The Weekly Wrap: September 13-19

vintage gifts with candle and radio background
Photo by betül nur akyürek on Pexels.com

The Weekly Wrap: September 13-19

Consenting to Read

“Say ‘Yes’ to reading!” Sounds like the slogan for a literacy campaign. But do you realize that every time you pick up a book, you are saying “yes”? You are saying “yes” to another voice speaking into your thoughts. It means opening your mind to the world they have built in a story or the argument they are making. Your “yes” doesn’t mean “I agree.” But it does mean that you have decided to listen, to pay more or less attention to what they are saying.

That’s an insight I came across in Marilyn McIntyre’s Starting with a Word, a book on writing. She is a wise writer who cares about words. For McIntyre, the work of writing and the joy of reading begins with words. She reminds me of how different reading is from watching a video. Books call upon me to actively engage with the words, to think about what is written, and to discern the intent of the writer. Books also invite me to turn on the screen of my imagination and visualize the story in my mind. We say “yes” to all these things when we read.

We also consent to give an author our time. For a long book, that can be fifteen hours or more of your life. Our “yes” means no, for at least the present, to another book. And we can decide to withdraw our consent if the book isn’t worth the precious hours of our lives. I’ve also given up on series. After the first, very long book, I gave up on The Wheel of Time. Too many very long books, and I wasn’t crazy about this world.

To what books will you say “yes” this week? Our “yes” is actually a precious gift both to ourselves and to those who write books. It is, in the words of poet Mary Oliver one of the things you will “do with your one wild and precious life.”

Five Articles Worth Reading

Dónal Gill believes Jonathan Swift anticipated the dangers of AI, particular the sacrifice of human intellect to our machines. In “Jonathan Swift v. AI” he argues for our moral responsibility of self-cultivation.

In Live Laugh Love, Kristin Kobes Du Mez turns her attention to Christian women after taking on masculinity in Jesus and John Wayne. Caroline Fraser considers her argument that women have embraced materialism as a sign of divine favor in “Like My Jesus Sweatshirt? How Christianity Went Consumerist.”

Cormac McCarthy was a struggling author when he turned 40 in 1973. He took his truck, set out on a cross-country journey. Finally, he settle in El Paso and began work on Blood Meridian. Michael O’Donnell explores this turning point in “Cormac McCarthy’s Midlife Crisis.”

When I read “Laurie Anderson’s next manuscript to be locked away for 88 years in Future Library,” I discovered that since 2014, authors have contributed a work, revealing nothing more than the title, to be opened in 2114. “Future Library opens secret archive of unseen texts in Oslo” describes the project and some of the other authors who have contributed works.

Lastly, haven’t you wished to say more with fewer words? That’s what minimalist fiction strives for. JSTOR posted “Minimalist Fiction in Six Short Stories” with stories by Raymond Carver, Amy Hempel, Frederick Barthelme, Jayne Anne Phillips, Mary Robison, and Ann Beattie.

Quote of the Week

Queen of Crime Agatha Christie was born on September 15, 1890. She made this wise observation about money:

“Where large sums of money are concerned, it is advisable to trust nobody.“

Miscellaneous Musings

“On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return. ” I haven’t read much of any Dillard, never finishing Pilgrim at Tinkers’ Creek. But I’ve used this quote in several talks. We lost her this week, when she joined another recently passed pilgrim, Wendell Berry.

I’ve always enjoyed Barack Obama’s reading lists and have been baffled by readers who pan these simply because of his political associations. He’s doing it again with a six part podcast series, “A Great Book.” In “Tom Hanks, Ta-Nehisi Coates and More Join Barack Obama’s ‘A Great Book’ Podcast at Audible” you can read about the books he will be discussing and the guests who will be joining them. A great lineup all around.

I’ve always wished I could be paid for reading. The closest I’ve gotten is some free books for review. So I thought it was interesting to learn that “Singapore pays people to pick up a book in battle against doomscrolling.” But readers need to put in 50 sessions of at least 15 minutes to earn S$1 (one Singaporean dollar, currently 78 U.S. cents). Somehow, that doesn’t seem much of an incentive.

Next Week’s Reviews

Monday: James F. McGrath, Beyond Deconstruction

Tuesday: William Kent Krueger, Lightning Strike

Wednesday: Patricia Allen, The Strain of Other Blood

Thursday: Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

Friday: Douglas Groothuis and Lindsey Medenwaldt, What if Jesus is Right?

So, that’s The Weekly Wrap for September 13-19.

Find past editions of The Weekly Wrap under The Weekly Wrap heading on this page.

The Weekly Wrap: July 6 -12

person holding brown paper bag
Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

The Weekly Wrap: July 6-12

The Great Conversation

Mortimer Adler, in connection with the Great Books series of yesteryear, used the phrase “the great conversation.” While Adler’s project continues to be admired and emulated by some and criticized by others, I’ve always been enthralled with the idea of the Great Conversation.

Adler, and his colleague Robert Hutchins believed that when we read “the classics” we joined a great conversation that has stretched through the ages about important ideas: God, meaning, love, the good society and more. Later writers recur to, disagree with, and build on earlier ones.

I just began reading Anthony T. Kronman’s True Conservatism and he discusses the idea of “making friends with the dead.” Kronman is another, with his own canon, who teaches a version of “Great Books.” He argues that true conservatism, unlike the current left or right, maintains friendship with great thinkers of former generations. Otherwise, our thinking ceases to be “humane” and has a kind of “cut flower” existence. Instead, we are just pragmatists after whatever we think will work. We remove ourselves from, rather than build on, and preserve the wisdom of the past.

This makes sense to me. As a Christian, I’ve spent my life reading and re-reading a 2000 year old text, and the reflections on that text of the likes of Augustine, Aquinas, Athanasius, Origen, Luther, Teresa of Avila, and many more. When I do so, I’m “communing with the saints” and joining their conversation.

But isn’t this always, to some extent what we do whenever we read? We open our minds to another mind. Our reading list, whatever it is, represents a conversation with a number of people. And we come away changed. But it does give me pause. As in in-person conversations, these literary conversations can uplift, illumine, and inspire, or speak to our baser selves and the darker instincts of fear and suspicion. What kind of conversations do your books represent?

Five Articles Worth Reading

David Brooks published an op-ed piece this week on “When Novels Mattered.” He explores the decline of literary fiction and its correlates, concluding with a note of hope about rising young writers.

“Novels are better than television, but the surest way to make money from novels is to write with television in mind.” This is the contention behind Lisa Borst’s “New TV Novels.” Perhaps this is another reason for the decline of the novel Brooks laments.

Constance Grady explores “The truth behind the endless “kids can’t read” discourse.” Her conclusions after wading through piles of research: “US schools have never done a very good job at teaching kids to read, but it seems as though there’s meaningful evidence that we’re doing a worse job right now. While high-achieving kids are still reading the way they’ve read for decades, the ones to whom reading doesn’t come easily are failing more now than they used to.”

Yesterday was the birthday of E.B. White, author of Charlotte’s Web and other children’s books as well as co-author of the classic Elements of Style. In Lit Hub article, Sam Weller collects “Writing Advice and Literary Wisdom from the Great E.B. White.”

Remember Westerns? “A Tale of Two Westerns” explores the trajectories of two Western novels that turn forty this year. One is Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove, a huge success at the time that was turned into a mini-series. The other was Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, which received little notice at the time but has grown in literary stature.

Quote of the Week

This quote by Marcel Proust, born July 10, 1871, has me thinking:

“The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”

Miscellaneous Musings

I took the plunge and put in a preorder with Barnes & Noble for four books coming out this fall. (They had a 25% discount, plus my B & N membership, so I saved about $40. Sadly, the discount ended yesterday.) Buckeye by Ryan Patrick has received acclaim and is set in my home state of Ohio. I read whatever R. F. Kuang publishes and so I ordered her forthcoming Katabasis. There is a posthumous collection of David McCullough essays titled History Matters. It does, in my opinion, and I’ve read everything of McCullough’s. Finally, Always Remember: The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, the Horse and the Storm is Charles Mackesy’s sequel to The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse.

Just to whet your appetite if you didn’t read the E. B. White article, I loved this quote:

“Anyone who writes down to children is simply wasting his time. You have to write up, not down. Children are demanding. They are the most attentive, curious, eager, observant, sensitive, quick, and generally congenial readers on earth. They accept, almost without question, anything you present them with, as long as it is presented honestly, fearlessly, and clearly. I handed them, against the advice of experts, a mouse-boy, and they accepted it without a quiver. In Charlotte’s Web, I gave them a literate spider, and they took that.”

–from a 1969 interview in The Paris Review

Finally, I’ve periodically posted articles from The Lamp, which describes itself as “A CATHOLIC JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, SCIENCE, THE FINE ARTS, ETC.” Their current issue includes a collection of articles on Pope Francis, including articles by Diarmaid McCullouch, Makoto Fujimura, and Zena Hitz.

Next Week’s Reviews

Monday: Perry Miller, The Life of the Mind in America

Tuesday: Abraham Verghese, Cutting for Stone

Wednesday: Justin Brierly, Why I’m Still a Christian

Thursday: Agatha Christie, Black Coffee

Friday: Beth Allison Barr, Becoming the Pastor’s Wife

So, that’s The Weekly Wrap for July 6-12!

Find past editions of The Weekly Wrap under The Weekly Wrap heading on this page

Review: The Road

The Road, Cormac McCarthy. New York: Vintage Books, 2007.

Summary: A dystopian story of a father and son helping each other survive in a post-nuclear America, scavenging for food and avoiding murderous mobs.

The man. The boy. The road. One’s life in backpacks and a grocery cart.

Using an old map to walk back roads to the South and warmth when there is no heat.

Evading murderous gangs who kill and eat their victims.

Searching every dwelling for any scrap of food. A fallout shelter unused stocked richly. Can’t stay long for the risk of being discovered.

A lone boy. He has someone, he can’t go with us. He’ll be OK. Really? Really.

Ash everywhere. Rains smell of ash. Snow is gray. A gray, sullen landscape under gray skies. Nothing alive.

Nights under tarps, shivering in each other’s grasp, trying to stay warm, yet hidden.

A cough. Worsening. Spitting up blood. Must protect the boy.

We carry the fire.

This is The Road. Not a happy story. One to give anyone who thinks a nuclear holocaust survivable. This strikes me a good rendition of what “survival” would be like.

It reveals the heart of darkness that emerges when the structures of civilization fail. Yet it also reveals the bond of a father and son, the eternal flame of hope, or will against all despair to live captured in the words, “we carry the fire.” It recognizes a goodness that will not die (“we are the good guys”) even if this means that you will only kill and not eat the enemy who threatens you. Yet it is a world where you are wary of any human beings, the few who remain. Are there any other “good guys?”

It makes one think of what we have seen during the pandemic, when a virus and a polarizing president have threatened the social fabric–violent mobs in the streets, and roving the Capitol. Plots to seize and kill health officials and governors and even vice presidents. Elevated gun violence. Car jackings. Neighbor fighting neighbor over the refusal to don a mask. What do we need to see that the fabric of society is more fragile than we imagined? The Road may not be so far off as we think.