April in Review
This month was a light one for reading, contrasted with over twenty new books read last April. Having suffered a recent case of information overload, I concentrated on a therapeutic course of Delius, tea, and poetry. I transcribed a number of favorite poems into my Garland, and was further restored by Mary Oliver’s excellent and delightful handbook on metrical poetry, Rules of the Dance.
This month I have been reading aloud two books by Howard Pyle—Otto of the Silver Hand and Robin Hood. You can read about the first below; the second will hopefully be reviewed next month.
Books Read This Month
These are books that I read entirely for the first time this month.
I read the forward and I knew I would love the book; just a few chapters later, the book had a place on my wish list. The title itself is a delight and comes from a few lines by Alexander Pope: “True ease in writing comes from art not chance,/ As those move easiest who have learn’d to dance.” Mary Oliver, a winner of the Pulitzer prize for her poetry, expertly and winsomely teaches the rules of writing, scanning, and reading metrical poetry. Once these are understood, beauty and variety are achieved through accordance and embellishment. Topics include breath, pattern, energy, rhyme, and style. Half the volume is an illustrative anthology including some of the greatest metrical poetry in the English language.
(Those who want to read about metrical poetry in greater depth may be interested in Timothy Steele’s book All the Fun’s In How You Say a Thing.)
“Possible things are easy to believe. The Glorious Impossibles are what bring joy to our hearts, hope to our lives, songs to our lips.” Madeleine L‘Engle (who I know as the author of the science-fiction novel A Wrinkle in Time) presents a retelling of Christ’s earthly life and death accompanied by the frescoes of Italian Renaissance artist Giotto. The story is well-told—often thoughtful and compelling, though I sometimes missed the simple solidity of my King James Bible. As the story developed, however, major doctrinal differences surfaced. Here is a review of what I found to be the main problems (or opportunities for such). For some of you these may not be issues; others of you may find cause for concern.
L’Engle may plant a doubt of the Bible’s veracity when she states, “Was [Jesus] really gone three days as the Bible tells us? Or was it three hours? It really doesn’t matter.” The accuracy of the Bible does indeed matter!
L’Engle emphasizes the divine mystery of Christ’s incarnation and dual nature. It is indeed a wonderful mystery: “Like love, it cannot be explained. It can only be rejoiced in.” Not even grown-up scholars, L’Engle writes, can explain how Jesus was man and God. She would seem to suggest, however, the Nestorian view that Christ’s human and divine natures were separate. For example, she suggested that Jesus could have rejected either his humanity or his divinity, but his awareness and acceptance of his dual nature united them. (This is my own opinion of her view after reading this book.) This is not to be confused with the adoptionist view that Christ was born only human, and received his divinity at baptism. L’Engle believed, “Even for Jesus, the human being, his understanding of his Godness did not come all at once.” [emphasis mine]
L’Engle was a universalist, believing that ultimate salvation will come to each person. This is reflected in statements such as: “That business [of his Father], [Jesus] was to learn, was not the law expounded in the Temple. That business was not law—but love.” She wrote that Jesus “showed them a God of love rather than a punishing god who had to be placated by a rigid adherence to the rules.” These seemingly benign statements subtly denigrate the idea of a just God who does in fact require perfect holiness according to his law—which is why, in his love, he sent Jesus to save us. We can’t pit love and law against each other.—“Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” [Psalm 85:10]
L’Engle incorporates at least two instances of extra-Biblical story. She states as a matter of fact that (Saint) Veronica “compassionately wiped the sweat” from the brow of Jesus as he carried the cross. She also mentions “a story” that the cross built of the wood of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
(L’Engle’s statement “To be a Christian is to believe the impossible” is qualified throughout the story as what is “impossible with men.”)
As for Giotto’s frescoes, they are simple and reverent, though not acceptable to all creeds. The significance of halos, for instance, is interpreted differently by various groups. The figures of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the disciples, and others are shown crowned with halos. Some object to any pictorial representation of Jesus, per the second commandment. Others will not be bothered by images of Jesus, but perhaps to that of Jesus baptized without clothing; (private parts are not shown).
Delius as I Knew Him. Eric Fenby. ✩✩✩1/2
After learning that the composer Frederick Delius is helpless because of blindness and paralysis, young Eric Fenby writes a letter offering his services. The account of his six difficult but rewarding years in the Delius household is full of humor (Percy Grainger’s visit) and poignancy (Delius’s illness). It is a fascinating and intimate glimpse of a man whose hardness made him a difficult man, and an enduring composer. Fenby follows this account with an outline of their work method, a discussion of Delius as a man and as a composer, and an account of Delius’s death. As a Christian working with one devoted to Nietzsche, Fenby shares interesting insights into the ephemeral loveliness of Delius’s music: its pagan joy and lack of hope. Some statements indicate Fenby’s belief in ultimate, universal salvation. Fenby quotes a long passage of Ruysbroeck describing a mystical concept of contemplation of God.
Other Books
These are the books that I revisited or did not read completely.
This book features the portraits of thirty families from various regions and traditions, with the food and drink they consume in a week. We are given a glimpse not only into diet, but into the different cultures and communities around the globe—from the U.S. to Greenland to Mongolia to Bhutan. Agribusiness and the global market have profoundly affected even the most distant people, but a great deal of local color remains. Would you like a piece of whale blubber or a scorpion on a stick? You can always have McDonald’s. (My family enjoyed looking at the pictures, but didn’t do more than browse the text. There is some evolutionary content.)
Otto of the Silver Hand. Howard Pyle. ✩✩✩✩
Conrad of Drachenhausen is a robber baron in the days of lawless Germany. When his beloved wife Matilda dies, leaving an infant son, Conrad sends him to the sanctuary of a monastery and the gentle monks. Twelve years later, he takes his son Otto back to the castle, but only to the tragic result of revengeful spirits. Years ago I read this aloud to Biggest and Second Brothers. Even Papa joined us for the daring rescue by One-Eyed Hans. This month it was Third Brother’s turn to enjoy the medieval story of intrigue, escape, and ultimate sacrifice. “Better is a silver hand than a hand of iron.” A ”simple-witted” monk has visions of the Angel Gabriel.
America would soon celebrate its bicentennial, and Eliot Wigginton was approached about writing a commemorative book for children. Inspired by his work with Foxfire magazine, Wigginton asked himself, “What would happen if we had Navajo kids talking with Navajo elders, Chicano kids talking with Chicano elders, Eskimo kids—you get the idea. And what if we then brought the results of all those interviews together in on volume? What would we have then?” What we have is a fascinating view of American cultures in the twentieth century—full of stories poignant and humorous, opinions, beliefs, wisdom, and advice for the next generation.
In this (not) sequel to the popular book Down the Garden Path, Beverley Nichols takes us into his cottage. With a great deal of humor, Nichols shares the trials and joys of owning a cottage, decorating the rooms, managing a housekeeper, and meeting the neighbors. There are plenty of laugh-out-loud moments. (Nichols’s encounter with the Welsh dresser and other relics of the “Montagues” must have been my favorite part; I was divided between hilarious laughter and sympathetic nausea.) This light British humor was a welcome respite from more serious reading, though (as with Three Men in a Boat) I was distracted by the lack of a stronger story thread, and browsed rather than read through. The attractive Timber Press edition is a facsimile of the 1933 original, with Rex Whistler’s ‘graceful’ pen illustrations. There is plenty of humorous ‘innuendo.’ One character is interested in the occult.
This coffee-table book features high-quality photographs of artwork by A. E. “Beanie” Backus. The collection is introduced by a brief biography of the Florida artist, and an overview of his subjects and techniques. (We used this book for Picture Study, and you can see examples of Backus’s artwork here.) There is one painting of a nude.
Music
Frederick Delius’s sparkling Florida Suite brightened some of the time spent sick in bed. See my post “Delius in Florida” to listen to this piece and learn more about its inspiration. See above the review for Eric Fenby’s biography Delius as I Knew Him.
The radio played a jaunty “Chaconne” performed by lutist Rolf Lieslevand, but I cannot find the track for purchase anywhere. I love Baroque music!
While piecing a puzzle, Littlest Sister and I listened to the Via Crucis performance by Barbara Furtuna (translated “Cruel Fortune”), a polyphonic group of four Corsican men. Via Crucis is the ‘way of the cross,’ and the performance melded seventeenth-century compositions and traditional folk tunes to tell the story of Christ’s passion.
Photographs: Mary Oliver’s Rules for the Dance and a bright cup of Earl Grey.
Friday, April 27, 2012