Item of business: I have a new essay up at the Curator this week, “Safe as Houses.”
More on books. I did a mid-year Top Reads list back in summer, and it was well-advised. Pregnancy wreaked havoc on my brain cells, and there were months at a time when I didn’t read a coherent word. It was actually freeing: more time with my (then) three-year-old, permission to slow down, take naps, gaze out the window and think thoughts, gaze out the window and think no thoughts, binge on Masterpiece Theatre. But it was also good to get back the capacity for reading books. A good finish to the year. These are them.
Leapings: Revelations and Epiphanies by Brian Doyle
Brian Doyle first crossed my reading path as judge for Ruminate Magazine’s nonfiction prize a few years ago. Then I started reading the Sun, and the best issues were the ones with his essays. Then (I mentioned this in my last Top Reads) his beautiful, beautiful essay “Yes” in 2003's Best American Essays. Recently, someone in my Facebook feed linked to his short piece “Shouldering” (on page three of the online magazine). Brothers, fathers, kitchens; I could picture my husband’s childhood. A great piece on writing – “Sensualiterature” – was in the most recent Creative Nonfiction issue. I decided to rely on serendipities no longer, and ordered his essay collection Leapings: Revelations and Epiphanies. Oh, yes. His topics (summer camp counseling; teaching the eight-year-olds in Catholic class; writing; 9/11, in the wrenching, riveting title piece), his prose (a playful, poetic word rhythm), his fearless (or fearful in the best way?) handling of oft-taboo CNF topics (children, Jesus, faith). He’s decidedly Roman Catholic, and I (Protestant that I am) have learned much, and am heartened by how often I nod an agreed affirmative – yes, yes! – to his expressions of faith and beauty in the world. Also, he is funny. Just go ahead and do it. Read Brian Doyle.
Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry
I had this one on the night-side nursing table. It was perfect for a slow, meditative (and fragmented) read. I had given this book a try several times in years past, and am glad I pushed past the usual stopping point. Oh, the visions of love Berry develops, and of heaven, and of hopeful possibilities for beauty on earth. “Good, good, good,” the moonshine glugs in agreement as Jayber and other men of the town pass the jug around during their “little worter dranking party” in the woods. Here is Berry most eloquent on relationships and the importance of them; on caring for the land, yes, but for people above all; but most of all, on heaven. “This is a book about Heaven,” Jayber tells us toward the end of his life, though he has “wondered sometimes if it would not finally turn out to be a book about Hell - where we fail to love one another, . . . where we destroy the things we need the most, where we see no hope and have no faith, where we are needy and alone, where things that ought to stay together fall apart.” But it is, yes, finally a book about heaven, indeed. Since reading, every time I’m struck by some beauty around me or joy within, I hear that bottle’s pronouncement: “Good, good, good. Good. Good, good.”
Lila by Marilynne Robinson
More heaven, and visions thereof, and accompanying concerns (Who will end up there?), and moments pushing at the edges of the hell Jayber describes. More of the character Lila, who we never had much of (only tidbits in Gilead and Home) before now. Her experiences are wrenching (abandonment, wandering, and worse), her personality fascinating (despite all hand-to-mouth odds, she’s constantly compelled to think about “existence”), her drive to love thought-provoking and instructive. This is a book to unsettle you and leave you there, but the images of and propensities toward love (look for Doll - or is it Christ? - taking the child Lila up in her arms, as the adult Lila recalls it over and over) are as stunning as ever in any Robinson novel.
The Late Scholar by Jill Paton Walsh
I’d call this a guilty pleasure, but I don’t actually feel guilty. Paton Walsh has written several new detective novels about the characters Dorothy Sayers created in the 1920's and 30's: Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane. After a summer-long Sayers binge (my fuzzy brain cells gave rereading a pass) – Gaudy Night, Strong Poison, Busman’s Honeymoon – I took the plunge. The first couple books had their moments, but The Late Scholar bears up really enjoyably, so much that I’ve read it twice in close succession. Admittedly, no one can be Sayers, and the prose loses some of the depth between her books and these new ones, but the characters are largely consistent and enjoyable, the mystery interesting enough, and the setting dead-on. It’s back to Oxford! Paton Walsh, who attended the university herself, gets Oxford. It’s wonderful to be back. And really, what Sayers devotee doesn’t wonder what Peter and Harriet might become in their mature years?
Onward into 2015 and all the good books waiting to be read – and read again.
3 comments:
Hooray! I love hearing what you've read. Those updated detective novels will probably end up on my shelf soon.
Great list. Good, good, good.
Maggie, I'm loving your return to the book haiku.
Amanda, wish you could've joined in the Lila discussion. If Tom does another one, will you come down??
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