Category Archives: books

Books for the waiting.

Advent, books, poetry, , ,

O Key of David and sceptre of the House of Israel;
you open and no one can shut;
you shut and no one can open:
Come and lead the prisoners from the prison house,
those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.
     -Antiphon “O Clavis”

Orthodox Christians keep a 40-day fast before the Feast of the Nativity of Christ, so we get a head start on those whose Advent starts around the first of December. This year one of the books our parish women’s reading group has chosen for this time is Behold a Great Light: A Daily Devotional for the Nativity Fast through Theophany, edited by Lynnette Horner. It contains short meditations from Fr. Basil Ross Aden, Elissa Bjeletich Davis, Fr. Stephen De Young, Fr. Stephen Freeman, Fr. Michael Gillis, Laura S. Jansson, Nicole Roccas, and Brandi Willis Schreiber. These are interspersed with hymns and Scripture readings of the season.

I noticed that in the Audible format, most of the contributors read their own writings, and I know I would like to hear their voices, but I didn’t get the audio version, because in general I need to read in print anything that I want to meditate on, so that I can pause and think as needed.

Also this year I am trying to read a little of Winter Fire every day. It is a collection of Christmas themed writings from G.K. Chesterton, compiled by and commented on by Ryan Whitaker Smith. Last year I read only a tiny bit from it. Day One of the book begins like this:

It was in the season of Christmas that I came out of my little garden in that “field of the beeches” between the Chilterns and the Thames, and began to walk backwards through history to the place from which Christmas came. —The New Jerusalem (1920)

So begins The New Jerusalem, G. K. Chesterton’s travelogue chronicling his journey to the Holy Land. But before the destination, there is the journey. For Chesterton, it begins in a backyard in Beaconsfield, England, as the large, mustached man unlatches the garden gate and sets off on his adventure. Perhaps yours begins in a kitchen, with a strong cup of black coffee, or in a comfortable corner of the living room, the windows limned with frost. For me, it begins in a home office I affectionately call “the library,” as the fields around my house are blanketed with early morning fog. Regardless of our various points of departure, this book is an invitation to link arms and set off together, as we “walk backwards through history to the place from which Christmas came.”

Note that “I am trying” to read every day. Over the years, and I remember as far back as junior high, I have never had the kind of discipline — or the mind? — that it takes to engage with these daily-reading books as they are meant to be used. I can’t imagine Chesterton reading such a book. Typically the meditations that are included by the editors don’t provide the kind of stimulus or reminder that helps me to think or pray better, so it often feels like a waste of time.

You’d think that a book of Chesterton’s writings would solve the problem for me — we shall see! The latter part of the book, after the Advent readings are done, consists of essays, poems, stories, and even recipes. So far my weakened mind is deterred somewhat by the long paragraphs in the essays, which were not a problem for readers a hundred years ago. It would have been helpful if Mr. Smith had taken the liberty to add a few paragraph breaks occasionally. At the same time, I know it will be a good exercise to settle in and force myself to ponder what only amounts to a few pages in one sitting.

One Christmas book that I definitely enjoy is Malcolm Guite’s Waiting on the Word: A poem a day for Advent, Christmas and Epiphany; poems are the easiest form for me, in which to discover the rich meaning of the season that is full of mystery. It was a little miracle that I could find it last month on my mostly unorganized shelves, and now have it handy on my nightstand.

Guite chooses from many poets a selection of poems that give voice to his belief that “…the the advent of Christ has for us a triple focus.” There is the first coming, in the Incarnation of the Word and His birth in Bethlehem, and the Second Coming of Christ in majesty, at the end of time. In between, “there are many other advents.”

“In our encounters with the poor and the stranger, in the mystery of the sacraments, in those unexpected moments of transfiguration surely there is also an advent and Christ comes to us.”  

It might well happen that some of His comings to us will be through the pages of our books. In any case, Come, Lord Jesus!

A song for a journey.

books, music, , , , , , ,
Anke Eismann, Bilbo Baggins

Today is Hobbit Day, that is, the birthday of both Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. Maybe next year I will manage to have a party in their honor. I only thought of it a week in advance this year, and that’s not enough time. Besides, Monday is not the best day for a party.

Has any of you, my readers, ever hosted or attended an event on Tolkien’s birthday or that of his hobbit characters? We had one at our house on January 3rd (Tolkien’s birthday) a long time ago, and it was a lot of fun. But this year, I’ll just post this song (with a musical link below it) from the tale of hobbits and their adventure:

MISTY MOUNTAINS

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale;
Then dragon’s ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall, to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

I like the YouTube video of Clamavi De Profundis singing “Misty Mountains”, an expanded-version cover of the original soundtrack of “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.” The song comes from the chapter “An Unexpected Party” of The Hobbit, and this group adds verses from later in the book. It’s not a poem I am likely to memorize, but the tune I can’t get out of my head. That’s okay. Its mood seems to be in harmony with my own daily paths:

The King is come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Ivan Aivazovsky, Darial Gorge

 

The pages turn you.

books, poetry, , , ,

YOU TURN THE PAGE

André Derain

“Whenever I see someone reading a book . . . I feel civilization has become a little safer.” Matt Haig, How to Stop Time

You turn the page because you have to know—
because the youthful wizard is in trouble,
because the wife’s about to pack and go,
because you just like living in this bubble
of graceful prose and other people’s ills
and joys, because turning the pages makes
you see things from a new perspective, fills
your mind with more than you, and maybe breaks
your heart or your routine, or breaks apart
what’s rusted shut, or else draws a connection
where you thought there was none. And once you start,
the pages lead you to the intersection
of art and life and your own empathy;
the pages turn you toward humanity.

-Jean L. Kreiling

Jean Kreiling expresses so many of the reasons that we love to read — Did she leave anything out? I do like very much — often, but not constantly! — living in this bubble of graceful prose, even when the bubble doesn’t contain other peoples’ ills and joys. I hope my reading is doing all the positive things the poet sees. I read this poem Sunday afternoon to eleven fellow readers, when our parish women’s book group met on my patio and enjoyed our usual lively discussion of such pleasures. I’m also keeping it tucked in my purse to share with any friend or stranger I might meet, anytime our conversation turns to our latest favorite books.

Peter Kauflin, Once Upon a Time

Grandchildren are growing up.

books, family, food and cooking, ,

I recently had two of my grandchildren staying with me for nearly a week. Most of the days and nights I had either Ivy or Jamie, but one day and night in the middle of the span I got both of them together. It was the first time we’ve had so much one-on-one time in a short period, and now that they are 10 and almost 13 years old, our options for how we spend our hours are expansive. We never ran out of books to read together, music to listen to, or things to talk about — including those books, and the music.

For example, Jamie and I listened to The Story of Beowulf, and The Eagle of the Ninth; sometimes he drew pictures while listening. Ivy played her favorite U2 songs for me, and I showed her videos of her late Grandpa Glad singing — she was only two when he passed.

We took many walks near and far, and shopped and cooked together, making lemon curd, boba tea, Greek tzatziki, and plum cobbler.

Stirring tzatziki.
Chai boba tea

They both helped me in my big project of removing gravel from the plot where I’m going to plant my new manzanita McMinn. And the day we were all three together, we went to the beach, where it was overcast and 60 degrees all afternoon.

Greater Moon Jelly with sandy great toe for perspective.

Twice Ivy and I walked as far as the library and on to the grocery store, and with Jamie I went on a long lake stroll for which we drove a half hour to the trailhead. They both liked just rambling along the nearby creek almost daily, and remembering all the times they have done that before. Jamie wanted to find the rope swing that has been down there “forever,” but we never found it, and on the way back when we saw my neighbor watering his garden, he told us that the city always takes it down, and someone always puts it back up, but no one has put it up again for a few years.

We visited my friends and their chickens, went to church, painted, did housework together — and played Bananagrams more than once.

Ivy’s winning board

One thing we didn’t do was sleep overmuch. School does not start for them until after Labor Day, so they can catch up over the next couple of weeks. I don’t feel bad about neglecting sleep, as we were taking advantage of our unhurried and summery time together, which will never come again. It was restful to our souls.