The Age of Mirth by Edith Wharton

I have been wanting to read The Age of Mirth by Edith Wharton for forever. But I could never seem to get my hands on it. Finally, I got a copy from the Wake County Library. Hallelujah! It's fantastic!

Wharton tells the story of Lily Bart, a beautiful, yet poor, member of New York's upper crust in the late 19th century. Her father died, leaving she and her mother in debt. Before she died, her mother impressed upon Lily the absolute necessity of  using her looks to cement a place in society. Realizing she has just one shot to use her only currency, Lily lets a few opportunities slip away as she watches much plainer women marry into comfort. 

The book opens in her 29th year. Time is getting short. She has confided in her friend Lawrence Selden that she has set her sights on Percy Gryce. His obsession with "Americana" and his puritanical instincts notwithstanding, he is rich enough and Lily feels confident she can snag him. Selden, who is only middle class himself, but manages to live an "amphibious" existence in both worlds, chides Lily for her materialistic attitude. She makes it clear to Lawrence that men have far more options than women do. She must parlay her looks into a suitable marriage if she wants any kind of stable life. It's clear that Lawrence would marry her, but she leaves him no hope as he simply cannot cement her place in high society. 

Unfortunately, Percy is not so easily caught and the games Lily plays to pique his interest backfire. Eventually he announces his engagement to another wealthy socialite. 

Despite her very limited funds, Lily has insisted on keeping up appearances. But after Percy's departure, she takes a hard look at her finances. The husband of her best friend, Gus Tenor, offers to "invest" her meager savings, saying he gets "tips" from the barely tolerated, rich, Jewish banker Sim Rosedale. He quickly turns her mere hundreds of dollars into thousands. Lily, feeling confident that she has found the secret to economic freedom, carelessly spends almost all the money immediately. Once the money is gone, her source, Trenor, makes clear that the money was his and she "owes" him for his trouble. Aghast, she races off with a "frenemy" on a months-long cruise of the Mediterranean. Meanwhile, rumors swirl about her involvment with Trenor.

Although she is a hit in Europe, it becomes apparent that she was only invited to distract her friend's husband while she pursues an affair with another guest. Once she is discovered, she turns the tables and accuses Lily of having an affair with her husband. Since Lily will not accept the husband should he leave his wife, he feels he must return to his wife and accept the libel on Lily. This new tawdry rumor, combined with the prior allegations, make it back to the aunt who has supported Lily since her mother's death. The news apparently kills her, but not before she disinherits Lily. 

Lily returns from Europe, having lost all her friends due to the rumors and all her expectations due to being written out of the will. All she can expect is enough to pay back her original debt to Trenor. But that will take a year to go through probate. In the meantime, she relies on Lawrence and his poor relation, Gertie for survival. She finds work (barely) and moves to a boarding house. But her health suffers and she experiences night after night of sleeplessness. 

She has one opportunity in which to recapture it all, but it involves an act she considers immoral; she can blackmail her "frenemy" and mary Sim Rosedale. In a final display of determination, she destroys the incriminating evidence. She visits Lawrence, convinced that she has thrown away all hope of his love. And she goes home. 

I'll end the summary here. It's too sad. I hate that it ended the way it did. 

It seems that Wharton considered, and then abandoned, the idea that people can live lives of contentment far from the spotlight of "society." We do it everyday. But the book is not about how to live a contented life, it's about the false temptation of a "life worth living." She demolishes that, kind of. Although Lily won't resurrect her former life using immoral (or that immoral) means, we sense she would welcome it back if it was handed to her. She never quite seems to get it. Lawrence has been preaching it (sort of), and she seems to realize that, but in the end, she is incapable of "settling" for a merely happy life. She is stuck. She is an ornamental creature created for one purpose: to look good and attract a man to establish her in society. Maybe that is Wharton's point. Wharton gets it. It's just that Lily (nor anyone else in the story) never quite does. What a tragedy.

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.

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!

Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway

A friend in book club recommended that I read Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway, despite my insistence that I didn't like Hemingway. She assured me I would like it. It's different, she said. 

I was right.

I didn't like it.

At all. 

I thought it would be similar to All Quiet on the Western Front which makes a damning case against World War I and probably all wars. This book does not do that. It makes a damning case against bad dialogue and a poor plot. 

I know I'm an outlier. It's Hemingway after all, and I suppose he's famous for a reason. But I'm not sure what that is.

The plot is thin: an American serves as an ambulance driver for the Italian forces in World War I before America enters the war. The unfamiliar terrain makes it even more difficult to perceive a plot. He gets hurt and spends a lot of time in a recovery hospital where he spends his evenings with a nurse. They say they love each other. She's feels married to him and he kinda/sorta agrees. We are never sure if they actually love each other or even know each other. It truly is all about the sex. For some reason, she's desperate to keep him. She is completely subsumed as an actual human to whatever he wants and says. Even if he doesn't know what he wants and says contradictory things. She's just there for it. He seems content to keep her around for as long as it lasts.

Once he returns to the war, things go south, and the army begins to retreat. Apparently that kind of failure leads to mock trials and summary executions of officers. Who knew? He and his now pregnant "wife" escape to Switzerland. Although the danger of being caught and executed is apparently a thing, we never see any real possibility of that. It's unclear if the army knows he's gone. 

When it comes time to deliver the baby, there are complications, and... spoiler... she and the baby die. He returns to the hotel. The end. (It comes with multiple endings in which the baby lives or dies. But in all the endings she dies. Each is just as abrupt and meaningless.)

No case against war. No growth as a human. No insight into the human psyche. Just a self-absorbed man. knocking up a horribly foolish and naive girl, and she dies. Oh yeah. At one point, he shoots a fellow soldier point blank in a field, and I could never figure out why. He neither struggles with that nor regrets it. It just happens, like most of his life.

It reminded me a lot of Catcher in the Rye and not in a good way. It's the internal musings of a narcissist. I'm not sure why I'm supposed to care what he thinks or thinks about. He mostly spends his time and money (where does all the money come from?) on alcohol. Even his pregnant girlfriend drinks because it keeps the baby "small"?!? 

Maybe the story is about two humans without a shred of humanity between them? Maybe it's about the ennui of war and the ever present sense of meaninglessness? Maybe it's about getting knocked up by an immature, self-absorbed, SOB?

One final note: the dialogue. Every character--male or female, young or old, American or not--spoke EXACTLY the same way. Boring drivel. (And interestingly all spoke like English was not their first language: halting, simple, non-reflexive.)

EXAMPLE conversation between Frederick (American, main character) and Catherine (British: the "wife"):

Catherine: "What are you thinking about now?"

Frederick: "Nothing."

"Yes you were. Tell me."

"I was wondering whether Rinaldi had the syphilis."

"Was that all?"

"Yes."

"Has he the syphilis?"

"I don't know."

"I'm glad you haven't. Did you ever have anything like that?"

"I had gonorrhea."

"I don't want to hear about it. Was it very painful, darling?"

"Very."

"I wish I'd had it."

"No you don't."

"I do. I wish I'd had it to be like you. I wish I'd stayed with all your girls so I could make fun of them to you."

"That's a pretty picture."

"It's not a pretty picture you having gonorrhea."

"I know it. Look at it snow now."

"I'd rather look at you. Darling, why don't you let your hair grow?"

"How grow?"

"Just grow a little longer."

"It's long enough now."

"No, let it grow a little longer and I could cut mine and we'd be just alike only one of us blonde and one of us dark."

"I wouldn't let you cut yours."

"It would be fun. I'm tired of it. It's an awful nuisance in the bed at night."

"I like it."

"Wouldn't you like it short?"

"I might. I like it the way it is."

"It might be nice short. Then we'd both be alike. Oh, darling, I want you so much I want to be you too."

"You are. We're the same one."

"I know it. At night we are."

"The nights are grand."

Insipid. Boring. Repetitive. Contradictory. Childish. Meaningless. Circular. It NEVER moves what little plot there is.

So how do I really feel?

Charlotte's Web by E.B. White

Cary Christian is doing a faculty book club in order to acquaint our staff with what and how we teach. Our latest read is Charlotte's Web by E.B. White.

I read this book as a child and found it magical. I read it again to our children and loved it just as much. I will say the ending it heart-rending, however.

But this time, although I expected the same magic, I didn't feel it. 

I hate to say it, but maybe I'm too old...?

It's hard for me to try to suspend disbelief and imagine non-humans as sentient. I love Toy Story, but it only works if the toys are alive in Andy's imagination. If they are truly sentient, the ramifications are too horrifying to contemplate.

I wanted Wilbur and Charlotte and Templeton to be alive in Fern's imagination. But not only does the book disallow that entirely, Fern loses interest in the whole animal world when she meets a boy! 

I realize it's a children's story exploring themes of friendship and sacrifice. White nicely contrasts Templeton, who never learns to look beyond his own selfish appetites, and Charlotte, who sacrifices all for Wilbur. The pig, himself, grows a bit as he realizes he just might be who Charlotte has always seen him as. All very human. But if real for a single moment, I am a mass murderer of hundreds of other Charlottes found lurking in my home. 

I hate to be a spoiler of magic, but I just couldn't feel it this time. 

Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl

It was my time to choose a book for Book Club and I picked a book that had long been on my list: Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. Dennis Prager says it's his favorite book and it changed his life.

So my expectations were high.

Plus I've read A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, The Gulag Archipelago, and Darkness at Noon. All in the same genre. 

I think because of my prior exposure to those books, this one did not seem as impactful. If anything, I'd say The Gulag Archipelago was the one that most made an impression on me.

Frankl writes as do the others, disjointed and out of chronological order. It's more thematic. It makes me wonder if having that kind of state-sponsored trauma impacts one's ability to tell the story. Or perhaps for them, it's not about the day-to-day events, but the larger meaning behind it all. 

Certainly Frankl wants to get at why he and his fellow prisoners suffered the way they did at the hands of the Nazis. Even before being detained, Frankl was spreading interested in the question of meaning and purpose in life. He was convinced that if a man did not have a sense of meaning or purpose he would die either mentally or even physically. So he looked on his fellow prisoners as a kind of science experiment. He clearly saw that those who gave up hope always died. It was those, like himself, who felt that their unjust suffering had a purpose of some sort that survived. 

I suppose the most remarkable thing about the book (and the others of the same genre) is how disconnected they were from their own tortures. They can discuss it dispassionately and disconnect from the personal experience of it. I suppose that necessary for survival. In Solzhenitsyn's case, he writes in a sarcastic manner, further removing himself from the horror. 

Frankl is also remarkable for the fact that he could forgive and move on once released from the prison. He recognized the humanity of each person, whether guard or prisoner. All had the ability to be cruel or kind. He famously states, "The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either — but right through every human heart — and through all human hearts."

The second half of his book discusses his theory of "Logotherapy." In a nutshell, after the war, he started his psychiatric practice helping people discover meaning in their lives. He was convinced that lack of meaning and purpose was the root of all mental suffering. He worked to reframe and redirect his patients towards discovering meaning in their circumstances, whatever they be.

One disappointment is that he never directs the reader to faith. I think he had faith in God as a result of his Judaism, but he never recommends that faith as a source of meaning and purpose. I suppose that's because he wants everyone, believer or not, to be able to access a life filled with meaning. That's a fair point. Obviously for me, a life whose meaning is found outside of God is just a temporary fill, but for Frankl that's enough. 

The book is worth reading because it's such a cultural touchstone. I'm sorry to say it did not impact me the way it impacted some. I wish it had. 

The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy

Part of my never-ending endeavor to educate myself involves reading the classics. The latest is The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy. 

I actually may have read this book before. It felt very familiar.

The basic plot revolves around an anonymous English hero rescuing French aristocrats from the guillotine during the French Revolution. His name is a problem. "The Scarlet Pimpernel" refers to a small red, star-shaped flower the hero has chosen as his signature. Call him the Red Rose or the Burgundy Blossom. I simply cannot abide the word "Pimpernel." Call it my own bias.

That aside, once the story begins, it tells of masterful disguises and daring deception. But like a murder mystery with only one suspect, the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel becomes clear very early on (Or I had already read the book.) 

His evil pursuer is Cheuvelin, a member of the Committee of Publicc Safety. Everything about him screams "villain." Our heroine, Lady Blakeney, is the most beautiful, charismatic, and intelligent woman to be found in either France or England. Her husband is the dull-witted, rich, and lazy playboy Lord Percy Blackeney. All other characters are supporting characters.

Between the stereotypes and silly language (Lots of "La!," and "Odd's fish".) the book is a breeze to read. It's silly and predictable, but certainly not a waste of time.

The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan

I'm developing a new-found respect for the theological seriousness of the Puritans. So when our book club proposed The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan, I was excited to re-read it. (I think I read it as a kid.)

Although an allegory with names specifically designed to inform the reader of its allegorical qualities (Mr. Worldly-Wise, Ignorance, Christian), the story elucidates real, deep theological discussions. 

Christian has come to realize that his city is set for destruction and only by traveling to the Celestial City can he hope to be saved. Evangelist tells him the way to the path. In the end, it is a path he must travel alone, although he has companions at times. On the journey he meets all the classical temptations a Christian faces: Despair, Pleasure, Sloth.

Just when all seems lost, Christian is reminded of his journey and the good that awaits him. Ironically, just as he crosses the river into the Celestial City he experiences such deep doubt that he almost sinks. 

Bunyan is writing the story from prison. I suspect much of Christian's story is autobiographical. Perhaps Bunyan, close to death at times, experienced his own sinking doubt. 

The story is not an easy read, but well-worth reading. It can cause common obstacles in the life of a Christian to come alive.

Portrait of a Lady by Henry James

Summer reading means jumping into some classic books I've not yet read. This summer it was Portrait of a Lady by Henry James. 

It was published in 1881, apparently at a time when authors were trying to dive deeply into what it meant to be human and what limitations that included.

The book is the story of a young American woman, Isabel Archer, who has lost both parents. Her aunt, who has married rich in England, brings her to that island nation as a sort of project. While there, Isabel's rich uncle dies, leaving her a fortune. The set-up for this strains credulity, as she hardly knows him, but it is apparently a necessary plot fixture for James' own project.

At this point, as Isabel is so incredibly charismatic and attractive (on the inside), no man can resist her charms, and she has money to boot, the world is her oyster. She can literally choose any life she desires. Initially desiring to see the world unencumbered by a love interest. she and a female friend launch into a European tour. 

Despite having any pick of any man, and despite making it quite clear to all who ask that she is not suited nor desirous of marriage, she chooses to marry an older widower with a teenage daughter who delights in seeing the world through jaded eyes. She could have had the delightful, rich, and young Lord Warburton, the charming and devoted (also rich) American businessman, Casper Goodwood, or her sweet, adoring, and sickly cousin, Ralph Touchett. Why she chooses Gilbert Osmond is anyone's guess. 

Literally.

It's not exactly clear when or why she did choose him. The reader is just informed of it three years later. 

It doesn't end well. Slowly Osmond begins to turn his cynicism on his wife and she feels that she can never live up to his expectations. That's because she can't. He's so jaded about everything, except his daughter, that nothing can meet his standards. 

And then there's the enigmatic Madame Merle always hovering in the background. She seems to have orchestrated the marriage between Isabel and Gilbert, but her motivation is not clear. Why she doesn't marry him herself is left an open question. They'd be perfect for each other.

The end. 

Seriously, the book ends with an unhappy marriage. Secrets are revealed. The cousin dies. Most everyone is disappointed. And that's it.

I had to read up on why this book is a "classic." Apparently James was making the point that humans, given every advantage, will still choose badly. We are simply incapable of making good decisions despite our best intentions. Isabel is repeatedly praised for her intelligence, yet this is nothing but a trap. It's her attraction to Osmond's brains and wit that leads her astray. James seems to imply that people end up happy by luck alone. We are a deceiving and deceived thing.

I suppose there is something to that. But it doesn't mean I agree with James. He's as cynical as Osmond. Humans have agency. Our intentions and choices matter. We are not destined to the roll of the dice. While luck plays a role, we play a greater role in our destinies than James would seem to think we do. 

On a side note, I really hate the way authors, male and female, will paint a female protagonist in broad terms and "tell" rather than "show." At no point, other than from the descriptive words about Isabel and her own description of herself, do I catch a glimpse of a charming and intelligent young lady, attractive to all who enter her sphere. She simply IS charming and attractive. It's like women cannot be full-formed characters about whom the reader can make her own judgment. Personally, I found Isabel boring and insipid. She's arrogant in the way only the young and ignorant know how to be. For all her worldly wisdom, she has no actual wisdom. She might say and think deep thoughts but they are never revealed to the reader. We must take James's word for it.

Maybe if I re-read the book with James' point in mind, I would see more value in the book. But I'm not sure what the point of a book is that tells the reader all your choices are an illusion. Maybe it's James who is deceived.

Dracula by Bram Stoker

The latest classic book I read is Dracula by Bram Stoker. We all know the story and that's what made it an interesting read. The characters did not know the story. So while I saying to myself, "His name is Dracula, you fool!" the characters go blithely on completely unaware of the danger they are in. 

The story centers around a young lawyer, Jonathan Harkin, and his fiancé Mina. Harkin must go to the castle in Transylvania (for goodness sake!) to conduct a real estate transaction with Count Dracula (again... doesn't this feel obvious!). Although he's warned by the townspeople not to proceed, as a brave young man  he charges ahead. 

Fast forward. Harkin barely escapes with his life but must now rescue his fiancée from the clutches of the villain. 

It's definitely a thriller and it must have shocked the audience at the time. Unfortunately, the story is too familiar today to get much of a rise. 

And yet, it's scary and engrossing. 

Definitely worth reading.

Emma by Jane Austen

I found the beautiful copy of Emma by Jane Austen in our neighborhood "Little Library." What a treasure!

I cannot help but compare it to Pride and Prejudice. 

Apparently, at some point in the past, Emma notices that Mr. Watson would be perfect for her tutor, Miss. Taylor. The book opens with their marriage and Emma believes herself highly prescient. 

But needing a new person to work her magic upon, she alights on the new girl in the local boarding school, Miss Smith. With no knowledge of her parentage, she provides a blank slate which Emma can work to improve. Initially, she thinks Mr. Weston, the local cleric is a terrific fit. Even though her friend and neighbor Mr. Knightley declares Mr. Weston far too aware of his ability to marry "up," Emma continues to push Miss. Smith away from a local farmer and towards the young parson. 

Mr. Knightly is right and Miss Smith is devastated. Emma swears off matchmaking. 

When Mr. Weston's adult son, Frank Churchill, finally deigns to visit and meet his new step-mother, Emma's antennae go up. Even after putting all thoughts of making matches behind her, she cannot help but dive into neighborhood gossip. Miss Smith is still available, and she even finds herself coming under his sway. Despite Mr. Knightley's attempts to reign in the brattier parts of Emma, she continues to gossip and speculate. In one particularly painful moment, she is cruel to a local, poor spinster. Mr. Knightley rather harshly holds her to account.

Having to beg Miss Bates for forgiveness and seeing all the damage she has done to Miss Smith finally causes Emma to face up to her own terrible lack of virtue. Despite it all, Mr. Knightley declares his love for her and proposes. He's even willing to move into her home so that her father will not have to part with her. Could he be more perfect?

What I liked about this book is Emma's sheer brattiness. She's proud, gossipy, arrogant, and sees the world as needing her tending. But she's also at heart kind and able to see her own faults. She's a better Elizabeth Bennet than Elizabeth Bennet. We come to love her because she's such a mess.

Mr. Knightley, on the other hand, is no Darcy. Yes he's rich and proud, but he's practically perfect. It seems he loves Emma because she's the only woman of equal standing available to him. He does see her heart and knows her to be kind, but mostly she just seems silly and very young to his age and wisdom. She is his project.

Emma's father, Mr. Woodhouse, is a hypochondriac that we are supposed to love for his little idiosyncrasies. But I don't. He imposes his will upon all around him and is completely unwilling to bend or shift his opinion on any matter. He's no lovable curmudgeon Mr. Bennet. 

Like any Austen, we see the full panoply of human existence. She's an amazing observer of the human condition and bring us characters we swear we know!

A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry

Our senior American Literature is probably going to be reading A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry next year. Since I've never read it, I thought it would be a good time to dive in.

It's a play, so it's short. I read it in a few hours.

It tells the story of a working-class black family with the four adults, a matriarch, her son and daughter-in-law, and her college-aged daughter, and one child of the Younger family living in a small two-bedroom apartment. 

They are tired and world-wary, but the promise of a $10,000 life insurance pay out holds out hope. 

Walter is the "man of the home" denied that role by his proud mother. Although it's her money (the settlement is from the death of her husband), Walter has big plans to quit his chauffeur job and buy a liquor store. Mama, wants nothing to do with that. Walter's sister, Beneatha, needs the money for college. She wants to be a doctor. Ruth, the daughter-in-law, and Mama would love a house, with a yard and more living space.

Similar to The Jungle, this family on the edge experiences heartbreak after heartbreak. Once I noticed this similarity, I almost gave up on the book.

Fortunately, little of the book deals with race. It's post-war America and so they are subject to the obvious racism prevalent at the time, but that is not the source of their troubles. Hansberry makes clear that the family has it within their power to better their lives. 

The book ends in dignity and the promise of a better tomorrow. Of course they are not out of the woods and the a reader 50 years in the future knows the outcome could still be bleak. But I really loved the human dignity displayed at the end. 

The title comes from a Langston Hughs poem, "What happens to a dream deferred?/ Does it dry up/ Like a raisin in the sun?" All the Youngers, including the deceased Mr. Younger, have dreams. Those dreams are often frustrated, sometimes thought their choices and sometimes through bad luck. Yet the dream of a dream survives in this book, even when it looks the bleakest.

The Crucible by Arthur Miller

As I work to read the list I give my students of "Books to Read Before you Die," I grabbed The Crucible by Arthur Miller off my shelf.

 

As a substitute, I watched the second half of the movie multiple times, so I felt a familiarity with the characters, setting, and plot. Now I want to go back and watch the whole movie.

The story is engrossing. It ostensibly centers on the Salem Witch Trials, but is obviously so much more. The tale reveals the very dark underbelly of humanity. Lust, greed, fear. It's all in there. 

The story begins with young women doing what young women do: fighting for an escape and freedom. One has apparently seduced a married man and sees her chance to break him free from his long-suffering wife. Not only do the girls shout, "Witch" in order to absolve themselves, the town uses the opportunity to free itself of gadflies and cranks, or even obstacles to prosperity. 

The panic, the rush to judgment, the absolute certainty mirror our own during the Covid nightmare.

Nothing has changed. 

John Proctor takes center stage as he seeks to redeem himself from his sin of adultery and betrayal. He is the hero of the play. 

Interestingly, after the madness, the town returns to "normal" and consigns the horror to a never-spoken-of anecdote. This too is typical of humanity. We don't learn. We intentionally forget. 

The play is horrifying. It's a slow-motion train wreck in which multiple people yelled, "Stop!" Yet the reader knows it will not stop until the cancer has worked itself out. 

Never didactic, the play shines a bright light on our own foibles. 

 

The Lincoln-Douglas Debates by Abraham Lincoln

Although I've read most, if not all, of the Lincoln-Douglas Debates in the past, this small (58 pgs.) excerpted form was a perfect encapsulation of the arguments made by Lincoln and Douglas. The rapidity with which the reader can encounter each argument creates an easy-to-follow flow from one debate to the next. It is so much more of an extended conversation than a series of long speeches.

Interestingly, Lincoln is clearly on his heals throughout most of the debates. Although today his argument about the immorality of slavery and its incompatibility with the Founding ideal rings obviously true, it was one he sought to promulgate over enormous obstacles. 

Douglas perfectly captures the zeitgeist by pointing out that the Founders actually left slavery in place. It was Lincoln who sought to upend the delicate balance procured by Jefferson, et. al. Repeatedly Douglas accuses Lincoln of believing that blacks were equal to whites in every way, including as voters and marriage partners. This "bridge too far" kept Lincoln in the unfortunate position of arguing that is not what he meant by saying slavery is incompatible with "All men are created equal." Douglas' rejoinder that the Founders clearly meant "All white men are created equal" seemed an adequate refutation. 

Not until the seventh and final debate is Lincoln finally able to free himself of the web Douglas has wove about him. Lincon shifts gears to say that slavery is morally wrong: 

The real issue in this controversy--the one pressing upon every mind--is the sentiment on the part of one class that looks upon the institution of slavery as a wrong, and of another class that does not look upon it as a wrong...[The Republicans] look upon it as being a moral, social and political wrong; and while they contemplate it as such, they nevertheless have due regard for its actual existence among us, and the difficulties of getting rid of it in any satisfactory way and to all the constitutional obligations thrown about it...They insist that it should as far as may be, be treated as a wrong, and one of the methods of treating it as a wrong is to make provision that it shall grow no larger...

That is the real issue. That is the issue that will continue in this country when these poor tongues of Judge Douglas and myself shall be silent. It is the eternal struggle between these two principles--right and wrong--throughout the world...The one is the common right of humanity and the other the divine right of kings... It is the same spirit that says, "You work and toil and earn bread, and I'll eat it." No matter in what shape it comes, whether from the mouth of a king who seeks to bestride the people of his own nation and live by the fruit of their labor, or from one race of men as an apology for enslaving another race, it is the same tyrannical principal...And whenever we can get rid of the fog which obscures the real question...we can get out from among them that class of men and bring them to the side of those who treat it as a wrong. Then there will soon be an end of it, and that end will be its 'ultimate extinction.' (p. 54)

As Lincoln makes clear, there is no room for someone like Douglas who "doesn't care" whether slavery is voted up or down. If something is wrong, it is wrong. And any moral person must oppose it. To stand by and let it continue or expand is to concur with its basic morality. 

Interestingly, Douglas, after Lincoln's devastating take-down of the "don't care" mindset, reverts to his strongest ground: Lincoln seeks equality in every way. This distasteful ignoring of the real issue suddenly reveals Douglas to be a cowardly racist afraid to state what is plainly true and in full alignment with the Founding of the country.

This book resonated with me greatly and will be a go-to defense of all attacks on Lincoln. 

 

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austin

I enjoy Jane Austin for her biting social commentary and perceptive sense of human nature. Pride and Prejudice is a favorite. So I decided I had to read Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austin. Of course it's good. It's Jane Austin, but I didn't love it as much as Pride and Prejudice. 

The story involved two sister, each facing a similar loss of love. One responds with passion; the other responds much more sensibly. Like all Austin novels, the character can be a bit clichéd, but she's obviously patterning them on real people. 

I'm glad I read it. Now I'll have to watch the movie!
 

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

Our book club decided to read The Fellowship of the Ring, which is book 1 of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I didn't love that first book as much as I thought I would. That could have been because I listened to the audio version and so may have been distracted. I decided to read the remaining two books and I'm glad I did.

I don't know what I can say about The Lord of the Rings. It's become so culturally prevalent, it's hard to add anything to the conversation. I've seen the extended version of the movies several times, and I notices the movies track along with the books pretty well. Even the twelve hours of footage, however, leave out a few scenes. I'll admit that having the visuals to refer back to helped me greatly as I read. Tolkien has a gift for description, but knowing the way the scene is portrayed in the movie and constant referral to the maps in the back helped tremendously.

What sets Tolkien apart from every other author is his ability to create entire universes in his head. Not only does he conjure up whole physical world, he brings to life an entire made-up history. His character have family trees and backstories. He refers to ancestors with the assumption that the reader has heard the story and needs the information as a point of reference. I have no idea how he does that! It makes the story so rich. It's not just the history and geography of an imagined place, but it's a world he, as a story-teller, asks us to enter into. Normal history  is not like that. The best historians can try to weave a tale out of the events and people who populate the past, but even the giants are stuck with myriad unfamiliar names and places which can make communicating a big story difficult. Tolkien has set up for himself the best of both worlds. He's a great historian telling a tale with enough extra-textual information to make it seem real, but no more than he needs to tell the story he is telling. Somehow, he manages to place all those details in service to a narrative involving two small hobbits. Do we need the entire hobbit geneology? No. Does it add richness and depth and a sense of reality if we do? Absolutely!

The book is long. My copy clocks in at 1178 pages including the appendixes, index, and maps (seriously, what fictional book has all that?!?). But do not leave life on this earth without immersing yourself in Middle Earth!

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Our book club decided to read East of Eden by John Steinbeck. I had been wanting to read this book since the summer of 2019, so I was pleased with the selection. 

In the past, I have not really enjoyed books by John Steinbeck. And although it took me a bit to get past the "And that's why I don't love Steinbeck" moments, I eventually got to a place where I loved the book.

The thing about Steinbeck that has always turned me off is his lack of nuance. He sees things in stark contrast. People are usually somewhat good or very bad. A situation starts bad and gets worse. He rarely lands in the little middle ground. Traveling from Oklahoma to California during the dust bowl is a frying pan to fire situation (Grapes of Wrath); Incredible luck will turn into incredible disaster due to the evil of men's hearts (The Pearl); Lenny must be killed humanely before the mob tears him to pieces (Of Mice and Men). Life is bad. People are the worst. The end.

That still existed to an extent in this book, but not entirely.

Obvious from the title is the concept of the battle between good and evil. And yet Steinbeck seems to be making the point that evil is not as evil as it seems and good is not as good. There's the nuance. He may be making the argument that Cain has been unfairly maligned. He ends with the idea that Cain always had a choice. That choice may have been constrained by events outside his control, but he had a choice.

In addition, I believe Steinbeck is pointing the spotlight back on the father (or possibly God, himself) in order to lay some of the culpability for Cain's sin on the Father. After all, God was the one who, through his seemingly irrational choice, put Cain in the position of having to resist the evil welling up inside himself.

This story is told in an intergenerational way. Two brothers, Adam and Charles (notice the "A" and "C" connection to Abel and Cain) are very different from each other and each struggles with a fallible father who both loves too little and too much. Later, Adam's sons, Aron and Caleb ("A" and "C"), also very different from each other, must navigate a complicated relationship with their own father. All four sons are in some way abandoned by a father intent on his own interests. 

Into this picture enters another family, the Hamiltons, who boast a wonderful father, and yet the children struggle in their own ways with living up to that great man. Steinbeck, the author, is the grandson of Samuel Hamilton, and has incorporated family lore into the fictional story. Is Steinbeck saying the father, whether good or bad, has little to no impact on his children? Maybe.

Adam's house servant, Lee, a Chinese-American, and therefore an outsider, plays the role of suffering savior. Although Lee has his own struggles, his life is subsumed under that of Adam and his boys. Lee, alone, sees the bigger picture and is imbued with wisdom. Yet even Lee cannot straighten the crooked path people have embarked upon. It is Lee who discovers the secret to the Cain and Abel story: Cain did not have to kill his brother. God warned him to choose wisely. 

The final important character is Adam's wife and Aron and Cal's mother, Kate. Adam has tried to redeem her with his love, but she will have none of it. She is the town whore and plays the role of pure evil. 

All the parallels to Scripture make it impossible to understand the story apart from that. Themes run throughout of original sin--Caleb struggles with his parentage; Adam's father is a self-centered con and a liar--Freewill--to what extend do the "bad" sons like Charles and Cal have the ability to be good--and what does it even mean to be good; Aron is the "good" son yet spends his whole life believing himself bad; The truly evil Kate has no such compunctions. The reader simply cannot get away from the biblical story of the Fall.

This is complicated book, yet Steinbeck's heavy touch makes it a bit cartoonish. I, however, really enjoyed it. I think Steinbeck has a lot to say. I believe he feels God put Cain in an impossible situation and then gave him a meaningless "choice." Human fathers, according to Steinbeck, do the same, but their human sons still have an ability to make a meaningful choice. I believe that in Steinbeck's estimation, an imperfect human father is better than a capricious heavenly one. Clearly, I don't believe that God forced Cain into an impossible situation; I do not attribute malice to God in the narrative of the murder of Abel. But I do believe humans are complicated. We can seem backed into a corner with no ability to make any kind of a meaningful choice, and yet I believe we always have a choice.

In the end, I think Steinbeck wrote East of Eden in order to redeem Cain. Does he succeed? Well, I suppose so, in the scripted world Steinbeck has constructed. I'm not sure how much the real world reflects Steinbeck's, however.

 

Six Great Ideas by Mortimer Adler

 

As part of the ACCS teacher accreditation, we were asked to read Six Great Ideas by Mortimer Adler. I was already familiar with this book because several of the chapters were given to us when we began designing our Seminar class. I knew I would enjoy the book, and I absolutely did. 

Mortimer Adler has engaged in yeoman’s work in his book Six Great Ideas, which seeks to place broad parameters around Truth, Beauty, Goodness, Justice, Liberty, and Equality. Since these great ideas are in fact, great ideas, I found the book remarkably helpful for Seminar class. I have proposed to our Seminar team that we study his chapters on Truth in 9th grade Seminar, his chapters on Goodness in 10th grade Seminar, and his chapters on Beauty in 11th grade Seminar. That leaves the trifecta of Justice, Equality, and Liberty for 12th grade Seminar.  As this is the class into which I most directly contribute, I am very excited to introduce his conceptions to our students. 

Ninth-grade Seminar deals with the question of “What is the Good Life?” Adler’s thoughts on Truth are perfect for this section. Adler states, "So the truth of thought consists in agreement or correspondence between what one thinks, believes, or opines, and what actually exists or does not exist in the reality that is independent of our minds, and of our thinking one thing or another” (34).  This definition helps lead the students into what is fundamental in the good life, namely, the pursuit of Truth. Not only does truth exist, but it is foundational that we align ourselves with it. Of course, as Christians, this Truth has taken the form of a person, Jesus Christ.  As humans, Adler says we have a “moral duty” to pursue Truth. He states, “When we recognize that the possession of truth is the ultimate good of the human mind, and, recognizing this, commit ourselves to the pursuit of truth, we have a number of moral obligations to discharge” (63). This perfectly summarizes the lesson we would love our 9th graders to take away: The pursuit of Truth is essential to the good life.

The pursuit of Goodness is also perfect for 10th grade. We focus on how to rightly order our loves. Therefore, all of our loves should be aimed at the Good. Adler helps here with his discussion of real and apparent goods. We all believe that what we desire is in fact, good. And yet Adler makes the distinction between “is and ought.” As humans we must figure out what we ought to desire. These oughts line up with what is actually good for us. In 10th grade, as we discuss rightly ordering our loves, we can easily segue into loving what is an actual good: loving what we ought to love.

Eleventh-grade Seminar, deals with modern philosophy, mostly Enlightenment thinking. We also discuss the way art is impacted by and impacts the culture around it. Art at this time breaks down from realistic, mostly religiously themed, art, dedicated to the proliferation of truth, to a more chaotic and confused modern, abstract version of art. Therefore, a discussion of beauty fits in perfectly with 11th grade. Here, Adler makes a distinction between “enjoyable beauty” and “admirable beauty.” Enjoyable beauty, is that which we simply enjoy. Admirable beauty is that which we ought to enjoy. Therefore, we once again see this “is and ought” distinction. Adler gives this admonition, “We need only say that education should result in the formation of good taste so the individual comes to enjoy that which is admirable, and to derive more enjoyment from objects that have greater intrinsic excellence or perfection” (119). I would add to Adler's discussion of beauty, that true beauty is beautiful to the extent that it reflects the qualities of God. In fact, beauty is, at its essence a reflection of the character and heart of God. This can be applied not only to the visual arts, but even to beautiful ideas. As 11th grade begins to discuss ideas which move past revelation to reason alone, we can discuss the “beauty,” or lack thereof in those ideas.

Finally, we come to the Great Ideas of Justice, Liberty, and Equality. Adler begins by saying Justice must rule over Liberty and Equality. We cannot have too much Justice, but we can definitely have too much Liberty or too much Equality. It is Justice that determines their boundaries.

Adler begins by defining Liberty in three ways: the liberty inherent in human nature, the liberty associated with wisdom and virtue, and the liberty to do what one wants based on external circumstances. It is this final liberty which falls within the domain of Justice. 

Similar to Liberty, Equality exists in three parts: equalities we are entitled to by nature, equalities were entitled to due to our own efforts, and equalities we experience through circumstances. Once again, it is this third dimension in which Justice is most relevant. Inequality is justified when “All must have an equal opportunity to employ their innate and acquired abilities in productive work” (185).

The earlier discussions of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty should lead the students to an understanding of a virtuous man. And that virtuous man, according to Adler, “Is still able to do as he pleases, since he pleases to do what he ought. A right rule of conduct, and a just civil law command actions that ought to be performed and prohibit ask it ought not to be done” (147).  Therefore, when just laws are in place, the virtuous man is free to do whatever he “wants,” because he wants to do the right thing.

Here is the place for a discussion of Justice. Twelfth-grade Seminar begins with Plato’s Republic. In it, Socrates, seeks to make the argument of why men should want to be just. He does this by designing the Just Society. Yet in actuality, this Just Society is a tyranny. If a man will not be just, justice will be imposed upon him. And he will not like it. Since Socrates arrives at such a roundabout, definition of Justice, I believe it is imperative to study Adler’s more focused discussion of Justice. He divides Justice into two main spheres: the man to the state and the state to the man. When dealing with the man to the state, or to the community, a man must recognize what his fellow citizens deserve by right and what they deserve by comparison with others. But he must also act in a way which serves the common good. Justice is often conflated with “fairness.” But fairness is only justice in comparison to others. Justice, vis-à-vis rights due, and Justice vis-à-vis the common good of all fall outside the scope of fairness. In regards to Justice, vis-à-vis the state to men, the state has a similar duty. Adler states, “The man-made laws of the state, derives its authority from justice, in each of three ways: one by the enactment of measures that protect natural rights; two by legislation that prescribes or safeguards of fairness in transactions among individuals; three by regulating matters affected with the public interest for the general welfare of the community” (197). 

This ties in beautifully to the Republic where Thrasymachus advocates a “might makes right” philosophy. Adler makes the convincing case that Justice based on might alone destroys the concept of Justice entirely. That cannot be the case. Adler answers Socrates question, “Why should we be just?” with a great answer. “It is an indispensable factor in our achieving happiness for ourselves” and others (204). 

 I'm very excited to incorporate all of this into Seminar next year. I think it will give us great umbrella ideas in which to subsume everything else we are discussing. It provides a coherence and consistency. That just makes me happy.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

As I endeavor to read great books, I turned next to Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. Generally I love this kind of book. I'm a big Jane Austen fan. But I also read Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte and didn't love it. So I proceeded with low expectations. Fortunately, I really enjoyed the book.

First of all, Jane Eyre, unlike her Austen-like fellow characters, is poor. She's an orphan, taken in by wealthier relatives who mistreat here. She is not looking for a man. The book is so much more about her and her character growth than marriage, although that, of course, is included. 

She begins as a wholly unlikable, yet pitiable creature. Jane is loud and opinionated and headstrong. But she also has a strong moral center on right and wrong. She is sent to a boarding school and forgotten. She must forge her own way in the world. However, by this point, she has been molded and shaped in her character and, while not necessarily having achieved perfection, knows that as the goal. 

She finds employment with the Rochester clan as a governess for Mr. Rochester's ward. This is where the book turns Austen-esque as Jane and Mr. Rochester, twenty years her senior, declare their undying love and intention to marry. Jane is saved by a rich, but unattractive, man who plucks her from obscurity, intending to lavish her with his fortune and make a fine lady of her. As with most Victorian romantic novels, the love is told to the reader and described in voluminous terms, but the reader is never shown the love. Why Mr. Rochester loves Jane is unclear. She's different from the other women who are apparently vacuous and money-grubbing. She is an interesting conversationalist. Even he calls her plain looking, however. She's subservient and clearly his inferior. They have no chemistry or event that bonds them together. It just is that they are mad for each other. 

Of course there is a twist and "happily ever after" is abandoned. But 1/3 of the book remains. Jane continues in a very different adventure with a family when she literally collapses on their doorstep. But the story circles around and all ends well.

One thing the book had going for it was a real sense of a life that seemed wholly unfair, yet through it all the thread of God's sovereignty runs. Jane, and consequently those around her, learn to trust in God's plan and call for righteousness, especially when it's hard. Jane spends the book learning the lesson and implementing it. Those around her, including Mr. Rochester, must discover its truth in their own way. The redemption of injustice and trial turn God into the hero of the story. While the moral is clear, Trust God and Do Right, I don't believe it was heavy-handed or overdone. It feels real. It feels hard. But in the end, it feels right.

Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle

Because it is such a classic, and probably an absolute must for classical educators, I decided to read the entire Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle. I had read portions of it, and had watched the Hillsdale videos on it as well as heard Spencer Klavan on it. But it seemed time to actually read it. Besides, I had to read something floating in the pool. 

It was as good as I'd hoped. 

Aristotle can be tough. His overarching goal is to categorize everything. As he does this, his writing can seem repetitive and actually somewhat obvious. But it is his drilling down on definitions--on saying what something is, and what something is not--that causes us to see what we thought we already knew in a new light. 

Nicomachean Ethics proceeds Politics because Aristotle thought his students needed to know what exactly is the good at which they are aiming before embarking on a political program. That said, he begins Ethics with this familiar line:

Every art and every inquiry, and likewise every action and choice, seems to aim at some good, and hence it has been beautifully said that the good is that at which all things aim.

He is saying that everything we do is in pursuit of something we would call "good." It is therefore incumbent upon us to define this term. This preoccupies the rest of the book. 

Of course we could also say that we aim at "happiness" and Aristotle will explore this next. He creates a term, "being-at-work" for when a thing is its best self. When it is doing what it is made to do. This is "good." A tree, which is being as tree-like as it can, is a good tree. Human "beings-at-work" aim to be happy. And we can only be happy by aiming at the highest goods. Therefore only a good human is truly happy. A good human is one who has mastered the virtues to the extent he has internalized them and they define him. 

Therefore Aristotle proceeds to define the virtues. He shows that the virtues rest as a mean between two vices. Courage is between recklessness and cowardice. This does not mean that a virtue is exactly between them, but it is somewhere in the middle. The circumstances and our own natural proclivities will determine where the exact mean is. This makes it a difficult target to hit. Aristotle advises to overshoot in the direction that is hardest for you. If you are naturally cautious, aim for reckless and vice versa. In this way, you will hit closer to the virtuous mean than if you gave into your own natural desire. We become virtuous as we continuously do the virtuous thing. This is why it's important to know what that is. 

This brings Aristotle to the virtuous way of thinking. Humans make choices. And they make choices based on deliberation. Deliberation only involves subjects in which the particular human has some agency. In order to be virtuous, each person must deliberate and choose the most beautiful choice with the most beautiful of intentions. Repeating this process then leads to a virtuous person. Often, we are seduced into thinking that we can push the line in the small things, but when it counts, we will act virtuously. This is the opposite of what Aristotle wants us to see. Each deliberation, and therefore each choice, defines and builds our character. The kind of character needed to make the tough choice simply cannot be called into existence without practice.

When it comes to justice, Aristotle describes it as giving what is due. It is the most public of virtues and the one that requires all the others. Unlike courage, which can be done when called upon and doesn't need the other virtues, justice requires a virtuous way of thinking in order to understand what is actually due. Each situation is unique and requires serious deliberation and beautiful choices. Justice is the virtue of all other virtues. And once a man understands justice, he can make practical application and exercise practical judgment. 

Aristotle seems to go off topic when he dives into friendship. He categorizes friendships as those of utility--a relationship with an accountant--and those of pleasure--people who share a hobby--and those of virtue. This last form is rare. It is the friendship in which each person makes the other a better person. It's hard, but possible, among unequals. This is a friendship for the simple sake of the friendship. We are tempted to say that our friendships are of this sort. Yet Aristotle, as he is wont to do, reminds us that if we are complaining about a friendship, it is because it is not serving us. Therefore it is a friendship of utility. Ouch. I can see how most friendship fit into the first two categories. This makes sense. A virtuous friendship can only exist among virtuous people. Aristotle has spent the book so far showing how difficult that is. If there are two virtuous people, and they find each other, this must be rare.

Returning to his ideas of the "good," Aristotle calls us to be good humans. The end of the book makes clear that all this discussion of ethics is nothing more than a prelude to governing. He knows the men he is teaching will become law-makers and as such must know how to make good laws. He ends the book with, "So having made a beginning, let us discuss it." 

I love that this whole book was a prelude to the discussion of how best to govern a society. We rarely think about politics or politicians and say, "Well if you want to discuss that, we need to spend 10 or 20 hours discussing the good, virtue, wisdom, justice, and practical knowledge first."

Too bad.