The American Spirit by David McCullough

I bought The American Spirit by David McCullough while visiting a charming bookstore in the historic town of Hillsborough. McCullough is one of my favorite historians and this small paperback seemed approachable. I didn't realize it's simply a collection of speeches he has given over the years. Once I read the first one, I lost interest. It seemed too different from my expectations. But finally, I picked it up and read the rest. In one day. It's that good and that easy to lose yourself in. 

Each speech is a delightful slice of American History, tailored to the local audience. We meet interesting Americans and recall events organized around whatever theme upon which McCullough has chosen to focus. Each is only a few pages long, so it is easy to think, "Just one more." (Which I did until I finished them all!)

My favorite was a speech delivered at Hillsdale College in 2005 (probably not a coincidence, but in fairness, it was really good!), titled, "Knowing Who We Are." He uses the example of the Adams family, John, Abigail, and John Quincy to remind all of us the beautiful inheritance we've been gifted. I love Abigail's admonition to her son upon hearing that he has become a little too big for his britches after being given every advantage: 

"If you are conscious to yourself that you possess more knowledge upon some subjects than others of your standing, reflect that you have had greater opportunities of seeing the world and obtaining knowledge of mankind than any of your contemporaries. That you have never wanted a book, but it has been supplied to you. That your whole time has been spent in the company of men of literature and science. How unpardonable would it have been in you to have turned out a blockhead (p. 118). 

If I ever give a commencement speech of my own, I want to use this! I love this woman!

Despite my initial reticence, McCullough does not disappoint!

The Great Contradiction by Joseph J. Ellis

I seem to be on a Joseph Ellis kick. He's quickly becoming a favorite American historian. The Great Contradiction by Joseph J. Ellis dives into the two great missed opportunities at our country's founding: slavery and the treatment of Native Americans. 

He begins with the great conundrum faced by the Founders. Slavery was already entrenched and yet they had declared "All men are created equal." For the time being, it was enough to assume that meant each colonist was equal to the King. But in the back of their minds, they knew this could equally be applied to the slave. The immovable wall they faced was the how. The North began emancipation immediately in one form or another, but the South saw slavery as too entrenched. Fearing a decimated economy, and naturally suspicious of the other states, the South stood absolutely opposed to any movement away from slavery as a legal and recognized institution. 

Benjamin Franklin's Pennsylvania Abolition Society brought the issue to the first Congress to debate. Clearly the Founding generation knew this was a contradiction and many felt the sooner it was dealt with, the better. But the better angels making the case for freedom were silenced by a recalcitrant South. Not only was emancipation off the table, the first Congress decided to table the issue... indefinitely. They saw it as too inherently destabilizing. We need to remember how fragile The United States actually was. In truth, the colonies only united to defeat the British. That accomplished, they reverted to thirteen independent states, with little to no regard for a central national government. Like their European forebears, they squabbled and threatened each other. It was easy to envision one or more enlisting the help of European allies to declare war on another state. A complete lack of a functioning national government meant the union was helpless to defend itself. A nation not united would easily fall victim to any enterprising power with the patience to wait (see: War of 1812). Demonstrating the most human of all characteristics, they put the matter off for another day, hoping that the future would provide a way out they could not fathom. 

Recalling various missed opportunities, Ellis describes what he terms, "Unpainted Pictures." He begins with the number of African Americans who served in the fight for Independence. This provides a never-realized glimpse of what America could have become, a bi-racial nation embracing equality of all. The geography of the battle, however, worked against this vision. Most of the battle occurred in the North where few slaves lived, and therefore their service and possible emancipation were less threatening. The British had offered freedom to any slaves in the South that joined their ranks. Thousands fled. (Sadly, most of these died of diseases from which they had no immunity.) This meant the South spent their time fighting fleeing slaves rather than welcoming them into the fight against the British. Ellis seems to feel this was the biggest missed opportunity of them all. "The Cause," that is the fight for freedom and equality, was permeating the colonies. During the war, with all its exigencies, they had a chance to rectify a situation handed them by History. But despite the favorable winds, they simply could not overcome the status quo. Although fighting under the banner of The United States, each state felt the fight was for their own individual independence. Therefore any kind of national policy concerning slavery was impossible to pursue, despite the obvious benefits to The Cause.

The second area of contradiction was the treatment of the Native Americans. The Treaty of Paris, signed after the British defeat, gave large swathes of land to the newly formed United States. This effectively handed them areas previously claimed by the natives. America largely chose to treat the Indians, therefore, as a "conquered" people, although they had not, in fact, been conquered, and had not signed the treaty between the U.S. and Britain. While the newly formed American government debated how best to approach obvious conflicts over land, the new Americans took matters into their own hands. They poured into the newly won Western lands faster than the national government could create and enforce policies. One treaty that could have given the Native Americans most of Georgia, Mississippi, and Alabama was undermined by Georgia's state government. Not wanting to lose half of their territory, they encouraged white settlers to flood over the borders. Although the government of the United States had promised to enforce that border, the idea of going to war with its own citizen proved too preposterous to even contemplate. Besides, America had no army capable of protecting a border of the size promised anyways. Indian policy quickly became a loosing battle when faced with the insatiable desire for land from the white settlers.  

Ellis closes with a touching "Unpainted Picture" from Mount Vernon and Monticello. Both Washington and Jefferson saw the contradictions they inherited. Washington chose to free his slaves upon his death, and Martha, fearing an insurrection from her family slaves freed hers as well at that time. Interestingly, Washington divided Mount Vernon among his five inheritors, thus seeming to ensure the negation of Mount Vernon as place locked in time, forever identifying Washington as a slave-owning southern planter. He appears to have wanted a legacy centered around his contributions to the American project to define him. Shortly before the Civil War, however, a group of southern women bought up the property and restored the legacy Washington, himself, seemed to want to bury. 

Jefferson, deeply in debt, had no such luxury available to him. In fact, he did not actually own his slaves, his creditors did. They were sold along with all his possessions when he died. While he saw the contradiction between his immortal words and his life, his inability to resolve that contradiction seems, unlike Washington, to have entrenched his Southern Plantation Owner identity. Even Monticello became a picture of that contradiction: dark-skinned slaves were hidden from the view of visitors; light-skinned slaves, many related to the Jefferson family, populated the mansion. Jefferson became convinced that a bi- or multi-racial society was impossible (despite the fact that he lived it day after day in his own home). Back of the napkin calculations for removing the African Americans to Africa or even much farther West revealed the hopelessness of that remedy. If the most enlightened mind of the early 19th century could not discover a way out of the contradiction, many believed it must, therefore, be a truly impossible situation. 

Ellis does a beautiful job telling the story of the great contradictions at the heart of the American Experiment from the inside. We are left time and again wishing History could have proceeded in a different manner, yet time and again coming up against the hard wall of reality. While a few missed opportunities existed, the obstacles to living up to our ideals so early in The Experiment prove insurmountable. If the most educated and enlightened minds, those most familiar with the contingencies of their times, could not see a way through, we fool ourselves if we believe we could have done better. Ellis is both condemnatory and sympathetic. We, two and half centuries later, as least have the consolation of knowing that The Cause continued to inspire Americans to fight for the realization of our Founding principles. We continue to fight for them today. 

Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

I've been wanting to read 
Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton for a long tine. A wonderful friend found it at a used bookstore and picked up a copy for me! What a delight!

It's set in the 1870s as New York is undergoing significant social and economic changes. Wharton follows the life of young Newland Archer, who is marrying into the top of the food chain. At the same time as he becomes engaged, an exotic cousin of his fiancee returns to America following a failed marriage to a Polish count. To make her feel welcomed and to give her the social acceptance of highly ranked families, his engagement to May is quickly made public. 

From this point forward, Newland finds himself in the role of cousin Ellen's protector. As can be assumed, Newland finds himself drawn to the unconventional ways and thinking she represents. He begins to see his upcoming marriage to May as a trap to conventionality and duty. Ellen, herself, recognizes and returns his feelings, but she always puts May first and encourages Newland to keep his promise and fulfill his duty.

For all May's portrayal as innocent and naive, she seems to be constantly one step ahead of Newland and his attempts to change the trajectory of his life. May, with a shocking amount of plausible deniability, will get her man. 

Although Wharton, herself, seems to have lived the life of cousin Ellen and eschewed traditional strictures, she seems to land the book with a defense of the traditional and the requirements of duty. Newland and May experience a long and happy marriage. Finally given a chance to reunite with Ellen after May's death, Newland recognizes that his feeling were probably always a fantasy built up in his mind. He loves the version of the life he could have had with Ellen more than Ellen. And his life with May was actually quite sweet and fulfilling.

The book ends with the next generation and the changes that were predicted have begun to occur. Newland's type of life and the responsibility he felt to uphold the traditions are quickly fading into the background. Although his children will not be burdened by the expectations he experienced, we get a sense that maybe something is being lost. 

It's a beautiful book that explores some timeless themes. I love that it lands (mostly) on the sanctity of duty and tradition. As a conservative, I believe we have inherited wisdom in our traditions that may not be obvious to subsequent generations. Certainly Newland chafed against them. But in the end, he was happy with the life handed to him. Wharton leaves us little evidence that had he abandoned his responsibilities and expectations to live a life with Ellen he would have found the happiness he assumed awaited him. Even Ellen seems to recognize this when she asks him in what country would that happiness be found. Being far more experienced, traveled, and cosmopolitan than he, she knows of what she speaks. More often than not, I believe doing the "right" thing is what will bring ultimate happiness.

Bad Therapy by Abigail Shrier

I was at Chandler's house when I saw this book on her shelf. I love Abigail Shrier and so I asked if I could borrow it. Turns out I bought it for her in the first place! I cannot say enough for Bad Therapy by Abigail Shrier. Anyone who knows a child, has a child, or was a child needs to read this book. Although I really liked her conclusions, the sheer scope and scale of the problem depresses me. It's a behemoth. 

She starts with therapy itself. Shrier quite persuasively makes the case that therapy, the way it is done today, is actually iatrogenic, that is it harms more than helps. In this section she outlines exactly what "Bad Therapy" is:

"What does bad therapy look like, I wondered. If a sadist wanted to induce anxiety, depression, a feeling of incapacity, or family estrangement, what sort of methods would she employ? How would a malevolent mastermind induct a generation into a tyranny of feelings? Like this.

1. Teach Kids to Pay Close Attention to their Feelings...

2. Induce Rumination...

3. Make 'Happiness a Goal but Reward Emotional Suffering...'

4. Affirm and Accommodate Kids' Worries...

5. Monitor, Monitor, Monitor...

6. Dispense Diagnoses Liberally...

7. Drug 'Em...

8. Encourage Kids to Share Their 'Trauma'...

9. Encourage Young Adults to Break Contact with 'Toxic' Family...

10. Create Treatment Dependency..." (p. 42-63). 

We have created hypochondriacs who experience the same pain as everyone else, except they fixate on every sign or symptom. They make themselves sicker by worrying about getting sick.

In the next section, "Therapy Goes Airborne," she discusses the ways in which Bad Therapy has migrated into the schools. This is the most depressing part because there are literally millions of teachers, almost none of whom are trained therapists. If they were, they would have to follow the ethical guidelines and best practices of therapy. Even though therapy has a lot of problems, they can fix them as a licensed group and hold their members accountable. But they hold no sway over teachers. And teachers are an ornery bunch, much like herding cats. Many simply are not that smart and whatever sounds good is taken as gospel truth. Even the smart ones are not reading the latest studies and diving deep into the latest conversations on the best way to help children struggling with mental health. It's like giving teachers access to the latest in chemotherapy treatments and so, "just in case," they administer a small dose to each student every day. Here's where the iatrogenesis leaps into the general population. 

In the classroom, it starts with "Social-Emotional Learning." This is the latest fad and every teacher from kindergarten on up is asked to evaluate their students social and emotional "temperature." This can be emotional check-ins where students are asked daily how they are doing. Often, one student's sadness can infect the entire class and an emotive, therapeutic trauma session ensues. Much crying and flagellation are signs of a good check-in despite the complete lack of academic purpose or even therapeutic progress. These amateur group therapy sessions teach students that they are emotionally fragile and probably broken. Students are then coddled and those from the most disadvantaged backgrounds lose out the most. Rather than being held to high standards and given the tools needed to better their situation, the students are excused, accommodated, and unmotivated to succeed. Schools are on the hunt for trauma and it's surprisingly easy to find. Figuring different traumas stack up and believing "the body keeps the score" (a debunked, but highly popular theory), the children are poked and prodded until the slightest trauma can be unearthed and "dealt with" whether or not parents agree to any of this. In fact, since most of the trauma is apparently a result of parental action, it's best to keep parents out altogether. Therefore the students are endlessly surveyed and inculcated with the idea that something is wrong with them. Their teacher and school counselor just need to figure out what. 

Not only is all this poking and prodding hurting the students and introducing trauma where none existed, it has led to a type of toxic empathy. Anyone, anywhere can claim to feel "unsafe" and she is automatically the victim. Regardless of the motives or even the actions of the "perpetrator," all empathy channels toward the aggrieved. This has led, apparently with no recognition of the irony, to the most bullying of environments. Shrier calls this "The Tattletale Generation." Victims are virtuous and the perpetrators beyond the pale and without redemption. This simultaneously reinforces the victim narrative and introduces new "trauma" to the "perpetrator."

In exasperation, Shrier asks, "Who raised these children?" She answers her own question with "Gentle Parents." This is the other side of the coin where the teachers playing therapist are one side and the parents playing therapist are the other. Rather than a simple (and time-tested) "Knock it off," children are indulged and analyzed and their feelings held up for endless examination. This has produced a generation of tiny tyrants who scare their parents. In our desire to avoid becoming authoritarian parents, we have neglected to be authoritative parents. But something has to keep these tiny tyrants under control. So we turn to drugs. Shrier has a lot to say on the drugging of our children that has replaced old-fashioned discipline. TL;DR: She's against it.

Finally, in the last section, Shrier proclaims, "Maybe There's Nothing Wrong with Our Kids." She advocates that parents disregard the "experts" and allow their children to be children. When they mess up, discipline them. Provide them with love and independence. Don't coddle them but encourage resilience. Invite extended family to speak into their lives. Don't treat your child as the center of the universe, to the detriment of all others. 

She ends with, "Remove the [harmful interventions]: the technology, the hovering, the monitoring, the constant doubt. The diagnosing of ordinary behaviors as pathological. The psychiatric medications you aren't convinced your child needs. The expert evaluations. Banish from their lives everyone with the tendency to treat our children as disordered. You don't need them." (p. 250)

I think she's right.

The Remembered Soldier by Anjet Daanje

Our book club always chooses from among several possible reads. I decided to also read the ones that didn't make the cut if possible. One that didn't was The Remembered Soldier by Anjet Daanje. Oh my goodness. I don't remember what we read instead, but I am so glad a read this book as well.

The book is about a man, named Noon at the beginning, who fought in World War I, but has lost his memory. He has spent the four years following the war in an asylum while waiting to be found by his family. Every woman he meets, desperate to believe he is her long-lost husband, fills him with so much angst at their disappointment, that he demands to be left alone. But one woman would not be denied, Julienne Coppens. She demands he see her and to his shock she declares him her long-long Amand, even identifying a mole under the hair on his head. 

With great trepidation, he goes home to Belgium with her. The novel continues telling the story of the following year in which they become reacquainted. As can be assumed, lots of hesitation and misunderstandings ensue as well as a blossoming of genuine love. Although both of their entire families and their home were lost in the war, Julie has started a new life in a new town and together they work to build the fledgling photography business she runs. Yet Amand never remembers a single moment. And Julie is clearly lying about some of the details. Their trust is on shaky ground.

Over time, Amand starts to experience moments as a different man. He feels like he is slipping into a psychotic break down. The lost time is happening more frequently, for longer periods, and he is often volatile and dangerous in these states. In addition, he is suffering from extreme "shell shock" and frequently dreams of the horrors he witnessed. A yellow woman with long, blond hair haunts those dreams. Is she death itself? Eventually Julienne and Amand make a plan for when the "other man" fully consumes him and he becomes, once again, a total stranger. They will reestablish their relationship with a collection of photos and letters and force him to live as her husband, Amand.

As expected, one day Amand becomes "Louis" and seems incapable of returning to his old self. He insists he is married to Kathe, a German woman with long, blond hair. He can't remember exactly where he is from, but he becomes increasingly angry with the strange woman, Julie, who claims to be his wife. Even the letters and photographs which were supposed to prove he was her husband Amand make him angry and suspicious. After a few weeks of increasing turmoil, Julie buys Amand a train ticket to a town in Germany that he senses is his home. Off he goes with a suitcase, some food, a few francs, and a destination. He arrives in a war-torn, highly impoverished nation where his money is no good, his suitcase is stolen, and the trains no longer run. 

I don't want to give away the ending, but suffice it to say that it is very satisfying. 

One issue with the book is that it is long. And yet one critic said, "A gripping story...stirring, psychologically profound, and not a page too long." About half way through, I felt it was many pages too long. The unfolding relationship between Julienne and Amand seems to be told in real time and includes the daily repetitions known to all households. And yet, by the end, I think I see the purpose of that long, drawn out, dailyness. We see the relationship grow and encounter set backs and hurdles. We see how one day does, in fact, differ from the day before. We live their lives alongside them and become part of the story, day after day. We know Julie and Amand. So when he suddenly becomes Louis who is married to Kathe, we have opinions! The length is the point. 

This is a great book. I highly recommend it. Get over the length. The payoff is worth it!

 

The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald

I'm loosely following the Close Reads podcast, and they read this book. I'm familiar with George MacDonald, one of C.S. Lewis' inspirations, so I decided to give it a try. The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald is an adorable story I hope to read to my grandkids someday.

It's a sweet fairy tale, in the best possible sense, about a young princess growing up in the shadow of the mountains that house the Goblins. A young man, the eleven-year-old son of a miner, named Curdie, befriends her. With the help of her ancient, mystical great, great, grandmother Princess Irene grows into a true princess, battling goblins and rescuing the boy! Throughout the story, she must learn to patiently love those around her who don't believe what she believes and in the process grows in grace.

It's a delightful tale, one of the "right" kinds of books that Lewis says Eustice had not read!

A Praying Life by Paul E. Miller

Our book club made an odd choice: Non-fiction and theological. But I loved A Praying Life by Paul E. Miller. The author calls the reader to a prayer life filled with helplessness, humility, and childlike faith.

He begins by describing the relationship Jesus had with the Father. It's one of utter dependence. Despite the fact that Jesus, alone among humans, is the only person who could truly declare himself capable of living independently of God, he is the only human who has ever fully dedicated himself to live at one with the Father. We are to become "like little children," wholly trusting in and depending on the Father, moment by moment. Miller says about Jesus when he contemplated the separation he would feel on the cross, "He had never experienced a moment when he wasn't in communion with his Father. Jesus' anguish is our normal." (p. 33) This hit me hard. Do I anguish over my lack of engagement with God the way Jesus did?

Unfortunately in our modern era, we have allowed cynicism to replace trust. Even Christian will try to give their cynicism a gloss of religiosity by becoming stoic and acting as if they are fine with whatever God does, that it doesn't matter to them at all. Jesus was neither a cynic nor a stoic nor an eternal optimist. He wholeheartedly gave himself to the Father and cried out with anguish when he saw hurt and injustice. The Father wants us to come to Him aware of reality but fully trusting in Him. Miller says, "I am not called to put on rose-colored glasses and see everything in life as pretty and good and uplifting. Rather, I am called to trust that God sees what I see." (p. 72)

As children, we are to come to the Father asking "anything" in Jesus' name, that is, with his authority. That's an overwhelming promise if we truly believed it. The problem is that we don't. Again and again Jesus says that whatever we ask will be granted to us. But how does that work? Can I ask for a million dollars and expect it show up on my doorstep? Apparently not. Rather we are to have an attitude of ask in expectancy and desire, while maintaining a sense of surrender: Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego's "if not" faith. We desire, we ask for our deepest desires, trusting that God placed those desires in our hearts in the first place, we hope, we wait, and we accept His perfect answer. He said we can ask for the impossible, for "nothing is impossible with God." He gave as an example asking for a mountain to fall into the sea, yet we struggle to ask for renewed relationships, remarkable healing, and the resurrection of long abandoned dreams. We have not because we ask not. What a convicting truth. God wants me to come to him with my real childlike self and ask for anything. So often we think either that God doesn't care about a particular desire, or that it's too selfish or frivolous. But how do you have a relationship with someone to whom you cannot tell your heart's desire. He gives the example of a vacation home. What if, instead of worrying and saving and planning and researching and stressing about our ability to afford a vacation home, we simply told the Father that it's our desire, but that we would rest and submit to His good plan. Let Him delight to provide and "make our joy complete." What a waste to not ask, not because then we won't receive, but because when we do receive we fail to see it as a gift from Him. In all this asking, we must also ask that he change me. I must allow Him to conform me to the likeness of His Son so that my desires begin to align with His. This one scares us because He might actually do it!

But what happens when we ask and the Father is long in answering? We learn to live in the story. So often God's answer is, "Not yet." He's working, moving the pieces, waiting for the time, and so often that feels like abandonment. It's ok to feel abandoned. In fact, one of the charges against Israel was that they failed to cry out to God when they felt alone and hopeless. God wants us to come to Him in lament when we are in the midst of the story. God is not a genie for whom we snap our fingers, and He obeys our command. What kind of relationship would it be if we did not learn to wait and trust? It would not be a relationship at all. In fact, Miller says that we live in the "Desert" between "Hope" and "Reality." This is where our story is being written. If we fall into denial, or determination, or despair, we miss the story He is writing. Rather we are to turn to Him, (not complain to those around us) with our reality and then place our hope in Him. It is in the desert that we experience communion with Him as together we walk the path He has laid out. Not knowing how the story ends is the hardest part. That takes us back to that childlike trust. As we walk in the desert, we must believe "three things about God: First, God is sovereign. He can do something. Second, God is love. He is for me. He wants to do something. And finally, God is a covenant-keeping God. He is bound by his own word. He will do something." (p. 186)

I love the way Miller sums up our role:

"1. Don't demand that the story go your way. (In other words, surrender completely.)

2. Look for the Storyteller. Look for his hand, and then pray in light of what you are seeing. (In other words, develop an eye for Jesus.)

3. Stay in the story. Don't shut down when it goes the wrong way...When the story isn't going your way, ask yourself, 'What is God doing?'" (p. 205)

We are not victims in our story. We are constantly being made to die to self and trust in the Giver of Life. It is only in relationship with the Father that any of this life begins to make sense and achieve purpose. And that relationship is formed in the crux of the desert as we ask, wait, and watch. He is for us, not against us and delights to give us the desires of our hearts, while transforming both our hearts and our desire.