Hello, Part Three!
21. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (Narnia) – C. S. Lewis
In 2017, I decided to read the Chronicles of Narnia all the way through for the first time. The following year ended up being one of my busiest and most productive years so that didn’t exactly carry over, but this spring I decided to resume. I started Voyage of the Dawn Treader as I began packing for my first trip overseas (still doesn’t seem real six months later) because I wanted something light but meaningful. Madeleine L’Engle said that if you want to explore big ideas, you should write about them for children. Children see the distinction between truth and fact better than we adults do and children’s books like Narnia reawaken that sense of eternal wonder when we read them as we age. They keep us fresh. But back to Voyage of the Dawn Treader. It’s not my absolute favorite in the series but there are a few moments that I cherish beyond much else. Eustace Scrubb’s repentance and salvation is one of the most moving scenes in Christian literature, for which of us hasn’t also tried to wash off our own scales to no success? Thanks be to God, who digs underneath our callouses and breathes new life into us before we even know how to ask. The way Aslan works out Lucy’s envy and comparison is a heavy hitter, too. Lewis’ descriptive language takes charge in this story and it’s hard to return to city streets and parking garages when you’ve just spent an hour wading through the cool reeds at the edge of Aslan’s country. The best fiction is transportive and Narnia made my longings stretch way beyond Scotland.
22. The Silver Chair (Narnia) – C. S. Lewis
I was warned not to bring more than one book with me on the Scotland trip so I opted to only pack The Silver Chair. When I was kid I loved the BBC WonderWorks adaptation, even had parts of it memorized, but since I’d never read the book start to finish I figured Scotland might be a cool place to crack it open. Most of it was read during our lazy mornings lounging in our AirBnb’s sunroom on the Isle of Skye. Puddleglum, the gloomy marshwiggle, is endearing and proves to be a truly wise guide to Jill Pole and Eustace (who is a greatly changed boy since Voyage). Knowing Lewis wrote with a theological mindset makes the Narnia series a sort of scavenger hunt for me and I have to remind myself to put my symbol-hunting on the back burner. Despite that attempt, my favorite find was the analogy of the signs. In Jill Pole’s first moments in Narnia she makes a grave mistake that throws off how things should have gone in their adventure. As a means to keep things in harmony, Aslan gives her The Signs: a set of directions and ordained tells that, if followed, will lead them to the lost Prince Rillian and complete their quest. But Jill, like all of us, has a tough time remembering the signs. Aslan instructs her to repeat them often until they are ingrained in her memory. Yet despite her recall, circumstances of their journey and her own weak, selfish desires cause the Signs to become muddled. I couldn’t help but notice how similar this is to our relationship with holy scripture. We are called to memorize and ask God to engrave His word on our hearts, as a guide and a comfort and a means to give Him glory. So too with us, however, do circumstances and our own waywardness or desires cause us to deliberately ignore, misinterpret, or doubt the validity of it.
23. A Light So Lovely: The Spiritual Legacy of Madeleine L’Engle – Sarah Arthur
Upon returning from my trip, I wanted to revisit my bookshelf and pick something else yet unread. I had the pleasure of writing a profile on one of my favorite writers Madeleine L’Engle for faith + arts nonprofit Forefront Festival early this summer and I thought it would fitting to follow that up with a reading of this spiritual biography of her by Sarah Arthur. I deeply appreciated Arthur’s candid exploration of L’Engle’s life and work. There’s no hero worship here. Madeleine was an incredible writer and somewhat of a literary prophet, but she was a flawed human first, loved by God and broken just like the rest of us. My one critique was that, though L’Engle’s politics were more left than mine, Arthur seems desperate at times to drag them further into contemporary liberal stances I’m not sure L’Engle clearly claimed. All in all, worth a read if you’re a strong fan of Madeleine’s work and thought life, but keep in mind that some bias abounds.
24. The Greater Trumps – Charles Williams
My third Charles Williams novel, The Greater Trumps is so far my least favorite. Much of William’s doctrine of co-inherence is explored in this one, which I loved, but the characters internal ruminations are often verbose and flowery. Sure, Williams was a pure poet (romantic theology, hello!) but the romantic language feels rather heavy-handed in this novel. I could see a few Christians getting the heebie-jeebies from tarot cards being a sort of main character here, so I beg you to suspend your superstitions and arguments about the occult when delving into William’s work. See beyond them, or you’ll miss wonderful imagery for the cosmic dance of which we are all players to the glory of God alone.
25. The Light Princess – George MacDonald
You can imagine the heyday I felt following my favorite Williams with my favorite MacDonald. A prime pleasure. The Light Princess is a sweet short story and was very welcome after The Greater Trump’s significant density. Reviewing these short stories and treatises is challenging for me. Like A Gospel Primer, this is one to cherish but you’ll only know if you first give it a shot. I can’t imagine anyone regretting a MacDonald faerie tale, especially when they so richly communicate the love of our Lord between the lines. Find it on thriftbooks or your local used bookshop and enjoy it on a lunch break.
26. The Man Who Was Thursday – G. K. Chesterton
Chesterton is the man. Give me enough coffee on a Sunday afternoon and I’ll go on for hours about his genius. Usually when such a conversation finds me, someone will naturally recommend The Man Who Was Thursday, and then I will shake my head and sadly admit I’ve never read it but, I’m saving it for when the time is right. Do you do this too? Some works are too sacred to treat lightly. And so this summer, after years of Chestertonian hypocrisy, I dove in. Honestly: I didn’t like it. I didn’t get it. I’m still struggling to understand, which probably means I should give it another go. Any explication of it you can provide me is welcome. Part satire, part philosophical treatise on pessimism, part manifesto against anarchy? Do I have that right? How many undercover detectives are there?
27. On Prayer – Origen
Another short treatise, this time by the early church father Origen. To provide a little background on this guy, it’s said that when he first became a follower of the Christ, he was so convicted of his sexual sin that he took Matthew 5:29 to be a directive rather than an analogy and castrated himself. Ouch. But after further study of the scriptures and the brokenness of his own desires (his sin persisted with or without full gratification), he realized he was in biblical error to do so. Double ouch. That said, his book on prayer is written carefully but maintains that same sort of trademarked zeal in its wings. Origen concentrates less on practical instruction and emphasizes the posture of our hearts instead, especially encouraging the reader to ‘pray without ceasing’, as we are often want to do. I can’t say this enough: Read more church fathers this coming year. Majority of the latest books on Christian living are a pathetic, bastardized dilution of what better men have already said. If we see anything at all now, it is by standing on their shoulders.
28. The Common Rule: Habits of Purpose in an Age of Distraction – Justin Whitmel-Earley
There are a plethora of self-improvement books on the market, so why this one? Well, if you’re a monastic junkie like me, this one is your cup of tea. Molded on the same framework exhibited by the Rule of St. Benedict, Whitmel-Earley’s daily and weekly habits strive to keep our compass at true north. His suggestions are simple: Pray on your knees first thing in the morning. Turn off your phone for an hour a day. Share a meal with someone once a week. Etc. These aren’t hard, but restructuring my time around them was difficult which…pissed me off. Whitmel-Earley’s Common Rule habits weren’t composed in a vacuum. He paid diligent attention to how scripture tells us to make wise use of our time, what our priorities should be, and how Christians throughout history have sought to apply it all. These are habits wrought from wisdom. And so my stubbornness in orienting myself around them was telling. Our priorities need redeeming, too. This was another summer read and I’m still trying to integrate these values into my way of life, if even in a cursory way.
29. Let Me Be A Woman – Elizabeth Elliot
Seems like the front lines of Christian ethics and apologetics are engaged mainly in the camps of sex, relationships, and gender identity these days. Thankfully women like Rachel Jankovic, Nancy Pearcey, Rosaria Butterfield, and Jen Wilkin are rising voices in these conversations, but a true debt of gratitude is owed to Elizabeth Elliot. This was my first book of hers and, to be frank, I brought a lot of preconceived notions and opinions with me. In my Christian upbringing, Elliot was always presented as someone our mothers should force us to read but who would never understand our generation. And the impression I received from more ‘free-spirited’ Christian women around my age was that Elliot boasted a Phyllis Schlafly-esque contrarianism blended with even more talk about submission and chastity – and we had enough of that. So when I left the church, I brought my scorn for Elizabeth Elliot with me and when I returned, it remained. As a Christian woman in my late twenties, I’m finding I have more questions about biblical womanhood than I thought. Dating can be complicated, marriage is becoming rare, and female vocational talk is strangely divisive. It seems the subject is split into two camps - jean skirts & braids or picket signs & blue lipstick. Curious about the more conservative approach, I wanted to read something considered a definitive text on the subject, so I chose Let Me Be A Woman. It surpassed my expectations. A collection of bite-sized reflections, ruminations, essays, and rigorous devotionals written mostly for her daughter, these pieces address most roles a woman will experience: wife, single woman, sister, mother, friend, widow, daughter of God, etc. What I found most surprising was the intellectualism in Elliot’s writing. Like You Who, there’s no “babycakes” language and zero female pandering. Elliot speaks to her daughter as if she were a human being and not a customer of comfort or cheap ideas, which is the antithesis of what people told me to expect. The cruelty and unsupportiveness feminists aim toward such women is often indicative of the unChristlikeness their own ideas rest upon. The title encompasses the spirit in its pages - it is okay to be a woman with distinct roles apart from a man. Controversial stuff nowadays, but I stand by it wholeheartedly. Elliot answered some of my questions and poised a few to me as well, but chiefly pointed me toward the word of God and my role as a disciple first.
30. Watchmen – Alan Moore
Chances are that if you recommend a book to me, I’ll probably read it. If that book happens to be a graphic novel? Consider it devoured in a weekend. Thus, I plowed through Watchmen. Published from September of 1986 to October ’87, we can say for certain that this graphic novel was before its time. I’d even argue that every good twist you’ve seen in modern action and superhero films is based on it in some capacity. Placing myself in the shoes of someone loitering at the local comic shop in ’87, I can imagine how innovative this comic was for its first readers. I would have harassed the guy at the counter for the latest issue, too. Alan Moore’s writing is beyond compare. The incorporation of the meta-comic Tales of The Black Freighter juxtaposed alongside the main storyline is a genius device, giving the reader more emotional insight than can be seen at face value and weaving a nice tension throughout the narrative. Seriously, The Black Freighter freaked me out. Artist Dave Gibbons and colorist John Higgins are a formidable team, especially in their Black Freighter design. The ship lifts right of the page and into my fear and I sorely missed it in the film adaptation. Like many things I love, everything in the Watchmen story and art is imbued with meaning. Character development soars, each hero flawed in his or her own way and scrambling to make a difference. They feel real. But what lies most heavy on my memory is the dissonance with which the volume comes to a close. Moore sets aside a happy ending for a hopeful one and not that cliché, cheesy hope either. Raw hope, the kind that makes one recall Tertullian’s famous line: “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.”