred (aka the Earl of Ickenham) torments his nephew Pongo (one of the “young men in spats”) by dragging him along as he descends on unsuspecting citizens in a variety of false identities. Further analysis would be useless and only detract from the comic pleasure; read the story and have your funny bone tickled.
The other stories were also entertaining, if you enjoy reading highly verbal comedy mixed with slapstick about feckless young men in England between the wars. Wodehouse is the indisputable master of the genre and this collection is a good sampling of his best stuff.