On a Recent Edition of Frankenstein

There are so many books coming out that it is sometimes hard to keep up. And yet, there are many very good books that have been deemed classics that I have yet to read. In general, like many people, I probably invest too much time in the latest books, usually non-fiction, to the detriment of my exposure to well-weathered literature.

Karen Swallow Prior has been working with B&H to republish a set of literary classics in lovely bindings with helpful introductions and annotations to help contemporary readers access some good books from our literary past. So far the set includes Sense and Sensibility, Jane Eyre, Heart of Darkness, and Frankenstein. The general approach of the set has fit well with Prior’s earlier volume, On Reading Well, which encourages reading good literature for its ability to make us think morally, not simply to check a box on the Facebook “100 books every person must read” clickbait quiz.

Recently I picked up the new edition of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, which is a book I had never previously read. First, it is worth noting that the physical book is a nice edition. It is a cloth hardback volume with quality paper, an easy-to-read font, with space between the lines and on the margins for notes and for the delight of the eyes. Unlike many reproduced classics, this is no cut-rate production that saps the energy through the process of trying to decipher tiny text on gray paper. Second, the introductory material is actually helpful. Too many reproduced classics have academic essays that diverge from framing the context for contemporary readers into second and third order scholarly debates that do little to help the average reader gain access to the information. Prior demonstrated restraint and focused on the most helpful bits of debate that actually pertain to the text (not its later interpretations), which makes the introduction worth reading before and after tackling Shelley’s work. Third, Prior frames the book for a Christian audience, which can be helpful. Instead of pushing the reader toward feminist interpretations or whatever neologism a particular scholar may be interested in, Prior offers some helpful points for consideration without providing the answers. Along with this, there are some reflection questions at the end of each of the three volumes of the book to encourage dialogue or reading with others.

The themes of Frankenstein are helpful for contemporary readers. Though the technology Victor Frankenstein uses to reanimate his monster is obviously fictional, it points beyond to moral questions of our own day like cloning, artificial wombs, and in vitro fertilization. Frankenstein conquers nature by “creating” life and that creature subsequently conquers him, taking away much of his joy, harming those he loves, and eventually resulting in his own death. In many ways, Shelley shows that by moving beyond the limits of nature, Frankenstein has really conquered himself. One great difference between Victor Frankenstein is that the misery caused by his invention has consequences that he himself feels, while many modern innovations externalize costs to another locality or a later generation. But a thoughtful reader may look around and wonder in what ways he or she is working to create a monster.

Readers should be grateful to Karen Swallow Prior for her work on this project and to B&H for refreshing these works of literature for contemporary readers to enjoy, discuss, and grow through. These volumes promise to be resources that can be appreciated for decades to come.

Breaking Bread with the Dead

The life of the mind is a topic of growing significance as the pace of change, with its assaults on our mental stability, continue to accelerate. Some sources estimate there are more than 2 million books published worldwide each year. And that volume of content is in addition to the newspapers, magazines, blogs, tweets, and emails that also vie for our time.

Along with the flash and glamour of new publications, our attention is also directed to “old books,” which are often celebrated as “classics” that are critical to becoming properly formed as humans or derided as elements of a “racist patriarchy” that must be resisted by any means and at any cost.

In three books, written through the last decade, Alan Jacobs has drafted a series of books that wrestle with the life of the mind, the nature of reading, and value of ancient literary history. This is an odd series. Each book comes from a different publisher, has a distinct thesis, and wrestles with a different topic. There is no thematic unity and little hope of a boxed set, which seems to be the hallmark of such sequences in our day. The progression of topics, too, does not seem as unified as one might expect.

And yet, Jacobs admits that these books are in a series, and that they are related, as disparate as they may seem. The careful reader will, indeed, find that there is a connection between them all. Not a connection that requires reading the books in sequence, but that these are markers, perhaps, staking out the boundaries of a mind alive to the unity of the world and its possibilities. The series is by no means complete, so it will not surprise me to find another short book set out to help readers navigate the modern world, published in a few more years.

Jacobs is, by profession, a teacher of literature. He has also done significant work as a cultural critic. In this he is much like C. S. Lewis, a thinker with whom Jacobs has demonstrated significant interest and expertise. It is not difficult, as a result, to find echoes of Lewis throughout Jacobs’ work, especially in this latest book, Breaking Bread with the Dead, which shares a common theme with Lewis’ essay, “On the Reading of Old Books.”

Breaking Bread with the Dead obviously comes out in favor of reading old books. But read in context with The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction, it is abundantly clear that Jacobs is not advertising the “checklist” approach of slogging through “Greats,” which is a quest to max out your score on Facebook quizzes and a recipe for gobbling a gourmet feast without savoring the marinated centuries between works—in other words, it represents the sin of gluttony. Rather, he is arguing that reading old books is necessary to understand our times and to live in them.

Jacobs clearly states this goal toward the end of his introduction,

To open yourself to the past is to make yourself less vulnerable to the cruelties of descending in tweeted wrath on a young woman whose clothing you disapprove of, or firing an employee because of a tween you didn’t take time to understand, or responding to climate change either by ignoring it or by indulging in impotent rage. You realize that you need to obey the impulses of this moment—which, it is fair to say, never tend to produce a tranquil mind.

This book is an essay that wanders toward a single goal, rather than an argument with chapters neatly divided into segments of support and refutation. It is a literary essay that seeks to deal with the questions of the day. One of the most pertinent questions for our tiny historical moment is whether one dare to read authors whose social and moral views differ—whether greatly or radically—from our own.

Jacobs begins by examining the problem of presentism, which is the tendency to see our particular cultural moment as the moral apex of humanity and to denigrate all who have ever had a differing opinion. Thus, the reading of Robinson Crusoe must be abandoned because it is racist, sexist, colonial, and a bunch of other bad things that are native and irrevocably attached to old, dead, white men. Jacobs argues that in order to properly understand our own moment, we must interact with minds that came before our moment, even when they do, in fact, have racist, sexist, and colonial ideas.

The concept for engaging with those we disagree with is represented as “table fellowship,” which is obviously conveyed by the title of the book. Jacobs understands this has the center of the book: “sitting at the table with our ancestors and learning to know them in their difference from, as well as their likeness to, us.” He argues that reading even those with whom we disagree—by inviting them to our table—we open ourselves up to a greater understanding of their time and ours. But at the same time, since we invite these sometimes-scraggly guests through the practice of reading, we control the interaction, so that when they get to rowdy we can, with little effort, simply disinvite them from the meal by closing the book and moving to another guest.

Breaking bread with the dead offers us challenges to our own worldview—exactly the reason many activist “academics” want them “cancelled”—and force us to examine our unexamined assumptions. They also force us to wrestle with the reality that our morality du jour has some of the same barbarities of a previous age (albeit with a different shade of lipstick) and that it sometimes is a positive logical outcome of a trajectory we might find in older literature, if we but take the time to consider it. Reading old books helps us to understand ourselves and our time better.

As morality has become increasingly unpinned from any sense of permanence or overt morality, the pace of change from one absolute standard to another has become exhausting. A group of racist trolls on a social media site turn the “OK” symbol into a symbol for “white power” and suddenly everyone who uses the symbol, with its long-standing cultural significance, is now complicit in white supremacy. Unless, of course, someone who is of the right color or political affiliation uses it, in which case it means what it has consistently meant. The tyranny of the present undermines every sense of peace. As Jacobs argues, reading old books is the best way to remind ourselves of our own finitude, the temporary nature of our culture’s moral conclusions, and deepens our souls to better understand those who differ from us. In other words, breaking bread with the dead helps make us more human and reminds us of the humanity of others.

Breaking Bread with the Dead: A Reader's Guide to a More Tranquil Mind

By Jacobs, Alan

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NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume with no expectation of a positive review.

The Neglected C. S. Lewis - A Review

One of the greatest frustrations for fans of C. S. Lewis is the number of fake quotes attributed to him. Some of them seems as obvious as the old joke, “Never trust information from the internet – Abraham Lincoln.” Some of the misquotes are, however, less obvious fabrications that distort people’s understanding of C. S. Lewis and undermine his legacy by trivializing it.

There are several contributing factors to the regular misquotation of C. S. Lewis. First, Lewis was a fabulous writer with a gift for turning a phrase, so he is imminently quotable. This is nowhere more apparent than in the exceedingly useful volume edited by Wayne Martindale and Jerry Root, The Quotable Lewis, which serves as a topical index of much of Lewis’s thought as well as fodder for social media posts.

A more significant contributor to the misquotation of Lewis is that too few people have read enough C. S. Lewis to recognize the difference between the true and counterfeit quotes. Many Christians know the name but have read nothing, so they like and share fake quotes out of ignorance. Many others have read some of the A-side works of C. S. Lewis: The Chronicles of Narnia, Screwtape Letters, Mere Christianity, or another of his more popular works. Nearly everything Lewis wrote has some value, so readers ought not to be discouraged. But there is an entire B-side of C. S. Lewis’s writings that are much more rarely discussed, even in academic research on Lewis and the Inklings.

Professionally, Lewis was a university level teacher of English literature. While his apologetic work was prolific and lucrative (he gave most of the money away), he also made significant contributions in his academic discipline. The books he wrote on literature and theory are often unknown even to fans of C. S. Lewis. And yet, his English Literature in the Sixteenth Century Excluding Drama was a landmark work comprehensively researched. His Discarded Image and Allegory of Love continue to be texts used in classes on medieval literature in both secular and religious academic settings.

Mark Neal and Jerry Root have set out to provide an introduction to some of the B-side works of C. S. Lewis in their recent book, The Neglected C. S. Lewis. In this relatively short volume, the authors explore some of the less popular works of Lewis that are no less valuable in understanding the mind of C. S. Lewis and, in fact, help illuminate what he does in some of his more popular works.

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This is not a comprehensive volume. There are number of neglected works of Lewis that Neal and Root do not explore, likely because of space constraints. However, the volumes they do highlight are helpful. In the eight chapters of this text we get an overview of (1) The Allegory of Love, (2) The Personal Heresy, (3) Arthurian Torso, (4) English Literature in the Sixteenth Century excluding Drama, (5) Studies in Words, (6) An Experiment in Criticism, (7) The Discarded Image, and (8) Selected Literary Essays.

Some of these volumes are difficult to find (especially Arthurian Torso and English Literature), while others have been reprinted by reputable presses to ensure continued availability. The common links among them are they tend to be connected to Lewis’s proper field of study rather than his more popular apologetic work.

It might seem to some readers of Lewis enough to read Chronicles, Mere Christianity, and Screwtape, enjoy the readability and devotional quality, and move on. However, to understand the framework that Lewis is working from (which he partially unpacks in essays like “De Descriptione Temporum,” which is his inaugural address for his Chair at Cambridge), scholars and students need to read beyond the A-side of Lewis’s works into his more neglected works.

Neal and Root have done a great service to the field of Lewis studies by providing an accessible introduction to some of Lewis’s lesser-read works. This is the sort of auxiliary text that could accompany a college course on C. S. Lewis that is housed in the English Department of a university. For those engaged in the academic study of C. S. Lewis, this is an exceedingly helpful way to get an overview of and prioritize the study of volumes that are important, but off the beaten path.

The target audience of The Neglected C. S. Lewis is not the high school aficionado or the casually interested. However, this survey of some of the neglected works of Lewis is an essential part of a Lewis scholar’s library and a key resource for those looking for new areas of study in the increasingly crowded field of Inklings studies.

The Neglected C.S. Lewis: Exploring the Riches of His Most Overlooked Books

By Neal, Mark, Root, Jerry

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NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume with no expectation of a positive review.

The Year of Our Lord 1943 - A Review

The title of Alan Jacobs’ most recent project, The Year of Our Lord 1943, sets the stage for the book but it does not limit the contents. To many readers, the subtitle offers some clue to the contents, but raises additional questions as well. After all, the word “humanism,” even as it is set in context of the full subtitle—Christian Humanism in an Age of Crisis––has competing definitions and in some cases is perceived to be inconsistent with “Christian.”

The crisis of 1943, at least, is obvious to anyone even vaguely aware of World History. This was the year that the Allies became confident that the Axis forces would be defeated. The tenor of the war effort changed, from a hope of survival at great cost, to the expectation of the enemies’ unconditional surrender. It was a time when people began to think beyond the war to what life after the war would look like.

Jacobs focuses on one particular school of thought, which he calls “Christian humanism.” The definition of this movement is complex, but can be summed up as effort to use literature to morally form people into good citizens. This approach to moral formation is built on Christian sentiments, in particular, since Christian humanists saw the Christian faith as the only foundation suitable for a just society.

The Year of Our Lord 1943 is an ambitious work. It surveys a wide range of sources, but mainly deals with the work of Jacques Maritain, T. S. Eliot, C. S. Lewis, Simone Weil, and W. H. Auden. Dorothy L. Sayers, Hannah Arendt, Jacques Ellul, and others make appearances, but the first five are the main cast. Not only is this an impressive lineup of writers whose work Jacobs digests and presents, but at many points their vision of the good society is different. They had a common core of ideas, to be sure, but their ideas for what good should look like and how it should be obtained were variegated. The work is also impressive because Jacobs weaves the various streams together rather than using a purely chronological or topical approach.

This book is important because it recounts the debate of that day and documents the thinking of the side whose ideas were generally not implemented. Thus, this book helps tie together what are now prophetic themes about how society could have been better ordered.

In 1941, the great choice would have been whether or not to do what it took to survive. Nearly any means is deemed acceptable when a nation is staring down destruction or enslavement. However, as the tide of World War II was turning, the question of whether the technocratic policies and processes that were used to help organize the war effort would become permanent fixtures of society was a more pertinent one.

The question the thinkers discussed in this book were wrestling is still a pivotal one today: What does it look like to be human in a modern world?

This is what many of Jacobs’ projects have been about, especially in recent years. It also marks a perennial question that humanity has traditionally debated, but has lately seemed to get buried beneath a wave of social media, constant entertainment, and unthinking busyness. If nothing else, this book is a call for people to wake up and begin to question whether they are asking the right questions.

The Year of Our Lord 1943 is an excellent book. For those that are intrigued by the ferment of thought that comes from Christians exploring the good society in the early- to mid-twentieth century, this book will prove to be a helpful reference. It combines history, literary analysis, and thoughtful critique in a readable text that both enlightens and invites further study. For those who are simply interested in a well-told intellectual history, this volume will provide an enjoyable experience. Those who are trying to figure out how to relate their Christianity to the idea of a good society will find this book useful, as well, as Jacobs helps expose readers to old books by writing a new book about the authors of some of the most important, but often unconsidered, texts of the modern age.

The Year of Our Lord 1943: Christian Humanism in an Age of Crisis

By Alan Jacobs

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On Reading Well - A Review

It is a general rule that when Karen Swallow Prior writes something, you should read it. Her latest book, On Reading Well, is no exception.

In this volume, Prior brings her lifelong interest in literature, which has culminated in her work as a professor of English, and an interest in seeing people–particularly Christians–live ethically.

Her thesis in On Reading Well is that careful reading of literature forms the human soul. Even books that were not written with a specific moral—and perhaps especially those not written with a specific moral—can be morally formative when the story is well-told. In one sense, we borrow the memories of the characters by living their experiences vicariously when we read carefully.

To carry out her mission, Prior selects twelve books that might find their way on the reading list of university syllabus in any setting, then explores their moral terrain. A clear message from Prior’s curated list is that we can learn from the human condition well explored, whether or not we agree with the theology of the author.

The literary discussions are framed in terms of virtues, with four chapters on the cardinal virtue, three on the theological virtues, and another five on what Prior calls the heavenly virtues. When the virtues are discussed as concepts with their substance filled from contemporary sources, such approaches often fall short of the mark. This structure works and is edifying, in part, because the content of these virtues is filled with substance from the Christian tradition, with influence from classical thinkers who have also influenced Christians throughout the centuries.

I have previously read most of the works Prior covers. In some cases, it has been several decades. There were four chapters on material I have never read (I won’t say which, lest some readers get judgmental.), but Prior’s careful discussion enables even an unexposed reader to gain from the chapters.

Readers will benefit more from the book if they have read all of the literature Prior discusses. Perhaps the most beneficial approach would be to read the particular work of literature just prior to reading each chapter. However, for those simply seeking to grow and better understand how humans ought to live, this book can stand on its own.

At one level, this is a book that teaches readers about ethics. At another level, On Reading Well is a warm invitation into the world of literature. This invitation is extended graciously and unpretentiously.

Reading literature is important for those seeking to really know people around them. This is especially true of pastors and theologians. As a theologian, I have found that my ability to empathize with others, to understand, and to explain hard concepts clearly ebbs and flows based on my reading. One might think this would have primarily to do with the theology that I read, but it has more to do with the literature that I am reading. Specifically, when I am reading imaginative stories (not all of which is quality literature), my imagination is invigorated. I am equipped with clearer illustrations of sometimes complex theological or ethical concepts. Often these are not drawn specifically from the book that I am reading, but simply a reflection of the pattern of thought that comes from reading a good story well told.

Prior taps into the link between the moral imagination and reading. We are formed by what we read and how we read. A subtext throughout this volume is the call to read and think carefully about the books we encounter. This is no guide to chugging through an arbitrary list of supposedly important texts, but a demonstration of the sort of thoughtfulness that should characterize the time we spend partaking of good books.

On Reading Well is enjoyable for its quality as a book in itself. For those who enjoy reading literature, it is a treat worthy of a fireside reading. This has a place in the library of homeschool families, where it shows what close reading looks like and may help some families move beyond the list of reading comprehension questions into discussions about the soul of the literature they encounter. Pastors can benefit from this by exploring thought beyond the bounds of commentaries, the latest non-fiction volumes, and even classical theological works. The church will benefit if the men called to preach are reading good books carefully, even if it does not lead directly to sermon references.

On Reading Well: Finding the Good Life through Great Books

By Karen Swallow Prior

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NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume from the publisher with no expectation of a positive review.

The Gospel in Dorothy L. Sayers - A Review

Dorothy L. Sayers is one the most brilliant writers of the twentieth century. Her work spans a number of genres, from detective novels, to religious stage productions, radio dramas, apologetic essays, and translations of Dante’s Inferno and Purgatorio that are still in print.

Sayers is less popular than C. S. Lewis, in part, I think, because he wrote children’s literature that draws new generations of readers more readily into his camp. Sayers was, however, no less witty and intriguing a figure as Lewis.

In fact, it is encouraging that more of Sayers’ work seems to be returning to print. There are a number of her essays that are hard to find, but which politely dismember opposing arguments in terms that make the power of her logic perfectly clear. Her detective novels, which are now somewhat dated period literature, are good stories in addition to their subtle arguments for truth. Christians, especially evangelical Christians, need a good dose of Dorothy L. Sayers.

The latest release in the Plough Publishing series celebrating the gospel in a range of writers is The Gospel in Dorothy L. Sayers. This anthology curates selections from all genres in chapters focused on particular topics like judgment, equality, creativity, and the cross. In some cases, entire essays are reprinted, like her powerful and satirical essay, “The Dogma is the Drama.” In other cases, the editor has selected a few paragraphs from a novel, or a scene from a play.

This book may not be the best place to start for those who are seeking to learn about Dorothy L. Sayers.  Though the anthology shows the range of her work, much of the power of her writing takes chapters to unfold. Her characters grow, mature, and endear themselves to readers over several novels. For example, her portrait of Bunter, one of my favorite characters in all of literature, can only be fully appreciated by reading all of the Lord Peter stories.

My concern with the approach of this volume is that people will miss the genius of Sayers while getting the idea that she was moralistic in her writing, because of the topical selections. There is no question that the gospel is woven through Sayers’ writing, but her work is worth exploring because it is good even before its moral power becomes apparent. Sayers herself, I believe, would shudder to think that people would read her work because she is a Christian rather than for the artistic quality of it.

At the same time, with the growing interest in Sayers studies, this is a timely and helpful volume. For those who have already come to appreciate her work, The Gospel in Dorothy L. Sayers offers a buffet to sample some of her other offerings. Also, the book can make a handy reference volume (much like books of quotes by Chesterton and Lewis) since it can be hard to remember just where and exactly how Sayers said something in one of the books one has read. The editor has done well to select many of the most significant passages, such that this book may serve as a shortcut for those writing on Dorothy L. Sayers.

The Gospel in Dorothy L. Sayers: Selections from Her Novels, Plays, Letters, and Essays (The Gospel in Great Writers)

By Dorothy L. Sayers

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NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume with no expectation of a positive review.