Lit! A Christian Book Worth Reading!

When it comes to Christian books, I usually prefer titles that are 100+ years old to something published recently, but after Carrie highly recommended Lit!: A Christian Guide to Reading Books, not once, but twice (click the links to read her reviews), I thought it might be worth looking into. Add to that a book club discussion about how to choose, read, discuss, and interpret books for ourselves and with our children, and it seemed like the opportune time to give this subject some further thought.

Tony Reinke devotes roughly the first half of the book to establishing a theological basis for reading, which I appreciated both for its succinctness and accuracy. His review of the main tenets of our Christian faith, though brief, reminded me of why I chose to study theology - it's just amazing to contemplate God and His work in mankind and the world! The fact that God chose to reveal Himself in the written Word not only establishes the preeminence of Scripture in the Christian's life, but also suggests the importance of words and books on a more general sphere. They are a powerful means of communicating truth (or error), and Reinke deftly answers most objections and excuses that Christians might make about reading (not that I have that problem), making a strong case for the reading of Scripture, first and foremost, but also a wide variety of other books that can contribute to our spiritual growth and enjoyment.

Reinke's chapters are well-organized, often providing several points at the outset upon which he elaborates throughout the chapter. One example of this is his chapter on "Reading with Resolve" in which he identifies and explains six priorities by which he determines what to read. I appreciated that he included fiction under the heading of "Reading to Kindle Spiritual Reflection," recognizing that great literature, including many classics (such as Dostoyevsky and the Chronicles of Narnia) and poetry (such as John Donne or Chaucer), can illustrate the biblical truths of sin, grace, and redemption and truly contribute to our Christian understanding and spiritual growth (98-99).

For a decade or more while I pursued higher education, I read non-fiction almost exclusively, specifically works by dead theologians, for whom I have the utmost affection and respect. But upon finishing my studies and succumbing to the ready excuse of Mommy-brain, the pendulum has swung in the opposite direction, and my reading has for several years consisted mainly of fiction, tending towards the classics, but including some good fantasy, mysteries, historical fiction, and an occasional biography, too. At times, I've felt that this was rather a guilty pleasure, even if I was reading "good" books (mostly - there have been a few duds, but I won't dwell on those). Reinke's exposition of theology and priorities in reading, however, helped me to see how much my theological studies have informed my reading of fiction. Though I can get caught up in a good story, at times, I realized that I am almost always looking for and evaluating stories in terms of creation, fall (sin), redemption, and restoration. I guess that education wasn't for nothing! Though I still think I should return to the dead theologians more frequently, it was also encouraging to realize that I have been reading and evaluating my fictional choices through a biblical framework. Praise God for His mercies!

I also found Reinke's discussion of sin in literature to be particularly insightful, as our book club had recently discussed why we would reject a modern thriller full of vice and deception but might find value in Anna Karenina. Reinke was able to explain what I had failed to articulate clearly:

"[T]he appearance of sin in a book does not mean the author is approving of sin. . . God's 'amazing grace' is especially displayed when it 'saves a wretch.' To some degree, the author must paint a picture of the wretchedness of sin in order for grace to emerge in its brilliance. Thus, grace-filled literature is often not 'clean' literature. . .On the one side of the road, we cannot merely shut our eyes to depictions of sin and evil in literature. We find depictions of evil in the Bible. On the other side of the road, we cannot affirm fiction that glorifies sin or applauds unbelief." (124) 

Exactly! This is one reason that I am happy to be reading the classics at this point in my life when I missed many of them in high school. I really don't think I would have had the maturity, life experience, or spiritual discernment to appreciate them at a younger age, which gives me pause as I consider how we will incorporate some of these classics in my children's education as they get older. It is my hope that my children would enjoy reading great books enough to revisit them at various stages of life, but I will need to be especially careful to present them with enthusiasm and make sure they are more than just an academic exercise.

I also really enjoyed the multitude of rich quotations from other authors. It is apparent that Reinke has himself read widely and well and thoroughly researched his subject matter. Here are a few of my favorite quotations.

Cornelius Plantinga on Calvin's use of non-Christian literature (from Engaging God's World: A Christian Vision of Faith, Learning, and Living):

Calvin understood that God created human beings to hunt and gather truth, and that, as a matter of fact, the capacity for doing so amounts to one feature of the image of God in them (Col. 3:10). So Calvin fed on knowledge as gladly as a deer on sweet corn. He absorbed not only the teaching of Scripture and of its great interpreters, such as St. Augustine, but also whatever knowledge he could gather from such famous pagans as the Roman philosopher Seneca. And why not? The Holy Spirit authors all truth, as Calvin wrote, and we should therefore embrace it no matter where it shows up. But we will need solid instruction in Scripture and Christian wisdom in order to recognize truth and in order to disentangle it from error and fraud. Well-instructed Christians try not to offend the Holy Spirit by scorning truth in non-Christian authors over whom the Spirit has been brooding, but this does not mean that Christians can afford to read these authors uncritically. After all, a person's faith, even in idols, shapes most of what a person thinks and writes, and the Christian faith is in competition with other faiths for human hearts and minds. (77)

 C. S. Lewis on the imagination as

a God-given ability to receive truth and meaning. . ."For me reason is the natural organ of truth; but imagination is the organ of meaning." Using fantasy in literature does not make a story fictitious; it's often a more forceful way to communicate truth. (87)

Harold Bloom on why people read classic literature (from How to Read and Why):

We read deeply for varied reasons, most of them familiar: that we cannot know enough people profoundly enough, that we need to know ourselves better; that we require knowledge, not just of self and others, but of the way things are. Yet the strongest, most authentic motive for deep reading. . .is the search for a difficult pleasure. (104)

I could continue to illustrate the insights and practical wisdom of Lit!, but I think I should simply encourage you to buy this book and read it for yourself. Yes, you will want to buy it. I borrowed it from the library, but quickly found myself frustrated that I could not mark significant passages. Not to worry, though - I already plan to reread it (perhaps yearly or biannually), and by that time I hope to have my own copy to highlight as I would like!

Catching Up Again: February 2013 Reading

Farm memoirs were the order of the day for February. I'm always hopeful that reading about gardening or farming will inspire me to be a bit more enthusiastic about outdoor endeavors, but alas, it does not seem to help. I like doing stuff with produce, but I don't like the process of getting it to my kitchen. Digging in the dirt does not satisfy something deep within me - it just dries out my hands, and makes me dirty, sweaty, and grumpy, to be perfectly honest.

Well, the farm memoirs I read were at least honest - no glossing over the dirt, sweat, and tears, and no idyllic vision of a simpler life as one might conclude from reading Laddie. Whether it was the hobby farm of Michael Perry or the all-inclusive, self-sustaining project of Essex Farm, the message was clear that work - hard, physical labor - is involved in any farming venture. And I was quite happy to be reading about it from the comfort of my couch and cozy, down blanket in February, when at least I didn't have to feel guilty for not pulling weeds!

Well, I should stop rambling and making excuses for my laziness and tell you about the books, which aside from the barn, chickens, and author's picture on the cover, are really quite different.

I really wasn't sure I would finish Coop: A Year of Poultry, Pigs, and Parenting, but various things kept stringing me along - a home birth story (told from a man's perspective, so not that interesting), an impromptu visit to our local Children's Museum with no other reading options, the death of the author's nephew, with which I empathized having had two friends lose babies last year. But all told, I didn't like the author's rambling style in writing or homesteading. Carrie had a different opinion when she reviewed it a few years ago, but I didn't quite see the model of manhood that she did. I appreciate that the author is honest with his shortcomings as a husband, father, and provider, but it came off more as false humility than true repentance, and I'm not sure that's a model worth emulating. (Sorry, Carrie - we usually see eye to eye on a lot of things, but not this one. I hope we can still be friends!)

I wasn't sure I would like The Dirty Life: A Memoir of Farming, Food, and Love either, but I turned out to be pleasantly surprised. I liked the author's writing style, and it was fascinating to hear of all that she and her fiance experienced in a year of making a rundown, neglected piece of land in upstate New York a productive farm and a home. While I didn't agree with some of the moral choices she made on her way to the altar, she didn't glory in them or present them in lurid detail. As I mentioned before, it was mostly about hard, physical work, with love and humor on the side, all giving the impression of a very full and satisfying life. If I lived near Essex, I might consider becoming a part of their CSA - it would be worth it for someone else to dig in the dirt!

Our read-aloud time somehow slipped away in February, but we did enjoy the second in Douglas Wilson's Maritime series: Susan Creek. As I mentioned before, I plan to discuss the whole series after we finish reading the third one, but for now, I'll just say that both my kids really liked Susan Creek, and I really like the values, history, and theology that are incorporated so seamlessly in a good story. Thank you, Doug Wilson!

Books Read in May

Three Men and a Maid by P. G. Wodehouse
After Brideshead Revisited, I needed something lighter, and though I didn't finish in time to join Carrie's book club for the month of April, Wodehouse was just the antidote needed. Three Men and a Maid seems at first like your classic love triangle, but wait, it's a quadrangle with overlapping story lines, bumbling idiots (at least when it comes to love) and just the kind of British wit and irony to make it fun and funny! I'll definitely be reading more of Wodehouse in the future.

Growing up Amish by Ira Wagler
I think this selection, too, was something of a knee-jerk reaction to Brideshead, though in some respects the wild living while coming of age theme is similar. Ira Wagler relates his struggles with the constraints of the Old Order Amish and the family ties that keep pulling him back. But more than a coming of age story, I think it is a conversion story, a story of God's preservation of a young man who eventually finds grace and salvation in Christ instead of the social and moral standards of a church. Though I didn't particularly like his writing style - sentence fragments really annoy me - it was both an interesting and encouraging book.

The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey
I love mysteries, and it's always fun to find a new author who can weave a complex plot. Solving a mystery from a hospital bed doesn't sound too exciting, but if the mystery involves the infamous King Richard III and the Princes in the Tower, a convalescing Inspector Grant is just your man. The history books all seem to agree that the power-hungry Richard III had his nephews murdered to secure the throne, but when Inspector Grant begins to study a portrait of Richard and delve into the historical records of the period, the conclusions of history just don't seem to add up. British Royalty is confusing, and even with frequent references to the family trees included at the beginning of the book, I'm not sure I could explain exactly who is related to whom or how the throne passes from one generation to another. But the historical information in this book is just fascinating, and Tey presents it in such a way that one really feels the excitement of discovery just as the characters do. I also appreciated her subtle social commentaries such as this description of a convicted criminal unrelated to the historical research: "Been treated soft all his life since he started stealing change from his Ma at the age of nine. A good belting at the age of twelve might have saved his life. Now he'll hang before the almond blossoms' out" (193). I hope to read more Inspector Grant mysteries to see if his handling of contemporary crimes is just as intriguing as historical ones.

Read alouds: We have several in progress (Big John's Secret & The Beggars' Bible), but somehow we didn't finish anything in May. I'm not sure how that happened other than we now have two kittens who allure my children outside, and later sunsets mean it's often too late for stories when they finally come inside. Stay tuned for read-aloud updates next month.

April Reading...before May is all done

Time flies, and it seemed to go especially quickly in April. Nevertheless, reading continues even on busy days, so here's the monthly recap:

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
I can't recall ever reading a fictional book that I enjoyed less, and I wasn't alone in that opinion, as everyone in my book club seemed to agree. Perhaps more die-hard Anglophiles might have found something to love in it, but I thought all the characters were deplorable narcissists - truly the biggest bunch of navel-gazers ever collected between the covers of a book! Just as the book of Judges is depressing because everyone did what was right in their own eyes, so this story is very depressing because vice and vanity are relentlessly pursued in an elusive search for happiness. With that said, however, Waugh did capture the essence of sin in the most succinct and raw fashion that I have read in a novel (at least as far as my memory serves). I'll quote it here so that you have the benefit of reflecting on its accuracy, and perhaps searching your heart to see if you have pet sins of which you should repent, and you can thank me for saving you the tedium of reading the book:

     "'Living in sin, with sin, by sin, for sin, every hour, every day, year in, year out. Waking up with sin in the morning, seeing the curtains drawn on sin, bathing it, dressing it, clipping diamonds to it, feeding it, showing it round, giving it a good time, putting it to sleep at night with a tablet of Dial if it's fretful.
     'Always the same, like an idiot child carefully nursed, guarded from the world. "Poor Julia," they say, "she can't go out. She's got to take care of her little sin. A pity it ever lived," they say, "but it's so strong. Children like that always are. Julia's so good to her little, mad sin."'" (287)

Now, that's not a pretty description, nor an encouraging one, but it certainly provides much to ponder, and if it leads to repentance, then my reading of this book was not in vain.

Choosing to SEE: A Journey of Struggle and Hopeby Mary Beth Chapman
I needed something real to counter the unreality of Brideshead Revisited (although a friend reminded me that such an empty life was/is a reality for some, which is a sobering thought). I had known of the Chapman's loss of one of their adopted daughters several years ago, but didn't really know much of the story. Mary Beth Chapman writes with honesty of the fears and struggles that she has experienced throughout her life of faith, with the greatest of these being the loss of 5-year-old Maria in 2008. I used the word "raw" for the description of sin above, and it applies here, too, though the contexts are so very different. The death of a child can shake one's faith to the core, and Mary Beth writes openly of her doubts, anger, and disbelief, and of her faith, security, and hope in God and the promise of heaven. It's an emotional story, but an encouraging one, a truthful one that depicts death as the enemy, Christ as the victor, and heaven as our home and hope.

 Dangerous Journey: The Story of Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan and Oliver Hunkin
It's been a while since I've read Pilgrim's Progress, but this is an excellent children's version which retains both the language and the lessons of the original. My kids enjoyed this book, and I've already used its allegories to remind them of "fighting Apollyon" when they are having a difficult time with self-control. All too often, sin seems to be glossed over and excused rather than exposed and resisted. So while I will readily admit that all allegories have their shortcomings, I'm grateful for this tool to help my children understand some aspects of the Christian walk.

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien
I can't take credit for reading this one aloud, but I did listen while my husband, an original Tolkien fan (yes, before there were movies!), read this to our kids, ages 5 and 8. This was required reading before the Hobbit movie is released in December, but aside from the much-anticipated movie, it was delightful to share Middle Earth and Tolkien's wonderful story-telling with my family. So after you've enjoyed My Father's Dragon  (linked to my review) with your young readers, be sure to introduce them to Smaug (a not-so-nice dragon) and Bilbo Baggins!

See, this is how much of a Tolkien fan my husband is. These are bookcases that he built for our office/library a few years ago. Pretty cool, huh?

In brief...

Seldom have I been brief on this blog. My posts are either long or non-existent, it seems, and the past two months have fallen in the latter category. But I'd like to make a few comments on what I've read before the year is through, so I'm limiting myself to two or three sentences per book (compound sentences and semi-colons are permitted). We'll see how this goes.

Undaunted Courage : Meriwether Lewis, Thomas Jefferson, and the Opening of the American West by Stephen Ambrose. (Title and author will not count as a sentence!) This probably wouldn't have made my TBR list if it hadn't been a bookclub selection, but I'm glad I read it as it was very interesting and informative. Though it documents Meriweather Lewis' life from birth to death, the bulk of this biography focuses on his role in the Lewis & Clark expedition, recounting fascinating details about the preparations involved and the truly historic journey, including their encounters with various Indian tribes and the amazing landscapes and wildlife that they encountered.

Sarah's Key by Tatiana De Rosnay. I don't completely understand my interest in WWII stories, particularly ones involving the atrocities committed against the Jewish people, but perhaps it is the aspect of hope and survival in the midst of such evil. This novel is gripping in it's telling of two women of two different generations in Paris: a young Jewish girl who was captured and escaped, only to live the rest of her life in the shadow of an unintentional tragedy, and a modern American expatriate who unravels the threads of that war story only to find it inextricably woven with her own.

The Yellow House by Patricia Falvey. I read this for the Irish Reading Challenge, and it is one of the best, recently published historical fiction that I have read. It gave a vivid portrait of the working class in Northern Ireland during the religious and political conflicts of the early 20th century, and I was sorry to leave the characters and the country when it came to an end.

An Irish Country Village by Patrick Taylor. This is the second "Irish Country" book (in the series and that I have read), and it is just as delightful as the first, with a unique blend of Irish humor, interesting medical cases, eccentric characters, and a little romance for good measure. This was also for the Irish Reading Challenge, which I did finish before November 30th, though I didn't post reviews or qualify for the final give-away.

Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope. This second novel (of six) in the Barsetshire novels continues the story of Mr. Harding, his daughter Eleanor, and son-in-law the Archbishop to whom we were introduced in The Warden, and introduces a number of new characters who thicken the plot of ecclesiastical dominance and intrigue. The characters are delightful in all their quirks and idiosyncrasies; the conflicts are engaging, but not serious or life-threatening. Of all the Victorian authors I've read this year, I would rank Trollope second, closely behind Wilkie Collins who gains precedent because of my penchant for mysteries, and followed by Thomas Hardy, Elizabeth Gaskell, and finally Dickens.

An Irish Country Christmas by Patrick Taylor. Since it was December, it seemed fitting to continue the Irish Country series with the third installment, but perhaps because I read them so close together it seemed as if this was merely rehashing the same themes: a potential problem in the medical practice, a personal issue in the community, and unfulfilled wishes in matters of love - and Dr. Laverty worrying excessively about them all. Maybe I simply found the young doctor's angst a bit extreme and immature this time, but it also seemed as if the story needed a bit more editing; maybe it was rushed to the publishers to get it out before the Christmas season in 2008. With that said, however, I still enjoyed it, mostly, well, except for the phone conversations that repeated the same issues ad nauseum... at any rate, I still like this series and would recommend it for light reading.

Fannie's Last Supper: Re-creating One Amazing Meal from Fannie Farmer's 1896 Cookbook by Christopher Kimball. This was a fascinating book, combining social history, food lore, and cooking journal as the author and a team of chefs researched and cooked a twelve-course Victorian dinner, cooking it on an authentic wood cookstove in the basement of the author's restored Victorian home in Boston. I'm sure I would not want to make gelatin from calf's hooves, but it certainly gives one an appreciation for Jell-o when you understand what a remarkable innovation and improvement it was for Victorian cooks, for whom gelatin molds were an elegant feature of an elaborate dinner! My only complaint was that this book could have used better editing, as well, since the repetition of some facts between chapters made it seem as if it had been written as separate articles instead of a cohesive account.

Now I am reading Les Misérables and will most certainly be occupied with its almost 1500 pages well into January. I read two-thirds of it ten years ago, and I think reading it once a decade might be a worthy goal.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver

Animal Vegetable Miracle has been on my to be read list for quite some time. I didn't get to it during the 2009 TBR Challenge, so when my "old" bookclub decided to read it in March, I decided it was time to dig in.

Barbara Kingsolver and her family moved from Tuscon, AZ to rural Virginia in order to live closer to the sources of their food. Once they were settled on their small farm, they committed to eating locally grown food in season for one year. Much of this came from their own garden and barnyard, but they also frequented farmer's markets and had many connections with farmers for free-range meat and other products. They were not absolute purists, for they still bought coffee, flour, spices, and such things that simply don't grow in Virginia, but the vast majority of their food came from within a 100 mile radius of their home.

I found this book to be both inspiring and aggravating. I am somewhat more committed to growing my own garden, although I do not share the author's love of the soil. I would still rather be inside baking or reading than outside digging in the dirt. (I attribute this proclivity to the indoors to severe allergies which kept me inside most of my childhood - inside reading books, of course!) But since the home we moved into 7 months ago has an existing garden, I really have no excuse not to at least plant some essential vegetables that I know my family will use and enjoy.

If nothing else, the cost savings will motivate me to grow my own vegetables. Since I refuse to pay $1.25 per pound for butternut squash, I did without it most of last fall and winter (only splurging for Thanksgiving). I am really looking forward to spending a few dollars on seeds and, Lord willing, having a good supply of winter squash to store and enjoy next fall. Ditto for tomatoes which will be lined up in canning jars on my shelves by fall, I hope.

Barbara Kingsolver kept careful records of their expenditures throughout their year of locavore eating, and calculated that they spent an average of $6 per day for their family of four - that means a grocery budget of less than $200 per month! I find this to be astounding, since my grocery expenses are between 25-50% more than that, but we are not eating free-range meat or organic/locally grown grains and produce since those types of items generally cost much more. Sometimes, I feel the cost is worth it in health benefits, as in a cow share in order to have raw milk, but often I just can't bring myself to pay for these specialized foods.

Animal Vegetable Miracle reads more like a memoir than a gardening book, and Kingsolver often captures the humor and the wonder of farm life. It differs from a memoir, however, in that one does not just get a glimpse of another's life: there is a sublte - or sometimes not so subtle - agenda behind the story. She argues her case gently, in most cases, using experiential proofs more than documenting hard evidence. This didn't bother me since I approached it as a memoir, and I gleaned only those practical tidbits that I deemed useful. I did find it interesting that her numbers were sometimes presented in a way to dramatize the facts, as in this little tidbit: "...participating family farms collectively sold $236,000 worth of organic produce to retailers and supermarkets, which those markets, in turn, sold to consumers for nearly $0.3 million." (202) Now, if we were to compare apples to apples, that $0.3 million is really $333,333, which does not sound like quite such an astounding ripoff profit, though I must confess to ignorance of what the typical markup on produce is. So obviously, there is an agenda. For those who want more facts and the sources behind them, her husband Steven Hopp has written short pieces in many chapters which provide more of the socio-political and scientific background, and there are also references and resources listed in the back.

From the perspective of a Christian worldview, it is apparent that Kingsolver's desire to eat local produce and free-range meat coupled with her concern for the environment has become a new religion. On the subject of planting asparagus, she writes:

"I sweated to dig it into countless yards I was destined to leave behind, for no better reason than that I believe in vegetables in general, and this one in particular. Gardeners are widely known and mocked for this sort of fanaticism. But other people fast or walk long pilgrimages to honor the spirit of what they believer makes our world whole and lovely. If we gardeners can, in the same spirit, put our heels to the shovel, kneel before a trench holding tender roots, and then wait three years for an edible incarnation of the spring eqinox, who's to make the call between ridiculous and reverent?" (29, emphasis added; do you see the religious overtones?)

Similarly, she describes her approach to eating meat in these terms: "I take my gospel from Wendell Berry, who writes in What Are People For, 'I dislike the thought that some animal has been made miserable in order to feed me.'"  (221), emphasis added; however persuasive one might find Berry's argument, I wouldn't put it in terms of the gospel. Yes, I understand that she is using the term more generally than THE Gospel of Jesus Christ, but such terminology sets a tone of religiosity for her eating choices.)

Thanksgiving is stripped of any reference to the Pilgrim's faith and instead described as a day to "[w]ake up now, look alive, for here is a day off work just to praise Creation: the turkey, the squash, and the corn, these things that ate and drank sunshine, grass, muc, and rain, and then in the shortening days laid down their lives for our welfare and onward resolve. There's the miracle for you, the absolute sacrifice that still holds back seeds: a germ of promise to do the whole thing again, another time." (284, emphasis added; note again the Christian terms applied to creation.)

Although a self-proclaimed feminist, she has the courage to criticize the fallout of the feminist movement: "We gave up the aroma of warm bread rising, the measured pace of nurturing routines, the creative task of molding our families' tastes and zest for life; we received in exchange the minivan and the Lunchable. (Or worse, convenience-mart hot dogs and latchkey kids.) I consider it the great hoodwink of my generation." (127) Unfortunately, she still seems to advocate the "have-it-all" mentality that a woman can go to work, swing by the farmer's market at lunch or on her way home, and get the husband and kids to help make a fresh, home cooked meal when she gets home. Hmmmm...there's still something wrong with this picture.

In spite of these differences in philosophy, I do agree with Kingsolver's premise: "eating home-cooked meals from whole, in-season ingredients obtained from the most local source available is eating well, in every sense. Good for the habitat, good for the body." (31) Yes, that is a good-thing. But is it something I will shape my life around? No. I will, however, probably try some of the recipes that Barbara's daughter Camille included in the book and on the book's website.

I don't aspire to imitate the Hopp/Kingsolver family's food experiment, but I do want to incorporate more fresh/local food in our diet. My motivation, however, would be primarily for health reasons, not to reduce my environmental footprint, halt global warming, or limit my use of fossil fuels. There is an element of stewardship to consider, of course (except in the case of global warming, which is a crumbling myth), but my faith and family are the first priorities of my stewardship, not the earth. This is not to exclude good stewardship of the earth from my faith, but it does mean that my time, money, and other resources will be governed by more, much more, than simply the earth and my stomach.

A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel

I first read A Girl Named Zippy a couple of years ago when I was browsing the biography section of the library and was captured by the baby picture and sub-title: "Growing up Small in Moreland, Indiana." Within a few chapters, I was hooked and finished the book in just a few days. The same happened when I read the sequel She Got Up Off the Couch: And Other Heroic Acts from Mooreland, Indiana. And the same thing happened again when I reread Zippy this week. They are both funny, poignant, and painfully honest accounts of one family's joys and trials from a remarkably well-written child's perspective.

In reviewing She Got Up Off the Couch for my bookclub where I used to live, I wrote of Zippy:

Since I love subtle word-plays like Mary Engelbreit's "Life is just a chair of bowlies," anyone who spoke of "Growing up Small" must have a unique perspective on the world. I certainly wasn't disappointed, as this childhood memoir delivers Midwestern charm and humor by a pint-size agnostic with a knack for trouble and accidents. It had me laughing to the point of tears on several occasions. Being a country girl from the Midwest myself, I could certainly identify with elements of her story.

I must clarify that my childhood was not nearly so adventurous as Zippys's, but I never would have imagined two years ago that I would be living in Indiana myself! I'm not sure there is anything specifically Indianian (or Hoosier, to be more correct) about Haven Kimmel's childhood. It is probably pretty typical for any small American town in the 70's. Even though there are a few hints of darker fears and dangers, it was a pretty innocent childhood full of dirt and friends and scrapes and animals. I wouldn't, couldn't raise my children in the laissez faire manner her parents seemed to adopt, but I do wonder if parents inherently worried less about their children 40 years ago. Was there that much less to be concerned about, or was it simply less public and prominent than today?

At any rate, A Girl Named Zippy is a quick, fun read that I highly recommend for responsible teens and adults (I wouldn't want my kids to get any ideas or attitudes until they were discerning enough to sift the funny from the rebellious).

Unfortunately, I'm unable to provide you with a sample of the humor and wit as I had to return the book to the library (probably for another bookclub member who had placed a hold). I'm looking forward to discussing this with my new bookclub in Indiana (but not Mooreland, IN).

Evening in the Palace of Reason by James R. Gaines

Evening in the Palace of Reason: Bach Meets Frederick the Great in the Age of Enlightenment is a book about history, about culture, about those who thought they were great and those who really were. It begins by reconstructing a meeting between Johann Sebastian Bach at age sixty-two and Frederick the Great, who was basking in the expansion of his kingdom after just a few years on the throne. Each chapter thereafter, traces the family history and lives of these two men bringing it back to the crux of their meeting in 1747. In an attempt to mock Bach's command of counterpoint and improvisation, Frederick challenged him to compose a three-part fugue on a nearly impossible theme, that is, it was nearly impossible to use this theme in the structured forms of composition for which Bach was known. Bach delivered this request on the spot, causing Frederick to set the bar even higher with a request for a six-part fugue. Bach declined the second challenge, but played a six-part fugue on another theme. In the matter of only two weeks, however, Bach completed his Musical Offering, a sixteen-movement work for piano that is considered a work of genius by all who have studied it.

Around these historical details, Gaines demonstrates that this musical challenge was really a duel between two competing worldviews: the principles of the Reformation and the Enlightenment. They "met at the tipping point between ancient and modern culture, and what flowed from their meeting would be a more than musical expression of that historical moment" (8).

Bach's life and work were informed by his faith. He accumulated a significant theological library for his time and carefully read and marked the text and commentary of his 1681 Lutheran Bible and Luther's collected works (169). His music was founded upon the firm principles of faith and belief in a universe ordered and governed by a sovereign God, so whether the subject was sacred or secular it could be marked S.D.G., soli deo gloria, to the glory of God alone. In contrast, "the 'enlightened' composer wrote for one reason and one only: to please the audience" (220).

I do not know the beliefs or religious background of the author, James Gaines. His accounts of the Reformation and Bach's high esteem of Luther occasionally hint at skepticism, but there is a touch of sarcasm in his treatment of the Enlightenment's optimism and hope in human reason, too. At any rate, his detached journalism does not prevent him from posing the following thesis - "Bach's Musical Offering leaves us, among other things, a compelling case for the following proposition: that a world without a sense of the transcendent and mysterious, a universe ultimately discoverable through reason alone, can only be a barren place; and that the music sounding forth from such a world might be very pretty, but it can never be beautiful" (12) - or from concluding with the late 18th century irony that "those who continued to claim their trust in reason did so more in hope than confidence, almost as an article of faith (of all things)" (259).

I didn't need to be convinced that Bach was a great composer, but it was intriguing to learn more of his personal history and his music (though I must admit that the music theory behind counterpoint is a little beyond me). I'm ready to start building a music library of his complete works, beginning with Bach: The Art of Fugue; Musical Offering! Karl Barth might have had portraits of Calvin and Mozart at equal heights in his study*, but if I were one to hang portraits of theologians and composers, I would have to choose Bach over Mozart. Calvin, of course, could stay!

















*An interesting quote from an article by Theodore A. Gill in Theology Today from Princeton Theological Seminary:
"And with a now not so secret delight, I remember noting as I left Barth's study on a first visit those portraits of Calvin and of Mozart hanging over the adjacent doors. He has written of them: 'There are probably very few theological study rooms in which pictures of Calvin and Mozart are to be seen hanging next to each other and at the same height.' What he does not write is what he said when he noticed how taken I was with the juxtaposition. 'My special revelation,' he smiled, looking at Calvin. 'And my general revelation,' he said, as he beamed at Mozart. Was he smiling because it was a joke? Or because he knew something we didn't?"

Girl Meets God: A Memoir by Lauren F. Winner

Life happens, and it's been happening in a big way around here, so I haven't been reading as much or as quickly as I would wish. But I don't really regret having taken my time reading Girl Meets God because it is a book that is best pondered and savored.

Lauren Winner came to faith in Christ after being raised in a Reformed Jewish synagogue and then converting to Orthodox Judaism because "[n]o other way to parse Judaism made much sense. If the Torah was true, then we should spend all our time reading it, and all our life living by it" (43). But within a few years, she became captivated by the incarnation, awestruck by the fact that God became flesh, and converted to Christianity, specifically of the Anglican/Episcopalian variety. Interestingly enough, I started thinking that Lauren's writing style reminded me of Madeleine L'Engle's Crosswick Journals, and in the very next chapter, Lauren revealed that she attends the same Episcopal church in NYC that L'Engle did.

I can identify with many aspects of Lauren's personality - her bookishness, her dislike of recess, her love for study and complete immersion in a topic - but her spiritual journey is completely different from my experience. Even though I'm not in the same place and don't agree with her on some points, I'm really glad to have read of her experiences and the insights on faith and theology that she draws from such a unique background.

Lauren juxtaposes the Jewish and Christian calendars to create the structure of the memoir, and this allows her to trace her journeys in each faith as well as compare and contrast elements of these two biblical faiths. For instance, she links the Jewish high holy day of Yom Kippur with the Christian practice of confession of sins. On Yom Kippur the Jews confess a long list of sins, of which the particulars they may not be guilty, but which a rabbi enjoins, "If you understood the glory and grandeur of God, you would realize you had committed each of these sins, every day of your life." Thus, as a Christian, Lauren concludes:

Confession makes sense to me because it is incarnational. In the sacraments, the Holy Spirit uses stuff to sanctify us. In the Eucharist He uses bead and wine, and in confirmation He uses oil and in baptism He uses water. In confession, the stuff He uses is another person. In that way, confession teaches us about the Incarnation all over again. . .Here, in confession, God is connecting us to Himself not through bread or oil or water or wine, but through another broken body, one who absolves you, and then says, "Go in peace, and pray for me, a sinner." (214-215)

As an intellectual and a historian, Lauren is at once more modern and more grounded in tradition than your typical evangelical. There is a subtle undercurrent of feminism that runs throughout her story (both ethically and vocationally), and she makes an aside comment in favor of Darwin (105). In that sense, perhaps her adoption of evangelical theology has not entirely encompassed her worldview, in spite of her intent to be logically consistent.

Her brief historical description of tattoos (154-155) as used by Christian pilgrims to mark their identity with Christ (Galatians 6), made me almost ready to go get one. But then her account of a holocaust survivor's tattoo shocked me back to a stark, unromantic reality. It is this thorough understanding of her Jewish heritage and her Christian adoption that that can jolt us evangelicals out of our complacency and primly pious attitudes. In describing celebrating the Passover seder as a Christian, she reflects:

We see in the three pieces of matzot the Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and see that we are taking the middle matzah, and breaking it, and we see that this is the way Jesus' body will break, on the Cross. . .I think, It is we Christians, we, who do this, not the Jews. At the seder, it is so clear: The Jews didn't break his body. Our sins broke his body. Break break break. They didn't kill Him; the weight of our sin killed Him. (172 - This is the spiritual truth, of course, but we cannot ignore the mystery of God's sovereignty and human responsibility described in Acts 2:23)

Finally, I was challenged by the seriousness and sincerity with which she pursues God. She humbles herself not only in the practice of confession, but also by following her priest's counsel to give up reading, yes, reading as a whole, not just certain books, for Lent, because, he said, "I think books would be a gift you could give Christ that would be really meaningful. . ." (124). She does it, not perfectly, but she gives up reading for Lent and learns that reading was her "always-cure. . .a tonic or escape route" (128). She realizes that "[w]hen I am stuck in a puddle of sadness and mistakes, I cannot take them to Mitford. I have to take them to God. I begin to suspect that [my priest] didn't want me to give up reading just because it was the equivalent of some dearly loved green sundress, but because it might move me closer to Jesus. It might move me to my knees" (129). That is profound, powerful, and convicting, especially for a fellow bibliophile!

Red Scarf Girl by Ji-Li Jiang

Red Scarf Girl: A Memoir of the Cultural Revolution was the March selection for Captive Thoughts Book Club. As young adult non-fiction, it was easier reading than our usual fare, but it provided us with plenty to discuss and much to learn about the Cultural Revolution of China. Since another member has already summarized our discussion, I'll provide a brief summary of the memoir itself and my own thoughts.

Ji-li Jiang was twelve years old in 1966 when Chairman Mao began the tumultuous Cultural Revolution, a period of persecution and upheaval that was presented as a great ideology but was mostly political maneuvering. Since her deceased grandfather was a landlord, her family is on the black list, which results in the Red Guards searching and ransacking her apartment, her father's imprisonment and persecution, and her being ostracized at school and encouraged to denounce her family. Ji-li is confused by conflicting emotions and divided loyalties. She wants to do well in school and succeed personally, but at the same time loves her family and knows that it is not right for them to suffer so much for her grandfather's past. Eventually, she comes to a crisis and must decide where her loyalties really lie.

This memoir was informative, but in a very limited way. The Cultural Revolution is described from the perspective of one child in a particular family, and most of her experiences are related on an emotional level, which is necessarily selective in its details. The glossary at the back was very helpful for orienting one to the historical and political figures and movements that are mentioned. I think this might be better read along with a basic history of the Cultural Revolution - a more straightforward history would provide the framework in which this very personal account could be better appreciated and understood.

Another friend who read this book commented that it had scary parallels with what is currently happening in America. I tried to find some of those parallels as I read, and what seemed most obvious was the adoration and blind devotion of the young people for Chairman Mao. At one point, Ji-li relates attending a rally where a girl told of her opportunity to see Chairman Mao at Tienanmen Square. "'. . . I am very lucky to have had such an experience,' she said. 'I have resolved to dedicate my whole life to Chairman Mao and the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. I will give every drop of blood in my body to work to liberate all of mankind'" (107-108). Those sentiments remind me of the fervor that surrounded Obama before the election last November. I must admit that I am sadly uninformed about current events, so I didn't pick up on other parallels. However, I think Western individualism almost precludes such a blind following of a national hero and establishment of a national identity as what happened in China's Cultural Revolution. Perhaps, though, I should try to be more knowledgeable of current events to ensure that I am not merely an ignorant participant in my community and country.

Under a Wing by Reeve Lindbergh

Under a Wing: A Memoir by Reeve Lindbergh was the February selection for Captive Thoughts Book Club, and though I wasn't able to make it to the discussion, I wanted to keep up with the reading schedule anyway. I came to this memoir knowing very little about the Lindbergh family. I knew of Charles Lindbergh's flight across the Atlantic, but hardly anything else - I was even clueless about the Lindbergh baby's kidnapping and murder.

Quite honestly, I was a little skeptical about delving into the lives of a celebrity family, even if their notoriety was 50-60 years ago. I wondered if I really wanted to spend my time reading about the private lives of public figures. But, as the youngest of the 6 Lindbergh children, Reeve's writing reveals the personal aspects of their lives, presenting them as very real and very human. My skepticism was quickly dispelled as the Lindbergh family portrait appeared in greater detail with each chapter. In spite of their fame and wealth, or maybe because of it, they dealt with many real issues and concerns that are common to families of any social status. Reeve herself talks of processing this in coming to understand her own history by visiting her father's boyhood home in Minnesota: "It was a hard task, but a familiar one, to reclaim him from his own history and make him mine. This effort in itself causes one of the strangest intermingling I have come to know as the child of famous parents: the give-and-take between public impression and private memory, each informing, educating, correcting, and ultimately humanizing the other, over time" (195).

Reeve's reflections on the significant events that shaped her family's dynamics are perceptive (coming from the youngest child) and sympathetic (understandably so), and this unique perspective allows the reader to easily identify with the historical figures of Charles and Anne Lindbergh. She reveals both strengths and foibles of her famous parents and how their influence shaped the lives of their children. Even when she expresses her frustrations with her father's seemingly endless rules, opinions, and advice, her enduring love and respect for both her parents are evident, as when she writes, "When our father left us to travel around the world, and even when he left the world entirely, at his death in 1974, there was an element of relief in his absence, some quietness that we had not ever known in our lives before. But he left behind a vast hole in our universe, as great as the death of a star" (49).

Or in another passage: "I believed he was unjust, demanding, and difficult, just as often as I believed he was the strongest, most exciting, most intelligent, and most truthful person in the world. I took for granted that he would protect me from all dangers, from floods and blizzards to tooth decay and television. I knew that I could count on him, always, even though he could not always count on me" (77).

It is evident that Reeve learned the craft of writing from her mother, and I found her comments on her mother's writing and her own very interesting. “‘Write it down!’ our mother had told us whenever we said something that particularly interested or touched her: write down that sharp insight, that funny story, that especially appealing turn of phrase. She taught us that any experience worth living through was worth writing about, but beyond this, she made us feel that the act of writing about it significantly affected the experience itself. I did not know whether writing enhanced an even, transforming it into something more important than it would have been had it gone unrecorded, or whether writing simply made it more real…” (177).

On a more personal level, she relates how difficult it was for her as a child to leave her mother alone to write in peace and quiet. "What I did not understand, and only much later began to comprehend, is that my mother's work, that product of our separation, is also the way back to her again. She herself created the pathway, a connection between us that is much deeper and more lasting than any I had ever anticipated in childhood. All I had to do to find it was read her books" (59-60). In a similar vein, Reeve asks some hard questions about a child's perceptions of a parent's inaccessibility: "Is it true that all parents are too busy to pay full attention to their children? Or is the truth instead that no child can ever be satisfied, because no child can have every ounce of a parent’s attention?" (167) I've pondered these questions myself, not as a daughter, but as a parent, as I've sensed my daughter's frustrations to have all of Mommy, all the time.

Reeve's own writing style is transparent, witty, and picturesque. This passage about train travel reminded me of the many reflections on the passage of time in Rebecca: "On trains, even now, I have the same sense that whatever I pass is immediately and forever in the past, whether I am on a familiar line or in a foreign country: this barn, this house, this child on a bicycle, that horse tossing its head in a green meadow, those mountains in the distance, that one quick glimpse of a city street and all its traffic, today's lightening sky with cloud configurations particular to this very morning and no other, all are here together at once, now, with me, and then all are gone. Never again this conjunction, this moment. All gone forever" (103).

Most of all this is a story of a family: a family with its own peculiarities, its own troubles, and its own deep founded love and honor, as expressed so beautifully in this passage: “‘Can’t your family think of any women’s names besides Constance, Elizabeth, and Anne?’ a confused friend crossly asked one of my cousins not long ago. The answer is that we can and have, but there remains in the family an abiding loyalty to those three Morrow sisters and their mother. Something about these small, strong women, held in affection over the generations, makes their daughters and granddaughters look at our own newborn daughters with respect, awe, and that intergenerational astonishment that comes to women who have just given birth. And so we repeat those names: Elizabeth (Elisabeth), and Constance, and Anne” (142).

Overall, I was pleasantly surprised by this memoir, but I suppose I really shouldn't have been. I always seem to enjoy memoirs (as long as they are well-written and tasteful). A good memoir can help us to see that the ups and downs of our own lives - the love, fear, joy, anger, grief, and skeletons in the closet, too - are not so uncommon after all.

Books Read in 2008

Here's the list of books I've read in 2008, to the best of my memory. Favorites are marked with **.

The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff, my review here.

Angela's Ashes: A Memoir by Frank McCourt. September book club selection, summary here.

The Birth House by Ami McKay. An interesting story of a young midwife in Nova Scotia in the early 20th century. The history seemed to be well researched, but some elements were a little too modern and politically correct, in my opinion.

The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas, my review here.

**The Book Thief by Markus Zuzak. One of my favorite books read this year - review here.

A Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L'Engle. This is the first in "The Crosswicks Journal" series of four books. It's truly a beautiful book. I'll post my favorite quotes soon.

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. January book club selection, summary here.

**A Girl Named Zippy: Growing Up Small in Mooreland Indiana by Haven Kimmel. I loved this memoir. It's laugh-out-loud funny and packed with great stories about family, small town life, and childhood. Here is my review of both Zippy and the second installment, She Got Up Off the Couch: And Other Heroic Acts from Mooreland, Indiana.

A Grief Observed by C. S. Lewis. March book club selection, along with Two-Part Invention, summary here.

**Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry. November book club selection - book club summary here and my review here.

**How the Irish Saved Civilization by Thomas Cahill - both scholarly and very readable, even entertaining at times. I read this before I started Lines from the Page, but posted my favorite quotes here.

Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson - this one just didn't have the charm of Gilead, in my opinion. In fact I found it more than a little odd and pointless.

A House Like a Lotus by Madeleine L'Engle. I read this in sixth grade, and I was apparently clueless to many of the nuances in this coming-of-age novel. That's a good thing. I'm not sure I'd want my daughter reading this when she's twelve. The story is well-written, but it deals with some pretty mature themes.

Impossible by Nancy Werlin, my review here.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. I didn't like this novel nearly so well as A Thousand Splendid Suns. The protagonist was a rich, spoiled brat, and though he did develop some character by the end of the novel, I wasn't impressed.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. February book club selection, summary here.

**Kristin Lavransdatter I: The Wreath by Sigrid Undset, translated by Tiina Nunnally.

**Kristin Lavransdatter II: The Wife by Sigrid Undset, translated by Tiina Nunnally.

**Kristin Lavransdatter III: The Cross by Sigrid Undset, translated by Tiina Nunnally.

La Reine Margot by Alexandre Dumas. October book club selection - book club summary here and my review here.

**Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier - January '09 book club selection, but I finished it early, my review here.

Revolution In World Missions by K. P. Yohannan. My review here.

**She Got Up Off the Couch: And Other Heroic Acts from Mooreland, Indiana by Haven Kimmel. A sequal to A Girl Named Zippy: Growing Up Small in Mooreland Indiana, both of which I reviewed here.

**The Summer of the Great-Grandmother by Madeleine L'Engle. Book 2 in "The Crosswicks Journal" series. This is a beautiful story about life, death, growing old, and family legacies. Favorite quotes coming soon.

The Thirteenth Tale: A Novel by Diane Setterfield. April book club selection, summary here. Some of our book club members found parts of this book a little shocking, but I liked it for the mystery and suspense, as well as the literary bent to the story.

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. This is a captivating and tragic story of two women in Afganistan. Highly recommended.

Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson. May book club selection. Although the writing style was a bit cumbersome, Greg Mortenson's story is both amazing and inspiring.

**Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage by Madeleine L'Engle. Book 4 in "The Crosswicks Journal" series. March book club selection. Another beautiful book by L'Engle that chronicles her 40 year marriage and the final months of dealing with her husband's cancer. Summary and favorite quotes here.

**The Well-Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise. A great resource for home schooling or enrichment in classical education. We're still in the preschool years, but I know I'll turn to this book again and again. I might even have to buy the revised, 10th anniversary edition, The Well-Trained Mind: A Guide to Classical Education at Home, which will be released next year, since I'm sure there will be updated curriculum and resource recommendations.

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks. I thought this historical novel about the plague in 17th century England would be interesting, but it seemed to have a modern interpretation. Personally, I like historical novels to be history, not just a shallow modern story of desire in a historical garb. I know the plague caused some to throw morality to the wind, but this novel didn't even give it that much rationale.