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.

June 2020 Bracket

June Book Bracket

I did a lot of reading this month: 14 books. I love summertime.

Book Descriptions, Why I Picked Them, and My Impressions

Proust and the Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain, by Maryanne Wolf

A neuroscientist and expert on child development explains the historical development of reading, what happens in the brain when a neurotypical person reads, and the facts and mysteries of dyslexia, when people have difficulty learning to read.

Why I picked it up: Because of my job, I have learned some about reading development and reading disabilities and this book was mentioned in several different experiences as good "further reading."

My impressions: I would say that this was a good read. The book is well-organized and well-researched, although some parts were a little technical and slow. I found the historical development of reading particularly interesting - for example, I did not realize that we still haven't translated some ancient writing systems. I had supposed that there weren't too many linguistic mysteries left out there, but I was wrong. The middle section, which considered the reading brain, was neither terribly painful nor terribly interesting to me - I have to note that I've had more experience with medical terminology for different areas of the brain, etc., than others may have had. It probably isn't everyone's cup of tea. The book was published in 2007, so some of the data might be dated already - I'm not sure what the latest studies on reading or dyslexia say. I found the title irritating - the author explains why she chose it, but I don't like that it still felt only vaguely connected to what she was discussing. Proust was a French author, and I can't recall why exactly she referenced him, but it had something to do with him writing about the power of reading, it's ability to change your thinking, etc. She refers to squids because apparently scientists studied giant squids in the 50's and 60's and learned things even from squids who couldn't swim very fast - I guess Wolf was trying to connect squids to dyslexic readers and how we're learning about reading from the brains of people who can't read quickly or well. All that aside, this book might be of interest to those who want to learn more about reading from a scientific and historical perspective. The information might be familiar to those already steeped in reading acquisition and reading disabilities, and it might be a little slow at least in some parts for readers.

St. Peter's Bones, by Thomas J. Craughwell

Craughwell tells the story of the bones of Saint Peter, first pope of the Catholic Church, from his death until their rediscovery underneath St. Peter's Basilica during excavations conducted during the 1940's-60's.

Why I picked it up: I had intended to read a different book about the same topic ("The Bones of Saint Peter) because I think it was recommended in George Weigel's "Letters to a Young Catholic", but I can't remember for sure. When I went to the library to pick it up, the book I'd originally settled on looked like it had a publication date of 1920-something and therefore wouldn't have had any information about the major excavations that happened after its publication. I went with a more modern-looking (and more condensed) book on the shelf a few inches away.

My impressions: I think this is a great introductory book to the kind of crazy story about what happened to St. Peter's bones. It covers the essentials and doesn't waste time, packing the tale and two small appendices into a whopping 120-some pages. I like how the author interspersed the 1940's-60's excavation narrative with necessary background information about who St. Peter was, the veneration of relics, and catacomb history. The 20th century portion made me begin to wish that this was made into a movie. Granted, by the end of the book, I thought maybe it wouldn't be quite fascinating enough for a movie, but there were definitely some exciting moments and even archeological drama. I did not realize that the bones they've settled on are not definitively "proven" to be those of St. Peter beyond all doubt, but the case is decently solid. This is a quick read and I'd recommend it to high school students and older, and if it is intriguing enough, the author drops enough names and scholarly works on this specific topic that the curious reader could continue to explore.

Why I am Catholic (And You Should be Too) by Brandon Vogt

A convert explains the reasons he joined the Catholic Church at the end of college: it is the true Church, it is good, and it is beautiful.

Why I picked it up: I think it's a good practice for me (and other Catholics) to review the reasons why a person would believe Catholicism is the true faith.

My impressions: This is one of the best apologetics books I've come across in a while, and I say that because it is a convert speaking to those who might be outside the Church. In some apologetics books, I get the sense that they're written for people who are already baptized believers and give arguments and talking points so that the reader can evangelize. In such books, I find some beliefs are taken as "givens" on the part of the reader and not really explored. Vogt's book doesn't assume the reader has accepted any of the Church's teachings, and therefore he voices his reasons differently than the other writers I've come across on this topic. I'd recommend this book to just about anyone, both Catholics and non-Catholics alike. 

The Sign of the Beaver, by Elizabeth George Speare

In the wilderness of colonial Maine, young teenager Matt must guard the family homestead as he waits for his father to return with the rest of the family. Native Americans help him survive while he is alone, and he learns much from his peer, Attean, and Attean's way of life.

Why I picked it up: This author was recommended in some recent reading lists and I liked the sound of a "surviving in the wilderness" story.

My impressions: I liked this book; it has the "survival" element I was looking for, but it also did not shy away from hard questions regarding racism and race relations in colonial America. I have to admit some of the questions and conversations were a little uncomfortable for me, but I liked that it challenged me, too. One of the main ways in which racial issues come up are through the reading of different passages of "Robinson Crusoe", an activity that plays a not insignificant role in the book. I have never read that book myself, but I think I would be more aware of racial stereotypes if I were to read it because of Speare's book. I imagine something similar might happen for a young reader who is not familiar with "Robinson Crusoe" at all. I did notice that the author raises questions on this topic, but is not necessarily forced to answer them; in a way, history shows how real people answered those questions, and things went terribly for Native Americans throughout westward expansion. In any case, even if the character Matt still wrestled with those questions, the end of the narrative shows that he is more embracing of indigenous peoples and culture than is his family. The term "Indian" is used in this book instead of "Native American", but I can't tell if it is because it was written before political correctness became big or because that is the term the characters of the time would have used. I think this book is fairly safe to read, although parents might just want to be aware that Attean shares a creation story similar to that of the Biblical story of Noah, in case they want to discuss or be ready to field questions. I think this would be a fun book to read aloud.

One Word That Will Change Your Life, by D. Britton, J. Page, and J. Gordon

This book outlines the process of choosing and implementing the "One Word" program in one's life.

Why I picked it up: I am working on moving up the payscale and completing an online study of this book helps me towards that goal.

My impressions: I got very strong self-help themes from this book, which I found rather a turn-off, but I can see how this could be a very powerful tool for those who give the process a try. While reading, I realized that I first heard of this concept of choosing "one word" to shape the coming year about six months ago at a Theology on Tap talk. I did not try it out then. The process is simple, which would help people actually try it and keep working at it, but even after reading it I did not feel invested in it myself. Even so, I think this would be a great book for people who need some sort of change in their life or want to approach New Year's resolutions in a new way. There's no guarantee it will work, but if reading a super short 100-page book with lots of pictures and large text gives someone a chance to really improve their life, why not?

Purposeful Play: A Teacher's Guide to Igniting Deep & Joyful Learning Across the Day, by K. Mraz, A. Porcelli, and C. Tyler

This text explores the importance of play to learning in a school setting.

Why I picked it up: I am working on moving up the payscale and completing an online study of this book helps me towards that goal.

My impressions: I can't say I loved the book, but it was very informative and provided lots of examples and practical applications. It was drier than what I like for my summer reading, but a lot better than many textbooks I've worked my way through. I found some values espoused in some of the example situations (what makes a family?) conflicted with my own beliefs and concerned me about what students might be learning in a public education classroom as far as morals go, but for the most part, it had unobjectionable content. I caught some references (e.g., Ninjago, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Star Wars), but missed others, such as characters in unfamiliar show or movies (Wolf of Wall Street? Ferris Beuhler's Day Off?). I appreciated some of the points made, but nothing that made me think, "Wow, I need to change how I'm doing things at work!" It was not particularly memorable, but it could be a helpful resource for those who work in a school setting.

The Shining Company, by Rosemary Sutcliff

Sutcliff created a story out of a seventh-century British poem, "The Gododdin", that tells of a company of 300 warriors and their servants (shieldbearers) taking on an invading Saxon force many times their strength.

Why I picked it up: I've had this author recommended to me, she being a writer of children's historical fiction, for which she has gained great recognition in that genre. This book was available at my alma mater's library and sounded interesting.

My impressions: This book deals with lots of violence and death - as these adventure stories often do - but it lacked the lighthearted atmosphere I am used to encountering. This book definitely had a serious, and even grim or gritty feel throughout it. If you are familiar with Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings", think of the feel of the land and people of Rohan, and the heaviness of going into battle without real hope of success. I liked that the author definitely researched the time period well and had the characters speak in a style that felt antiquated, even if it made their conversation choppier to my modern ear. I like that Sutcliff balanced the main character's thoughts with lots of action - some books fall into a trap of being all in a character's head, or not in there much at all, and "The Shining Company" did not fail in those areas. However, I cannot say that I found the plot compelling. Some sections were episodic, and while they had their purpose (Sutcliff connects ideas to events to characters throughout the length of the tale), they drew away from the main action which, being training for battle, going to battle, battling, and the denouement action, was pretty plain. The names are drawn from the original poem, but there were so many and the spellings did not match up with the pronunciations (according to the pronunciation guide at the beginning of the book) that it was burdensome to remember how to say them. Some elements might be problematic for young Catholic readers, as the characters lived in a time where people were often Christian, but still held on to some pagan beliefs and ideas of the past. I found the "mercy killings" of dying warriors concerning as well. This book felt like a story made out of an epic, rather than a story that was meant to achieve the heights of the epic genre. I think mature middle school children who understand or are not troubled by the uncomfortable circumstances described above could, on a case-by-case basis, read this book, but they may not necessarily find it enjoyable. My feeling is that boys would like it more than girls because of the hunting and battling, but that is just a theory.

The Cricket in Times Square, by George Selden

A country cricket is taken in by human and animal friends when he is suddenly transported to NYC's Times Square, and he learns to play human music with his cricket legs, to the delight of all.

Why I picked it up: A cousin recommended this book at the inaugural "Beer and Books" meeting as a work he would recommend everyone to read.

My impressions: This is a very sweet book and a quick read. It kept a moderate, steady pace but still had the power to touch the emotions, especially at the end. Younger readers, perhaps third grade or so, could probably read this book, but I could see this being a fun family read-aloud because of the unique humans and the delightful animal characters. Full-page illustrations depict very well what the author describes in the text. I'd recommend this book to children as well as to any adults who want a little, relaxing tale to read.

The Secret of White Stone Gate, by Julia Nobel

This sequel to "The Mystery of Black Hollow Lane" follows more adventures of Emmy and her friends as she tries to outwit the evil organization of the "Order of Black Hollow Lane." Emmy returns to her British boarding school thinking her run-ins with the Order, but soon finds herself blackmailed - and her dear friends and loved ones threatened - when word leaks out that she still sometimes has contact with her father.

Why I picked it up: I enjoyed reading the first book about a month ago and felt the mood to read the sequal.

My impressions: Again, this book was very enjoyable. I did not realize it would be such a quick read, but I finished it within a day. I enjoyed seeing the same beloved characters from the first book, as well as meeting new villains and allies. Some of the enchantment was - perhaps not gone, but maybe changed - from the first book because Emmy was no longer learning about a secret society, and the fun exploration that accompanies such an adventure had changed into a more standard, "How do I outwit the bad guys?" problem. With that being said, I thought the problems Emmy faced, both the blackmailing Order and her uncertainty about the care of an absent loved one, gave the story a greater focus and the plot a real impetus. I appreciated the author keeping me surprised, particularly regarding a few characters I definitely thought I had figured out, and I'm looking forward to reading the next installment when it comes out in a year or two (or more?). The few complaints I have about this story are Emmy's determination to resolve her difficulties by herself, or with only her peers. She does not confide in trusted adults about her problems and takes on the responsibility and danger of protecting her loved ones all on her own - which she can't do. On several occasions, she lies and practices deception to get results. I would recommend this book to middle school readers and older who have read the first book.

Tolkien, by Humphrey Carpenter

Carpenter, the editor who put together a collection of Tolkien's letters, wrote this "approved" biography of J. R. R. Tolkien, the world-renowned author of "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings".

Why I picked it up: I read Carpenter's collection of Tolkien letters multiple years ago, and ever since a galpal told me at the time that she had read the biography written by the same man, this book has been on my "to-read" list.

My impressions: I felt that this book did justice to Tolkien's life. The author made a few self-conscious comments about the limitations of a biography as regards understanding his imagination, etc., but I appreciated his honesty and the brevity of those comments. The focus was on Tolkien. I felt like I actually got to know Tolkien, including his faults and accomplishments and virtues. Seeing this full picture of Tolkien (whom Carpenter had actually met) was a surprisingly refreshing perspective, differing from other biographies I've read that fall victim to some level of hero-worship and fail to show the difficulties of his personality (Tolkien was quite perfectionistic, tended to neglect deadlines, and sometimes or failed to complete projects to which he had committed). Carpenter's description of Tolkien and his life didn't shy away from difficulties, but I think this method endeared the subject to me all the more - to the degree that I teared up when he died, as if, indeed, Tolkien had been a beloved character in a story I was reading. I felt awed and inspired to write and itching to go back and reread "The Lord of the Rings" all at once. I'd recommend this book to any mature high school student or older who wants to learn more about an amazing author. I say "mature" high school or older for two reasons: there are a few comments about homosexuality just in passing (e.g., about certain school cultures) and the book is long enough, with only some of the later chapters actually dealing with the books he became known for - much of the book deals with his life as an Oxford don, studying philology (so if someone only wants more "Lord of the Rings" matter, this is not the book for them).

The Medieval Castle, by Don Nardo

This book, a part of the "Building History Series", gives the basics of castle history and development, building, layout, and warfare.

Why I picked it up: I need to complete research on Medieval times and castles for a project I am currently working on.

My impressions: Truth be told, I skipped the first chapter (fortresses and warfare of antiquity) because it was not relevant to my studies. Regarding the rest of the book: I found the information useful to my purposes, specifically that found in the chapters about the building of a castle and the different rooms in a castle. The black-and-white illustrations and pictures aided my understanding, but I wished there were more of them, and in color. This book comes from the "junior" section of the library and I found that Nardo did a nice job of explaining unfamiliar terms and even provided helpful pronunciation guides at times. A glossary in the back defines unfamiliar terms, although these terms were well-explained in the text. All this being said, this is not necessarily a book I would recommend to someone unless they were doing low-level research on this topic (like me). The text is informative, but not particularly attention-grabbing. I think there are other books - perhaps with better illustrations - out there that would be more fun for children who want to learn about castles, and the sources referenced by Nardo might be of even greater use to the more serious researcher than this book is. I still don't know what castle dungeons were like, or even if they typically had them, which was one of the questions I came to this book hoping to learn.

Emily's Quest, by L. M. Montgomery

The third and final book in the "Emily of New Moon" series describes Emily's growing literary achievements and her struggle to marry the right man.

Why I picked it up: I was in the mood to finish the series.

My impressions: I read this book during an intense six-hour period and I'm not sure that was a good idea. The book held my attention throughout (barring a few passages that described the scenery that I skimmed past), but the tension of waiting for Emily to get things figured out and hoping for things to turn right did not feel entirely satisfied by the predictable happy ending. I think Emily's pride was very evident in this book from the way she refused to make her attachment to her sweetheart known; it was very frustrating for me, as a reader, to watch her make assumption after assumption and not attempt to communicate honestly or rectify the situation. The ending was "happy", but rather than finishing with the good feeling I was hoping for, I think that I'm walking away from this third book with more of a "cautionary tale" feeling. It was like watching the trainwreck of "The Scarlet Pimpernel" communication fiasco, but worse because it was dragged out so long. Even resonant passages about Emily's navigation (and ending) of relationships were not enough to make up for the mistakes made by so many characters. There was a more depressed tone in this book than in the previous two in the series, and I was very disturbed by a mention of someone having watched a terrible sacrilegious event happen, even though it was a somewhat passing comment.  I would recommend this book to those who had enjoyed the first two books, so long as they were in high school or above, owing to the concerning comment and heavy relationship-focus; maybe other readers would find more overall enjoyment in it than I did.

The Heart of a Samurai, by Margi Preus

Manjiro, a teenager in isolated Japan, encounters the Western world after he and his fishing companions are shipwrecked on a deserted island and rescued by an American whaling boat. Manjiro, dubbed "John Mung", learns to sail, decides to go to America, receives an education, and then returns home to Japan after many years. His reports of the Western world and his work helped Japan move into the modern era.

Why I picked it up: I found myself with access to Amazon's Kindle Unlimited program and thought this book looked interesting.

My impressions: The book was a decently interesting read, but not necessarily one I feel like picking up again any time soon. I thought the author wrote about the tension between isolationist Japan and the Western world very well. She showed the disparities between the cultures without judging one as better than another. I read with the sense that Preus did a lot of research and tried to stay true to historical events, indicating in a summary note which characters she had made up. I think her matter-of-fact narration style lent itself to a retelling of the life of a historical person, and much like the author of "Carry On, Mr. Bowditch", I found that personalities can be distinct (though perhaps a little flat). However, I did think that this style contributed to a feeling of abruptness at the beginning, and the pacing at the end - skipping over large periods of time once Manjiro has returned home - did not fit with the pacing of the book leading up to that point. I found a comment about missionaries a little concerning - Manjiro observes at one point that indigenous people have to change their entire lives for missionaries, with the result that a negative value is at least implied on missionary evangelization efforts. While undoubtedly a true observation to some degree, I felt that this was one of the few instances in which Preus did not give a balanced view of some issue. Perhaps she was just giving voice to a presumed or recorded opinion of Manjiro Of greater concern to me was a scene at the end of the book when Manjiro and his companions have returned to Japan and they are presented with a fumi-e, an image of Mary and baby Jesus that they were instructed to stomp on, in order to show that they rejected the Western religion. The scene is short, but no more context is given than what I just stated here; Manjiro tells his companions to do what they are told so that they can hopefully be released, and they all do so. As a Catholic, this part was very sad to me, of course, and it would be good for parents to be aware of this scene in particular. It was not clear to me if Manjiro ever professed the Christian faith during his time in America or not, although he is described as attending church with his adopted American parents. This book would probably be alright for a middle-schooler to read as long as parents were aware of the few concerning elements.

The Railway Children, by E. Nesbit

Three children - Roberta (Bobbie), Peter, and Phyllis - have many adventures amongst themselves and with others at the train station near their new house, which they live in with Mother while Father is mysteriously away. 

Why I picked it up: A friend said a movie version is on Amazon Prime and she recommended that I read the book/watch it.

My impressions: This book falls into the category of "plotless account of everyday summer adventures enjoyed by children." Unfortunately, this is a genre that has never really appealed to me, although I understand that this style of book is beloved by many others. This book was almost one that ended up in the final section, "Books Attempted and Put Down", but I did catch my second wind and finish it up. I think the second half was more enjoyable than the first half, perhaps because I learned more about a mysterious grandfatherly sort of character and learned more about why the Father was absent in the second half of the book. Quite frankly, I found the first half irritating, probably mainly because of their Mother. She was often very sad, but expected her children to be good and not ask questions without knowing why their father was gone, why they had to move, and why they were poor. I do think children should obey and do things without knowing every reason why - that is fair. However, I think it was a little unreasonable of the mother to give absolutely no explanation. But, as I've never been in a situation where my husband is in prison and being tried for a crime he didn't commit, I can't say that she acted wrongly - it just doesn't make complete sense to me. Mother was continuously appalled that they mention how poor they are to random people - again, I think she is justified (who wouldn't be super embarrassed?), but she keeps bringing up that they can't have things because they're poor; I feel the children blabbing was maybe not entirely out her control. Well, have I been contradictory enough? I've criticized Mother both for not telling her children enough and also for telling them too much. I think it means I think I would've switched which things I told the kids - told them about Father's troubles, but really not made anything out of being poor? I digress. I found the children delightfully real, reminding me of the interactions of the Pevensie children in the "Chronicles of Narnia" series. I would recommend this book to anyone old enough to read it who enjoys this genre, but it's not a "must-read" on my list.

Bracket Play

An even number of books NOT divisible by four again led to a slightly lopsided bracket, but it actually helped me arrive at my decisions better than when I started with only 12 titles. The first round was very easy to determine, with weaker titles (i.e., books that I did not really enjoy and/or wouldn't highly recommend) being paired with much stronger contenders. The only matchup in the first round that wasn't a sweep was between "The Medieval Castle" and "St. Peter's Bones". I went with the second title because every part of the book was relevant to the theme, whereas "The Medieval Castle" spent its entire first chapter talking about fortifications that were neither castles nor Medieval.

In the second round, the very enjoyable "Secret of White Stone Gate" lost out to "The Cricket in Times Square" because the latter had a certain timeless quality that was lacking in the more exciting, but perhaps more frantic, "Secret". It was not difficult to decide which of the two children's historical fiction novels fell to the other. "The Sign of the Beaver" was better written, in my opinion, and I would reread it again much sooner than "The Heart of a Samurai", the latter having one very concerning scene for me. "Why I am Catholic" beat "St. Peter's Bones" because the winner was a book that I would recommend to anyone, whereas "St. Peter's Bones" would have a more limited appeal.

"Tolkien" beat "Cricket" in round three. This was a little trickier decision because the books were so different. I ended up with "Tolkien" because I have to admit that some parts of "Cricket in Times Square" were a little slow - plodding, even. The biography might share that quality at times, but it wears better in a biography than a novel (at least this time). Both books touched my emotions, but "Tolkien" was the one that I teared up for - I felt like a beloved character had perished when the biographer came to Tolkien's death. It was a close call in the match between "Sign of the Beaver" and "Why I am Catholic" - frankly, it could have gone the other way on a different day. I think that I again went with the book that I felt had a larger audience.

Finally, "Tolkien" won the prize over "Why I am Catholic" after I considered the effect that each had upon me. When reading "Tolkien", I felt inspired to read more and to create. "Why I am Catholic" was consumed more or less passively on my part, and while I felt a bit more competent about my ability to communicate my faith, I did not feel like it was something that I needed to get up and go do right now. In short, one moved me to action, and the other did not.

Books Attempted and Put Down

Adam of the Road, by Elizabeth Janet Gray/Elizabeth Gray Vining

Young teenaged bard Adam must make his way through medieval England, at times without his dog and even without his father, with whom he reunites by the end.

Why I picked it up: The usual reasons - children's lit, medieval setting, Newberry Medal Award, etc.

Why I put it down: The lack of plot in this book failed to engage me. The story wandered aimlessly, presenting encounters with various people and including unfortunate happenings, but never closing in on a major plot-forwarding problem within the first hundred or so pages. I did like how steeped the tale was in history (I learned, just for example, that the hawks used in falconry have different names depending on who owns them), but it was not enough to make me invest in the story. I think others would likely find this book a pleasant read, but I am not willing to guarantee that.

May 2020 Book Bracket

May Book Bracket

May was filled with a variety of books ranging from terrible to excellent to rather odd. Per usual, I ended up with a variety of both secular and religious books on my reading list.

Book Descriptions, Why I Picked Them, and My Impressions

The Blue Fairy Book, Edited by Andrew Lang

This is a collection of 37 classic fairy tales compiled at the end of the 19th century; part of a whole series of color-based fairy tale books, this one includes classics such as Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Hansel and Gretel, Aladdin and the Magic Lamp, Little Red Riding Hood, Beauty and the Beast, and Blue Beard. Other titles that might be recognized include Blue Beard, Rumpelstiltskin, "A Voyage to Lilliput" (based on "Gulliver's Travels") and Puss in Boots.

Why I picked it up: This book came from a booth at the Midwest Catholic Family Conference. The reason I acquired it was because multiple books I'd read about C. S. Lewis and Tolkien referenced the fairy tales collected by Andrew Lang as something of precursors to the works of those authors. In my readings, it seemed like the blue book in that collection was the most frequently mentioned of any of the colors (perhaps followed by the green book?).

My impressions: These are about as classic as fairy tales can get. I think the editor altered the stories so that there weren't any fatally shocking elements, but I still found some to be uncomfortable reading. There is a certain quality to fairy tales in which some things are just weird, but some things end up being disturbing. Specifically, there are instances of violence which feel as shocking as they are bizarre. I'm not saying that they don't belong in the story; I just want to caution those who would pick up this book for a family read. I would recommend that, if read, these tales would be best enjoyed as a family read-aloud so that adults could discuss some of the trickier moral points or skip over some of the gorier sections. It was an interesting dive into classic fairy tales, but I did not enjoy most of them nearly as much as my beloved MacDonald tales, "The Princess and the Goblin" and "The Light Princess." There were some pleasant surprises that weren't too unnerving, including The White Cat, Snow-white and Rose-red, and Felicia and the Pot of Pinks. I did skip over Hansel and Gretel (never liked much) and "A Voyage to Lilliput" (disliked Swift's original satire rather strongly).

The One Thing is Three: How the Most Holy Trinity Explains Everything, but Michael E. Gaitley, MIC

This book was written as a sort of "retreat" for lay persons who don't have time to dive deeply into theology. It tackles the "big questions" of life, as well as the "hows" and "whys" of living the Catholic faith, but not in a way that's meant as apologetics.

Why I picked it up: I received this book for free from a day-retreat at my local retreat center. It looked like it was something I "should" read. I also wanted to clear yet another title from my pile of "to-read" books sitting on my shelf.

My impressions: This book was a mixed bag. It has solid theology and I gained some excellent insights from it - one of the main takeaways being that I need to go out and share my faith. However, I can't say this book rocked my world. The author used a more "conversational" tone and lots of summary phrases to help the reader keep the information organized and prevent it from getting to cerebral, I'm guessing. Unfortunately, I found this style a little off-putting and a slight distraction at times as I wondered how many words shorter this book would have been if its content had not been presented in this manner. I skimmed just a few parts here and there and sometimes zoned out, missing the meaning of the words I was reading. I liked the post-conclusion section that included recommended resources to explore, ranging from the Mass and Ignatian spirituality to works of "sacramental imagination" such as the "Chronicles of Narnia" and "The Lord of the Rings" series. I don't know if I'd necessarily recommend this book, but I certainly would not discourage others from reading it. This book took some perseverance to get through, so I wouldn't recommend it for anyone under college-age.

The Giant's Heart, The Golden Key, by George MacDonald

Fairy tales by the same author; one about children caught by a giant and their adventure in escaping him, the other about two children on a quest to find a special land which can only be reached by using the boy's golden key that he had found at the end of a rainbow.

Why I picked them up: A friend, knowing my affinity for other of MacDonald's fairy tales, recommended that I read some more of them.

My impressions: The main thought that came to me is that MacDonald has a weird fixation on grandmotherly figures giving children baths; it happens in most of his fairy tales that I have read, with I think "The Giant's Heart" and "The Princess and Curdie" being the only exceptions (the princess of "The Light Princess" doesn't receive a bath per se, but she spends every second she can in the lake, so I'm counting it). These fairy tales were alright, but they weren't "rave-worthy". "The Giant's Heart" has a moment where the narrator talks about the giant crunching on children like raw turnips that I found a little upsetting, but otherwise was a decent read. "The Golden Key" definitely felt like an allegory and shortchanged the plot in favor of what I guess was symbolism. These stories might be nice for older children to read or to read as a family, but they're not stories that I feel are "must-reads".

The Napoleon of Notting Hill, by G. K. Chesterton

This first novel by prolific writer G. K. Chesterton tells of the literal battles fought for independence by the neighborhoods of London; set in a futuristic London that is actually contemporary London.

Why I picked it up: An author I enjoy reading, Joseph Pearce, gave a talk about distributism that I found interesting and I knew that this book is touted as a defense of that economic system. I also was not quite ready to dive back into easier fiction after pushing through "The One Thing is Three", and this book fit the bill.

My impressions: This is certainly not Chesterton's best novel, but his had the hallmark sense of wonder and the ridiculous that is found in his fiction. I appreciated these childlike elements, but I found this book lacking in terms of being a good story. I also felt like the sense of the ridiculous was not incorporated well into the story as it seems to be in his other novels; rather, the bizarreness of it seemed ludicrously bizarre at times to me and I found myself siding with the antagonists a good part of the time - the main characters certainly seemed like crazy men to me. The book also failed to strike the right notes with me by making little of the blood spilled on account of a neighborhood's identity - there's certainly no just war theory at work here. I can appreciate the wild creativity of wondering, "what would it be like if my suburb wanted to secede and make itself a sovereign state by the use of only antiquated weapons?", but the execution of the scenario did not work for me. The final chapter especially showcased some weakness in storytelling and descended into preaching between two voices that argued different perspectives on the meaning of Notting Hill's endeavors. I could detect the sections that distributists might appeal to, but I felt that message was swallowed up by the philosophical last chapter. I don't think I would really recommend this book unless it were to someone who was very into Chesterton and felt the need to explore one of his earlier works.

Seven Lies About Catholic History: Infamous Myths About the Church's Past and How to Answer Them, by Diane Moczar

Seven sticky subjects that are often brought up by non-Catholics are explained and debunked by a history professor.

Why I picked it up: This was one of the books I acquired from an irresistible $5 TAN book sale. I wanted to know more about these difficult arguments that I encounter now and again.

My impressions: This book helpfully explained both the accusation and the response - it presented the verbage Catholics might hear from non-Catholics and then discusses why these accusations are not really problematic. The author did well to note that, yes, in many of these situations, there were egregious and sometimes immoral errors, but perhaps not to the degree the secular world thinks. However, is it possible that the author's conclusions are influenced by her desire to defend her faith? I think it is possible, but unless I were to take the time and do the work myself of diving into historical texts, I couldn't verify that. I would like someday to have an unbiased look at these topics from a non-Catholic scholar, but until then, I think this is a fine book that does much to inform Catholics and give them talking points when these subjects come up. I recommend this book for high school readers and up, especially for Catholics, but I think this book could be of interest to non-Catholics as well.

Mr. Popper's Penguins, by Richard and Florence Atwater

Mr. Popper is obsessed with all things polar and receives a penguin as a gift from an Antarctic explorer. He and his family (and the growing brood of penguins) achieve fame after training the penguins to perform an act.

Why I picked it up: I obtained about 20 children's chapter books from a retired teacher and I keep them in my speech room. I figured it would be good to know what exactly I have on my shelves, so I periodically pick one up to read.

My impressions: This was not a great read. It was thankfully quick (I read it in the space of an hour or two), but it was very dull. It seemed less like an engaging story and more like a thought experiment on the question of, "What would [x] family do if penguins entered their lives?" It received a Newberry Honor recognition and has been turned into a movie (which I have not seen), which made me even more surprised that it was so dull. There is nothing morally problematic with the book, although Mr. Popper shapes up to be a less-than-admirable father figure, a man who works only half the year and is content to let his family subsist on beans for the other half (at least until the penguins come along). I wouldn't recommend this book, but maybe someone who can't get enough of penguins in their life might appreciate it.

Fever 1793, by Laurie Halse Anderson

Mattie Cook experiences the yellow fever pandemic that overtook Philadelphia in the titular year.

Why I picked it up: This book caught my eye at a bookstore in the last year and I remember having seen it around at school as a tween/young teen without ever having read it. I did not purchase it because I wasn't sure if it was a keeper, but I added it to my "to-read" list.

My impressions: Well, this was an apt book to read during COVID-19 quasi-lockdown, and some of the similarities between this book and reality are striking. COVID's primary symptoms of respiratory issues don't seem quite as disgusting as the vomiting, jaundice, and yellow eyes of yellow fever, but both are/were life-threatening illnesses that involved fevers. The story, which followed the small group of Mattie's family and friends, kept my interest, although I wouldn't say it was a suspenseful page-turner. I enjoyed the coming-of-age element because it depicted Mattie's maturation without feeling like it the author was screaming at me to notice the changes. Mattie's character development is clear, but I did not find it overt - I don't know how it would appear to others. I found that almost the entire book felt real and believable until the end, where an arrangement is reached by certain people who I'm not sure would actually have been able to go into business together in that period. I felt like the author did her research, including quotes from literature produced at that time, particularly letters by Philadelphians. Lots of people die due to the epidemic, including one beloved character, so more sensitive readers might not be ready for this book or the descriptions of the illness it contains. The main character has something of a mini-crush (as one friend would say, a "crinkle") on a young man and I noticed just a part or two where she mentions something like she "shouldn't look at him as if he were a racehorse for sale," although there's nothing racy in the book. I think this book would be appropriate for readers at this reading level and older, unless they are sensitive (or highly concerned about the COVID-19 epidemic).

St. Francis, by G. K. Chesterton

This small book considers St. Francis' life, not in its fact and straight history, but rather in the typical G. K. Chesterton way of considering the bigger ideas and meanings.

Why I picked it up: I purchased this book at some point on Amazon.com. I need to be more careful in future about cheap Amazon books because this was one of the weirdly-reprinted works that was rife with distracting typos. Even the classical painting of St. Francis on the front...depicts the wrong Saint Francis (St. Francis Xavier), not Saint Francis of Assisi.

My impressions: This book was not what I expected. I would definitely say this should be a companion to a biography of St. Francis, not an actual biography. As a standalone work, I found it hard to get into, even though I generally enjoy GKC's writing. My favorite part was a quote: "It is as rational for a theist to believe in miracles as for an atheist to disbelieve in them." These one-liners were one of the first things I loved about Chesterton. I'd recommend this book really only as a supplement to a biography of Saint Francis.

Emily Climbs, by L. M. Montgomery

The second book in the "Emily of New Moon" series follows Emily, a little older, as she boards with a different aunt for high school and continues writing, writing, writing and submitting her works in hopes of seeing them published in magazines. After many everyday occurrences are lived through (and another "second sight" incident), Emily is offered a chance to work with a New York publisher. She turns down the opportunity because she is so rooted in New Moon and wants to be a truly Canadian writer.

Why I picked it up: I remembered that I read the first book in the series last summer and figured it was time to read the second one.

My impressions: I find this series sooo much better than "Anne of Green Gables". I haven't figured out why, but I ate up this book. I think maybe I connect with Emily's experience "clan" of Murray relatives. I know my relatives are far more pleasant than hers, but I hope my family pride and loyalty doesn't blind me to anything. I liked watching Emily mature and found her creative drive fascinating. I wonder if most successful authors share her experience of desperately needing to write, or if there is perhaps some variety (which I hope for, for the sake of my own creative dreams). I'd recommend this book for those who enjoy the "Anne" series, but with a few caveats: I didn't quite like some of the ideas of religion expressed in the book and thought the main "second sight" incident might need some parent explanation - or at least parental awareness - particularly for younger readers. I just don't know what to think of such situations when they come up. Otherwise, I found the book very enjoyable.

Carry On, Mr. Bowditch, by Jean Lee Latham

This Newberry Medal-winning book chronicles the life of American navigator Nathaniel Bowditch. Though he showed great aptitude in mathematics, he had to leave school at an early age and take on an indentured position, during which nine years he educated himself in a variety of subjects, including languages, mathematics, science, and astronomy. He spent some time on ships, developed a better way of calculating longitude, and taught the crew about navigation, eventually writing a more accurate navigation book than anything available at the time.

Why I picked it up: This title was mentioned in "The Enchanted Hour" as a worthy book; the Newberry Medal was encouraging as well.

My impressions: I don't usually like books that lack plot, but I found "Carry On, Mr. Bowditch" interesting and even compelling at parts. Books about sailing have their own special flavor and I enjoyed it very much. I don't know how much of the book is factual and how much "poetic license", but the main points seemed to match up pretty well with the Wikipedia entry for the main character. I'd recommend this book to any reader who can read at this level, but keep a dictionary handy for unfamiliar sailing terms. A good luck charm is discussed once or twice, but comes into the story very minimally. I can see myself reading this again someday.

Bracket Play

Again, here is May's bracket:

This bracket looks a little different than usual because I had a weird number of books - 10 - that did not fit easily into a bracket. I had two play-in "games" between the four weakest competitors. GKC's "The Napoleon of Notting Hill" breezed past the very dull and lacking "Mr. Popper's Penguins" to make it to the first round, and after a little consideration, the "Blue Fairy Book" fell to MacDonald's fairy tales. The "Blue Fairy Book" failed largely due to the inconsistent qualities of the many tales included - some were weird, some concerning, some classic and familiar, and a few surprising and new. It was too much of a mixed bag when compared with just two of MacDonald's longer fairy tales. Perhaps it wasn't a fair match-up, but bracket can never create a completely even field.

Both play-ins, not surprisingly, failed to make it past the first round, where they were matched with the two books that would eventually become #1 and #2 for this month's book bracket. GKC's "Napoleon" was a bit of a drag and had some weak storytelling, whereas "Mr. Bowditch" managed to work in unfamiliar terminology and bring a bygone age to life without sacrificing pacing or reader interest. "Emily Climbs" possessed a comforting atmosphere that hit in a homey way, whereas "The Golden Key" turned into something of a less-accessible allegory. Two religious books, "The One Thing is Three" and GKC's "St. Francis" went head-to-head and GKC's work again lost out. Both books were somewhat dry and took a bit of perseverance to get through, but I found Father Gaitley's book better organized and focused than "St. Francis," which did failed to explain major points of St. Francis' life or, if it did address some, did so in a nonchronological way that ended being somewhat confusing to this reader, who has not brushed up on her St. Francis knowledge for a while. Finally, it was a toss-up between "Seven Lies About Catholic History" and "Fever 1793". As noted above, both books had flaws, and it was very much a case of comparing apples to oranges. I eventually decided on "Fever 1793" because I enjoyed it more (I lean towards fiction anyways in my personal preferences) and figured it would be palatable to a greater number of readers.

In any case, it did not matter; either book would have lost to "Emily Climbs" in round two. There were no concerns on my part about the historical accuracy of Emily's tales and it was again the charm of the narrative that captured my heart. "Fever 1793" held my interest, but I cannot say that it found a deep appreciation from me like "Emily Climbs" did. Again, a spiritual book did not beat out a work of fiction that I found much easier to get through. I was eager to keep reading "Carry On, Mr. Bowditch" but did not share the same feelings for "The One Thing is Three".

"Carry On, Mr. Bowditch" ultimately won because of its lack of questionable content and its walking pretty well the line between telling an interesting story and showing the characters develop. "Emily Climbs" certainly got down to Emily's thoughts more than "Mr. Bowditch", so she had the benefit of presenting a more nuanced and full character study. However, the fact that I could detect changes in Nathaniel Bowditch without reading excerpts from his written journal every so many chapters shows a different kind of storytelling strength. I can see myself returning to "Carry On, Mr. Bowditch" in future, especially if I had the chance to read it aloud with children. It's a story that both boys and girls can enjoy, which is not something I would think likely of "Emily Climbs".

Books Attempted and Put Down

Catholic Viewpoint on Censorship, by Harold C. Gardiner, S.J.

This book considers the philosophical reasons and theology behind the Catholic position regarding censorship, as well as what the several attitudes towards censorship in the United States were at the time of publication.

Why I picked it up: Believe it or not, I was actually interested in this book when I picked it up on sale at a local Catholic bookstore. Censorship has ties to my perennial questions regarding the role of entertainment in the Christian life - are there books that are inherently bad for all persons? If so, how is that determined? And by whom? - so I wondered what would be revealed in this book.

Why I put it down: This book is "vintage," insofar as censorship looks very different now than it did when this book was published in 1961. At that time, there was an "Index of Forbidden Books." With some Google searching, I found out this was abolished in 1966, although what that means for censorship I don't really know. I experienced a few moments of minor shock as my modern sensitivities recoiled from any prohibition on what persons choose to read or not read - isn't that a violation of free will? I asked. The book answered that question, but I'm not going to work that hard to delineate it here. Even though I didn't make it through the book, I read enough of it to think that I should eventually research more on the ideas I encountered...including such questions relevant to our time regarding license (the freedom to do what is right) and the rights and duties of legitimate authority. Consider, if you will, this timely quote: "Freedom of the press and of expression can, in circumstances, be as legitimately subject to restriction as any other freedom - that of assembly, for instance, in times of catastrophe or plague." If that's not a statement to get all political parties worked up, I don't know what is. Someday I would like to know more on these subjects, but not today...although I anticipate it will be a handy source in the future.

Wildwood, by Colin Meloy, and illustrated by Carson Ellis

This book, created by a husband-and-wife team, follows Prue and Curtis as they explores the forbidden "Impassable Wilderness" of Portland, Oregon in the attempt to retrieve Prue's kidnapped one-year-old brother. Animals talk and have built a society along with humans in the heart of this area, which they refer to as "Wildwood".

Why I picked it up: I saw this book in several places and found it intriguing. The book came up at some point as one that people who liked "The Chronicles of Narnia" might appreciate, so I decided to give it a try.

Why I put it down: After 70 pages, I still wasn't really "into" the book. I decided to look up the plot on Wikipedia and realized that I probably wasn't going to find the next 430 pages much better (yes, it's an unwieldy monster of a book). The writing wasn't bad, but it was what I might call "blah", and the culture of the Wildwood beasts - at least, what I had encountered up to that point - was not well developed. I lacked the sense of wonder and adventure that permeates books like "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" and was further disenchanted with the prospect of continuing my read by learning that Black Magic was used to bring someone back to life. Granted, I think that part is recounted as history rather than being described in the book, and the villainess is the one who used it, but any mention of magic raises a red flag for me (even though it's not a death knell). I was disappointed that the book wasn't as good as I had hoped, because the illustrations are amazing and several full-color plates are aesthetically gorgeous. I wouldn't recommend this book both for the content concerns as well as the lack of engagement I experienced while reading it.