Current Reads:

1. Reread: The House of Mirth (Edith Wharton)

   1. Edith Wharton is one of the most masterful prose writers out there; I am newly astonished every time I read her work. Having read two Greek tragedies with earlier this year, I am embarking on this reread with a Greek/Aristotelian framework in mind. I think it’ll be a helpful intellectual exercise. I also think reading Wharton, the American tragedian, not long after we read Austen, the English comedian, will be offer an entertaining contrast (and I’m thinking of tragedy/comedy in the literary sense rather than the sad vs funny sense; because Wharton is plenty hilarious even as characters roll along to their inevitable doom). They are both writers who investigate, and critique, the ways in which societal norms/manners influence the moral development of an individual. But I think Wharton has a much more negative view of the Gilded Age society which she critiques (possibly due to the suffering that conforming to certain societal expectations caused her) than Austen does of Georgian/Regency society.

2. New Reads: One Poor Scruple (Josephine Ward) and The First Fossil Hunters (Adrienne Mayor)

   1. I chose to pair Ward’s book with Brideshead Revisited (which I literally just finished) because, like Waugh, Ward is a Catholic novelist who writes about the difficulties of being both Catholic and English by focusing on a particular Catholic family. Furthermore, both novels involve the moral quandary a Catholic woman faces when she wishes to marry a divorced man. I’m enjoying the writing so far (though it did take a bit to nail down the complex family relationships) and I am particularly interested in how Ward, as a Catholic woman whose main characters are also female, differs from Waugh, a Catholic man who main characters are mostly male. If interested, I highly recommend forking over the money for the CUA edition of this novel (and checking out the other books in the series). On an entirely different note, my nonfiction read is about Ancient Greek/Roman fossil hunters. I’ve been eyeing this book for years, ever since I first heard the premise of the book: people have been finding, and trying to interpret, fossil bones for a long time, and those interpretations were often tied to (and/or inspired) mythological/legendary history as a way to make sense of the bones. Now that I am a mom to a dinosaur obsessed 1st grader, it feels right and just to be reading this book right now.

Recent Commonplace Quotes

1. “For no matter how brilliantly one part of life is painted, if the sun goes out, that man has not seen the whole world. Day and night both exist. To ignore the one or the other is to split time in two and choose one like the short stick in a match game…An artist should be open on all sides to every kind of light and darkness. But our age almost purposely closes all windows, draws all shades and then later screams to a psychiatrist for light.” (John Steinbeck in one of the letters contained at the end of The Acts of King Arthur)

   1. I must say, I enjoyed the letters Steinbeck wrote (to his editor, literary agent, and others) about the process of rewriting the Arthurian legends as much as I enjoyed the legends themselves. This quote, in particular, floored me. He puts into words something I have long sensed (and found troubling) about a lot of modern fiction, but could never express as well as Steinbeck does. I think its especially fascinating given that Steinbeck tends to plumb the depths of the “night” in his fiction (hello Cathy Ames!). But what makes Steinbeck great, and other “grimdark” type writers hacks, is the fact that he never, ultimately, loses sight of the light. He is willing to open the windows and roll up the shades in order to let the light in. To paraphrase the KJV of one of my favorite bible passages;1 John Steinbeck allows the light, however small and weak, to shine in the dark. And that light is able to comprehend the darkness, while the darkness cannot do the same of the light (just read Cathy/Adam’s final meeting in East of Eden). Here’s hoping Netflix’s adaptation doesn’t mess up Steinbeck’s masterpiece too much.

2. “For the first time in many years, I prayed, or tried to pray, which the spiritual masters tell me is the same thing. As I did, I glanced at the tiny garment in my hand through which so much that was unexpected had been revealed. Scoffed at by us in our youth, this piece of holy cloth had delivered its promise despite our faithlessness. We were not the protagonists we thought we were. We thought we were creating out own story, when in fact we had been bound by the strands of this scapular and led to a place where we did not wish to go. But behind the veil of the scapular beat a mother’s heart, itself pierced, going before us always, knowing the real logic of our desires, keeping vigil through the barren years when we worshipped our half-gods and tin-pot idols.” (Benedict Aquila, The Good Death of Kate Montclair, By: )

   1. Speaking of modern novels, here’s one that passes Steinbeck’s “test” with flying colors. Both darkness and light are depicted in McInerny’s novel. But he writes with the Christian hope that the light will always shine in the darkness, and never be overcome by it (to paraphrase another translation of the aforementioned bible verse). And the quote above demonstrates the firm basis on which McInerny’s hope rests: we are not the authors of our story (thank God, literally). It is not all, in fact, up to us. Even our barren periods and rebellious years can be turned to good by the power of the God who loves us, and through the prayers of the Sorrowful Mother who always intercedes for us. Yet, McInerny’s novel is not a saccharine or one-dimensional portrait of the faith. There are earnest Catholics in the novel who cause real harm, or are simply unlikeable. He does not skirt around the fact that living out difficult Church teachings comes at a serious cost. And that honesty is so needed in Catholic/Christian art. If some modern artists try to block out the light, there are plenty of Christian artists who pretend the darkness doesn’t exist, or isn’t really that dark at all (particularly when the darkness comes from within the “fold”). Finally, I especially appreciated McInerny’s treatment of the interplay between faith, medicine, and mental health. As someone who suffers from OCD, I have benefitted enormously from modern medicine and psychology. Prior to taking advantages of these gifts, I was in a truly difficult place. However, I also needed prayer, the sacraments, and pastoral guidance to recognize both the wounds, and the graces, that having OCD has left me with. Both the natural and the supernatural were/are crucial to my healing (because, it turns out, I am a body-soul creature!) And McInerney depicts that kind of healing so beautifully.

Excellent Earworms:

1. Music: Mary’s Pub (Amble), Save Me a Seat (Rose Betts)

Substack Shares:

1. Everybody Gets This Book Wrong, By: Audrey Lily: Great commentary on one of my favorite books of all time.

2. On Disney and the Sacred (Part 4), By: Dave on Discovery One: This was a lovely meditation on a Disney movie that I have come to appreciate much more as a Mom than I ever did as a kid, especially after watching and loving Kennth Branaugh’s live-action remake (and apparently, lots of y’all agree with me about how fantastic it was, because my note about it was the most viral I’ve ever been on Substack).

3. Sounds Like You Think the Real Problem is Just... Women?, By: Esther Berry: Very much appreciated Berry’s well-thought out response to a very…interesting…piece of writing about the use of the term feminism, and the supposed inability of women to do politics without ruining the world.

Little Bits of Life (Updates from the real world):

The most important, and wonderful, update is that I’m expecting! And this go around, it has been all about the “evening” sickness. Honest to goodness I could barely read for a while, let alone write anything. Once dinnertime hit, it was all downhill from there. In addition, the school year has started! And what little free time I’ve had that wasn’t poisoned by fatigue/nausea was devoted mainly to schoolwork (I both tutor during our hybrid models center days, and teach my own kids at home during home days). I am, ultimately, really grateful for how the timing of my symptoms worked out. With my oldest, it was truly a case of “morning” sickness that made the last chunk of the school year miserable in a lot of ways. With my other two, it was mostly all day low grade nausea that just made everything feel rather “blah.” So all things considered God has been very good to me this go around. But it still isn’t the most enjoyable of experiences, and I am happy that I seem to be heading in right direction as I move out of the first trimester.

Finally, some prayer requests for the praying people out there:

1. Obviously for the health of me and baby!

2. For one of my dearest friends who just go married last weekend (who was also received into the Catholic Church this year!) Pray for all the blessings and graces for him and his wife. They are truly lovely people.

3. For healing for two family members diagnosed with cancer, and another trying to figure out the causes of fertility issues.

Polling the People:

Last poll, I continued my literary “March” Madness poll. And now I’ll offer the final rounds! Aragorn beat our Hector with 100% of the vote, while Captain Wentworth won by a closer margin of 63%. With the ladies, I think the right choices were made. Medea kicked Anna Karenina to the curb with 80% of the vote, while Scarlett O’Hara (who would 100% make mincemeat of Daisy Buchanan) won with 85%.

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Pélagie is a work of Canadian literature by Acadian author, Antonine Millet. What is Acadia you ask? Acadia was a colony of French Canada that eventually fell into British hands. When some Acadians continued to help the French, and/or refused to swear an unconditional oath of allegiance to Great Britain, the British decided to forcibly expel the Acadians beginning in 1755. During the first wave of expulsion, they were unceremoniously dumped along the coast of the thirteen colonies; traumatized, destitute, and separated from their loved ones. Today’s Cajuns are ultimately descendants of deported Acadians who made their way to Louisiana. Years later, the British began to permit small groups of Acadians to return to their homeland, and it is this possibility of return that incites the story’s action.

Just like The Odyssey, Pélagie is named for its central character, who, just like Odysseus, is journeying home. Initially the widowed Pélagie’s “crew” consists of her children and two elderly acquaintances. But as more Acadian exiles join her caravan, her swollen crew becomes as troublesome as Odysseus’ ever was. Given these similarities, its worth considering some of the key differences between these characters. For starters, Pélagie and her people are more akin to the defeated Trojans than the victorious Greeks represented by Odysseus and his crew.

In that respect, Pélagie’s tale tracks a bit more closely with the Aeneid, and both poems offer hope that a defeated people can right a wrong done to them. In addition, Pélagie, like Aeneas, is widowed. And though she doesn’t carry her own father away with her, she does carry with her a father-figure in the character of Old Bélonie. Furthermore, one of the refugee families that joins up with Pélagie, the Allains, carry with them a crucifix rescued from a burning Acadian church, much like Aeneas flees a burning Troy with the city’s gods. However, Pélagie’s single-minded determination to go home, and her deliberate refusal to found a “New” Acadia in Louisiana when the chance is offered, ultimately separates her story from Aeneas’, and brings it most closely in line with Odysseus.’

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1. “The known world was not so circumscribed then nor knowledge equated with facts. Story was a kind of human binding. I can’t say it better than that. There was telling everywhere. Because there were fewer sources of where to find out anything, there was more listening.” (Noe, This is Happiness)

   1. Notes: Love the explanatory concept of we’ve lost the wisdom to listen because we can always turn to another (preferred) source if we don’t like what we hear, less respect for knowledge because it isn’t rare (seemingly), we can access it (then forget) so easily we’ve lost sense of preciousness/respect for knowers, everyone is or can see themselves as an “expert” so why listen to another?

2. “I hadn’t lived long enough to know there’s an infinity of ways to tell the same story, that human failure is a history without end, but so too human endeavor, and that between both lies …

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Current Reads:

1. Reread: Wives and Daughters (Elizabeth Gaskell)

   1. Though, it is early days rereading one of my five favorite novels, I already feel so comforted. Molly Gibson is a truly excellent heroine, and I love Gaskell’s depiction of the relationship between Molly and her father. It reminds me a bit of Lizzie and Mr. Bennet’s relationship. Like Mr. Bennet, Mr. Gibson is an intellectual with an ironic sense of humor. And like Mr. Bennet, Mr. Gibson finds himself married to a woman he cannot ultimately admire or respect (though in Wives and Daughters, we see how this marriage comes about, rather than being presented with the marriage as an accomplished fact). Unlike Mr. Bennet, Mr. Gibson has only one daughter (which is part of the reason he and Molly are so close). Furthermore, Mr. Gibson is a much more proactive father, seeking to protect his daughter from scandal rather than letting events happen as they may (in fact, his desire to protect Molly is what ultimately precipitates his unhappy marriage). He even seeks to do right by his stepdaughter Cynthia, though he cannot love or admire her the way he does Molly. Since I first read Pride and Prejudice during summer vacation, it is almost always on my mind in the summer (whether I end up reading it or not). So I’ll definitely be reading Wives and Daughters with the Austen/Gaskell comparison in mind this go around.

2. New Reads: The Acts of King Arthur (John Steinbeck) and Fallen Founder: The Life of Aaron Burr (Nancy Isenberg)

   1. I couldn’t resist starting Steinbeck’s rewriting/retelling of the Arthurian myths-the cover was too pretty! I’m only a few pages into the actual book and am intrigued to see where exactly Steinbeck will take it all. I loved his introduction, in which he describes how, as a child, “words-written or printed-were devils, and books, because they gave me pain, were my enemies.” It was when he read Caxton’s version of Malory’s Morte d’Arthur that, finally, “the magic happened.” So for any bookish parents out there whose kids currently hate reading, there’s hope: they could be the next Steinbeck! My nonfiction book is a biography of Aaron Burr, and I’ve enjoyed reading a biographer who goes as hard for Aaron Burr, sir, as Lin-Manuel Miranda went for Hamilton. I didn’t realize that when Aaron Burr sings about his grandfather being a “fire and brimstone preacher” he was talking about the fire and brimstone preacher Jonathan Edwards, of “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” fame. I think what I admire most about Burr, at this point, is his commitment to offering his daughter, Theodosia, a classical education, inspired by the writing of Mary Wollstonecraft. Having read ’s book The Rights of Women last year, I was better able to appreciate the significance of Burr’s admiration for Mary Wollstonecraft and how it inspired the kind of education he offered Theodosia.

Recent Commonplace Quotes

1. “The great thing is to have lots of love about. I don't see…that it matters who loves as long as somebody does. I was a stingy beast at home, and used to measure and count. I had a queer obsession about justice. As though justice mattered. As though justice can really be distinguished from vengeance. It's only love that's any good. At home I wouldn't love Mellersh unless he loved me back, exactly as much, absolute fairness. Did you ever. And as he didn't, neither did I, and the aridity of that house! The aridity . . .” (Lotty, The Enchanted April, Elizabeth Von Arnim)

   1. Speaking of her relationship with her husband, prior to a healing trip to Italy, Lotty offers a challenge to us all. This quote was certainly a bit of an “oof” for me. It is a great and good thing to desire love. Love Himself created us; we are hard-wired to long for it. But we can indeed be curiously “stingy” and fearful creatures when it comes to doling out love. We are only willing to give if we know that we will get a return on our investment, if we are certain that we will be loved back, “exactly as much” with “absolute fairness.” But of course if we all adopted that attitude, the whole world would become (is always in danger of becoming) an “arid” place indeed. Instead, we are called to model the love of God, who we are only able to love because He first loved us. On our own, without supernatural grace, of course we can’t love with the radical love that transforms a Beast into a Prince, or (in Lotty’s case) a somewhat boorish and career-obsessed husband into an affectionate companion whose social skills put others at ease. This is not to say, of course, that we ought to put up with abusive or neglectful behavior in the name of love. In those circumstances, love might very well look like bringing the other to an awareness of the evil of his or her deeds by confrontation or escape. In Lotty’s case, she didn’t didn’t love Mellersh either by communicating her unhappiness, or by being the first to treat him with affection. As so many spouses do, she had a vision in her head of exactly how much and in what way she should be loved at all times, forgetting that (with the grace of God) love begets love. And in the ebb and flow of life’s tides, individuals in a relationship will be more (or less) capable of giving or receiving love in a given moment. I highly recommend this beautiful book-though you might be very tempted to make some potentially imprudent financial decisions in search of your own Italian castle.

2. “I know, young man, it is not your natural bent/to say such things nor to contrive such mischief./But the prize of victory is pleasant to win./Bear up: another time we shall prove honest./For one brief shameless portion of a day/give me yourself, and then for all the rest/you may be called most scrupulous of men.” (Odysseus, Philoctetes, By: Sophocles)

   1. Sophocles’ plays continue to amaze me both because of how readable they are, and because, 2,000+ years after they were written, they can still grab my heart. For all that Sophocles’ world is so different than mine, he still writes about universal human questions, emotions, and experiences. I think of the four new Sophocles plays I read, Philoctetes was my favorite (Electra being a close second). Be warned though, if you are an Odysseus fan, this play casts him in a less than flattering light. In this quote, Odysseus is persuading Neoptolemus (Achilles’ son) to trick Philoctetes so that he might be captured and brought to Troy; for a seer has revealed that the Greeks need Philoctetes and his bow in order to take the city. Odysseus needs Neoptolemus’ help since Odysseus had marooned Philoctetes on the island of Lemnos after Philoctetes received an incredibly smelly (and painful) snake wound. And Philoctetes (understandably) still resents Odysseus and the other Greek leaders for their betrayal. This quote from Odysseus is so chilling, because it is the voice whispering our ear in so many temptations: Turn aside from what you know to be right this one time to get what you want, to win. Then you can go back to being a good person afterwards. But of course, the tempter doesn’t lie completely; to do evil is to indeed give yourself away. And getting yourself back in order to be the “most scrupulous of men” may not be so easily done. And if you want further proof that such ancient texts are well-worth reading today, check out the Theater of War Project.

Excellent Earworms:

1. Music: Hazel Eyes (Sabrina Jordan), Blessed Are the Ones (Rend Collective), Killeagh (Kingfishr)

2. Podcasts: The Gender Accompaniment Project by

Substack Shares:

• Michael Scott Meets Mr. Darcy (By: ): This pairing of quotes from The Office with various Jane Austen characters had me cackling, and this coming from someone who has watched maybe 2 total episodes of The Office ever. If you need a good laugh, Amy’s post will definitely do the trick.

• Gardens in Middle Earth (By: ): A thoroughly beautiful piece about my favorite book(s) of all time. And very appropriate to meditate on during the summer season of bursting flower/herb/vegetable beds.

• Christian beliefs fueled some big scientific breakthroughs (By: ): I have been fascinated with the interplay of faith and science since high school, and even wrote a post-death dialogue/play between Galileo, Pope Urban VIII, Cardinal Bellarmine, and Christoph Scheiner to explore that relationship for my senior thesis. As a result, I very much enjoyed Sarah’s article about the ways in which the specific Christian beliefs of historically significant scientists actually helped to fuel their breakthroughs.

• shake it off (in religious ecstasy) (By: ): I really love Katie’s writing, and her thoughtful exploration of a movie I would not (prior to have reading) considered watching is a wonderful example of how to critically engage with media and find the “seeds of the word” within it.

Little Bits of Life (Updates from the real world):

Despite the current heat wave, this summer has been truly lovely for our family. We visited Hobart Book Village in the Catskills for a short, but sweet, getaway. You can’t really go wrong with the combo of gorgeous landscapes and stacks of new books. We’ve also been world-cupping with the best of them. The love affair between Boston and the Scottish football fans is my new favorite thing. And I continue to be amazed at my husband’s casual sports knowledge. He’s long been a soccer/football fan in general, and a Manchester United fan in particular, and though he doesn’t watch or consume sports media in great quantities, he somehow remembers so many details about players and games and coaches. But then, he frequently expresses the same kind of “how do you remember all this” when it comes to me and the books I’ve read. In short, it’s fun to be a little in awe of your spouse, and to see them excited about their hobbies and passions.

On the aspiring farm/garden front, our 6 newest chickens have finally figured out how to get into the coop themselves at night. I am very glad that I no longer have to manhandle Rose, the leader of the flock who needs a chicken prozac and has the eyes of a killer, into the coop at night. Ditto for dear, sweet, stupid Peony, who is at the bottom of the pecking order and could not figure going up the ramp days after everyone else had. A special delight has been the patch of black raspberries growing on the side of our house (which I’ve used to make this berry crumble). There’s something special about the fact that the one thing we did not plant or cultivate ourselves has provided our children some of the greatest delight of the season. Sometimes, God’s greatest gifts come to us completely separate from our (necessary and still good!) work in the garden of life.

Finally, some prayer requests for the praying people out there:

1. For healing and comfort for a friend going through a horrendously difficult time and facing persecution for her commitment to doing the right thing.

2. For the gifts of patience and cheerfulness in my daily life-I’ve been running a lot into the problem of my own tendency to be easily frustrated and impatient lately, and I just know I have a lot of work to do in this area.

3. For healing for two family members diagnosed with cancer, and another trying to figure out the causes of fertility issues.

Polling the People:

Last poll, I asked what was your ideal reading (seasonally based) scenario, and winter: “a squishy armchair by a roaring wood fire. Hot coco and cookies on the side table next to you. Favorite blanket(s) keeping your toes warm. Christmas tree lit up nearby” won with 50% of the vote. For this poll, I’m bringing you a poll begun in previous posts (Fierce Fighters and Feisty Females Parts 1 and 2).

So vote on the four polls below! You may go the route of which character you find more iconic/likeable, or which character would win in a fight (assume everyone is at their fighting best).

Fierce Fighters

Fierce Females

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The Dawn of the Commonplace Book

When technology changes, the ways we interact with, and consume, information change. And that is as true of the past as it is of the present. In the 16th and 17th centuries, the widespread use of paper, and the advent of the printing press, were among the technological changes that forever altered our relationship with information. As Alan Jacobs points out in an article for First Things:

“By making it so much faster and easier to disseminate texts of every kind—from Bibles (and commentaries thereon) to ghost stories, breathless accounts of notorious murders, and scurrilous poems on leading politicians—the world of print created a panic, the kind of panic distinctive to people who feel swamped by information.”1

I think many of us, in the age of social media and the 24-hour news cycle, can relate. And like many modern commentators, commentators of the day, like one Adrien Baillet, sounded the alarm: “we have reason to fear that the multitude of books which grows every day in a prodigious fashion will make the following centuries fall into a state as barbarous as that of the centuries that followed the fall of the Roman Empire.”2 His concerns are not, I think, entirely unfounded.

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All three novels are, to some extent, memory novels. Each narrator revisits a significant period (or several significant periods) of their life and reflects on its meaning after the fact. All three share a discursive narrative style. Williams, like Laverty and Beckett, has his narrator meander off the “main” narrative path to reveal details or tell stories about secondary, or even tertiary, characters. Particularly at the beginning, this can take some getting used to. However, I found it a lot easier to submit to the flow of Williams’ novel because of my previous experiences with Beckett and Laverty. And I think submit is the right word; you have to let the novel carry you along and trust that there is indeed a purpose to it all. Williams’ discursive narration is bolstered by the sheer beauty of his prose, which is delightfully descriptive and full of Dickensian length sentences. As much as I admire some novels which adhere to the modern preference for economy of prose (such as The Great Gatsby or The Road), my personal taste tends toward the wordy. The Lord of the Rings is my favorite book after all. And Williams’ wordiness has an air of generosity and abundance about it; it overflows with the sense that many words are needed in order to scratch the mere surface of the world’s wonder.

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In high school, I had the idea of writing a mini-memoir based on the bumps, bruises, and scars that marked my body. Like the small scar under my left eye from when I pulled down a metal stocking holder off the mantle and onto my face, convinced there was a present still hiding in the stocking. Or the hidden scar on my scalp from when my Dad’s motorcycle fell on my head (Yes, really). And the stubborn bruise on my elbow, commemorating a fall during a horseback riding lesson.

In this unwritten story, I unknowingly recognized an important truth: my body is incarnational. Or, as puts it her children’s book, my body says “Here I am!” It reveals me, and it also is me. Of course, like most adolescents, I didn’t always appreciate the gift that is my body. When period cramps left me vomiting from the pain, or when sweat stains ruined an outfit, I wasn’t particularly enamored of my fleshy parts. Furthermore, I struggled with the fact that no guys seemed to find me particularly attractive. I made it through high school without ever going on a date or being asked out. And looking for something to blame for my loneliness, I often wondered if my body was the cause. Was I too short? Too fat? Did I have too big a nose? Were my brown eyes too boring a color? Was my hair too frizzy?

God be praised, I had a lot of good things going to counterbalance this sort of negative self-evaluation: a loving family, close friends, encouraging teachers, and a low-key and welcoming dance studio. I also didn’t spend my adolescence alienated from the natural and healthy functioning of my body by being put on hormonal contraception (much gratitude to my Mom for both making sure this was an option for me, and also not making it feel like something that was forced upon me).

Most important of all, though, I had my faith. And while the message wasn’t always perfectly presented (or was even distorted by the occasional presenter) the truth that God made me, all of me, body and soul, and that He found that totality to be good and beautiful (and yes, desirable) settled down deep in my bones. And that deep down belief in the goodness of both my body and soul, and their interconnectedness (reinforced by some powerful prayer experiences) saved me from going too far down the path of self-hatred, and self-alteration predicated on that self-hatred.

Healing of the temptation towards hatred of, and alienation from, my body has continued into adulthood. Navigating my struggles with OCD and anxiety taught me (albeit painfully) that the body-soul relationship is more intimate than I can possibly comprehend. Taking the necessary steps to heal my body (brain included) had profound consequences for my spiritual life. Later, bearing and birthing three healthy children taught me to regard my body with greater awe and gratitude than I ever had before. My loving husband reminds me daily that he finds the totality of my being good and desirable, no matter my age or stage. Yet, these life experiences have left visible marks upon me. Stretch marks shine on my “mom pouch.” Fine lines cross my forehead. A thin band of white skin encircles my left ring finger.

But in our fallen world, and particularly in the era of social media, plastic surgery, and ozempic, such marks can become sources of shame and self-hatred. Recently, I came across a Facebook post that made me meditate on this painful reality more deeply. In the post, a mother bemoaned the lines on her forehead, which she compared to battle scars, and described the pressure she felt to use botox; particularly since most of the moms she knew were doing so. Most commentators chimed in, well-intentioned and sympathetic, saying how much better they felt about themselves after starting botox. Yet, reading it all, I found my heart hurting.

And into this heartache, stepped Anne Shirley. In Anne of the Island, Anne loses childhood friend Ruby Gillis to tuberculosis. Looking at Ruby’s body, the ever-sensitive Anne reflects on the beauty Ruby has found in death:

“Ruby had always been beautiful; but her beauty had been of the earth, earthy; it had had a certain insolent quality in it, as if it flaunted itself in the beholder's eye; spirit had never shone through it, intellect had never refined it. But death had touched it and consecrated it, bringing out delicate modelings and purity of outline never seen before - doing what life and love and great sorrow and deep womanhood joys might have done for Ruby. Anne, looking down through a mist of tears, at her old playfellow, thought she saw the face God had meant Ruby to have, and remembered it so always.”

For Anne, Ruby’s physical beauty was not, in and of itself, a bad thing. The problem was Ruby’s relationship with her physical beauty. First, it seems Ruby saw her physical beauty as her defining and most essential characteristic. It was a possession to “flaunt” in order to attract the sort of attention in which Ruby found her sense of self-worth. Hyper-focused on the “earthy” element of her human nature, Ruby neglected the “spirit,” and, in doing so, actually lessened the gift of her physical beauty. Or, as Anne puts it, “spirit had never shone through it, intellect had never refined it.” For Ruby, there was no self for her body to incarnate or reveal, there was no substantial “I” for which her body could say, “Here I am.” Though there was a “face God meant Ruby to have,” it is only in death that that face ultimately becomes visible.

And it is these God-given faces, “touched” by death, that women are constantly being tempted to erase. When “life and love and great sorrow and deep womanhood joys” leave their marks upon our bodies, when our bodies incarnate the fullness of the life we have lived, we are told to “fix” it. We are taught that we are valuable only when we can “flaunt” a certain type of beauty in the “beholder’s eye.” We are obsessed with the idea of creating the faces we want, rather than accepting the faces God has given, and is still giving, to us. We speak of empowerment, and transformation, and transcending unnecessary boundaries. And yet, we find no lasting satisfaction. There will always be someone with more money, more time, or better genes outperforming us. There will always be a point at which our bodies, despite the knives and needles, begin to fail, to break down, to “betray” us.

Yet, it is in the breaking down of such ephemeral features as youth and health and (narrow definitions of) beauty that room can be made for our bodies to do what they were given to us to do in the first place: to incarnate the invisible and spiritual, reaching out to others in self-giving love. To die so that more abundant life, and unimagined goodness, might be birthed. When we are willing to spend them in the service of God and neighbor, our bodies truly become “consecrated.” As expresses it (summarizing Pope John Paul II) it is in then that the body “reliably does what it is made to do,” which is “bringing the invisible reality of the person into visibility-a quasi-sacramental motion.”1 And in death, when Ruby finally “accepts” the face God “meant [her] to have,” she is able to do exactly that. Beholding Ruby’s true beauty, Anne knows both her childhood friend, and the God who made her, more deeply, and “remembered it so always.”

But as Anne rightly intuits, such beauty comes from a right ordering of the relationship between body and soul. For the body and soul are meant to be in a loving marriage. Idolize one at the expense of the other, force one to be the entire “I” while neglecting or harming the other, and the marriage fails. We are left broken and incomplete. And as Christians have long recognized, it is the body that we are tempted to, time and time again, idolize at the soul’s expense.2 This is especially true in a culture that has lost its belief in the immaterial soul, in an identity given to us to discover (not to make up wholesale) by a transcendent God. Rather, our culture asserts that “the locus of personal identity” is “my chosen meaning of myself, which is by definition extrinsic to the embodied state.” Even as we believe this, “simultaneously we elevate the body’s appearance as a means of personal happiness, a performance of identity, and even a brand, in ways that stress our physicality’s meaning-bearing capacity beyond what it can bear.”3

This is not to say that caring for the body’s appearance is always a sin, or that finding some sort of happiness in cultivating our physical beauty is wrong. After all, there are many beautiful churches in the world which “incarnate” the gospel truths preached there, often in a distinctive artistic mode particular to the community that built it. Indeed, these great churches almost seem to have a “personality.” And often, there are protections in place to prevent the “personality” of these historic churches from being completely altered, or outright erased, to fit the beauty standards of a time and culture different from that in which they were built. There is a recognition that their age, their history, even (at times) their scars and imperfections, have an important story to tell. For Catholics like myself, such churches are indeed analogous to our bodies, for through them (though not only or mainly through them), Jesus Christ can say “Here I am.”

And if we treat our church buildings with such respect and reverence, and delight in their beauty, how much more ought we to do so with out bodies? Bodies like the one God took upon Himself; bodies that that same God promises will be resurrected and glorified just as His own body was. Therefore we can accentuate our bodies’ given and pre-existing beauty with makeup or well-made clothes, just as a cathedral is decorated with beautiful artwork or masonry. We can care for our bodies’ health with exercise and the virtue of temperance, just as a church is healthiest when it is actually used as a place of worship, and cared for by those who worship within it. When our bodies suffer ill-health, we can (by all moral and legitimate means) seek the recourse of medicine and specialized help to restore them, just as Notre Dame Cathedral was restored by specialists when it burned down.

For me, the difference between this sort of attitude of care, and the modern tendency to “stress our physicality’s meaning-bearing capacity beyond what it can bear,” can be summed up by the terms “stewardship” and “erasure.” Stewardship recognizes that the body is gifted to us in order to incarnate an invisible reality. My body is good and beautiful because it was made by God, and for God. While I don’t need to do anything to it to make it good, I can (because it is good) care for it and adorn it, using discernment of what that looks like given my particular vocation, cultural context, and temptations. And if I am to be a good steward of my body, I must be a good steward of the totality of which it is a part; I must ensure that the marriage between body and soul remains harmonious and whole. And it is only by having an intimate relationship with the God who made me such a curious body-soul creature that I can truly do so. If I want to be truly beautiful, I must worry more about conforming the totality of my being to Christ’s image than molding my body to imitate the unrealistic images I see on Instagram.

In contrast, an attitude of erasure sees the body not as a gift given for a specific purpose, but as a possession without a telos that I must simply make the best of. Indeed, it is the only material out of which I can make an “I.” Ignorant or uncaring of the body’s spouse (the soul), in partnership with whom the body ultimately achieves immortality, an attitude of erasure refuses to accept the body’s limitations; they must be destroyed. And if they can’t be destroyed, then they must at all costs be hidden. An attitude of erasure might also lead to hedonism, making the best of an embodied existence that is often inconveniently (and heartbreakingly) painful. INdeed, the Gnostics “operating on the assumption that since the body is evil it doesn’t matter what you do with it” did exactly this.4 Trapped in the attitude of erasure, I might also find myself saying and/or thinking something like, “I can’t be seen like this” when the makeup is removed, or the weight is gained, or the skin is wrinkled, or the clothes are “unfashionable.” In locating my sense of self, and my self-worth, entirely in the alterations I have made to my body, it literally feels like there is no “I” when such alterations are no longer present. And left alone without “spirit” to shine through my body, or “intellect” to refine it, I must seek more alterations and more additions or risk free-falling into the (apparent) emptiness underneath.

And as Ruby is when death inexorably approaches, I will be unprepared. Unprepared, I will, again like Ruby, panic. As Ruby confesses to Anne, though she nominally believes in heaven, she fears it because, “it won’t be just the same. It can’t be. I want to go on living here.” Ruby cannot conceive of deeper joys and truer loves than what her “earthy” and “insolent” beauty has brought her. She has not stewarded the self God gave her, she has all but erased it. Yet, it is that which she most fears that restores the fullness of God’s image within her. The consecrating touch of death “bring[s] out the delicate modelings and purity of outline never seen before” in her face. Contrary to all worldly wisdom, death and suffering beautify Ruby beyond all telling, preparing her body for the day when it will be reunited with its soul in a union too wonderful to imagine. And for us too, death and suffering, particularly suffering chosen out of self-sacrificial love, can beautify us, far more than any procedure or product ever will. Just as the Resurrected Christ is beautified by the nail-marks of his victorious love, I believe that I will someday be beautified by the marks that “life and love and great sorrow and deep womanhood joys” have made upon my body. God grant me the grace to cherish those marks in the meantime, and learn to accept the unique face He always meant me to have.

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Roxaboxen

• Background information

  • Author: Alice McLerran, Illustrator: Barabra Cooney (Author/Illustrator of Miss Rumphius)

  • Setting: Yuma, Arizona during the early 20th century

  • Summary: Roxaboxen describes a special town created by a group of imaginative children. Each child has their own house and/or business within the town. From broken bottles, white stones, and desert plants, the children create a wonderful world all their own. Though the children eventually grow up and move away, they never forget Roxaboxen. Interestingly, it is based on a true story; the author’s Aunt Frances is one of the founders of Roxaboxen.

• Themes

  • Imagination/Creativity

  • Beauty of the natural world

  • Gratitude for what we have

  • Finding joy in simple things

  • Childhood

• Discussion Questions (For parents to use with their children):

  • When and where do you think this story took place? What clues in the pictures make you think this?

  • How did the children come up with the name Roxaboxen? Do you think it is a good name? Why or why not?

  • Why do you think the children created Roxaboxen?

  • Who were some of the children who played in Roxaboxen? Which of the children do you like the best? Who would you want to be friends with?

  • What did the children use to make the houses and streets of Roxaboxen? If you were in Roxaboxen, what would your house look like?

  • What did children use for money in Roxaboxen? What kinds of things could they buy? If you were in Roxboxen what would you sell?

  • What were some of the games the children played? Which games do you think sounded the most fun? Are there any new or different games you would like to play in Roxaboxen?

  • What was your favorite part of the story?

  • What pictures did you like best?

  • What are ways you use your imagination to play? Why do you think it is important to use your imagination?

  • Why do you think the children still remembered Roxaboxen when they were grown up?

• Extension Activities

  • Find Yuma, Arizona, on a map. Look up pictures of what the town looks like now.

  • Create your own imaginary town with some friends, whether an indoor blanket fort, or an outdoor house. You could also create a miniature cardboard town, or outdoor town/fairy garden.

  • Create a story about your own imaginary town and illustrate it.

  • Make “Broken Glass Jello” or ice cream in a bag

    • https://www.foodlibrarian.com/2009/03/broken-glass-jello.html

    • https://houseofnasheats.com/ice-cream-in-a-bag/

  • Plan a day trip to Lavender Pond Farm (which has a “Fairy Trail” with little fairy houses reminiscent of the creativity used to build Roxaboxen)

    • https://www.lavenderpondfarm.com/pages/visit-summer

Summer of the Monkeys

• Background Information:

  • Author: Wilson Rawls was born in 1913 in the rural Ozark Mountains. There were no schools near where he lived, so his Mom taught him and his siblings. As a teen/young adult, he traveled throughout the US, South America, and Canada as a construction worker. He began writing stories but was embarrassed by their quality and spelling issues, so he kept them locked away. He married Sophie Styczinski in 1958, who encouraged him to submit one of his stories, which she helped edit. It was serialized in a magazine and eventually became the beloved novel, Where the Red Fern Grows. This book was published in 1976.

  • Summary: Jay Berry Lee has moved with his parents to Oklahoma, where his grandfather has offered them free land. His twin sister Daisy has a crippled leg that his parents hope to have surgically fixed when they save up enough money, but it is an expensive operation. One summer day, Jay discovers a troop of escaped circus monkeys in the woods, and learns that there is a reward offered for their return. Jay, who desperately wants a gun and a pony of his own, is determined to earn the reward. But capturing monkeys is a much more difficult task than he anticipated!

• Themes

  • Family

  • Coming-of-age or “growing up”

  • Determination and Perseverance

  • Self-Sacrifice

  • Faith

  • Hope

• Discussion Questions (For parents & children, or for children when chatting with each other)

  • Compare and contrast Jay and Daisy. What is their relationship like? Does their relationship remind you of any of your relationships?

  • Who is the Old Man of the Mountains? Why is he an important figure in the story? What do you think he symbolizes (or represents)? Consider Daisy’s quote in Chapter 14 especially, “Just because you didn’t see the Old Man of the Mountains doesn’t mean that he wasn’t there. He’s always there. If you ever believed anything in your life, you can believe that.”

  • How has Daisy’s suffering shaped her character and personality? Are there ways that this suffering has been used by God for her and her family’s good?

  • Compare and contrast Jay’s relationship with his Mama and his Papa. What are the different ways they help Jay? How do they show they care about Jay? Do they treat Daisy differently than they do Jay? Why or why not?

  • Why do you think Grandpa suggests that Jay catch the monkeys in the first place? How would you describe their relationship?

  • Why is it so difficult to catch the monkeys? Which plan seemed the best (at least initially)? Which confrontation with the monkeys did you find the funniest? Why?

  • If you were Jay, what plan would you have come up with to try and catch the monkeys?

  • What do you think Jay’s father means when he says, “I just hope you haven’t overloaded your wagon. It’s not good for a boy to want something with all his heart and then be disappointed. Things like that hurt for a long time.”? How does that compare to the advice he gives to Jay at the end of Chapter 13?

  • Grandpa says, at one point, “I found out a long time ago not to pay too much attention to the women. They don’t mean half of what they say anyhow.” Do you think this is good or bad advice? What do you think the women, like Mama, Grandma, and Daisy, might say about the men?

  • For much of the story, Daisy seems to be a happy and cheerful child, despite her disability. But Grandma tells Jay, “I don’t think your little sister is as happy as she lets on. She just doesn’t want to worry anyone.” Do you think Grandma is right? Why or why not? What does Jay’s reaction to this quote reveal about his character?

  • Why do you think Daisy has such a passion for/interest in being a nurse and “taking care” of Jay when he is ill?

  • If you were Jay, would you keep trying to catch the monkeys after repeated failures? Why or why not?

  • If you were Jay’s parents, would you allow him to keep trying to catch the monkeys after multiple failures, and injuries? Why or why not? Why do you think his parents allow him to keep trying?

  • Why is the trip to town a significant event for Jay? How does the town compare to the country?

  • Grandpa says, “You know, an old man like me can teach a young boy like you all the good things in life. But it takes a young boy like you to teach an old man like me to appreciate all the good things in life. I guess that’s what life’s all about?” Put this quote in your own words. How do you see this quote “in action” in the story? Is there a person like Grandpa in your life?

  • Describe the different moments in the story where Jay grows up and/or becomes more mature. Think also about times when he comes to realize that there is more “going on” (for example with Daisy) than he realized. How do these moments change Jay?

  • What is the legend of the fairy ring? Why do you think Mama calls it a “miracle”? Why is this an important moment for Jay’s character?

  • Do you agree with Papa’s assertion that “I don’t think that the Lord meant for our lives to be so simple and easy that every time we wanted something, all we had to do was wish for it and we’d get it.”? Why or why not? What does Papa say is the best way to make a wish come true? What are some stories you know, whether from the saints, the bible, or your life of “wishes” coming true?

  • How does Jay finally catch the monkeys? Why do you think the author chose this way? What message or lesson might he be trying to convey with this decision?

  • What does Jay ultimately decide to do with the reward money? How does his Grandpa help him decide? Why do you think the adults don’t force Jay to use his money in a certain way?

  • What does Mama choose to keep at the end of Chapter 18? Why?

  • Mama claims that “All four of our wishes have come true. It was the work of the Lord. It couldn’t have been anything else.” Where are moments you see the “work of the Lord” in the story. What are some stories you know, whether from the saints, the bible, or your life where the Lord works to make miracles happen?

• Extension Activities

  • Look up the Ozark Mountains on a map and look at pictures of them. Research the flora and fauna of the area.

  • Visit a zoo with monkeys and learn more about them.

  • Create your own “monkey trap!”

  • Make “Monkey Bread”

    • https://kidfriendlythingstodo.com/mini-monkey-bread-decorated-with-powdered-sugar-kid-friendly-things-to-do-com/

  • Create an alternative cover for the book

Death Comes for the Archbishop

• Background Information:

  • Author: Willa Cather, b. 1873 in Virginia, moved to rural Nebraska at age 9, later attended University of Nebraska. Some of her most famous books are set in Nebraska. Worked as journalist in Pittsburgh and New York City, focused on her own writing full time in 1911. First woman to earn honorary degree from Princeton, died 1947. In her faith life, she was born Baptist, became Episcopelian, but had a lifelong respect for/appreciation of Catholicism (conveyed in several of her novels) such that many readers assumed she converted to Catholicism.

  • Historical Context: Written in 1927 but set in the mid to late 19th century, Death Comes for the Archbishop is a fictionalized account of the real-life Bishop Jean Baptiste Lamy and his Vicar-General Joseph Projectus Machebeuf (renamed Jean Marie Latour and Joseph Vaillant for the novel). Composed as a series of vignettes (a series of short scenes/moments that go back and forth in historical time), the novel explores the friendship of these two men, their love of Christ, and the difficulties of their missionary task. After its war with Mexico, the United States acquired land from Mexico, and a new diocese of New Mexico was created from this purchase (the diocese was vast, covering several modern states). The Bishop of this land faced a culturally diverse flock: Indigenous peoples of various tribes (some of whom retained indigenous beliefs/practices while outwardly professing the Catholic faith), Mexican Catholics descended from the original European settlers, Catholics of mixed Indigenous and European ancestry, and American Catholics. Cather explores the tensions between these groups, and the difficulties Latour and Vaillant (aka Lamy and Vaillant) faced in meeting and honoring the diverse needs of these groups. Historical figures, such as the American frontiersman Kit Carson and the schismatic priest Father Martinez, also make appearances, along with characters invented by Cather.

• Themes:

  • Friendship (Particularly Christian friendship)

  • Vocation (And sacrifice for the sake of vocation)

  • What is means to be American

  • Holiness and Virtue (What they look like in different states and stages of life)

  • Good vs bad priests

  • Sacraments and Sacramentals

  • How people are shaped by the land, and how they shape it in turn

  • Faith and Conversion (As well as hypocrisy when it comes to preaching, but not living, the faith)

  • Role of the Natural and Supernatural in the world and the life of faith

• Questions:

  • Why does the novel start at the Vatican? How does this opening setting, and the Cardinals who live there, compare with the setting of the rest of the book, and the people who live there?

  • What do we learn about Latour and his character from this first scene?

  • Reflect upon a time you found God speak to you in/through the natural world.

  • What are some of the cultural tensions/groups revealed in “Hidden Water”? How does this palace serve as a place of rest and refreshment to Latour?

  • What do we learn about Vaillant’s character in “The Bishop Chez Lui”? How are he and Latour similar? How do they differ?

  • What do you think of the retelling of the story of Guadalupe? Why do you think Cather includes it? How does each priest respond to the story?

  • Are there any Marian apparitions that you find particularly meaningful in your own faith life?

  • What obstacles to the faith does Vaillant face in “The White Mules”? How does he approach them? Do you think his approach is good, bad, or a mix of both?

  • What is the importance of Latour and Vaillant’s encounter with Buck Scales? Why do you think Cather chose the name of Magdalena for his wife?

  • Compare and contrast Father Jesus de Baca with Father Gallegos. How do they exercise their ministry? How does Latour choose to shepherd each of them? Does he make wise choices in your opinion?

  • Why does Jacinto, despite his attachment to the pagan practices of his people, ultimately respect Father Latour? What can we learn from their relationship about accompanying “cultural Catholics”?

  • The chapter about Acoma is especially exemplary of something that is central to Cather’s writing: her assertion that the land shapes the people who live on it, and the culture they create (faith included). How does this play out throughout the entire book? What landscapes have shaped your Catholic faith, or the Christian/Catholic faith of your ancestors?

  • Why does Cather recount the story of Father Baltazar? How does his attitude towards, and treatment of, the Native people contrast with that of Latour’s?

  • What does Bishop Latour witness in the cave with Jacinto? Why does the cave inspire horror in him? Do you think Carson is right to assert that the ‘Indians’ will never be separated from their own beliefs? How does Latour seek to strike the balance between correcting false beliefs/superstitions, and respecting/incorporating “seeds of the gospel” in Native American culture/religion? Do you think he is successful or not?

  • What contradictions and ironies does Cather display in the person of Father Martinez? How does he both fulfill and break stereotypes of a “bad priest”? Why does Latour delay discipling Martinez? Do you agree with Latour’s reasoning, or Father Vaillant’s?

  • Why is the story of Father Lucero included? Do you believe he is truly repentant at the end? Why or why not?

  • How do Latour and Vaillant differ in their approach to Madame Olivares? Which do you think handles the situation better? Why do you think this vignette, which concerns less seemingly “serious” or “important” matters, is included?

  • How does Cather capture the importance and beauty of Marian devotion throughout the novel? Which Marian scene/moment was your favorite?

  • What do we learn about Latour and Vaillant’s past in “Spring in the Navajo Country”? How does their past help us to better understand their actions in the story’s present? Why do you think Cather chooses to reveal such information later in the book, rather than at the start?

  • Why is the Cathedral so important to Latour? What does it represent to him? How does the Cathedral he is planning represent his goals as shepherd of his unique diocese?

  • How is Latour and Vaillant’s friendship, and their commitment to Christ, tested in this section? What can be learned from each man?

  • What was a time you had to make a serious sacrifice for the sake of a call or “mission” from God?

  • How does Latour prepare for/approach his death? What legacy does he leave behind?

  • How does Vaillant’s death compare with Latour’s? What legacy does he leave behind?

  • What does the final flashback to Latour and Vaillant’s past reveal? Is there something of a “role reversal” from this point in their relationship to what comes later?

  • Overall, what were your thoughts on this book? Did Cather portray the faith in a way you found accurate and/or compelling? What were your favorite vignettes or characters?

• Extension Activities:

  • Try cooking some New Mexican dishes, like Chicken Chile Verde or Posole

  • Look at pictures (with your family!) of the real-life churches mentioned in the book, such as El Santuario de Chimayo, The Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi in Santa Fe, and San Estévan del Rey Mission Church Historic Site

  • Take a Virtual Tour of the “Cliff Palace” in Mesa Verde National Park

  • Do some research about the real-life Archbishop Lamy (there was a Pulitzer Prize winning biography of him written in 1975 by Paul Horgan)

• Additional Resources:

  • We read this book at read this book last year, and created several resources to go with it.

    • Introductory Podcast (For which I was a guest) and Closing Podcast (listen to AFTER you’ve read if you care about spoilers)

    • Read Along Guides: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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The Origins

As with so many things, it all began in Ancient Greece. And as with many things in Ancient Greece, it all began with Greek politics. Public speakers, whether at “law courts or public meetings” seeking to make a splash, would maintain “an assortment of arguments in a ‘common place’ for easy reference.”1 Philosophers like Aristotle might also use such documents to record their “observations, quotations, and ideas” for “later use.”2 Another term for these repositories was hypomnema (Greek: ὑπόμνημα). The word can be translated in a variety of ways, including “a reminder, a note, a public record, a commentary, an anecdotal record, a draft, a copy, and other variations on those terms.”3 Even at this initial stage, the overall concept of the common place book, a place to record important information that you later intend to reference and make use of, is already present.

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Fierce Fighters

It is up to you, dear reader, how to take this poll. You may go the route of which character you find more iconic/likeable, or which character would win in a fight (assume everyone is at their fighting best).

Fiece Females

Again, I leave it up to you how to interpret this poll. Which fierce female would outmaneuver the other? Which is the more iconic literary creation?

“Dante has grasped the great essential which is so often overlooked in arguments about penal reform, namely, the prime necessity of persuading the culprit to accept judgement. If a man is once convinced of his own guilt, and that he is sentenced by a just tribunal, all punishment of whatever kind if remedial, since it lies with him to make it so; if he is not so convinced, then all punishment, however enlightened, remains merely vindictive, since he sees it so and will not make it otherwise. It has been well said by a saint that the fire of Hell is simply the light of God as experienced by those who reject it; to those, that is, who hold fast to their darling illusion of sin, the burning reality of holiness is a thing unbearable. To the penitent, that reality is a torment so long and only so long as any vestige of illusion remains to hamper their assent to it; they welcome the torment, as a sick man welcomes the pains of surgery, in order that the last crippling illusion may be burned away. The whole operation of Purgatory is directed to the freeing of the judgement and the will. Hell is the fleeing deeper into the iron-bound prison of the self…Purgatory is the resolute breaking-down, at whatever cost, of the prison walls, so that the soul may be able to emerge at last into liberty and ensure unscathed the unveiled light of reality.”

-Dorothy Sayers (Introduction), The Purgatorio

Notes: Never thought about that aspect of prison reform, for so many I think issues with idea of hell/purgatory is that distrust of the tribunal/judge, idea that it somehow it isn’t fair/we can’t deserve punishment. Dante shows that same sins can land in hell/purgatory, only difference is if we accuse/judge ourselves (recognize need for cure) or refuse self-accusation/judgement (refuse believe need cure)

“Their desire is turned to the torment as aforetime to the sin; they suffer no coercion but their own unwavering will…It is of course, open to anyone to say that the whole idea is morbid and exaggerated-open even to those who think nothing of queueing for twenty-four hours in acute discomfort to see the first night of a musical comedy which lasts three hours at most, which they are not sure of liking when they get there, and which they could see any other night with no trouble at all. Heaven offers only joy eternal and inexhaustible, and offers it once and for all. It is a question of value and proportion.”

-Ibid.

Notes: Love her sharp humor, reminder of how we’re willing to go through “purgatorial” sufferings for trifles, but complain about the idea for the greatest good of all

“A ‘historic sense’ in criticism is good and valuable in so far as it reveals to us the situation in which, so many centuries ago, men of like passions with us found themselves, and enables us to interpret their behavior. It is mischievous in so far as it encourages us to dismiss our forbears as the mere creatures of a period environment, and therefore wholly unlike us and irrelevant to us or to present realities. Our best cure for over-indulgence in the ‘period-sense’ is…the realization, that is, that today is a historic period like any other. Those preferences which appear to us self-justified out of all argument belong to a period attitude, no less (if no more) than the corresponding preferences of fourteenth-century-people…[the people of the future’s] journalists will use ‘twentieth century,’ as ours use ‘medieval,’ by way of a handy term of abuse for such crudities, cruelties, and superstitions as they may happen to disapprove. We cannot, after all, have it both ways. If all truths are period products, then our own standards offer no secure basis for passing judgement on those of former ages; if any truths have claims on universality, then every claim, old or new, requires to be examined on its merits.

-Ibid.

Notes: Can see why she and Lewis got along (essay on reading old books as cure for being too stuck into your own age/buying its assumptions uncritically), also shows the logical flaw and arrogance of a lot of modern criticism of the past/tradition

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Current Reads:

1. Reread: The Two Towers By: J.R.R. Tolkien

   1. Tolkien’s focus on community and friendship is really sticking out to me this reread. Finding local friendships, and maintaining long-distance ones, has been a serious (and at times disheartening) struggle of my adulthood. Tolkien’s work reminds me how important it is not to give up on the endeavor of forming/feeding friendships and embedding myself in my local community. And this is because such endeavors are among those unhistoric acts that contribute to the growing good of the world (as George Eliot would say). In The Two Towers, the friendship between Merry and Pippin allows them to maintain hope in the face of their captivity by orcs, and strengthens them such that they are able to escape when the opportunity arises. And by escaping, they run into Treebeard, with whom they develop a touching friendship, and help inspire the Ents to destroy Isengard. Likewise, the friendship between Gimli, Legolas, and Aragorn strengthens them to pursue the captured Merry and Pippin, which pursuit leads them to Rohan in its hour of need, which leads to Rohan being able to come to Gondor’s aid, which leads to there being an army to distract Sauron so that Frodo and Sam can bring the Ring to the only place where it can be destroyed, which leads to Sauron’s ultimate defeat. And of course, the beautiful friendship between Frodo and Sam, and the love they share for the community of the Shire, is the only reason the Ring makes it to Mount Doom in the first place. In short, good friendships and good communities save worlds and defeat evil; though such friendships and communities may initially seem far removed from the “main events” or lack “major players.” So I will keep plugging away at tending to my friendships and my community, and trust in the Divine Providence that will bring good out of it all.

2. New Read: Body and Identity By: and This is Happiness By: Niall Williams

   1. I am so grateful to and for putting Angela Franks’ book on my radar (to read an interview with her click here). Franks’ description of the narcissistic character of our culture, which all of us are affected by, is both painful and spot on. And her exploration of the history of thought around the concept of “identity” is incredibly thorough. Unlike many commentators, she doesn’t assume that our age of “liquid bodies and empty selves”(as she terms it) is a product only of recent history. Finally, I am thoroughly enjoying the mental workout that is reading Franks’ book; some intellectual muscles are being stretched that haven’t been used in quite a bit! On the fiction side, This is Happiness is providing a helpful balance to my other two reads. A contemporary novel set in rural Ireland in the 1950s, it is a charming read. I love the narrative voice Williams has developed for Noe. And having recently read two other novels by Irish authors (Maura Laverty and Mary Beckett), it’s been interesting to see what is common among them and what characteristics might be said to “define” the Irish novel.

Recent Commonplace Quotes

1. “I stayed in the cellar. For the two solid hours allotted us for preparation I stayed there. I wandered about examining every bottle and taking a drink here and a drink there. And one tasted better than another. The good mellow satisfying ale of Milton, the heady bubbling champagne of Shelley, the tingling burgundy of Browning. Byron was rum and whiskey and other virile manly drinks tat filled you with the reckless courage of the Corsair himself. And the Sonnets were liqueur brandy, every tantalizing drop amber-rich in fire and light and color.” (Delia Scully, Never No More By: Maura Laverty)

   1. Maybe at some point I’ll stop talking about this book. But it’s hard not to rave about it. I love Delia Scully’s comparison of her poetry anthology to a drinks cellar. I’ve long loved the idea of your home library operating as such a cellar: a repository of “drinks” that will be brought out at the right time and the right occasion, with favorite “bottles” receiving multiple visits. I also love the way Delia draws out the truth that reading is not merely an intellectual/abstract activity. All the best readers know that there is a real physical dimension to reading; we can all bring to mind cherished memories of reading that are based on the sights and sounds and scents that were part of that particular reading experience. Or we can think about the way certain books are easier/better to read at specific times of the year, just as certain foods and drinks are tied to certain seasons. Finally, I think it would be a fun exercise to assign drinks and/or foods to all of my favorite authors, or even to specific books by my favorite authors. Feel free to share thoughts about this in the comments!

2. “Imagination, always so far in advance of reason, or even propriety, carries me to further lengths, and obliges me to go upstairs and count laundry in order to change current of ideas. ” (Narrator, The Provincial Lady Goes Further, E.M. Delafield)

   1. This book was a thoughtful birthday gift from my Mother-in-law, and a much needed breath of fresh air in the midst of reading about Kristin and Erlend’s questionable life choices. While the first book in the series is my favorite, the sequel is still charming and hilarious. This line pinpoints a lot of what I found appealing in both books. There are times when Delafield holds up a mirror, and gently invites me to have a good laugh at the reflection I see, and to not take myself so seriously. There are so many times that I have become stuck in my head in various ways that are “far in advance of reason.” And the best solution is almost always to come down to earth by focusing on the physical duties of the life to which God has called me in order to “change [the] current of ideas.”

Excellent Earworms:

1. Music: Dance to You All Night (Odhran Murphy), One Last Drink (Enter the Haggis)

Substack Shares:

• The Maturation of Mutual Submission By: : This was a thoroughly well put together post that will, I think, enact genuine good in the lives of every one who reads it. Dr. Bottaro’s application of Newman’s criterion for genuine development of doctrine to this topic is incredibly helpful. And his insight into the ways that poor interpretations of biblical headship cause genuine harm, and are often times part and parcel of the very ideological currents that people who defend such interpretations decry, is fascinating. Finally, the historian in me wanted to learn so much more about the examples of female leadership within the medieval church that Dr. Bottaro described.

• Reviewing Every Adaptation of Little Women (Part 1, Part 2) By: : I’m a sucker for pretty much any Little Women content, so this deep dive into its various adaptations was right up my alley. I also appreciated the love that both the PBS adaptation (which I think, despite the portrayal of Amy being on the weaker side, is overall stellar) and the 1949 adaptation got. The 1949 adaptation is particularly nostalgic for me, as it was the first film version I saw, and therefore forever shaped how I picture the characters. It also inspired me to read the actual book, and it was shown to me by my late grandmother. And because of the meaning that movie has for me, I found Kate Marigold’s point about the choice to not age Beth, and the potential symbolism of that choice, very intriguing. Always nice to look at something beloved with fresh eyes.

• Pressure Cooker Life By: : Leah’s beautiful writing and undeniable wisdom has provided a great deal of food for thought. I really enjoyed the specificity of the pressure cooker metaphor she used in this post, because boy oh boy could I relate.

  • “No matter how many times I see the image of my Lord, crucified, I still squirm away from the crosses His Father places upon my own back. Isn’t there some other way? I ask. Can’t I have the homeschool life I want, instead of this other thing You’re asking of me? It’s a fine question, I think. Jesus had a Gethsemane. And even if our crosses are far less weighty than the sin of the whole world, I think we are permitted our own Gethsemanes, too. God asks many things of us that we wouldn’t have naturally chosen for ourselves, and the agony of prayer happens in the gap between. But the Christian life has to find its peace, in each cross-bearing, with the eventual admission: Not my will, but Yours, be done.”

• How far back in time can you understand English? By: : This was just so much fun. I loved this imaginative tour through the English language, and the detective work I had to do further and further back to get the gist of what was going on.

Little Bits of Life (Updates from the real world):

The garden is officially underway, thanks to my husband’s hard work. I’m most excited for the peas this year; they are popular with everyone in the house (which can’t be said for most vegetables) and their flowers are absolutely beautiful. We’ve finally had some genuinely warm weather and I couldn’t be more thrilled. It truly feels like a mini-resurrection of sorts: not only is the natural world coming back to life, but so is my mood. And watching the joy of my coatless children running around and wondering over the bulbs is pretty special. Alas, though, no joy in this world is unalloyed. My husband already found the first tick of the season crawling around on his leg.

As Lent wraps up, God has lead me to consider, rather than adding more to my plate, I learn to be content with my plate as it already is, and actually/thoughtfully/gratefully “consume” the good things He has already put in front of me. It turns out that I am the spiritual equivalent of my 3-year-old screaming and crying for “mooooooore” even though she has been given what is appropriate for her needs and appetites, and will not actually consume anything extra that is added to her plate. Like my daughter, I can get caught up in, as a priest termed it in confession, setting the expectations for God rather than letting God set the expectations for me. I compare my plate to that of others with different needs, metabolisms, and appetites than myself and, in doing so, ignore the goodness and (over)abundance and opportunity right there in front of me. I am not truly trusting that my Father in heaven knows what’s best for me. I am trying to bite off more than I can chew in an effort to somehow “prove something” to Him, to others…and to myself. And boy oh boy does the imaginative, overachieving “exceptional student” in me not want to hear that I really shouldn’t, and maybe even can’t do more. Limits are uncomfortable and humbling and, in our culture, even embarrassing things. But to become like the child worthy of entering the kingdom of heaven, they might very well be exactly what we need.

Polling the People:

Last poll, I asked about which genre of literature you would like to read more of. Predictably, Classic Literature and History/Historical Fiction tied for first place (32% each). Poetry came in a strong second with 26% of the vote; it’s where I might put myself as wanting to/feeling the need to read more of. Feel free to offer me some recommendations. Memoir/Autobiography had only 6% of the vote, and Contemporary Fiction 3%. I would like to read more contemporary fiction with some guidance. It can feel really hard for me to justify spending time and/or money on something that I might very well find a waste of mental energy (can you tell I’ve been burned before?), which is why I tend to gravitate towards classics. But if I want there to be classics worth reading in the future, I know I need to devote at least some time to contemporary authors. So, again, feel free to shoot me some recommendations in the comments.

For today’s poll, inspired by the quote from Never No More, I am asking you to tell me about your ideal reading (seasonally based) scenario. Is it something you’d answer differently at different times of year, or do you have an unchanging and ideal Platonic form of a reading environment?

Because the polls have word limits, read the following descriptions first, then vote!

1. Spring: A picnic blanket spread out next to a babbling brook. Wildflowers all around, a light breeze rustling through fresh green leaves. A cup of homemade lemonade to drink.

2. Summer: A towel (or folding chair) on a sunny beach (that is miraculously uncrowded). Ocean waves crashing, a cold beer (or margarita) to slowly sip on. No sunburns allowed.

3. Fall: Sitting at a table next to the window of your favorite coffee shop, which is located in a quaint pedestrian only (or at least traffic light) main street. Tea and/or coffee on the table with you, along with your favorite pastry. A comfortable sweater wrapped around you.

4. Winter: A squishy armchair by a roaring wood fire. Hot coco and cookies on the side table next to you. Favorite blanket(s) keeping your toes warm. Christmas tree lit up nearby.

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Fierce Fighters

It is up to you, dear reader, how to take this poll. You may go the route of which character you find more iconic/likeable, or which character would win in a fight (assume everyone is at their fighting best).

Fiece Females

Again, I leave it up to you how to interpret this poll. Which fierce female would outmaneuver the other? Which is the more iconic literary creation?

I hoped you enjoyed this little literary diversion. Next round will be sometime…soon (say the next 1-2 weeks). Sound off in the comments about how you determined who won!

And I think my ability to enter into the novel, to feel as if I am a part of Delia’s world, is due to the deceptive simplicity of the novel. It’s premise is easy enough to understand: a young girl (Delia) goes to live with her Gran after her father’s death, and the removal of her mother and siblings to Kilkenny. Delia’s years with Gran at Derrymore House are the years of her coming of age, as she struggles to find her place in the world, navigate her first love, survive a tumultuous schooling experience, and more.

But Delia’s journey to adulthood is far from an isolated quest. For Ballyderrig is a tight-knit community, and the stories of its members are intimately entangled. To understand a particular event, or place, or person, Delia must tell us the history lying behind and beneath those particulars. Such a meandering style can take getting used to. But once the reader surrenders, it is a delight to be carried along on the stream of stories. Mary Beckett’s Give Them Stones, which I read last year, shares some of this discursive style. Additionally, both books are narrated by an Irish woman reflecting on her past. It would be a mistake to push such similarities too far; Beckett and Laverty created very distinct heroines. But a shared cultural context undergirds such books, and reading Beckett prepared me to read and appreciate Laverty.

For some readers, the way that Laverty (and to a lesser extent Beckett) can’t seem to “focus” on the main narrative might seem frustrating at times. But aside from the moving moments of pure pathos and uproarious comedy that come from the “side stories,” they are important for the main narrative. For example, as Delia embarks on her first romance, she can look to the fairytale-like example of beautiful Maggie Carroll, whose husband defied his parents in order to marry her. Another possible outcome is represented by the tragedy of Sarah Gorry, the town prostitute; her first (already married) love abandoned her when she revealed her pregnancy. Through the unique stories of the unique individuals that make up the community of Ballyderrig, Delia learns the capacity for great sorrow and suffering, and great laughter and love, that life possesses. And more and more, she comes to realize that most lives will contain healthy doses of both: neither pain nor pleasure are permanent.

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