the great books (xv) - the screwtape letters

I think The Badger might approve of this one (and I do have to confess to being influenced by him in choosing to pursue more Lewis reading).

I hesitated to include it here because this is ostensibly a list of works of fiction. But what is a mild dilemma for me is, fully and truly, the genius of Lewis. His choice to write about the Christian life and, in particular, the struggle of a Christian to overcome temptation and to be, with Paul, wise to the schemes of Satan, by means of letters from a senior devil to his nephew makes his work rise to a greater height than any straightforward work of theology could have attained.

I've quoted on this blog from it before, here & there. Those excerpts - and they could be multiplied many times over - show an acuteness of insight that regularly leaves me speechless with admiration and sombre in reflection. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

And if The Caped Marauder (sorry, The Masked Badger) and I ever get around to posting a list of theological works, I daresay it will appear there too.

Deservedly.

the great books (xiv) - the fall & rise of reginald perrin

The classic 70s series was based on the 3 novels by David Nobbs - The Fall & Rise of Reginald Perrin, The Return of Reginald Perrin and The Better World of Reginald Perrin. I've chosen the first of those for this list but all 3 are share the same attributes: warm, moving, funny, astute and humane.

If you aren't familiar with the TV series (three in all), Reginald Iolanthe Perrin worked for Sunshine Deserts, arriving late each day because of some (increasingly unlikely) rail problem. He chose to fake his own death and escape his old life. After working on a pig farm (I wonder where Nobbs got that idea?) he returned in the guise of an old friend of Reggie's and remarried his wife (although as Reggie's old friend). Then came the whole saga of his Grot empire and then, in the final volume, an ultimately futile attempt to meet the needs of a society that was breaking apart.

I don't currently own these books but I'm pretty sure that will change before too long. Maybe too rooted in the 70s for some, they nevertheless still ring true to life, albeit without the hope only the gospel can bring.

Having been chided by our Marketing lecturer for not including a bibliography with our essays (in early '83), I chose to include these novels on the bibliography of my next essay for him, because they had spared me sorrow upon sorrow as I wrestled with (what seemed to my undoubtedly depressed mind) a topic of no value or worth for human existence (the details of which failed to lodge in my soul). Mr Dawson (for it was he) didn't spot their inclusion on the bibliography until I pointed it out to him. He grinned weakly, in a way that Reggie would have understood.

the great books (xiii) - the lovely bones

In some ways, The Lovely Bones is best read alongside author Alice Sebold's memoir, Lucky. The latter is her account of her rape and near-death as a young college student; the former is her novel of a young girl's murder and subsequent life in heaven (we'll qualify that in a moment). Both are harrowing; both are, in their own ways, hopeful. Both are well-written; neither is maudlin or brutal.

Susie Salmon, the victim in The Lovely Bones, writes from, and of, heaven but the glimpses of it are relatively few; its concerns are more with life on earth and the impact of her murder on her family and friends. Sebold's writing on the topic is sharp and clear - almost icily so at times.

The heaven portrayed here is thin and watery; its happiness is detached and dulled. And Susie's own reconciliation with her death is via a consummated relationship in a brokered return to earth. What becomes clear, perhaps unintentionally so, is the fact that a disembodied reality cannot ultimately contain the fulness of joy we were made for.

And it will not; our adoption as sons will be completed with the redemption of our bodies.

the great books (xii) - red bird

Mary Oliver is a recent discovery for me in the world of poetry (I don't keep close tabs on what's going down in that world, I have to say). The first volume of her work I read was Thirst, which also happened to be her first collection of poems that handle a turning to faith in God. But it's her latest work, Red Bird, that I'm choosing for this list.

Her poetry is an absolute delight to me - it's the sort of poetry you 'get' on first reading and yet it calls you back again and again. First readings generally disclose a luxuriating moment; her use of ordinary language in service of joy and humanity marks her as a genius.

She may write a lot about nature but in a wholly different tone to Ted Hughes. And, latterly, her poetry has used meditation upon all things created as a doorway into time spent in contemplating and addressing the Creator.

I can't do better than quote here the following poem by way of example.

Maker of All Things, Even Healings

All night
under the pines
the fox
moves through the darkness
with a mouthful of teeth
and a reputation for death
which it deserves.
In the spicy
villages of the mice
he is famous,
his nose
in the grass
is like an earthquake,
his feet
on the path
is a message so absolute
that the mouse, hearing it,
makes himself
as small as he can
as he sits silent
or, trembling, goes on
hunting among the grasses
for the ripe seeds.
Maker of All Things,
including appetite,
including stealth,
including the fear that makes
all of us, sometime or other,
flee for the sake
of our small and precious lives,
let me abide in your shadow -
let me hold on
to the edge of your robe
as you determine
what you must let be lost
and what will be saved.

the great books (xi) - jewel

Don't be put off by the cover of this book (it proudly announces it was chosen by the Oprah Book Club.....) - Bret Lott's tale of the life & times of Jewel Hilburn is a classic work of American fiction. The first chapter contains some of the finest writing I've ever had the pleasure to read and the rest of the book confirms its early promise.

It's about....well, I don't want to give too much away (I read it through without reading the blurb, not wanting to have any short-circuits) but life-history & the redemption of suffering wouldn't be a bad summary.

It's a truly great read.

the great books (x) - the bell jar

The Bell Jar is Sylvia Plath's celebrated semi-autobiographical account of a descent into clinical depression and its treatment, of the failures of human relationships to secure stability and so much more besides. The struggles of Esther Greenwood (the main character) reflect deep disquiet with the social position of women, parental failures and much more. The lie that love and sex are the same thing is devastatingly exploded.

The writing has a cool objectivity that many have admired but is ultimately deeply disconcerting. The degree of detachment from the pain being described bears too much of the hallmarks of ongoing morbid fascination (or so it seems to me). There is not a shred of triumph here.

I've read this book probably three or four times. The first occasion was in early 1983 and co-incided with great depths of pain; I think for that reason I never made it all the way through the book. Returning to it some years later, and making it the whole way, left me thankful I'd put it down when I did. The sadness is unrelenting, all hope is qualified and life is demarkated as loss.

the great books (ix) - animal farm

George Orwell's fable of the Russian revolution is simple & enjoyable, clear & salutary. Its celebrated lines have already passed into common use ('but some are more equal than others' is but one example). That it is, in form, a fable makes it easier to spot the main lessons; but Orwell's skill is in masking deeper resonances within the simplicity. The scene in Jones' kitchen with the pigs faces resembling humans is devastatingly worked.

We have (somewhere in the house) a great reading of it by Timothy West - his voice was made for the task. The children loved listening to it on car journeys and sang along to 'Beasts of England' with great gusto.

Thinking about the book yesterday (see, these posts are not just 'off the cuff'), it struck me that Paul's letter to the Philippians might be helpfully explored through the lens of Orwell's yarn - I don't mean to make Euodia into a Napoleon but nevertheless I do think there's some mileage there.

So watch this space for 'Animal Church'.

Maybe.

the great books (viii) - to kill a mockingbird

Continuing the sequence of major prize-winning literature that this list is turning into - an Orange, & two Bookers to date - we now reach the Pulitzer-accorded To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee's most famous piece of writing.

It's a coming-of-age novel but that can never do justice to this fine, fine work. The story of Scout, her father Attitcus and the fabled Boo Radley is wonderfully observed and bravely raised a flag for the injustices of the deep south.

The least-churchy of the main characters, Atticus nevertheless displays the most consistently Christian behaviour. Perhaps unwittingly, Lee takes us on a side-journey into the waters of Romans 2, Luke 10 and James 2....not the hearers but the doers.

It took me a long time to get around to reading this but I'm so glad I did.

the great books (vii) - disgrace

Here we are again. And this time with a book I never epxected to read but found utterly enthralling, albeit not in any joyous way: J M Coetzee's Disgrace.

Rather than try to capture its central storyline and authorial intent myself (read: cannot do so), here is something lifted from Amazon which makes a fine job of doing so (although I'm not necessarily saying she gets it fully right...). All I will add is that the quality of Coetzee's writing is truly outstanding.

So, over to you, Rachel....

Disgrace takes as its complex central character 52-year-old English professor David Lurie whose preoccupation with Romantic poetry - and romancing his students - threatens to turn him into a "a moral dinosaur". Called to account by the University for a passionate but brief affair with a student who is ambivalent about his embraces, David refuses to apologise, drawing on poetry before what he regards as political correctness in his claim that his "case rests on the rights of desire." Seeking refuge with his quietly progressive daughter Lucie on her isolated small holding, David finds that the violent dilemmas of the new South Africa are inescapable when the tentative emotional truce between errant father and daughter is ripped apart by a traumatic event that forces Lucie to an appalling disgrace. Pitching the moral code of political correctness against the values of Romantic poetry in its evocation of personal relationships, this novel is skillful - almost cunning - in its exploration of David's refusal to be accountable and his daughter's determination to make her entire life a process of accountability. Their personal dilemmas cast increasingly foreshortened shadows against the rising concerns of the emancipated community, and become a subtle metaphor for the historical unaccountability of one culture to another.

The ecstatic critical reception with which Disgrace has been received has insisted that its excellence lies in its ability to encompass the universality of the human condition. Nothing could be farther from the truth, or do the novel - and its author - a greater disservice. The real brilliance of this stylish book lies in its ability to capture and render accountable - without preaching - the specific universality of the condition of whiteness and white consciousness. Disgrace is foremost a confrontation with history that few writers would have the resources to sustain. Coetzee's vision is unforgiving--but not bleak. Against the self-piteous complaints of all declining cultures and communities who bemoan the loss of privileges that were never theirs to take, Coetzee's vision of an unredeemed white consciousness holds out - to those who reach towards an understanding of their position in history by starting again, with nothing - the possibility of "a moderate bliss." --Rachel Holmes

the great books (vi) - home

To begin, a confession: I haven't finished reading this book yet. To continue, a defence: it belongs on this list, without a shadow of a doubt. It won a prize and deserves to have done so.

Some people say Marilynne Robinson's writing is luminous. Home certainly shines. They say it's profound; they're not wrong. This is writing that is simple and clean, not clever and soiled. It makes no pretences and offers no misplaced thrills. It invades the soul with the stealth of a virus but with none of its venom.

A storyline? Well, only being one third of the way through the book I can't say for sure (and wouldn't want to diminish anyone's experience in reading it). But it's ordinary people, set in the town of Gilead (the terrain for an earlier novel, some of whose characters reappear in this). It's the stuff of life and faith, of failure and love.

One reviewer (quoted on the cover) declares all other writing to 'seem jejune for ages afterwards'. I can imagine not wanting to read anything serious for weeks after the last page is turned.

Part of me never wants this book to end. And part of me scarcely wants to go on, for fear of collapse.

the great books (v) - the black cloud

From really good literature (Greene) to a really good story, with lots of science thrown in to boot. I read Fred Hoyle's The Black Cloud way back in 1976, during third form at Ysgol Glan-Y-Mor in Pwllheli, in company with a couple of friends (Howard Hughes & Andrew Harangozo). As I recall, we were enthralled by the story - it was, for us, real sci-fi; plenty of science, no fantasy elements.

In the years that followed I read most of what Sir Fred wrote - both on his own and in collaboration with his son, Geoffrey (I mean I read his sci-fi books, not his astronomy papers).

For anyone interested in a plot summary, click here.

I'd love to get hold of a copy just to re-read what first opened my eyes to a new genre of writing (new to me, I mean).

the great books (iv) - a burnt-out case

Having studied a Graham Greene novel at 'A' level (The Power and The Glory), I've always had a fascination with his work, not that I have read that many (5 or 6 novels perhaps).

Joining a book club years ago, I was able to pick-up a hardback copy of A Burnt-Out Case for next-to-nothing (we're probably talking 1981) and have read it through a couple of times, although some of the details escape me and demand another reading.

Querry is the hero - or antihero, perhaps - and his spiritual & moral condition is likened to that of a leper in whom the disease has burnt-out. As ever, Greene shows a deep awareness of human sin and brokenness but, perhaps, less of a sure grasp of the possibilities of redemption. You never leave one of his novels rejoicing but you sense a possibility for hope, albeit often dimly perceived.

But a very worthwhile read, none the less.

the great books (iii) - the remains of the day

An elegant, elegaic novel, written in almost sublime English by a Japanese author. First read this book when it was feted as the winner of the Booker Prize (circa 1989). I was hugely impressed. I read it again last year and remained so.

The story is clearly intended to work on many levels, all intertwined. Its narrator, Stevens, is clearly blind to reality; so, too, his employer. And maybe the reader. What is the nature of true service? What is loyalty? And what is the power and importance of love? All sculpted in beautifully-observed prose with a deep respect for words and language.

It was made into a film, starring Anthony Hopkins. Just to say: I've never seen the film but I scarcely doubt it could ever do justice to such a fine piece of writing.

the great books (ii) - the great gatsby

This was a book I bought on a recommendation of sorts and it sat (with many others) by my bedside for a few months, unread. I tried to start it but never got anywhere with it - the first couple of pages somehow just didn't draw me in.

I can't remember how it happened but at some stage I was drawn, slowly at first and then without any reserve. There are many layers to why I enjoyed the book so much: an enthralling story of deep human tragedy; the Jazz-age context; the New York setting. It has a lot going for it.

But it's the quality of the writing that really did it for me. Fitzgerald's writing by turn dazzles, intrigues and astonishes. He had a rare gift for conjoining words and images that seem at first sight thoroughly incompatible but which, on further reading, disclose a deep awareness of the possibilities of language.

Surely one of the greatest shorter novels of all time.

the great books (i): the thirty nine steps

The Badger and I have decided to blog 15 of our all-time favourite works of literature and I'm kicking the series off (you can find him at UnChristian Ministry).

My first choice is not a work of high literature but rather of high drama told with great skill. An old-fashioned adventure novel of the highest order that draws you in from the first page and, once there, the fate of Richard Hannay becomes an almost obsessively important part of your life, until the last page is turned and the final denouement complete.

I've read the book a couple of more times over the years (and some time ago seen the similarly-excellent film). I don't actually own a copy of the book, except as an ebook (which is the form in which I last read it a couple of years back). I do, however, currently have a bid on a Folio Society edition on eBay....

I've also read some other Buchan novels, notably Greenmantle, and whilst enjoying them too, I think this, for me, is his best work.