The Benefits of Forced Reading

 A Reflection and a Reaction

This blog post is not my typical book-bracket. After reaching the three-quarter mark of two classes I am auditing now, I felt the urge to type up a reflection on why being forced to read certain books was something I was finding beneficial. However, the lack of a coherent line of benefits meant I kept putting off the task. 

Then, I started watching a short video series entitled "Read More Books Now." No, the irony of watching videos about how to read more books was not lost upon me. Once I reached the fourth episode, I found my creative juices flowing as I reacted against what the speaker, Brandon Vogt, shared. 

The combined effect of class and video on my writing impulse follows here.

Vogt's Argument

Brandon Vogt is the regular co-host of Bishop Barron's "Word on Fire" podcast, which I have taken up listening to this year. By listening to this podcast, I've come to realize that he's a smart guy, and his ideas are definitely worthy of consideration. When I stumbled upon a free one-month trial of his ClaritasU site, I skimmed with an eye to interesting course titles, such as the enticement to "Read more books now!" 

Episode Four, "Don't Be A Slave," considers Vogt's take on knowing when to put down a book without finishing it. He says that people don't need to finish books they don't enjoy because, in his figuring, "For every one book you read, you have to ignore 10,000 other books."  Like I've said in my own words, "Life is too short to read books you hate."

However, I took issue with the fact that Vogt did not temper this take in any way, and I finished the episode with the impression that if one does not like a book for any reason, dump it. This all-or-nothing perspective rubbed me the wrong way.

Great Books Classes

I'm auditing two classes right now at my undergraduate alma mater. These classes were just developed and are based on other "Great Books" programs, or programs that focus on reading classic works of literature for a more liberal-arts approach to education. At the beginning of these courses, the three professors that co-teach these courses made a point of discussing why we read difficult books. Bo Bonner, in particular, says that reading great books isn't about what one gets out of the book; it's about what the book gets or draws out of the reader. If we are not up to the struggle, it's more of a reflection upon us, the readers, than it is upon the merit of the book.

This take on reading takes Vogt's views head-on. Rather than giving up on a book because we do not enjoy it, the professors at least imply that we ought to fight through difficult and lengthy works because the ideas in them push us and help us to grow.

In My Own Life

I will concede that there is value in Vogt's views; after all, I earlier mentioned something about abandoning books that cause hateful feelings. I'm sensitive to the ideas expressed in books and movies, so I probably end up abandoning proportionately more books than the average reader. I'll even admit that I skipped at least one of the classics assigned for the Renaissance classics course because I didn't want to struggle with it (no thank you, "Doctor Faustus").

However, I have to say that I've seen a lot of fruit borne from reading works that I would probably never have picked up otherwise.

To provide some backstory (which is one of my favorite pastimes), I decided one summer during my high school or undergraduate years to dedicate time to reading classic works of literature, and I was burned by the experience. It may have had something to do with the fact that I read two books by James Fenimore Cooper, an author who apparently had trouble with writing happy endings. In any case, I decided that the classics were maybe not the best types of books to read on the regular.

Then, in late college, I discovered that there were lots of books in the world that I actually wanted to read. (It sounds strange, but that is a story for a different post.) I discovered a Facebook group that regularly has book posts that contain treasure troves of new books I want to read. My reading list has never been longer.

Finally, this last year, I've dedicated myself to the practice of reading books and reviewing them for this little blog. I have to admit that I don't think I've ever tried so hard to read so many books. There's something very satisfying about knowing that I sometimes have six or ten books to consider in a month. When I signed up for these classes, I saddened a little bit, because I realized that I would no longer have as much time to read the books that I knew I wanted to read. I wouldn't have the enjoyment of clearing off a little more space on my shelf or picking up a quick filler book to beef up the monthly book bracket. I was to take on the long-disused yoke of assigned reading. 

I ended up with two lists of books that, with only two or three exceptions, contained books which I seriously doubted I would have picked up to read anytime in the next twenty years. I tried to read as many books as was feasible for me at this time in my life, even the more philosophical works. Some I had to skim, and others I was forced to skip.

But can you guess what I discovered? There was actually something appealing about being told what I must read. I realized that I had spent much time - years, in fact - reading only the books that I decided would be interesting to me. By trusting my own inclinations, I had become the ipso facto expert of what books were the best for me.

These classes have taught me that this is not necessarily true. I still ultimately decide whether to read the works in the class, but having much smarter and sharper professors and classmates there to discuss difficult works and to help me dive into the texts has helped me view literature with something of a broader perspective. I would probably have never read Frederick Douglass' "My Bondage and My Freedom" on a whim, but reading it for the class gave it a chance to really make me think about different topics. I find that trusting another's judgment about these works has been good for me.

One of the most comforting takeaways is that classics are not necessarily going to to comforting. Quite often, they are just the opposite. I guess I had this idea that classics would be works of great beauty and big ideas that would always make readers thing of transcendental goods (wow, that sounds a little high-falutin' to me as I type those words out), but now I've partially adopted the viewpoint of my professors and I think that classics are sometimes classics because they make people think, and making people think often happens by making them uncomfortable.

Going Forward

I am still looking forward to the summer of 2021, when I will officially have my reading life back and I can indulge in whatever my fancy fancies. However, I'm also looking forward to the spring semester of 2021, when I will have another list of required reading for two more classes that I will be auditing. I feel a little silly saying this, as it is a big backpedal from my former position, but I'm actually looking forward to at least trying to wrestle with some books I figured I wouldn't read for another decade, if ever - books like Shusaku Endo's "Silence" and Evelyn Waugh's "Brideshead Revisited." I doubt I'll actually make it through the first one, a la Vogt's strategy, and the second one might reach completion only with skimming, but I'm at least going to give them some honest consideration, which is more than they've had from me up to this point. I hope to grow my intellect and reading appreciation from encountering these difficult, sometimes unenjoyable, sometimes unexpectedly interesting, books.

 

October Book Bracket

I read many fewer works this month than I would have liked, but I'm trying hard to keep up with class reading, which limits the time I spend on books that are more fun. All the same, I managed to fit in a couple for-fun reads at the beginning of the month when they were much needed during the business of work.

The Thief, by Megan Whalen Turner

In this fantasy adventure, Gen, an imprisoned thief, is forced into an expedition to recover a legendary stone that grants the right of ruling a country to the possessor.

Why I picked it up: A Facebook advertisement announcing the release of the latest book in the series prompted me to read this first installment.

My impressions: The main feeling I got from this book was one of reading through a Dungeons & Dragons experience developed by the author. That may not be a fair assessment, but it gives me a good outline for talking about the pros and cons. I enjoyed the world and myths developed in the story and found the characters unique and entertaining. I wondered at one point if "self-centered but gifted petty thieving criminal" is a trope in fantasy worlds, because that description is one I've seen before and it definitely fits the main character. I enjoyed the adventure very much, but the exciting parts weren't as gripping as other books I've read (Green Ember, for example). This result could stem from the fact that I was a little confused at times and missed various hints throughout the novel that enjoyed their full significance only at the end of the tale. It made for a fun ending, but I think it is possible this book might be more fun - or at least fun in a different way - on the second reading. I'm not sure if I'll be rereading this book in the future; it's not really one I'd anticipate sharing with potential future children as a beloved story from my younger days. However, it had a good enough ending that I was still thinking of it on and off the next day. I figure a high school student secure in their faith and not troubled by non-Christian creation stories could handle this book. I must warn that there is a decent bit of swearing by the pagan gods of that world, stealing is apparently not frowned upon, and some of the myths involve some (non-explicit) but clearly stated affairs between different gods and goddesses.

Beorn the Proud, by Madeleine Polland

Ness, an Irish Christian captured in a raid by a Viking peer, Beorn, becomes a slave in his household and accompanies him on an adventure to save the Danish king against Beorn's cousin, Helge.

Why I picked it up: I bought several "living history" books, published by Bethlehem Books, when that company had an online sale. I enjoy medieval settings and, probably still with "Rolf and the Viking Bow" in my memory, decided to take a chance on this one.

My impressions: I enjoyed this book. I felt it had much more depth than the last book of this type I finished, "Red Hugh, Prince of Donahue," because there was believable character development. I liked the pace of the story and felt that, even at 180-some pages, it was pretty short. I appreciated the underlying tension between Christian and pagan nations, but more especially that the author depicts how people can share their faith without becoming preachy - Polland never becomes preachy in her writing, herself. The religious differences are naturally integrated and actually provide key insights into characters, rather than being a chance setting that was necessary for a Viking adventure. This is a book I would recommend to children who are at that reading level and anyone older who wants a quick and interesting Irish-Danish adventure. For the sake of sensitive children, it might be good to know that the story starts with a Viking raid (violent, killing) and there is a scene where a hermit, who has lost his wits, is abandoned to a death of starvation or exposure on a beach.

Dialogues, by St. Gregory the Great

Pope Saint Gregory the Great communicates about miracles and spiritual truths in dialogue with his friend, Peter.

Why I picked it up: This book was required reading for the philosophy class I am taking right now.

My impressions: I liked the miracle stories best in this book. The book includes mostly people of whom I've never heard, but the author dedicated the entire second dialogue to Saint Benedict and the miraculous happenings of his life. I felt inspired to live a better life during the first dialogue, but I became inured to the wonderful happenings later on (I regret to say it, because it is a reflection of me, and not of the stories). Towards the end, I mainly felt concern about how my soul will be judged after death - many of the stories, especially at the end, highlight how strictly we shall be judged - but I imagine this is one of the main intentions of the book. If so, Saint Gregory accomplishes his purpose. The choice to use a philosophical dialogue format was not my favorite because Peter's questions served mainly as launching points for the stories and ponderings of the pope, but I may have appreciated it more had I not been a modern reader. This book would make some good spiritual reading, I think, but I didn't find it as impactful as other works. High school students and older should be able to handle it, although some middle school readers might appreciate the many miracles.

Paradise Lost, by John Milton

Renaissance-era English poet Milton composed this classic epic about the fall of Satan and the tempting and fall of mankind.

Why I picked it up: This book was required reading for the Great Books class I'm taking.

My impressions: This work was a mixed bag for me. I thought it was weird that the first two (of twelve) books, or long chapters, in the epic were all about Satan and the demons. Even stranger was the order of events, with the focus switching between Satan/the demons, God and the angels, and Adam and Eve, the actual fall of Satan being told in a backstory by the angel Raphael, and then humans eventually gaining more attention at the poem progresses. But, it's still a classic, and even though this first story from the book of Genesis has never been my favorite, I still felt moved at different parts by the wonderful writing. I sensed the coming tragedy and ached because I knew how it would end, and yet, the poem ends with a bittersweet removal from Eden, the earthly paradise and a promise that greater good would come out of the evil of Man's disobedience. There were a couple places where Milton takes a dig at the Catholic Church (he was a Puritan, I think?), but it's not too blatant. More problematic to me was that Satan ended up being a relatable character - I felt at the beginning that Milton had made him, in some ways, admirable, which troubled me. However, discussion in class helped me think better of what Milton did - I think the idea was that Milton wanted us to feel the attraction of sin, as it truly has in our lives, but realize that no matter how "good" it seems, it is and always will be bad. Another area of note is that the theology is definitely not correct in places (I won't go into it all now). Milton didn't shy away from talking about rape (Satan and Sin) and sex, but when he spoke of the relationship between Adam and Eve before the fall, it had some elements that - as one of my professors said - made it sound like Jason Evert wrote it. All things considered, I think that this is a good work to read with solid guidance. I read parts of it in college and the considerations were literary, but not necessarily with that Catholic lens which I appreciate; I didn't really like it at the time. It's not my favorite even now, but I might reread it someday if I have a good reason. I think college-age or mature high school readers could tackle this, but again, I'd recommend some sort of literary critique or discussion with knowledgeable persons to really get a better appreciation of it.

The Hind and the Panther, by John Dryden

This long poem is a metaphor or allegory for a dialogue of which church is the true Church - that of the Church of England, or that of the Catholic Church; it falls in favor of the Catholic Church.

Why I picked it up: This poem was required reading for the Great Books class I'm taking.

My impressions: Well, I wasn't super impressed. Perhaps the class discussion of this work will help me appreciate it more, but it wasn't a great read. If it is meant as an apology for Catholicism, I guess it is a creative way to present arguments, but as a work of literature, it is definitely not at the level of other classics I have read. I wouldn't recommend reading it.

Bracket Play

Bracket play was pretty straightforward; the favorites of the first round, "Beorn the Proud" and St. Gregory's "Dialogues" won easily against their less-likable opponents. It was a tough match between "The Thief" and "Beorn the Proud" in the second round, but Turner's work edged out "Beorn" primarily because it made this reader want to look into more works by the same author while the losing work was quite satisfactory as a single story. I didn't find myself looking up Polland's other books to see if there was a sequel. A work of fiction won yet again this month over the religious works. Again, this is not because the spiritual reading was bad; it is because the fiction is engaging enough that I have talked to others about it in an attempt to get them interested in it. I want to talk to other people about "The Thief" and I haven't found anyone else who has read it yet.

Books Attempted and Put Down

Crown of Coral and Pearl, by Mara Rutherford

Nor, a twin from a settlement in the middle of the sea, takes her injured sister's place as the most beautiful maiden from her village and soon-to-be-bride of a prince, but she finds the land is a dangerous place full of scheming court members, a sickly king, and a creepy fiance. Also, the prince has a super-attractive half brother.

Why I picked it up: After "The Thief," I was still hankering for some fantasy and saw this book recommended on a Facebook group I follow.

Why I put it down: The descriptions were too...sensuous? for me. There were a lot of descriptions that weren't necessarily inappropriate, per se, but there was an overuse of physicality that I eventually concluded could be troublesome - it was, in fact, troublesome for me. I would actually be pretty set against letting a teenage daughter read this book for that reason. Beyond that, the book felt like a pretty stereotypical YA book, with the inclusion of a smirking love interest, societal unrest, decrying a focus on appearances, and at least one sequel (because how often do we come across YA standalone novels?). I skimmed the rest to find out what happened and I couldn't get a good picture. I figured that I wouldn't have enjoyed much of it, as it seemed to turn pretty heavily to political machinations at the point I ended - my impression could be wrong, though.

The Queen of Attolia, by Megan Whalen Turner

This sequel to "The Thief" follows the moody thief, Eugenides, as he becomes a key player in the war that has erupted between the countries of Eddis, Attolia, and Sounis.

Why I picked it up: I was delighted by the first book and, still being in the mood for some fantasy literature but disappointed in "Crown of Coral and Pearl," I wanted to find out what happened next in Turner's world.

Why I put it down: I wanted to finish this book! I really did - but I was just not in the right mindset for a romance. I was about 75% of the way done with the book before the love story became a bigger deal (it had been mostly action/adventure/brooding up to that point), and I made it to maybe 80% completion, but I just couldn't handle the romance right now. It wasn't steamy or anything...just not right for me at this time. And the relationship was a little unusual, somewhat arranged, but with some emotional investment. I couldn't find any spoilers on Wikipedia for how the story ends, so I couldn't say that I'd finished it even by skimming/looking up. I don't even know if I could recommend it or not because...well...a lot rides on how a story ends.

Inklings Festival Thoughts

 This is perhaps the third year I have attended an annual festival in my hometown that celebrates all things connected with the Inklings. I took notes during some of the talks and wanted to write them down here so that, if I ever feel the need, I can reference them again.

Talk 1: "Saving the Shire: Ascetic Renunciation and Love of Home in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings" by Richard Rohlin

Well, that's quite a long name. Rohlin is a philologist who talked about what "home" means according to Sir Roger Scruton (not sure who he was, but he passed away recently), but here I simply wish to record the interpretive insights Rohlin provided into Tolkien's most famous works. I weep inside when I hear a pro dive into the deeper significance of literary works because I never get this stuff myself.

- Beorn has a strong sense of his home; it is strong enough that he can name everything that is in his domain. Think of how well you have to know your house and yard not only to know everything it holds, but to know each individual item's name; that's the sort of knowledge I at least assume Rohlin was saying Beorn possessed.

- At the beginning of the book, Bilbo is presented as two halves of a person, not a whole person; this comes from the discussion of the "Took side" and the "Baggins side"

- Whenever Bilbo is feeling stressed or worried, Rohlin notes that he seems to crave eggs and bacon...this dish, or at least bacon, is mentioned something like six or seven times throughout the Hobbit

- Gollum's hunger and his love of certain creature comforts and home are an exaggeration of Bilbo's own sedentary tendencies

- When the dwarves start singing "Far over the Misty Mountains" in his house, Bilbo has a longing for exploring caves and fingering gold - this is a foreshadowing of events that literally happen later in the story (mind blown!)

- Thorin's statement about more of us valuing food and cheer and song over hoarded gold is a synopsis of the entire story of The Hobbit: we start off with Bilbo valuing food and cheer and song, and it ends with Smaug's hoarded gold.

- Rohlin points out that no one ever quotes the rest of Thorin's quote - about how, merry or not, he must leave this life now. This world is not our home, so making our houses areas of complete comfort for ourselves is not the ultimate end for us, nor is it the ultimate happiness even in this mortal life.

- It's not the gold in the story that is evil - it's hoarded gold or treasure that is bad. Bilbo doesn't come to a bad end because he doesn't hoard the Arkenstone - he hands it over to someone else

- In the LOTR, Frodo pretty much says he'd do anything to save his home, but perhaps implies the world isn't worth it to him to save it if the Shire isn't saved. (refer to his quote about knowing the Shire is behind, it's a steady place to stand, even if he can't put his feet there again, etc.)

- Frodo's quest from Lothlorien is a Lenten journey (maybe exactly 40 days?)

- March 25th is the Solemnity of the Annunciation, yes, but it is also the traditional date of Good Friday

Talk 2: "David Jones: History & Sacrament as Home" by Fr. Gabriel Rochelle

I wasn't quite as big a fan of this talk, but the main thing I took away from it is a cool Welsh word,  hiraeth, which means "a horizon that keeps receding" and means longing, yearning for a homeland (that can never be satisfied, by the way), a longing for the present which is not attainable, and/or the feeling exiles have.

Seminar 2: "The Art of Salting Pigs" by Anthony Jacobs

- Pork is most popular for curing, followed by beef, but any animal flesh can be cured

- Salt is used; it's drawn into the muscle, reduces water content in the meat

- Saltpeter is a thing; it increases preservative qualities, preserves the color and changes the texture of the meat (and maybe saltpeter has been used for a long time?)

- When cured meat is cooked it maintains the pink/red color (think corned beef)

- Some cured meats can be eaten as is after they've been cured (some hard sausages, etc.), but some you still definitely want to cook

- The muscle meat is cured more often than the organs

- Can cure the meat, or cure and then smoke it

- Keep cured meat in a cool, kind of humid place; if too dry, you might get something called "case hardening"

- If black mold is growing on the outside of the hard sausage, you should be concerned; if it's only white or green, that's apparently common (just make sure you don't eat the casing - you're not supposed to, anyway)

- A dry cure/dry salting is where you rub salt into the meat or just bury the meat in salt

- A wet curing is submerging the meat in brine, turning it every so often

- When you kill an animal, you have to cut and cure it either before or after rigor mortis; otherwise, the texture is off

Seminar 3: "'Gondolin' & Other Perfect Names: A Philologist's Analysis of How Tolkien Creates a Sense of Place" by Richard Rohlin

I liked this guy's presentations. Good speaker, and a Tolkien scholar (his words, not mine)

- People nowadays get into philology in one of two ways: Scandinavian death metal music or Tolkien (again, his words)

- Tolkien writes The LOTR from the viewpoint of the least knowledgeable character in the scene (often the Hobbits, sometimes Gimli, etc.); this lets us see Middle Earth with fresh eyes all the time (another mind blowing moment)

September 2020 Bracket

 

September Book Bracket

I had even fewer books this month than in August, but I still ended up with five titles. I think reading four books and polishing off a slow-burn read in one month is nothing to sniff at, so that helps me make peace with the fact that I don't have time for as many as I did during the summer.

The Mysteries of Life in Children's Literature, by Mitchell Kalpakgian

English professor investigates the values espoused and explored in children's classics.

Why I picked it up: This was an impulse buy from a TAN $5 book sale that sounded like it belonged in my possession.

My impressions: This book is hard to pin down as to what it actually is. Though written by an academic, it is not (even according to the author) an academic work. There are no lengthy footnotes or extended references to other experts in the field. However, it did have a pretty academic outlook because Kalpakgian goes to great lengths to define what exactly is happening in the works he considers. The result is a work that, essentially, is a primer for "how to get the most out of fairy tales and old children's classics". I wish that the author had defined what he means by "children's literature" from the outset. Based on his work, it seems that only fairy tales and children's books that have been around since before the beginning of the last century really count. I liked that I felt more equipped to consider strange elements of such stories the next time I read them, but without the academic rigor, I find it hard to make much out of this book more than an English professor's long essay about why these books are so great (and why our current society is so messed up). Indeed, the last chapter was rather confusing to me - it was a rant about all the many evils found in our society today and how modern society doesn't match up with the ideals of children's classics. I agree with the author about there being many evils to fight today, but he didn't even say how children's classics might interact with or positively influence the culture other than; he basically said "these books have the right ideals and modern society doesn't". I wished that Kalpakgian had used the last chapter to suggest something of how children's classics might be used to address these manifold evils he outlined, but he stopped before he reached what would have been a very interesting argument. I guess his goal was not to make an argument, just to show and explore. He was up front about approaching the subject from a particular orthodox, traditional moral viewpoint - which I appreciated - but this singular focus actually left me unsatisfied. I wondered how these classics, and this work, would dialogue with children who have not had the chance to grow up on such stories. If I had grown up reading Captain Underpants and Diary of a Wimpy Kid, like many kids do today, would these stories work on me in the way that they already have? Would I have found inherent value in them? This book is fine for just about anyone to read, but the last chapter might lead to of questions from children who are not very familiar with contraception, the abortion pill, and other societal evils.

The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius, by St. Ignatius of Loyola

St. Ignatius developed a retreat focused on meditation on various Biblical and religious topics; it is outlined in this work.

Why I picked it up: If I remember correctly, this book was acquired from a $5 Tan book sale and, as it is a well-known spiritual classic, I felt I should read it. It worked well as my short morning meditation and even better in adoration. Note: The TAN books look nice, but I've noticed that there's a plastic layer that starts peeling off the paperback cover with much use. 

My impressions: This is an excellent book, but it is definitely best read as a source for meditation, rather than a "read it to get it done" sort of book. I think it would be best if used for a retreat with a director for the participant. I had heard of this sort of "Ignatian meditation" before, and that it relies heavily on the imagination, but it was a neat experience to walk through it on a meditation like the evening our Lord was born in Bethlehem. I really tried to meditate on certain parts, but since I like the feeling of being "done" with books, I definitely read it "to get it done" for a lot of it. Some of the best meditations for me were on the Prodigal Son, following the banner of Jesus or the banner of Satan, and the three classes (used a metaphor of sick men who take different treatments, representing those who only give their desires to Jesus, those who give only certain works to Jesus, and those who give themselves totally to God). I also appreciated a section in the second part of the book which discussed the discernment of spirits. In short, this is a great work and I think that just about every Catholic should go to prayer with it at some point in their life. I hope to remember to bring it to adoration with me now and again so that I can take more time with some of the meditations, as appropriate to the liturgical season.

Something Other Than God, by Jennifer Fulwiler

A stand-up comedienne describes her journey from a lifelong atheism to Catholicism in her late twenties, assisted by a supportive family and blog readers. 

Why I picked up this book: This book was available as an ebook through the Formed app and, needing a break from Diogenes and philosophers, this book sounded like something I was in the mood to read. I had heard the name of the author before, but did not know anything about her.

My impressions: The main thing that struck me about this book was a reminder of my dad telling me, "Catholicism is the thinking man's religion." The author's journey to Catholicism was very much an intellectual pursuit. There were some strong emotions involved, certainly, but the author describes her husband as having had experiences of the presence of God, while she struggled to understand that experience, both experiences making sense to me in light of my own life and those of others. I had some minorly surreal moments as Fulwiler described coming to accept the teachings of the Catholic Church because it almost sounded like she had heard the reasons for believing the Church's teachings, which I have taken in since my younger years, and discovered them just so in her own life. For example, when she talks about learning about contraception and why it is wrong, she seems to have come across the exact same prophetic lines by Pope Paul VI that I learned about in high school. I guess my main question is, if this is the sort of teaching that can bring others to the true faith - teachings I'm familiar with - why have I not been working to share it with others? In any case, I found the story interesting and the tone appropriate for each moment - there are humorous descriptions, but they are balanced with moments full of the agonizing search for God. I didn't even know she was a comedienne until I looked up information on her (when I was about halfway through the book), so perhaps I noticed the humor more after that. There were just one or two parts at the end where I thought it was a little slow because she was explaining an aspect of the faith and I, already being familiar with it, wanted to get back to the story. There were some things I was left wondering about (what did she work out with the doctor for medication for a condition? Have others in her family come to the faith, too?), but they are not exactly what I'd call "loose ends". As a book consumed with Man's search for meaning, I think this would be a good book for Catholics and non-Catholics alike to read, probably high school-age and older.

The Lost Prince of Samavia, by Frances Hodgson Burnett

This children's adventure story (in the vein of "Ruritanian romance" - check Wikipedia, it's a thing) follows a father-son exile duo and their friend, "The Rat", as they work for the salvation of their war-torn homeland, Samavia.

Why I picked it up: Project Gutenberg, a website that has public domain books available for free in many formats, is a beautiful, beautiful thing. I enjoyed some of Burnett's other books, including "The Secret Garden", so I knew I'd want to give her adventure story a try.

My impressions: This book was fun, but I think there are multiple reasons why this is not a well-known children's work of Burnett's. Some of the emphasis on the main character's "training" of remembering faces and places and details was excessive, as was the emphasis on how much these exiles loved their country. Some of this is necessary, considering that the entire story is about trying to restore a long-lost prince's descendant to the embattled throne - and who doesn't love some of that strong patriotism for a lost homeland in a good story? But, it was a little much. This devotion to country (and even the son's regard of his father) seemed to me to take the place of devotion to God, even. And speaking of God...there are some elements that suggest a Christian outlook, but there is a distinctly and overtly Buddhist leaning throughout the middle and last sections of the book; this was a big turn-off for me. Largely, I would say it was a book that adventure-lovers like me might enjoy at least a little. It has everything: legends, attempted assassinations, kidnapping, secret signs, spies, travelling all over Europe, and secret meeting places. It was not the best-written book (e.g., two spies randomly show up in two different episodes then disappear from the narrative...if this irony is intentional, it's too deep for me), but fun. It would have been even more fun if the Buddhist elements had been left out, but a brief Wikipedia search on the author revealed that later in life, she had religious leanings into spiritualism and Theosophy, so the appearance of non-Christian beliefs makes more sense to me. I can't say I'd recommend this book, but it's not something I'd necessarily tell a high school student they couldn't read it (but, then again, I guess it depends on the student...how solid they are in their faith, etc.). The reading level is probably appropriate for middle or elementary school leaders, but the questionable Buddhist elements prevent me from recommending the book for Catholic children.

St. Thomas Aquinas, by G. K. Chesterton

GKC writes a short biography of this Doctor of the Church and analyzes his importance and greatness.

Why I picked it up: I read "St. Francis" by the same author earlier this year and wanted to get another book in before the month ended. I finished it on the last day of September.

My impressions: I liked this biography better than the one of Saint Francis. I'm not sure what it was, but the fact that I was reading from a book published by a real company and not a terribly-formatted one printed by some random Amazon.com press probably helped. GKC would definitely not pass a "politically correct" test nowadays, but there's much to enjoy in his writing outside those parts. I got enough of a glimpse into what St. Thomas was like as a person to grow in appreciation for him, but I have to admit that even explaining philosophy to me is probably going to end in me getting at least a little lost; such was the case with this book. I wouldn't say the book felt dated, but it was, in a sense, because it was very clear that GKC was writing to address issues he saw in his particular day - issues that maybe aren't quite as big on the modern horizon now as others all. All the same, I think this is a solid book that high schoolers and above could attempt...but it would probably help to have a good head for philosophy and/or some minimal familiarity with Aquinas prior to reading.

Bracket Play

Bracket play was easily decided this month. The lesser books (Mysteries of Life, Lost Prince) fell without a fight to the very good books. "The Spiritual Exercises" was an uneven fifth book, so it had a buy on the first round and took out GKC's book. I felt it deserved to win because it's such a recognized classic and because I anticipate coming back to it for meditations. The same book won the final round against Fulwiler's book, which was more amusing, but didn't have the weight of Ignatius' work.

Books Attempted and Put Down

Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers, by Diogenes

The ancient Greek poet Diogenes gives a somewhat encyclopedic look at the sayings or philosophies of ancient Greek philosophers and how they lived their lives.

Why I picked it up: I am auditing some courses and I wanted very much to fully read the books that are assigned.

Why I put it down: I'm not putting it down so much as skimming it - and by skimming, I mean skipping pretty significant sections. Quite frankly, I don't have enough time to read EVERYTHING for this class, and I wanted to save my stamina for later works that I think I will find more interesting. Also, philosophy is not quite my thing and, although there are somewhat interesting and even bizarre people described in the work, that's definitely not enough to make me want to read this much about ancient philosophers. (Please don't tell my professors.)

Daughter of the Forest, by Juliet Marillier

This is a modern retelling of the fairy tale "The Six Swans" and set in a semi-fantastic and quasi-historic British Isles world.

Why I picked it up: A bookish friend of mine loaned me her own copy of this book when I expressed interest. I was intrigued by the premise and, loving fairy tales, knew I wanted to give it a try.

Why I put it down: In the wording of my own subjective way of considering books, "it wasn't bearing good fruit in me." I am very affected mentally and emotionally by what I read or watch, and this book ended up being one of the works that I had to sadly part ways with. It was interesting and I loved some of the imagery, but some of the content was too dark for me. It was a work that I wished I could finish. Just as a warning, the book includes rape (I don't know how much detail is involved - I learned this from looking up the book on the Wikipedia entry) and some delicately worded, but still pretty plain, discussion of torture/its effects. Some people can handle this and a certain tone of writing, but I cannot. Mature high schoolers could probably handle this book, but be aware that one character is an unorthodox (presumably Catholic) monk.

August 2020 Bracket

August Book Bracket

With school starting up again, I found my reading time drastically reduced. However, with the help of a roadtrip vacation, I was able to finish half a dozen books.

Book Descriptions, Why I Picked Them, and My Impressions

Red Hugh, Prince of Donegal, by Robert T. Reilly

In this adventure tale, an Irish prince, Hugh, must escape his English kidnappers and Dublin guards to return home and defend it against Queen Elizabeth's forces.

Why I picked it up: This was one of the "Living History" book titles recommended to me by my sister-in-law.

My impressions: This book is enjoyable as a sort of easy adventure story, but it's not one that I found truly captivating as an adult. There were many "adventure" elements in it (e.g., kidnapping, imprisonment, multiple escapes, action, danger, injury, battle)(this list brings to mind the "Princess Bride" movie with the grandfather's description of the book, doesn't it?), but the character development was rather underdeveloped. I really appreciated the map that preceded the story because it helped me follow the action and understand where it was happening. I would recommend this book to younger readers - not necessarily adults - who like adventures and castles, especially if they are learning about history during the Elizabethan era. There are some mild elements of revenge and some violence that might be a concern for some young readers, but it is mostly a pretty safe book.

Talking Back: A Monastic Handbook for Combating Demons, by Evagrius of Pontus (trans. David Brakke)

A desert father's collection of Scripture verses to say in response to the eight evil thoughts or temptations of gluttony, fornication, love of money, sadness, anger, listlessness (acedia?), vainglory, and pride.

Why I picked it up: I watched a Zoom version of "Theology on Tap" a few months ago and the speaker, a podcaster for "Catholic Psyche Podcast", recommended it. This seemed appropriate to read after last month's read "The Noonday Devil", which explained the "evil thought" of acedia.

My impressions: Well, I liked the idea of this book. Broken up into sections based on the temptation, Evagrius gives an addressee (God, the demon, the angels, etc.) and a specific situation (e.g., addressing the thought I have regarding my desire to visit my relatives in the world) and the Scripture passage used to combat this thought. Some of the Scripture passages are addressed to God, crying for help, or praising Him for sustaining one through the temptation. In short, there are different kinds of situations. I like the idea, as I said - I should be more familiar with the Bible and I love the idea of using quotes to help me through difficult times. However, I must say that I still have to think about how I'm going to make using this book practical. In the middle of a temptation, it's going to be hard to drop what I'm doing, find this book, and then locate the specific part of the book that deals with the specific temptation I'm facing. This project almost needs memorization if it's to be applied broadly. As it is, I suppose I could find a few very pertinent passages for myself and memorize or mark those. Another difficulty I found was that some of the situations seem to apply primarily to monks (the target audience) and are difficult for a lay person to connect with. I think this book could be of use to adults who are looking for this sort of thing, but I don't know if I'd recommend it wholesale like I've done with other works...maybe in time, once I've found a way to make this book work for me, I'll find myself more ready to recommend it.

The Outcast of Redwall, by Brian Jacques

The badger Sunflash and his hawk friend Skarlath range across Mossflower country and down to Salamandastron fighting the warlord Swartt Sixclaw, while Swartt's son Veil dwells for a time at Redwall Abbey before being exiled and followed by his foster mother, Bryony.

Why I picked it up: Redwall books are the equivalent of a "beach read" for me and I needed one to take with me on vacation. It had been a while since I'd read it, as well.

My impressions: I was surprised by how many elements of this book matched up rather closely with those of "Salamandastron"...but I shouldn't have been. Jacques is an extremely formulaic writer, after all. However, it had all the standard traits of a Redwall book and felt like its own story, in spite of any similarities it had with the previously-written book. Good fights evil and triumphs in the end, although some dear characters die before the end, where everything is celebrated with a homecoming and a feast. I'd recommend this book to readers at that reading level and above. However, due to the issues our society is facing, I do think it worthwhile to note that one character, a hare, presents itself and tries to act as a squirrel, although it is clearly a hare. Though clearly a fictional work and just a bit of innocent fun, the species-pretend-exchange may raise questions from children who are aware of the transgender issues of our time. 

Life, by St. Teresa of Avila, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D.

As I understood it, at the order of her confessor, St. Teresa of Avila recounts her life and her journey of growing closer to God. She explains certain types of prayer and describes raptures and visions she beheld.

Why I picked it up: I heard that selections from this work would be assigned in a class I'm auditing and, rather than read just the assigned sections, I wanted to read the whole thing so that I could write about it here and not in the "books not finished" section. I can say I've read the whole thing.

My impressions: This book requires perseverance. I'm a little ashamed to say I found the longer sections on prayer difficult to get through. Even the autobiographical parts were not always quick-moving. Part of the difficulty was that I had trouble understanding the more technical descriptions of prayer ("technical" doesn't seem like the right word, but my lack of understanding prevents me from finding a better term) and I was bogged down by incomplete references to unnamed individuals. For much of the book, I did not feel like I connected with the saint. For example, when she talks about how much of a sinner she was, I always wondered if she was really that bad of a sinner (a la Saint Augustine) or if her sins just seemed bad to her because she was so holy and therefore more sensitive. I think there was some of the latter, but one website that spoke of her life indicated that she struggled with her own mediocrity, amongst other things. That was something I could relate to. I also felt kinship with her when she described her fears and anxieties about certain things. Indeed, even though a Doctor of the Church and a mystic, it seems like she didn't achieve perfection early in her life; it sounds like she still was struggling along like we all are. Because of the difficulty in understanding the work and how difficult it was to get through, I can't say I'd recommend this book. However, now that I have read it, I do feel some encouragement to keep fighting the good fight, even though I will have to do it the rest of my life. Note for myself: Chapter 2 describes how St. Teresa found books of chivalry to lead her away from God into a worldly, and even sinful, life.

Champions of the Rosary: The History and Heroes of a Spiritual Weapon, by Donald H. Calloway, MIC

Fr. Calloway outlines the history of the "Rosary", a Catholic prayer that meditates on Christ's life through Mary's intercession. He emphasizes the Rosary as a spiritual weapon and advocates a devotion to this prayer.

Why I picked it up: I bought this book at an annual Catholic conference held in my hometown. It lay on my shelf for a year or two before it became my evening "read a paragraph before you go to sleep" book.

My impressions: The depth of research that went into this book was incredible and easily recognizable. I found the emphasis on the Rosary as a spiritual weapon rather heavy-handed, especially at the beginning. However, I began to appreciate the prayer in this light because the author made a point of making me aware of how many saints and Rosary advocates viewed the Rosary in this way. The book was very long and I wonder if the structure did not lend itself to an easy read. The organization makes sense in its way: Calloway reviewed Rosary history century by century, then proceeds to biographies of Rosary "champions", as he terms them, and end with essential Rosary knowledge and artistic depictions of the Rosary and saints associated with it. The history chapters were long and the biographies somewhat removed from the context of their century; I thought those first books sections might have been more palatable if the biographies had been placed in their respective time periods. Perhaps the real difficulty was that there was a lot of information to share, regardless of organization. All that aside, I did love that, included in this book, were full-color reproductions of classical art depicting Rosary scenes. This reminded me strongly of when I read the book "How Catholic Art Saved the Faith", a book recounting the history of the Church's Counter-Reformation and the incredible art created during that time period and reproduced in the book. The art worked on my mind through its incredible beauty, while the words of Calloway's text communicated more through truth and goodness. I cannot say that I loved the modern works commissioned by the author, but I can see why he sought out present-day artists to create new works celebrating the Rosary and its champions. This is not the first book I would recommend to someone who is just starting to learn about the Rosary or trying to build a devotion to our Lady - I would go with something by St. Louis de Montfort for that - but it is a commendable work, particularly for people who are ready to really dive in to everything there is to know about the Rosary. This would be a good starting point to someone - high school age or older - doing research on the Rosary because Calloway pulls from myriad primary sources. (Note: I found one section uncomfortable: Calloway had some discussion of occult links one Rosary detractor had, so I skimmed over that part.) I think it rare to claim any work is exhaustive of its subject matter, but I have a feeling this is the most in-depth look at the Rosary that is available in print.

The Eagle of the Ninth, by Rosemary Sutcliff

Marcus Aquila, an injured cohort commander, goes on a quest with his Briton friend Esca to retrieve the golden eagle standard borne by the Lost Legion, which had disappeared into northern Britain twelve years prior, and to unravel the mystery of why his father's legion never returned.

Why I picked it up: This work of historical fiction was recommended by my sister-in-law and I had had enough reading of philosophy for a bit. I picked this up as my "fun read" for a break.

My impressions: The book's cover bears the statement, "Over a million copies sold worldwide", and after reading the book, I can see why. It was even turned into a movie. This book has classic adventure and quest elements, as well as a generous dash of mystery in it. There was enough action throughout to prevent any part from feeling slow (and some parts were gripping), while the history was woven in well and depicted in an exciting way. I did find the feel of the book a little darker than most of the adventures I read, but it fit the story well. I had read another book by the same author and it did not come anywhere close to being as good as this book. I would recommend this book to mature, older middle school students and above, so long as parents are aware of the pagan elements that run throughout the book (this is a pre-Christian, Roman and Druidic Britain). For example, the quoting of the Roman god Mithras' birthday being the 25th of December might be a good discussion point regarding how some people claim that Christians just made holy days to compete with pagan holidays (it looked like the Catholic Answers website would have some good information on that). Also, some warriors are mentioned as stripped naked during a manhood ceremony, so parents, be aware if you're sensitive of children encountering those scenes. The book is the first in a trilogy, so I would not be surprised if I eventually got my hands on the second and third books.

Leisure the Basis of Culture, by Josef Pieper

A philosopher considers the modern push to live in a workaholic world and why leisure, which is the antithesis of work, is necessary outside of utilitarian standards.

Why I picked it up: I meant to read this a long time ago, but never got around to reading this essay until a class I am auditing required it.

My impressions: This is not a full-length book - only an essay - but it gives a lot of food for thought. As far as philosophy goes, it was very straightforward and approachable. It was easier for me to understand than the same author's work on feasts. I felt encouraged in the fact that I read and pursue "useless" hobbies outside of work because of the perspective related in this essay. The work is dyed through with the view of humanity that views persons as intellectual and spiritual beings, and not just automatons working the machine of society. I recommend this book to pretty much anyone who thinks they might find it interesting and maybe, in a particular way, to people who think that there is nothing to be gained from philosophy or any activity that does not produce something "useful". I would say college-age is an appropriate level, or a high school student who has a good head for philosophy and big ideas.

Bracket Play

The bracket was easy to decide. I left the philosophy essay out of the bracket play because it truly felt like it was in its own league. I recommend it, but it was going to be too much brain power to compute how a bracket of seven would work and how the essay would fare in it.

Young Hugh, though an adventure, did not hold up against a classic adventure from my childhood, which ended up better than I recalled it being. St. Teresa's "Life" won over Evagrius of Pontus' work because I gained some helpful insights from her work, whereas I'm still trying to make Evagrius' verses practical rather than a curiosity of antiquity sitting on my shelf.

"Champions of the Rosary" had a buy because "The Eagle of the Ninth" had one and there were no other contenders. That book ended up falling to St. Teresa's because I felt I gained (a little) more from reading about St. Teresa's life than from reading the history of the Rosary and the biographies of those who promoted that prayer.

In any case, "The Eagle of the Ninth" was certainly the most compelling book that I read this month. The religious books were good in their own ways, but I wasn't excited to tell people about them like I have been with other books in that genre - like "The Noonday Devil" or Sheen's "The World's First Love". I can say that "The Eagle" was an exciting story that I told others about and, therefore, I give it the laurel for this month over the religious books. "Leisure the Basis of Culture" I recommend as well.

July 2020 Bracket

July Book Bracket

I got off to a slow start this time, failing to read a book through completely until almost a week into the month. There are fewer books this month, but some of them were real gems.

Book Descriptions, Why I Picked Them, and My Impressions

The Woman Who Was Chesterton, by Nancy Carpenter Brown

This recently-written book (2015) takes a look at the life of Frances Chesterton, wife of prolific writer and Catholic convert G. K. Chesterton.

Why I picked it up: I think one of my friends mentioned she had read this book, so her comment placed this work on my radar. I walked into my favorite local bookstore a month or two back and walked out with a used copy.

My impressions: I liked this biography very much. I have sometimes found biographies attempted in the past to be too dense and dull to push through, but this book was not one of those. The biographer quoted many works and personal letters at length, with may have made reading a little clunky at times, but I felt Brown never lost sight of the story of Frances' life. I was invested enough in the subject that I found myself crying during the chapters that detailed the death of G. K., Frances' grief, and Frances' own passing (however, I should note that I seem to be easily moved to tears lately - I'm not sure why). The couple had trials in their marriage, but I was touched by their incredible love and their devotion to each other. Brown noted that much remains unknown about Frances' life due to numerous letters that were likely burned and her own proclivity for avoiding the spotlight, but I was quite impressed with the numerous sources the author did find and employ. Unlike the Tolkien biographer, I noticed that Brown did draw some conclusions about her subject's character, particularly when she noted that Frances' struggles with infertility might have made her bitter, but she adopted an attitude of self-sacrificial love instead. While I don't disagree with Brown, I did find the difference between the two biographies worth noting (which leads me to wonder what is typical for biographies, but that is a consideration for another day). I found Frances' life of ordinary, everyday trials relatable and her example in those circumstances inspiring. It reminded me of the "Little Way" of holiness described by St. Therese of Lisieux. A few weaknesses came through in the book, but they did not significantly harm my appreciation of the book. These weaknesses include an overwhelming use of footnotes at times and the looming presence of a swaggering, exaggerating sister-in-law that drew focus from Frances at times. The book is published by the American Chesterton Society, so I think some positive bias is likely present, although it is not immediately evident, if there. I could say much more on this book, but this paragraph is already too long. A final note would be that I think of the list of Frances' publications at the end of the book as an exciting perk - I hope to look up her children's plays and Christmas hymns around Advent as a foray into "liturgical living". I'd recommend this book to anyone who is a fan of GKC, especially if they want to know what sort of woman was able to guide and support such a childlike man. Warning: if talking about people who have committed suicide is distressing, it might help to know that Frances' brother did so; this is brought up several times throughout the book because it is discussed as having been a sort of impediment to her joining the Catholic Church for a time (the brother had converted to Catholicism himself shortly before his death).

The Middle Ages: Everyday Life in Medieval Europe, by Jeffrey L. Singman

Singman explains that this is a middle-of-the-road look at Medieval life - more advanced than the numerous children's informational books out there, but not as intense as Medieval scholars might at. It provides a broad overview of many aspects of Medieval life, including life as a peasant versus life as the aristocracy, as well as what life would be like in various settings, including small farming villages, larger towns, castles, and monasteries.

Why I picked it up: I needed to do research on Medieval times to improve historical accuracy in a personal project, and this was one of the books on the public library website that looked promising.

My impressions: The promising outlook of the book did not disappoint. I admit that I skipped most of the chapter on monasteries and did some skimming in the chapter on large towns or cities, but for the most part, I found the information very helpful. I think the author accomplished his goal of providing a sort of "in-between" work on Medieval times that is accessible to the modern reader. I felt that the author did a nice job of keeping a balanced view of things; this includes when he talked about the Catholic Church. He did not shy away from the fact that certain orders were actually very occupied with worldly matters or that the pious St. Louis of France was anti-Semitic, but neither did I ever feel like he took a stance that attacked the Church. His discussion of Medieval times felt very factual and matter-of-fact. This is a book that might work better as a reference rather than a full read-through, but going through the whole thing was not terrible - just a little slow at times. I recommend this book to adults (eh, college-aged or older, I guess) who want to "do research" like me that is not too shallow, and yet not too deep, or if they just want to know what it would have been like in those times. This book covered a lot of information - clothing, transportation methods, even how people might have counted time. However, I was still a little disappointed that there were no details about castle prisons or how aristocrats would have interacted with peasants (which were two questions I came to the book with), but a book can't have everything, I suppose. I took notes, but I would not be surprised if I checked this out again in the future to refresh on details I had forgotten.

Wives and Daughters, by Elizabeth Gaskell

The lives of Victorians in the middle and upper classes, or aristocracy, of a certain county, are explored, especially through the romantic relationships formed and/or broken off. 

Why I picked it up: I found this book on the "sale" shelf of my alma mater university; I presume I recognized the name of the author, who also wrote "North and South".

My impressions: The length of this book (nearly 650 pages) intimidated me and it sat on my shelf for years. I am so glad I found the courage to attempt it, though. After three pretty slow-moving initial chapters, I was caught up in the book. The crowning achievement of this book is the depth Gaskell imparts to each of her characters. There was variety of personality in the numerous persons who made an appearance, as well as a verisimilitude about them. The themes and story development are incredibly well done - what I understood of the themes I learned primarily from footnotes (I learned that having an annotated edition makes a huge difference in my understanding literature). Gaskell's character insights were subtler, I feel, than George Eliot's in "Middlemarch", although the womenfolk seemed to be always crying or fainting or falling ill. I wish I could dive into it more, but suffice it to say I was blown away by the author's skill in that respect. I'm ready to see if I can find the BBC series based on this book and watch it. There are only one or two points that I picked out as being imperfect, but they don't detract from the brilliance of this book, which is definitely what I consider a work of "literature" in the official canon sense. First, the book is unfinished (hard to believe after 650 pages, but sadly true). However, this stems from the unfortunate event that Gaskell died before its completion. I appreciated the note after the end of the 60th and final chapter making this known to me; this same note explains what was known of what was left of the story, and implied that the work could have been wrapped up in a chapter (I thought about four chapters would have felt more likely, considering the pacing and detail Gaskell included).  The second aspect that I disliked was that there are two main mysteries in the book, with it taking the author FOREVER to resolve the second one; I waited for about 200 pages between first feeling really antsy about knowing the answer and the actual revelation of the secret. This book requires a commitment to read (a pun, considering so much of the book's drama stems from inconsistency of attachment), so I wouldn't recommend it to everyone. However, if one is a fan of "Jane Austen" books and/or novels penned later during the Victorian area, and loves deep characters, and has a lot of time to sit down and read, and doesn't mind having the last chapters missing, this is a fantastic book to read.

Meditations and Devotions, by St. John Henry Newman

The titles explains it all; this is a collection of various meditations and devotions penned by the new Catholic saint, Cardinal John Henry Newman. I do not believe this is an exhaustive anthology of said writings.

Why I picked it up: A friend gave this book to me and my spiritual director recommended that I read some of St. Newman's works. This has been my evening and/or morning reading for a few months.

My impressions: This is the perfect book for the kind of reading I was using it for (namely, daily meditations). Newman's excellent writing skills come to the fore without making me feel less intelligent than he. The author seemed very real to me and I felt like I was "getting to know" him as I read. I would recommend this book to anyone, particularly high school and older, who is looking for some spiritual reading.

The Noonday Devil: Acedia, the Unnamed Evil of Our Times, by Jean-Charles Nault, O.S.B.

A monk explains that acedia, one of the "eight evil thoughts", was recognized by the desert fathers and Medieval thinkers alike before it disappeared from Catholic discussion. Nault describes the history of acedia, what the desert fathers recommended to fight it, and how acedia manifests itself in modern-day vocations.

Why I picked it up: This book was on my "to-read" list for a while and I felt like reading it.

My impressions: I wish I'd picked this book up sooner. I've heard a lot about the "eight evil thoughts" over the last year or so because Catholic podcasters like to discuss them, but this book brought home to me that there are many benefits to be gained from learning about the ways temptation manifests itself in my life. My favorite part was the penultimate section that explained the specific ways acedia strikes in different vocations, including the single life. I felt very seen and encouraged to renew the fight against temptation in my own life. I would (and on Facebook, did) highly recommend that anyone who is looking for their next spiritual reading title check out this book.

The Westing Game, by Ellen Raskin

A seemingly random, but carefully chosen, selection of apartment residents are chosen to inherit a fortune if they solve the mystery surrounding a mysterious millionaire's death.

Why I picked it up: This book was recommended on the blog of someone on a Facebook group I like to follow.

My impressions: I'm not sure why this book won the Newberry award in children's literature. I think it was a creative tale, in which the author attempts to make the murder-mystery child-safe, but it did not captivate me like typical murder-mystery-style stories do. I didn't like having to reread too-subtly-written sections to understand what was happening. It didn't help that I disliked most of the characters. I like that the author portrayed persons with disabilities and how people can find if hard to communicate with them in a meaningful way, reminding readers that we can and should reach out to those we find struggle to encounter. I felt there were many loose ends, though many of the story's threads were tied up in a tidy way by the end. I would warn parents that there are a few elements I would caution them to be aware of: rumors of a girl committing suicide to avoid an unwanted marriage, lying, remarriage after divorce, and lack of openness to life in marriage. Most of these elements are minimal in the story, but they are present. I don't think I'd recommend this book to readers because I did not enjoy it myself.

Salamandastron, by Brian Jacques

This iteration of the Redwall series follows the squirrel Samkim as he tracks down Martin the Warrior's sword, Thrugg as he seeks a cure for a pestilence that has stricken Redwall Abbey, and Mara as she leaves Salamandastron and returns again to help her foster father defend it against the evil weasel Ferahgo and his son Klitch.

Why I picked it up: Redwall books are my equivalent of a "beach read" - easy to read, fun, and familiar. It had been a while since I'd read this book in the series, and since COVID is still causing problems, reading the Redwall book with a plague felt right.

My impressions: I used to be bothered by Mara's many poor decisions and her attitude at the beginning of the book, but this time, I saw how it fit into the story well. I enjoyed this book overall, although sometimes even the good creatures fall into error (telling lies, being harsh in treatment of others, rather than just, etc.), but I think it helps show no one is perfect - the author doesn't necessarily make that clear, though. This book is a lot of fun, as most Redwall books are, but there were one or two parts that made me squeamish even now - just a scene or two that show the wanton cruelty of Ferahgo, which is otherwise just hinted at or referenced. Yes, the writing is formulaic; no, it's not the best writing ever; yes, I did get tired of Jacques referring to the villains' innocent-looking blue eyes that provide cover for their crimes, but none of that really matters. I actually had fun picking out the formulaic elements that are common to all or most Redwall books. I think that will need to be a blog post for another day. In any case, I recommend this book to children who are reading at this level and above; however, be aware that some beloved characters die and some scenes are very violent and might frighten or concern younger readers.

Invincible Louisa, by Cornelia Meigs

This biography details the life of Louisa May Alcott, author of "Little Women" and other books.

Why I picked it up: This book won the Newberry Award.

My impressions: This book was alright, but I can't say it was fantastic. It is written in what I consider a traditional biography format, which means "telling the facts" and little or no engaging dialogue. Therefore, the style is not particularly appealing. It was fun to learn more about Louisa and see just how much of her life ended up in her books, but I did not like the biographer drawing her own conclusions about different aspects of Alcott's life - for example, that Alcott was extremely sensitive and therefore, such-and-such a setting was bad for her. Perhaps this was true, and possibly even mentioned in letters, but the biographer made it sound as if it was her own assessment. I cannot say that I like the fact that Laurie doesn't marry Jo in "Little Women" any more after reading about Alcott's life than before; the only explanation given for why is that Louisa said she would not have them marry on any account. As a warning to parents, this book uses an objectionable term when referring to African Americans; this book was written in the 1930s, and though Meigs writes admirably of Alcott being pro-emancipation and caring for the plight of African Americans during her time, it can still strike the modern ear as a condescending tone. I think the only people who would be interested in this book are readers who have already read "Little Women", but I don't think this is a "must-read" by any means.

Bracket Play

Round One consisted of mostly easy wins, with half of the books being stellar and the other half less so. However, it was noted that Newman's "Meditations" made a solid showing, but fell to the other spiritual book primarily because, as a collection of different meditations, it lacked the strength of the focused "Noonday Devil". In Round Two, Gaskell's "Wives and Daughters" defeated "The Woman Who Was Chesterton" because of its masterful writing and character study. Again, "Woman Who Was Chesterton" was not a weak contender, especially as a biography, but it couldn't stand up to the incredible Victorian novel. "Salamandastron", while enjoyable, did not have the power of "Noonday Devil". In fact, the two books in the final round were both so incredible that I couldn't choose the winner. I recommended "Noonday Devil" to pretty much everyone via Facebook, and individually to specific friends. "Wives and Daughters" had me raving about it to a literary galpal and it stuck with me for several days after I finished reading it. Both deserve winning spots, but for very different reasons, so I tried to respect their different kinds of excellence by ending this month's bracket in a tie.

Books Attempted and Put Down

The Read-Aloud Handbook, by Jim Trelease

This 2006 book discusses the ins and outs of reading aloud.

Why I picked it up: It was a free book in my workplace workroom; I took it because I'm interested in this topic.

Why I put it down: This book is basically a prequel echo of "The Enchanted Hour" and I realized there was no way I could work my way through it. I basically made use of the read-aloud recommendation list at the back part of the book and added titles of interest to my list. However, after reading through some descriptions of these books, I think the author may have different literary tastes that I do.

Redwall Scholarship: The Eras of Authorship

I grew up reading the Redwall series, a group of 22 books by British author Brian Jacques that feature sword-fighting, talking creatures as they embark on adventures and fight villainous armies. Though not the best-written books in the world, multiple rereads of most of the titles throughout my childhood and adolescence have left me with the impression that there is not enough appreciation or research on these books. If nothing else, 22 books in the same created world provide an excellent sample size even for intra-series research.

So, adopting the alter-ego Prenna Maplewood, in tribute to Jacques' naming schema, I hope to produce various quasi-scholastic explorations of the world of Mossflower, beginning with this initial consideration of the author's writing style.

Prenna Maplewood, Squirrel Scholar, on the Eras of Jacques' Writing

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an author who has developed a certain style of writing is prone to fall into formula. This statement unequivocally applies to Brian Jacques, the author of the Redwall series, one of the most consistently structured series of all time. However, serious readers and Redwall scholars agree that noticeable variations exist even within the same formula. These differences in writing precision and tendencies lead to a primarily-agreed-upon set of "eras" that define the Redwall series. These six eras include original, transitional, classic, experimental, neo-classic, and stale-fail.

Original: Redwall

There is only one original, and that book has no others like it: "Redwall". Published in 1986, this novel was Jacques' first, and it shows. The author was just developing his style with this initial book, and while the story elements are excellent and help create a wonderful and engaging story, there are indisputable growing pains evident in the book. Just one example can be provided by the moment when Cluny the Scourge and his vermin army initially appear riding a haycart drawn by a horse; horses do not appear in any of the following twenty-one books. Another example is how Martin the Warrior's presence in the Abbey is much stronger in this book than in any of the others, specifically in how he almost identifies as the mouse Matthias. In other novels, Martin's spirit merely guides heroic youngsters, but in this book, it is clear Martin's relationship to Matthias is much more integral than in later books.

Transitional: Mossflower, Mattimeo

These two books follow up the original, the first being an introduction to the great warrior, Martin, and the second being a sequel to the original. These books do not have the glaring inconsistencies of the first book, but it is still evident that the author has not quite locked into his style at this point.

Classic: Mariel of Redwall, Salamandastron, Martin the Warrior, The Bellmaker, Outcast of Redwall, Pearls of Lutra, The Long Patrol, Marlfox

This longest of eras includes a mix of books that are completely representative of the best of Jacques' writing and those that are partial flops. Most of these books fill up gaps in the Mossflower history, pre-Matthias, but a few further the timeline as well. Only two of these titles do not bear the level of excellence of the others, those two being "The Bellmaker" and "Outcast of Redwall", but there are possible reasons for this, including the fact that "Bellmaker", a sequel to "Mariel of Redwall", was written after Jacques had composed two completely different stories, giving him time to lose track of the defining qualities of his key characters. "Outcast", on the other hand, suffered from having a strong first act and a weaker second act, possibly because Sunflash the Mace had already completed his quest to badger lordship of Salamandastron by the time the second half of the book rolled around. Overall, though, these books can be considered "hallmark" quality of Jacques' Redwall books.

Experimental: The Legend of Luke

This book falls into a category all of its own. A fantastically touching and tragic story is sandwiched between two sections that basically serve only as plot devices to get to the most interesting part and get back to the Abbey. The strange placement of the best part of the book right in the middle of the story, using a "story within a story" scheme, marks this book as an outlier in the Redwall series.

Neo-Classic: Lord Brocktree, Taggerung, Triss, Loamhedge, Rakkety Tam, High Rhulain

After a segue into less-impressive story-telling, Jacques jumps right back into his classic style. However, some undefinable quality makes these books different from those found in the former classic period. Some scholars debate that it is the fact that the illustrations consistently match the feel of the books; some argue that there is no substantial difference between these and the classics other than the fact that there is more consistency of quality. Others, myself included, believe that Jacques has perfected the formula of his book structure and therefore can play around with elements in an exciting way, even while revisiting previous locations (Loamhedge) and asking similar questions to before (nature vs. nurture). Or, it may just be the bias of the scholar that these books were ones that the author read as they were published. These books could also be considered representative of the best of Redwall.

Stale-Fail: Eulalia!, Doomwyte, The Sable Quean, The Rogue Crew

Unfortunately, Jacques' Redwall books end on a low note. These titles are recognized as some of the worst in the Redwall series. They bear a distinct feeling of "been there, done that". Jacques combats this feeling, but his attempts to switch things up only result in a very pronounced feeling that he has tried to switch things up and has not been successful. These books are characterized both by their heavy reliance on previously-used elements that have become tropes for him (e.g., crazy old loner hedgehogs) and on failed attempts to keep the story fresh. It has been noted that these books were all written after 2006, when Jacques completed the third and final book in his "Castaways of the Flying Dutchman" series. This finding suggests that when Jacques dropped out of his neo-classics, he could not recapture their magic after the brief hiatus.

In Conclusion

The Rewall books are, in majority, and enjoyable series. There are multiple titles that do not reach their potential, but they are largely fun and comforting stories of seeking and fighting and finding and coming home again.