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.

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Serman Alexie

Our book club read The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Serman Alexie as part of our "Novel with a Native American as a main character" genre. My proposal was Last of the Mohicans. 

The short take on the book was that it was a YA novel about a boy growing up on an Indian reservation who makes the decision to go to the nearby "white" school. I had to sigh when I read that. I mean, the book writes itself: Boy feels like an outsider in both places. He's bullied. He's stereotyped. He aims for a girl way out of his league. He finally settles into some kind of stasis in which he comes to believe he is who he is. Others will not define him. 

And that's the book. Literally. I wasn't exactly disappointed. I just got exactly what I expected. Junior is too smart for the rez, so a teacher urges him to attend the closest public school outside the reservation. Upon discovering his plan, his best friend beats him up. The white students at his new school, where strangely enough a beautiful girl sits in front of him and after a brief introduction ignores him, make fun of him and seem to threaten violence. Plot twist, he eventually kinda gets the girl when he discovers her secret: She, too, feels pressure to perform and conform. Junior eventually develops a level of respect from both communities and realizes he will have to live permanently in both worlds.

Junior's running commentary about the reservation is interesting and had the book sought to dive deeper into those seemingly intractable issues, it would have been more interesting. If Junior would have had to examine himself more deeply for his own blind spots and vices, it would have made for better literature. Instead it's another one of countless, "I never really felt like I belonged" navel-gazing novels. It's Catcher in the Rye for Native Americans. The difference is no one likes Holden Caulfield, while Junior is certainly lovable. I just want to hug him. It's a "let me tell you my story of the particular way in which I discovered that, although I didn't fit in, I had to learn to love myself the way I am." It's actually everyone's story and interesting in its specifics. 

We are so far from literature exposing us to real human foibles and the concomitant search for virtue. My classical teacher self is on full display in that sentence. 

The book is fun. It's dessert. It isn't something you will read twice. 
 

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.

Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler

After listening to Hillsdale's class on totalitarianism, I decided to read Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler. 

Although the book is fiction, it follows in the tradition of other accounts of horror at the hands of totalitarian governments, like Solzhenitsyn's The Gulag Archipelago. In fact the eerie way it is written, almost disembodied, is also found in Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning. 

The main character is Rubashov, a true believer in Marxism and the Communist ideals. The novel begins with this arrest. As a good party man, he expected it, and believes all this is necessary to achieve the final utopian vision of the Party.

At first he is unwilling to "confess," but over time, and with increasing disillusionment, decides that is his only choice. And whatever the punishment, he comes to believe it is inevitable. He might even deserve it.

The book ends with his execution. 

It is a great book, and I highly recommend reading it to get a fictional flavor for a very real time in history. 

A Little Book for New Historians by Robert Tracy McKenzie

This book, A Little Book for New Historians by Robert Tracy McKenzie, was recommended by a member of our History team. It's short, but packs a powerful punch.

He begins by defining History. It doesn't seem like it should be all that difficult, but he starts with telling us what History is not: it is not the past. Looping C.S. Lewis into his argument, he makes the persuasive case that the past is comparable to a vast ocean: each moment which has ever occurred is a tiny drop. Only God knows the past, but we mortals can access limited parts of it, at least those parts that can be remembered. And "remembered" is the operative word. History is the remembered past. History is the collective memory of a people, and just as memory forms a person's identity, so History forms the people. Therefore the study of History should engender awe and humility as we struggle to remember who we are.

But if History is not necessarily the past, what is it? History is actually many things and must therefore be understood differently depending on the purpose of studying it. It is first of all an intellectual discipline. As such, it involves analyzing evidence and making arguments. The historian must love his subject and treat it as an object of love, while at the same time thinking critically about sources and veracity. We treat figures from the past as made in the imago dei, while recognizing that human are fallen and flawed and subject to cultural currents (as are we today). This intellectual discipline involves four distinct categories: historical information, historical understanding, historical thinking skills, and historical consciousness. After gathering the facts as best as we are able, we need to fit those facts together into a coherent whole. Then we make logical and persuasive arguments concerning the past and allow the whole process to change both ourselves and how we see the world. This final point is crucial. History without a look inward is antiquarianism, the study of history for history's sake. 

But History is not only a collective memory, it is a conversation. We speak to each other of our findings and arguments (secondary sources) and we speak to the dead (primary sources) because their ideas are still with us. We must enter that conversation with humility, acknowledging the limitations definitional to humans. All, whether other historians, historical figures, or ourselves, are struggling to understand the times and each comes with his own perspectives, biases, and blind spots. This conversation is the real point of History. Facts and figures will be forgotten, but the interpretation of those discreet points and the way in which we invite that interpretation to mold us will not be. It must therefore be top of mind that although the historian talks with the dead, he is speaking to the living. 

While History is a collective memory, an intellectual discipline, and a conversation, History is most importantly a mirror. Without an application to humans living today, History becomes a parody of its biggest criticism, a collection of dates and dead people (usually dead, white males). The Christian historian will take the sovereignty of God as a given. But the Christian historian must be careful not to ascribe motives to the workings of God. Only with extreme arrogance can we proclaim that God is doing this or that for this or that purpose. We know for a fact that History is the working out of the Gospel message as God seeks to redeem a lost and broken world. We know that History is moving towards the return of Christ and of Jesus's dominion over all. We know that nothing happens without the knowledge of God. Beyond that it's all speculation and we should tread lightly. 

But if History is a mirror, what should it reveal? Moral judgment is the act of judging the morality of past actors. In some respects, this is necessary. We should be able to say with confidence that the Aztec's proclivity for human sacrifice was evil. Where we should be wary is in concluding that we, ourselves, would never practice such depravity. Here we are invited to make a moral reflection. Would I, immersed in the world of the Aztecs, have accepted or even advocated for human sacrifice? The answer, if we are being honest, is often, yes. We need therefore to ask the next question, why? What in my heart makes me susceptible to cultural norms and the will to power such that I might find myself cheering as an innocent victim dies? And then follow that by asking, what am I blindly following today? What areas do I accept or advocate that run directly counter to the Word of God? McKenzie invites the historian to look closely at the strange over the familiar as areas that particularly challenge and reveal blindspots. 

McKenzie ends with three questions vital to the study of History:

1. How does what I am learning informing how I see the world?
2. How does it change how I understand myself? 
3. What does the knowledge that I'm acquiring require of me? 

I would add, how does this knowledge allow me to fulfill my purpose of glorifying Good and enjoying Him forever?

Only God knows the entirety of the story He is writing. As we study History, we fallen and flawed humans, depraved and blind, seek to know the very mind of God. We join in with the chorus of those, not actually dead, but our brothers and sisters gone home before us, to discover the immensity of the story He is telling about Himself. We stand on holy ground, seeking Him, and delighting in the glimpses He allows.