I have had the opportunity to read many wonderful books over the past few months, and surprisingly, the majority of them have been novels. Reading used to be an event of the day: a blocked out two-three hour retreat spent marking the books' margins and jotting down notes. Since Lydia has been born, reading is a filler in the few down times and before bed. Therefore, novels and narrative based writing have seemed to fit the availability, and I have thoroughly enjoyed each that I have read recently.
The first is Fyodor Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. The character development in this book is incredible. You are invited into the lives of four brothers who, although share the same father, have entirely different worldviews as a result of entirely different childhoods. It is a classic novel on the dilemma of human thought and response to one's surroundings. I found that I both loved and hated things about the brothers, as well as the secondary characters and the abusive father. Dostoyevsky raises issues of faith and culture, sin and forgiveness, love and hatred, and lies and truth. It's a book that someone could read twenty times, and each time find a new story within the story.
While many were introduced to this novel in high school (or earlier), I did not hear of it until reading Stanley Hauerwas' A Community of Character. Hauerwas uses Richard Adams Watership Down to illustrate the importance of memory and remembering for a community's politic. I was most intrigued by the forward to the book, where the author says something to the extent of, "No matter how my book has been used in political theory, it was originally written as a children's tale for my daughters." Yet it does not take long to see why this book is used in political theory courses, as it traces a community of rabbits as they journey from one strange community to the next. I must note that this book has given an image to leadership within the church that I had been unable to envision before. As someone who feels many of the missional church postures, I have been an advocate of flattening leadership without the loss of leadership. While this sounds good in theory, I had not seen it enacted all-too-often and I had not an image of what this "relying on the gifts of one another" might actually look like. Watership Down provides this image, as we watch the rabbit-community's reliance upon one another: reliance upon the visionary rabbit, the thinker-rabbit, the storyteller-rabbit, and the strong-rabbit. Each rabbit had a role in the community that was essential for its survival, yet not one rabbit was privileged above the rest, or had a right to say, "but the buck stops here!"
Most recently I have finished Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. This book was recommended by many close friends, and upon learning that it was a story about magic in Europe, I became even more intrigued (I seem to be a sucker for these types of books, whether it be Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings). This book is filled with layers. At times I thought it was about the power of esoteric knowledge to create those who are elite and those who are common. While this hooked me for awhile, I then became frustrated that this book provided neither an epic-storyline reminiscent of other fantasy novels, nor a darkness that often accompanies these types of books. But then it made me think about theology, and how we too-often approach theology as a language of the elite, enclaving ourselves as a group of those "inside" and leaving everyone else "outside": this book smacks this arrogant posturing as we see magic come back to the everyday lives of individuals and England as a whole. Finally, the final third of the book provides the type of epic tale that I had hoped for all along.
I could easily write essays on each of these books and the impact that they have had on my thoughts over the past few months. While it is easy to think that I am missing something by not focusing on non-fiction works, I have been blessed to be growing through the truthfulness and impact of good storytelling. Maybe what I have needed for a long time is immersion into fiction. The knowledge that I have long-pursued resides in facts and truths, which when understood, can then be enacted upon and heralded to the world: the story is thus the result of having our facts correct. But as I continue with many of the post-modern sentiments and seek to live amidst and among people whose lives are stories, I realize that stories are not the result, but the only way that we can know anything.
So with all that said, anyone have any suggestions for some good novel reading?
I find that when I read novels I can reflect on my life and the world without feeling the guilt I sometimes feel while reading theology or other non-fiction books. I love novels for that reason. I feel engaged and often times convicted but not guilty. Novels speak to my heart and not just my mind. Glad you're enjoying the genre. I might have to pick up Jonathon Strange and Mr. Norell.
Posted by: Claudia Heinrich | 10/20/2010 at 07:25 AM
Claudia - Jonathan Strange is a wonderful book, and I highly recommend it. What do you mean that you "feel guilt" when reading theology or other non-fiction books?
Posted by: Andrew Engelhardt | 10/20/2010 at 08:44 AM
Andy,
Loved your post. I have a special place in my heart for the renewing of story in the form of a good book, a comfy couch, and a hot cup of cocoa on a stormy day. There is something about being brought into someone else's story that is such a joy and honor.
I'll recommend two books that I've loved reading this summer. (Apparently, I'm your opposite, switching from fiction to non this fall...)
-The Guernsey Literary and Potatoe Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer
-The Crystal Cave, by Mary Stewart
And someone just suggested to me,
-The City and The City, by China Mieville
Posted by: Jean Sharp | 10/20/2010 at 09:52 AM
Claudia,
What is that dystopia book you've been talking about? Was that the Hunger Games?
Posted by: Jean Sharp | 10/20/2010 at 09:54 AM
Jean, My dystopian novel is indeed the Hunger Games Trilogy.
Andy,
I think a lot of times when I read non-fiction I think about how I don't measure up. When I read theology books I get discouraged about how the church I see around me is not the way I want it to be. I just read a parenting book about being more laid back and not worrying about parenting so much and I was left wondering if I wasn't being laid back enough. This might be my own peculiar kind of neurosis. I'm not sure this is normal.
But I don't struggle with those feelings as much when I read lit. For example, I did just read the Hunger Games trilogy. In this book "the capitol" is the hedonistic ruling center that oppresses the people around it. There were so many times situations would come up and I would think in my head "we are the capital." But rather than feel guilty I felt empowered. Could I choose not to be like "the capitol" in this instance? Were some things out of my control? Are the extremes of "the capitol" in the book where our culture is headed? After reading a story I could think through these ideas and be inspired to act on them.
Posted by: Claudia Heinrich | 10/22/2010 at 09:00 PM
Claudia,
Thanks for the in-depth and personal thoughts here. I completely resonate with the feelings of reading about ideals and seeing something different. I find it interesting that this isn't the same for you when you read novels.
Posted by: Andrew Engelhardt | 10/23/2010 at 08:08 AM
Additional suggestions received via e-mail or Facebook (to stay organized and actually read some of these books):
*"The Sparrow" - Mary Doria Russell
*"Children of God" - Mary Doria Russell
*"Book of the New Sun" - Gene Wolfe
*C.S. Lewis's space trilogy
*"Something Wicked This Way Comes" - Ray Bradbury
*"Father Elijah" - Michael D. O'Brien
*"Uncle Tom's Cabin"
Posted by: Andrew Engelhardt | 10/27/2010 at 10:36 AM