Books · Beauty · Theology #1
Language and place, a touch of Tolkien, and summer days...
Before you become a writer you must first become a reader. Every hour spent reading is an hour spent learning to write.
-Robert MacFarlane in Landmarks
Good friends and readers,
That quote above is the absolute truth. Which is why I can say with some relief and verve that my reading life has finally quickened after a sluggish spate of months. I’ve devoured essays, theology, fiction, and poetry in the last couple of late and feel that I am breathing in the open air of intellectual exploration after the close, muggy air of my own tired mind. It’s so good to be reading again. So two of the topics below draw from books I’ve read quite recently, brilliant works both, books that have ushered me into this cool, Oxford summer with quickened brain and beating, creative heart.
Books
I’ve just started Robert MacFarlane’s Landmarks. Sometimes you begin the reading of a book and know within a few pages that, in MacFarlane’s words ‘certain books… like certain landscapes, stay with us… changing not just our weathers but our climates’. I’m only a couple of chapters in, but what MacFarlane is describing is the power of localised language, of words that are intimate in their affectionate, precise articulation of a certain place. He’s describing the fascinating way that often we do not ‘see’ what we have not named, and how important it is to name and describe that which is precious to us (in his book, natural landscapes) so that it may not be lost. ‘Without a name made in our mouths, an animal or a place struggles to find purchase in our minds or our hearts,’ he writes.
Language can shift the story of a whole life. The words we use, the way we ‘tell’ ourselves and narrate the world around us profoundly shapes that world. I find myself thinking of how this applies to a dozen different areas; to nature, yes, but also to the way we understand local community or parish life, to the way we perceive the ordinary, interact with beauty, value children or the aged… in each instance, the way we narrate these precious realities often shapes the way we care for and cultivate them… or conversely, obscure them. Also, MacFarlane is a superb writer. As I take a hiatus from book contracts for a bit, exploring what sort of writing I want to work toward next, I find his prose to be both challenge and a high, wild joy to read.
Beauty
You all know me. I’m a Tolkien nerd and bear that badge with golden satisfaction. So, when I discovered the art of Jay Johnstone last year, I just about decided I needed a Tolkien room in my house. I’m settling for a fairy-tale reading room in our extra bedroom (the children all share a room now - that won’t last forever, but we’ll enjoy it while we can). And I very much want to have a few of these fascinating prints on my walls. Johnstone’s website describes him as ‘taking inspiration from Byzantine iconography to the great works of Gustav Klimt’. He ‘works with traditional methods and techniques exploring the relationship of peoples of Middle-earth.’ I think he captures an aspect of the high, formal, mythic beauty (one might call it elvish) of Middle Earth, and I’m intrigued by the way he uses art forms that we associate with religious belief to illustrate a work of imagination.
Thomas and I have debated whether the use of Christian iconographic design ought to be used for the (non-saintly) characters of a fairy tale; I can see both sides of the argument, but I think for many, including me, LOTR bears profound religious significance such that the characters bear the mythical, iconographical kind of goodness suggested by the life of a saint. Their lives are a ‘form’ - as C.S. Lewis might say - a reality reflected in this illustrated interpretation. In this setting, I think they suggest and in some sense reveal the profound and pervasive faith haunting every aspect of Tolkien’s work, and I find that beautiful.
Theology
These men and women saw the face of God, they heard His voice, and yet life for them came down to births and deaths, love, transgression, obedience, shame, and sorrow, everything done or born in the course of the characterisation of God, for Whom every one of us is a child of Adam, made in his image. God’s bond with Jacob, truly a man of sorrows, is a radical theological statement. Herman Melville’s Father Mapple calls Scripture ‘a mighty cable’. Its intertwined strands of narrative exist in time, which they also create, or assert… always tending toward a resolution or realisation or culmination inconceivable to us.
-Marilynne Robinson in Reading Genesis
I’ve just finished Marilynne Robinson’s Reading Genesis, and friends, it’s excellent. This is a skilled writer at the top of her craft offering a work of theological devotion, drawing on decades of scholarly and personal research as well as a deep, personal faith, to help us as readers engage afresh with the startling beauty of what Genesis reveals about our Creator. Again and again, I was surprised at the insights she drew from stories I’ve known all my life. Two emphases I traced with interest: first, God’s persistent engagement with the humans made in his image, his refusal to destroy, to take the kind of vengeance expected by human players, to dishonour what he has made. Second, she teases out the idea of ‘providence’ in this work: God’s will continues, his covenant proceeds both despite and also through the foibles and failures of his people. Do we have agency? What does it mean for us to have choice and for God’s good will to prevail? I’ve wrestled with these issues for most of my life, and while I don’t always agree historically with Robinson’s conclusions, I found her thoughts here nuanced, faithful, and full of hope in a God who does not fail his difficult people or cease to work for the goodness he intends.
The cool day is dappled and ever-so-slightly drawing towards dusk as I finish these words. We’re sitting in a cafe, and Thomas is kindly holding a wriggly Elanor, who is jingling his keys and making a music of her own composing. My chai cools and my brain slows and evening looms. Evening, when I am trying to enter the larger rest of gathering at the table, breathing deeply, saying a spot of prayer as I rock Elanor to sleep, and seeking that book where it waits on the table by my chair.
May you find such goodness opening up in the hours before you. May great writing and kindled words attend your contemplation. Walk in beauty, go in joy, and may the words you find make wild your eye with happiness and calm your heart with peace.
Until next time,
Sarah
PS - All winners for the birthday giveaways have been chosen and notified, thanks for entering everyone! I wish I could send all the gifts to all of you.
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A few weeks ago my 6 year old and I discovered MacFarlane’s The Lost Words, one of the most gorgeous books I’ve ever held. Since then we have spent many happy hours reading and looking, reciting and sharing its beauty. My four year old so enjoys looking at the paintings and finding the hidden creatures and pointing out themes from pages to page. And the spells work! We’ve revelled in a mural of kingfishers close to our home - we’ve journeyed past it dozens of times unnoticed. And the tangles of ivy crisscrossing trellises and telephone wires have taken on the sensibility of a daredevil’s highflying acrobatics. Delightful! Cannot recommend strongly enough.
Lovely read. When your words pop into my inbox, I am always excited to sit down to fully engage and read.
Have you read Nourishing Narratives by Jennifer L. Holberg? I am slowly making my way through and often think to myself it would be something you would savor. Blessings to you!