Meanderings of Yore

The Death of Adam (1998) by Marilynne Robinson

This was the first contact I had with Robinson (better known for her Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Gilead), and she is a fasincating thinker. She’s one of these types that makes you feel you are coming into contact with the full force of the Western canon distilled in a singular and distinctive mind, who therefore adds to it even as she continually draws from it. These are essays on modern thought but with constant reference to history, and of how history is perceived at present. Her regular contention is to overturn or correct popular conceptions—even (or especially) among the intelligentsia—of historical perception and present certainties that don’t bear scrutiny. So she’ll critique Darwinism (as distinct from evolution as such) and Positivism as philosophically inadequate modern myths, or defend the idea of original sin, or point out the mutual exclusivity and inconsistency of the many versions of the modern vision. And she’s perhaps the only mainstream artist and thinker who will, at length, defend the historical integrity of the life and thought John Calvin, even suggesting his Geneva as a prototype for the American republic. But she does none of this from a stale conservatism (on the contrary, she herself appears to be socially liberal). The regular impulse she fosters is the humanist call to go back to the sources and discover the voices of the past still living in book form. She often gives you the impression that you may be coming into contact for the first time with someone you had assumed you already knew. But all the while she’s giving a unique, deep, and often startlingly insightful commentary into both our past and present. Fair warning, her essays are pretty dense, however. But they are rewarding.

Christianity and Liberalism (1923) by J. Gresham Machen

This, for my money, is perhaps the best summary of Christianity I’m aware of (excepting creeds). He’s dialoguing with and critiquing what he calls Liberalism or Modernism, which is essentially a non-supernatural view of Christianity (ultimately derived from Kant’s closed ceiling). But though the book is a critique, he’s concerned not with heat but with light, so that the reader can decide for oneself. The real glory of the book for me, however, is not so much its critique but its positive vision of Christianity, which Machen is able to bring out more sharply as the religion of grace over against visions of human confidence. But his vision is by no means simplistic. He has a great appreciation for the profound glory of human nature as it shines across the pages of human history (though less impressed with the machine age), but this is equaled by the problem of human nature in its profound moral corruption (equally apparent across the pages of history). The Christian vision, according to Machen, brings this problem into the light, holding that this most basic of problems and most basic of needs was dealt with in that great representative of the human race, touching both God and man, Jesus Christ, in whom is brought about reconciliation in his death and resurrection. Therefore, the glory of human nature which previously must end in vanity due to its basic moral problem can now move forth in freedom. Machen puts forth this vision concisely, cogently, and with exquisitely simple eloquence.

The Everlasting Man (1925) by G. K. Chesterton

This is one of my favorite books, a kind of metanarrative of human history in very broad brush, which is both the most interesting and (perhaps) important kind of history but also the most controversial and difficult to prove. That is, because it is more than just history as such; one’s worldview comes powerfully to bear on the picture drawn. In one sense it may be seen as a response to H. G. Wells’ Outline of History. This is certainly not the same type of work as that, but Chesterton makes the case that Wells’ construction is disproportionate: it doesn’t put the right emphasis in the right place. Chesterton wants to focus on two genuinely startling turning points in the human story, namely the emergence of man onto the scene—that is, man as relative to the rest of nature—and the appearance of one particular man among humanity—that is, Jesus Christ as relative to the rest of humanity. The argument in both cases is uniqueness. He wants to bring into sharp releif the wonder of what it means to be human—but to also point out the darkness—on the one hand, but also, and in similar proportion, to show how extraordinary Jesus of Nazaeth appears among the rest of humanity. In any case, it’s a great mind at work, and Chesterton is at once always delighted with his subject matter and delightful to read.

The Four Loves (1960) by C. S. Lewis

This is a great work by the mature CSL. It’s obvious that love is one of the most important topics that can be reflected upon and discussed, but I’m not aware of very many books that do so, at least in this vein. Of course, romance novels and love songs are endless, and the absurdity of most of them is equally endless. This is not a criticism of the love story as such, only the cheapening of a concept that’s really quite transcendental. Take, e.g., Dante and Beatrice or Beren and Luthien. In any case, this book is unique and very helpful in thinking about and reflecting on the nature of love or, more accurately, the loves: affection, friendly love, romantic love, and transcendental or divine love. It’s also helpful as a look sort of into the nature of idolatry. Lewis gives all the natural loves their due glory, and that glory is great indeed, as they reflect the glory of God. And therein lies the danger. The impulse in response to such brilliance is to set up the love of family or romantic love as the highest possible ends, in which case, Lewis contends, they will “go bad” on you. Romantic love, e.g., prompts those who feel it, in emotional ecstasy, to lay down their lives for one another and make eternal promises (thus, in fact, imaging the love of Christ). But this, only supported by nature, cannot support itself. All the loves must have their source, perhaps like tributaries from a river, in Love himself if they are not to dry up. 

Myths of the Norsemen (1960) by Roger Lancelyn Green

This is a great introduction to Norse mythology, and captures that very distinctive and unique world of Northern myth, what Lewis and Tolkien referred to as “Northernness,” one of Lewis’ chief sources through which he experienced “Sweet Desire” or sehnsucht (mostly through Wagner). Interestingly, Green had actually been a pupil of Lewis’. The mythical world of the North could scarcely be more different from the mythical world of the sunny Mediterranean. Homer is, after all, Homer, and Achilles and Odysseus are difficult to beat, but the whole tone and atmosphere of the North, with its pale, overcast skies, give it an edge that the atmosphere of the south, for me, can’t really compete with. In any case, Green retells the major Norse myths (assembled from the original texts) very well, from the creation of the world to a vision of its inevitable demise at Ragnarok, including adventures of Odin and of Thor and of Loki the trickster, of Valhalla the great mead hall, and Sigurd the Dragon Slayer.