April 2021 Book Bracket

 

April Book Brackets

Apologies for an incredibly late post. As ever, May (and even the end of April) became magically and totally, expedectedly busy.

Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison*

A black man is used by different people and groups in his American society, and the abuse he experiences leads him to the conclusion that he is invisible.

Why I picked it up: This book was required reading for one of my courses. I misunderstood the timeline, however, and started it well before we were supposed to read it. I wanted it done, though, so I pushed to finish it. It was at least partially read on my Kindle.

My impressions: I detect a theme running through my reviews of modern literature: I can appreciate some of the excellence of the writing, or the story, but I don't enjoy it. The same holds true for this work. I did actually enjoy some the passages - they struck me as "lyrical," although I question my right to use such a word considering what an amateur critic I am. Perhaps it's better to say I liked the way different passages played on my internal ear as I read them - there was a rhythm, a delicious use of the sound of the words themselves that came through to my obtuse sensibilities all the same. I also enjoyed the feeling that I might have picked up on some symbolism in this book - I wasn't able to pull too much meaning from it, as is expected, but I felt more successful than usual in at least identifying likely symbolic motifs, etc. (giving myself a figurative pat on the back). However, in spite of these pros, the cons made the book a difficult read and not a book that I think I'd recommend any time soon. It was long. Most of the characters are not likeable. There are some pretty weird parts, affairs, graphic descriptions, and violence. I skimmed a few sections and do not regret doing that. I'm curious to hear what is brought out in class discussion because I think there are some important things being said, but I can't confidently say that I could articulate them at this time. I don't see this being a book I'll want to pick up and reread in the future. This book is a modern classic by a person of color, so it definitely diversifies my typical reading fare, but I would warn high schoolers and younger against reading this book. Some college students might want to avoid it, too.

The Professor and the Madman, by Simon Winchester

This historical account depicts the meeting of several minds belonging to men who worked on the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary in different ways; one was the main editor for many years, the other an inmate of a lunatic asylum, who likely suffered from schizophrenia and contributed thousands of illustrative quotes for the definitions.

Why I picked it up: The movie and the book upon which the movie is based were brought up in a Facebook group to which I belong, and a screenshot of the cover has been sitting in my phone for well over a year, I'm fairly sure. The catalytic event to get me to finally read the book was my parents checking out the movie from the library, and my decision to read the book before I watched the movie.

My impressions: This is not a book for children or immature readers, but very interesting. The most difficult and uncomfortable aspect of the book was that the titular "madman" had problems, some of a sexual nature; the author did not often go into graphic detail (there were moments when I skimmed, for sure - e.g., some paragraphs/sentences describing or referring to naked women, other passages), but it was certainly enough detail for the reader to know what was happening. The person concerned also mutilated himself, and the author, again, did not shy away from giving details. Other than such moments (which do occur periodically through the length of the work), I found the story very interesting. As an English minor who very much enjoyed her "History and Structure of Language" course as an undergraduate, I found the story of the creation of the OED - a staple reference in most, if not all my college papers - to be delightful. The work was a straightforward read and clearly well researched, with the author referencing patient notes, personal letters, and the current appearance of instrumental locations. I followed along easily enough and found it fitting that I had to look up delicious-sound words along the way. I cared for the persons portrayed, even considering how factually the tale was related. I do think that there was pretty blatant speculation at one point about one character's motivation for one act, but he writes in such a way as to indicate he is definitely hypothesizing. I would recommend this book only to mature book- or word-lovers who can handle some pretty heavy content, are ready to skim when needed, and would be interested in an account of the formation of a dictionary.

The Song at the Scaffold, by Gertrud Von Le Fort

A timid Carmelite novice and her novice master must face different martyrdoms from that experienced by others of their order at the guillotine in revolutionary-era France.

Why I picked it up: One of my audited classes had one last assignment in which we were asked to read a book and make a certain kind of report on it; this was the only book left by the time I got around to choosing, but it was one I already owned, was short, and was the one I wanted anyway. This is a reread.

My impressions: I was not blown away by this book the first time I read it, but I was this time. Maybe I was in a different place in my life where I could appreciate it more, or perhaps I actually gave myself time to just sit with certain passages. The characters are beautifully portrayed in a storytelling style that considers psychological, philosophical, and political influences on individuals and on the society at large. The spiritual landscapes of different souls are explored in a way that is engaging, not preachy, and the symbolism is rich with religious connections. I thought Von Le Fort had the perfect touch. There were a few disparaging comments on the lower classes throughout the tale, but I think of it as the perspective of the nobly-born narrator, rather than the author herself. I think it's a brilliant little book and would encourage everyone to read it; non-Catholics may not appreciate it as much because of the overtly Catholic everything, but then again, they might. I anticipate that I'll be reading this book again sometime.

The Idea of a University, by St. John Henry Cardinal Newman*

Cardinal Newman, in a series of spoken (and written) lectures, describes what he thinks the role of a liberal arts university should be.

Why I picked up this book: Required reading for a class (not surprising); however, this is a work that I've known for a long time that I should read, but have not done so because of intimidation by the length and the siren calls of other shorter, more appealing works.

My impressions: I can give a basic summary, I think, of Newman's points: a liberal arts university needs to include all fields of knowledge because they are all parts of Truth, and do not contradict; leave one out, and it does violence not only to the missing field, but to the other fields that try to take it's place and cannot but fail to do so. Student come to a liberal arts university to learn how to think and because knowledge is good for its own sake. Everything else (even making students useful, contributing members of society) falls into place only if they are kept secondary and respect is maintained for the first premises. A liberal education does not form people with spiritual virtue; it forms people with intellectual virtue, which can help set people up for moral virtue, but only if they choose it.

This is the summary, as best I understand it. There is much in my mind that remains in a kind of nebulous haze about the work. Newman is widely acclaimed as a brilliant prose writer, but I admit his work required some perseverance to chug through. It helped to be able to discuss different sections with a class and a teacher who knew what he was about; I don't think it would be nearly as beneficial to read this book alone. I'll need to revisit it, probably multiple times, to feel like I have any real grasp on this work. I picked out sections that I really liked and would want to revisit sooner than the rest of the work, and I am in awe of Newman's intellectual and writing powers. I'd recommend this book only to book discussion groups of dedicated adult readers who care about liberal arts education and/or Newman and don't mind approaching this work in chunks.

Symbolism and the Christian Imagination, by Herbert Musurillo, S.J.

The author explores how Christian authors treated on theology in a variety of works, especially poetry, from the beginning of the Church through the Middle Ages.

Why I picked up this book: I read the title and thought the work would be extremely useful to my ponderings of entertainment and the Christian life; I did not realize I was in for a more academic work that dealt with a specific time period.

My impressions:  This book is probably most useful to those who have a particular and academic interest in the historical development of different modes of treating on theology, such as allegory and poetry. I placed about ten sticky note tabs in likely spots, but most of the book was rather dry, informative reading. I found myself wishing that there were appendices that included at least the shorter works referenced and described in the book, but at most, a few lines of a poem or the entirety of a shorter prayer was all that the reader could hope to find. There were lots of footnotes indicating works that readers could turn to for more information on various writers or works, but this book itself was more of an overview. My favorite parts were towards the end, where I learned about the origins of different prayers or liturgical sequences that were adopted into the Roman missal after their composition. I would not recommend this book to anyone, unless they have a definite interest in this particular niche of knowledge, and even then, I wouldn't put it forward as much more than one writer's analysis of various works and a starting place for more in depth research. Perhaps I'll take a kindlier view towards it if I can glean some good leads from it for my own considerations.

Books Attempted and Put Down

The Little Grey Men, by E. B. White

Three gnomes in England decide to go on an adventure track down their missing brother.

Why I picked it up: It was touted as a favorite of Julie Andrews' growing up and maybe someone suggested Tolkien may have read it at some point? But I could be making that up.

Why I put it down: I couldn't get into the book. It's one of the books that I think could hold a special place in the heart of someone who read it as a child - perhaps like Wind in the Willows - but is not necessarily something that I, as an adult, find too interesting. There are so many other books on my "to read" list that I feel I can't really be wasting time reading a book that's not shaping up to be very interesting (I know I kind of went against that with Phantastes, but I had had greater hopes for that one). 

Book Bracket

I did not even allow "Symbolism and the Christian Imagination" to play in the tournament. I was not too impressed by it and didn't want to prematurely wear out one of the other contenders. As excellent as I sensed Invisible Man is, I didn't find it all that enjoyable. I think it is a very good book to read, if one has the maturity to do so, but it's very long and not one that I'll be rereading for fun any time soon. Likewise, the very excellent Idea of a University fell to the very worthy, quicker, and less heady work. I'm sorry, St. Newman! I wish I appreciated it more - it's just I'll probably need to read it again (and again, and again) before I really come to appreciate this seminal work as I should. Fear not, though - I'll at least revisit key sections one of these days (I hope). In the second round, Song at the Scaffold took the win because it was such a well-written story and didn't have any really questionable parts - squeamish parts, perhaps, but nothing I felt I had to skim over. Also, it was an incredible story, and so well written.