Saving Western civilization one student at a time.
Spring 2022
That Which Is True Is Ours On Building a Bookstore
by Warren Farha
The River Daughter's House by David Kern Twelve Great Christian Novels by Martin Cothran The Accidental Community by Heather Hawkins
Civilization by Candlelight by Martin Cothran
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“It took a lot of work to stoke the smoldering embers of civilization.”
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Letter from the Editor
he expression "dark ages" refers to the period of time after the fall of Rome in the fourth century A.D. until the resurgence of learning in Western Europe that started in about the eighth century. We call it "dark" because the light of learning that had been ignited by the Greeks and carried on by the Romans was all but extinguished. Art, literature, and education were nearly eliminated in most parts of Western Europe. It was only with the later rise of the Carolingian empire that learning began to make a comeback. During this time, as Thomas Cahill tells us in his book How the Irish Saved Civilization, a few bands of medieval monks, sequestered in remote monasteries on the lonely cliffs and crags of Ireland, worked in obscurity, copying and recopying manuscripts. The manuscripts they copied out by hand included not only the Bible and their own biblical commentaries, but the great works of antiquity that had almost entirely disappeared from the outside world. They pursued their task with diligence and with little hope that their copies would ever be read or appreciated by anyone other than their fellow monks. Late in the last two centuries of the first millennium, these works were rediscovered by the larger world and their recovery brought about a renaissance of learning. Once rediscovered, medieval scholars took these works, many of them long forgotten to the West, and poured over them, trying to understand their implications for the way people think and act. Today, we know little about the monks who copied these manuscripts other than a few funny remarks scrawled in the margins: "Thank God, it will soon be dark." We know much more about the later medieval doctors who discovered and read them, thought about them, and incorporated them in their own thinking—Peter Abelard, St. Anselm of Canterbury, Thomas Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, Duns Scotus, and William of Ockham—the fathers of education as we know it today. It took a lot of work to stoke the smoldering embers of civilization. Our culture today seems to be entering a new dark age. While our time is marked by methods of communication that the cloistered monk could never have conceived, we have failed to use them to ensure the passing on of the accumulated learning of the Christian West. The past three or four generations of children know less and less of their history, their art, and their literature. But the seeds of renewal are already being sown. The classical Christian education movement might seem small, but through it more and more educators are coming to understand the importance of teaching our children the tradition of the True, the Good, and the Beautiful that was once passed on to every new generation. We, too, are preserving the embers of Western civilization and livening the fires of learning. Someday someone will write a book: How Classical Christian Education Saved Civilization.
Spring 2022
FEATURED ARTICLES
Letter from the Editor by Martin Cothran...................................................... 2 Strategic Study Habits by Jessica Watson..................................................... 4 The River Daughter's House by David Kern................................................. 6 The Accidental Community by Heather Hawkins........................................... 8 C. S. Lewis on Why We Should Read Old Books by Dr. D. T. Sheffler.......... 11 That Which Is True Is Ours by Warren Farha.............................................. 13 Moonbeams and Music by Dr. Carol Reynolds.............................................. 16 Books Worthy to Own by JCheryl Swope................................................... 18 A Foundation Fairy Tale by Leigh Lowe .................................................... 20 Twelve Great Christian Novels by Martin Cothran ....................................... 22
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LATIN
STRATEGIC STUDY HABITS by Jessica Watson
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rguably, the greatest student-teacher relationship in ancient history was that of Alexander the Great and Aristotle. Although Alexander's genius contributed enormously to his success, there is no doubt that Aristotle's tutelage also served to shape his famous student. In his book, The Life of Alexander the Great, Plutarch recounts how Alexander treasured his copy of the Iliad that Aristotle had annotated for him, even carrying it with him on military campaigns and placing it safely in a casket that he kept under his pillow. Impressively, Alexander even taught himself to recite the Iliad from beginning to end. Perhaps these stories are somewhat legendary; nevertheless, they illustrate how much Alexander's knowledge and love of Homer was nurtured by Aristotle. Although Alexander's conquests played an instrumental role in the spread of Greek culture throughout the world, Aristotle's formation of Alexander provided the impetus. Even Alexander the Great still needed the stimulus and strengthening of a skilled teacher to develop his full potential. When we train students to have excellent study habits, we are enabling them to develop their natural abilities to the utmost. We are encouraging students to go forth from our classrooms instructed and inspired by their lessons, to solidify their newfound knowledge and to make that knowledge a part of who they are and a part of how they will love and serve others in this world. The following are three important ways to inculcate good study habits in students, with a Latin class as our guide. Jessica Watson has been involved in education for more than twenty years, first as a homeschool mother and currently as a teacher at Highlands Latin School. She is the author of several study guides and the instructor for many Latin instructional videos for Memoria Press.
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Strategic Study Habits
ORDER & ORGANIZATION
First, model order and organization. C. S. Lewis, in his essay "On the Transmission of Christianity," stated: "None can give to another what he does not possess himself. No generation can bequeath to its successor what it has not got." While this quote has a specific application in regards to a teacher transmitting Christianity, a broad application to teaching in general is not amiss. The principle is that if we desire to form something within our students, we must first form it within ourselves. If we train students to see that everything has a place (organization) and that there is a flow to the lesson (order), they will come to see this as natural and normal and begin to imitate it. Everything has a place. Books, binders, flashcards, and notebooks are neatly and specifically stored. Everything is labeled. Papers, tests, and quizzes are filed in a designated spot. You are then able to efficiently find and utilize all of your materials. There is also a structure and flow to each lesson. Daily, we recite grammar forms, review vocabulary, present new content, and practice new content. This order allows students to keep track of what they are learning in a clear and logical way. Students' minds become conditioned to recognize patterns and to analyze them, and their mental energy can be conserved for the truly difficult content when it arises because they are not wasting it on frantically recalling what they should have already mastered. If we set the standard high and create orderly and organized habits, we will be setting students up for success by providing them with a good model to follow.
METHODS OF STUDY
Second, train students to use a variety of methods in their study habits. Just as more than one tool is necessary in a building project, so more than one tool MemoriaPress.com
is necessary to support students in their independent learning. Teach students to use highlighted notes, copywork, form drills, and flashcards—all as part of their assortment of tools.
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Notes: To stay engaged as listeners and to internalize what they are learning, students should use a highlighter or take notes. Students should hear the words, "This is important," and know to highlight that information in their textbooks or write it down in their notebooks. Then, they should learn to reread their highlighted notes to refresh their memories. Furthermore, they should continue to study by verbalizing their notes in their own words.
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Copywork: Copywork is another simple yet effective tool to implement with students. Copying new vocabulary into a notebook or on a vocabulary drill form for homework that is then checked and corrected should be regularly employed by teachers.
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Form drills: Along with copywork, grammar form drills are a major part of bolstering students' studies as new grammar forms need to be not only orally recited, but also practiced through written work. This will become increasingly important as more grammar forms are introduced. Again, these should be checked and corrected.
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Flashcards: Flashcards are one of the most important ways students will retain their new and old vocabulary. Make it a priority to demonstrate to students how to sort and store their flashcards according to each week's lesson and then to add each lesson's set to their overall set of flashcards. Throughout each lesson, students should focus on that particular group of flashcards, going from English to Latin, but also from Latin to English. They should arrange their flashcards to form two piles, the ones they know quickly and perfectly and the ones they hesitate on or do not know at all, until all of their flashcards are placed in the first pile. Cheryl Lowe always said, "Students do not enjoy what they have half-mastered and half-understood." So although it may seem tedious, the students who dedicate themselves to this process will reap the reward of mastery and greater enjoyment.
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As teachers, simply writing the word "study" on the homework board is not enough. Take the time at the beginning of the year to teach students how to study and give them multiple means to do so.
ASSESSMENTS Third, help students identify their strengths and weaknesses. Every assessment is an opportunity to do this. Students can tend to take their assessments personally and to find their identity in their grades. Encourage them to have a broader perspective on the purpose of assessments and grades by having them step back and use their quizzes and tests to discover areas of strengths and weaknesses. Train students to ask the right questions about their assessments: "Why did I get an answer wrong? Was I confused about the content or did I make careless mistakes?" If students did poorly on a particular section, such as vocabulary, then they will know to shore that up for a unit test where they will most likely see the same words again. If they did poorly on a translation exercise, then they will know to go back and clarify the content they did not understand. If they made careless mistakes, then they can learn from that too and take their time in the future as well as double-check their work. All students have strengths and weaknesses and should prioritize their studying accordingly. No matter how strong students are academically, only strategic study habits will allow them to gain a deep sense of accomplishment and satisfaction in their learning. Plutarch records Alexander the Great as saying that "as he had received life from the one [his father], so the other [Aristotle] had taught him to live well." No greater praise could be given to a teacher than to be commended for teaching a student to live a noble life, a life characterized by knowledge and the skills implanted to master that knowledge. Strategic Study Habits
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The River Daughter’s House Building Something for All Times and Not Just This One by David Kern
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November 3, 2020, in the middle of a worldwide pandemic, while most of the nation nervously watched the election returns, in Concord, NC, I and a group of my closest friends were eagerly putting the final touches on a wooden countertop meant to cover up the paint-splattered remnants of a decades-old checkout counter. Roughly eight feet long and waist-high, these shelves and drawers had served many small businesses in our town. We were preparing it for its next use: bookshop point-of-sale. My wife Bethany and I were embarking on a new journey, one we had dreamed of since before we were married, when we would drive to visit each other in our separate cities and spend the day in bookshops, imagining what it would be like to live surrounded by so many books. We've always loved the experience of reading books, but we're both also lovers of the unique organism that is a book. We are fascinated by book layout and cover design and the art of preparing a book for press, by the way books smell, both new and old, and by how people respond when they flip through a book they are interested in. It's trite to say so, but we have always been enamored with the magic of books. That Tuesday we were two weeks from opening. Our bookstore was going to be called Goldberry Books and we were going to fill it with as many beautiful things as we could. You might remember that Goldberry is a character from The Lord of the Rings. She's called the Riverdaughter, with a voice "as ancient as Spring, like the song of a glad water flowing down into the night from a bright morning in the hills," and she is Tom David Kern and his wife, Bethany, own Goldberry Books in Concord, NC, where they live with their four children.
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The River Daughter's House
Bombadil's beloved, enchanting wife. Bombadil, of course, is legendary for his weirdness and his songs, but most importantly he and Goldberry have made a place in the wilderness where peace reigns. I have always believed that their steadfast commitment to the peace of their place was crucial to the success of Frodo's quest and the ultimate destruction of Sauron's forces. As we worked, I remember thinking of that famous C. S. Lewis quote where he says that friendship "is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival." And I remember being consumed by the sense that no matter how much longer I survived I couldn't experience much more value than that. And I prayed then and there that the shop we were about to open would bring similar value to my neighbors. In truth, from the beginning this endeavor was community-made. Our friends and family helped to clean and paint the space, build and install extensive floor-to-ceiling shelves, add titles to our inventory system, and peel stickers off used books. Soon, what we had originally conceived of as a side project became our life's work, and thanks to those same friends and a myriad of loyal new ones, here we are, little more than a year later, confident in the work we've been led to. My friend Tim talks a lot about third places: places that are neither home nor work, but are where community is made, shared, and preserved. He talks of coffee houses and art studios and parks and, yes, bookshops. He believes that no community can thrive without a thriving third place scene. We hope Goldberry Books will be a third place for all sorts of people. We hope our shop can be like the barbershop owned by the eponymous character of Wendell Berry's novel, MemoriaPress.com
Jayber Crow: a place where people can buy books, yes, but also a place where people can gather and be community surrounded by beauty. We hope it can become a third place that serves as guardian of Concord's stories, a place where our neighbors can discover new stories while at the same time sharing and passing on the stories that define the legacy and possibility of our place. It is with this vision in mind that we choose which books to stock. That we live in an age of distraction has been welldocumented. Ours is an epoch of trends and fads and whims, and the world of publishing is not immune to the symptoms of that disease any more than film, fashion, or food. But the history of literature is one that is, mercifully, defined by things that last. So at Goldberry Books we try to focus on books that resist the momentary gratification of being popular. We are looking for books for all times, not just this time. This does not mean that we avoid crime fiction or sci-fi or beach reads. On the contrary: Genre fiction is often more prone to last because it is defined by certain particulars of the form. Nor does it mean we entirely avoid books that are popular. But it does mean we are conscientious about what books we promote and what each choice means. In building a store on a foundation of books for all times, we are more likely to build a third place for more years than just this first one. Not long before Christmas of 2020, a few weeks after we opened, we received an email from a local woman who needed our help. She needed some books on grief, she said. She was suffering from terminal cancer and she didn't know how much longer she had left and wanted to leave her husband and young children with some books to help them grieve after she died. So, with the help of some counselor friends, we curated a box for 1-502-966-9115
her. Then she began to ask about children's books and spiritual books. She would come by and pick them up and chat and tell me about her little ones. This happened several times over our first months of being open. She would request books, we would find them, and she would come pick them up. She knew she didn't have many days left, but she was committed to leaving true, good, and beautiful things behind to fill her home. Each time I talked with her I was struck by how much gratitude was in her eyes, even as she was fading day by day. She believed in a future she would never see. She died last spring, leaving behind three little boys and a husband. But she left them a profound legacy, and we will remember her mission as long as our doors remain open. She loved Frank Asch's children's books, and every time we shelve one we think of her. People sometimes comment about how brave we were to open a bookstore during a pandemic, or how it must be hard to face down Amazon as it continues to expand its footprint on everyday life. But we don't think of it that way. We're not here to fight or struggle or take business from someone else. We're here to foster relationships, to provide joy and inspiration and conviction. Our doors are open only with the dream that the future is made good by the men and women who walk through them because they believe that the stories we tell about ourselves, the stories we pass on, will determine the kind of culture our grandchildren live in. Goldberry Books is here because we believe that each community's future depends on its commitment to things that are True, Good, and Beautiful, and because every day we meet people who believe in making something worth preserving. These are our neighbors, our patrons, our friends. Our shelves are stocked for them. The River Daughter's House
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The Accidental Community
We
by
Heather Hawkins
didn't intend for it to happen; it just did. It actually began on our honeymoon, when we popped into quiet, out-of-the-way bookstores in Paris between visits to more traditional tourist spots like the Eiffel Tower and Versailles. It continued during the couple of years we lived in Europe, where we scoured used bookstores in towns like Hay-on-Wye, Wales; Strasbourg, France; Salzburg, Austria; and Dublin, Ireland. But mostly it happened closer to home—date nights at our local used bookstores, online ordering, semi-frequent weekend getaways to new towns, and Friends of the Library book sales. After more than twenty years of book browsing, searching, and purchasing, my husband Josh and I currently find ourselves with a growing collection of around 13,000 books that we view not just as a personal library, but as a legacy for our six children and (God willing) grandchildren. In the early years, we accumulated classics from my college years as an English major, Protestant classics and ministry helps from our time as church leaders and missionaries, and spiritual texts and theology tomes from my husband's stint in seminary. Then came homeschooling and our conversion to Eastern Orthodoxy, and our acquisitions shifted to children's classics, historical fiction, history, and science, along with early church fathers and broader theology selections. More recently we have immersed ourselves in classical education and philosophy and our library's growth has reflected those subjects. Our library has become an evolving timeline and biography of our family's story. When others walk into our library, they are often struck by the floor-to-ceiling shelves and the books stacked here and there waiting to be mended, catalogued, or shelved. They sometimes see too much work and too many texts that take up too much space. To us, however, our library is not merely words from dead authors or antiquated relics of the past; it is a living representation of our family's heritage, our expansion as we added children, our moves to new places, and our growth in wisdom and knowledge. That Jane Austen book with the Shakespeare & Co. stamp? We purchased that in Paris in our first week of marriage. The poetry book that Josh carries with him everywhere he goes? He rescued that from a dumpster outside the Catholic school near our house in Ireland. That signed copy of G. K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy? I picked that up for one dollar at a library book sale in our hometown. The copy of Rifles for Watie with the cover falling off? Josh has read that aloud to our family at least five times. That old, ratty Bible? It belonged to the grandfather Josh never met, complete with the devout man's notes and underlines. These books are part of our family. And when I say books, I don't mean paper and ink and spines. I mean the stories they tell, the truths they contain, the lives they lay open for us to experience. We, like the Hebrews with God's Laws, speak of them when we sit at home and when we walk along the road, when we lie down and when we get up. Our children have been raised by the saints and the sages who inhabit our shelves. The characters and the authors are our friends, our confidantes, and our mentors. These Heather Hawkins is a writer, editor, and homeschool mom of six children. She teaches Latin and other classes at Highlands Latin Stillwater and is pursuing her master's degree at Memoria College. She is the librarian, homeschool consultant, and chief book rescuer at Schola Living Books.
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The Accidental Community
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books have a way of telling us something important without shouting it, and that's a good thing, I think, not just for children but for all of us. About five years ago, I ran across an idea on a homeschooling forum that expanded my vision for what our personal library could become. I read about a few homeschooling moms who had opened their personal libraries to other families and operated them like little private libraries. This serendipitous discovery came to me at a time when I was feeling overwhelmed with the number of books we had and yet how little space we had to house them. Within a few months we had completely renovated our extralong single car garage into a separate library space, and soon after that we opened it up to local families. Due to this new purpose (and having become convinced of the power of living books in one's education after seeing the fruit in our own children's lives) our book purchasing became more specialized. We began acquiring older books in earnest. Those written before 1965 tend to have higher vocabulary and more complex sentence structure—beautiful, inspirational writing that is not dumbed down and that treats the reader with respect. These books have a clarity between virtue and vice and the ability to enliven a child's imagination with truth and goodness. With few exceptions, these types of books are not being written anymore, and the ones that were written are often out of print and no longer to be found at the public library. Our desire is to rescue them from inevitable recycling and put them into the hands of children (and adults) who will read and be inspired by the wisdom they contain. Our hope was that our library would be a help to families that did not have the money, the space, or the desire to buy all the books they needed to homeschool their children. We never anticipated the response from our patrons, nor the blessing that the families would become to us. A natural community has arisen out of our little library. Once a week our doors open and in come our patrons—the kids to choose their books for the next few weeks and then go play outside with my children and our menagerie of animals, and the parents to choose their own books and sit and chat about the week over a cup of tea. It is our own created liturgy—a recurring moment of calm and connection in the midst of the chaos of our homeschool lives. We were also not expecting further opportunities for service to emerge. We now serve not just homeschooling families, but also families whose children attend both private and public schools. We have a book club for moms and one for teens. We've hosted a classical education book study and we 10
The Accidental Community
have organized a state wide homeschool conference. I've been given many opportunities to share with groups and individuals about the vital role of living books in developing a well-educated person. All of these enterprises were organic outgrowths from the community forged through the library. Best of all are the friendships—with moms who came in desperate, burned out and wanting to quit, with single moms who have no other support, and with parents who love books as much as we do. Our family went into this venture hoping to serve a few local homeschool families, and instead we have found ourselves surrounded by a growing community desiring to learn more of the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. This community comes at the perfect time. As classical homeschoolers, we have heard the admonition to "repair the ruins," and we are all attempting to do that with our children with every Latin chant, grammar recitation, and close reading of Homer. Even still, the ruins seem to be crumbling around us faster than we can rebuild them. I've heard this feeling of despair expressed from countless parents; Josh and I have felt it at times ourselves. Yet, we can look to history for hope. Saint Benedict, born in the aftermath of the fall of Rome, was so appalled at the licentiousness and depravity of his peers that he forsook a life of privilege and retreated and lived in a cave for three years praying and seeking God. Eventually, he was persuaded to become the abbot of a monastery, and would go on to found twelve monasteries of his own. He also wrote a little guidebook, now known as "The Rule of Saint Benedict," that taught the monks the axiom ora et labora—pray and work. His efforts helped usher in a monastic age that, during the ensuing "Dark Ages," would preserve learning, scholarship, and the Christian faith in the West. Our library has become like a little monastery. We, like the monks of old, pray and work. We pray that the Lord will grant us His mercy and His help as we work to build up a community of people who will spur one another on in deepening our mutual commitment to Christ and to the passing on of our cultural heritage. In ourselves and in others a simple love of books grew into a love of truth, which has burgeoned into men and women who have centered their lives around pursuing intellectual, moral, and spiritual virtue. Our procurement of books began as a hobby, and then was a necessity for our homeschooling, and now continues as a personal imperative. We envision our library becoming a refuge for weary souls, a place of encouragement and teaching, and, indeed, a repository for the preservation and proliferation of Western civilization, come what may. MemoriaPress.com
C. S. LEWIS ON WHY WE SHOULD READ OLD BOOKS BY DR. D. T. SHEFFLER
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he flood of hot topics that comes through our innumerable feeds has a way of trapping us in a whirlpool of endless scrolling. We read the same sentiments over and over again, since there are, after all, only so many things to say about a celebrity's shallow comments on a shallow subject at a shallow event last night. Maybe one clever commentator manages a particularly clever play on words that sarcastically gets to the heart of why the remark was no good, very bad, extremely dumb. Our thumbs are quick to punch in a cry-laughing emoji. We didn't, of course, actually laugh. Our impassive, screenillumined face didn't give a single hint of joy as we sit slouched in bed. And we move on to the next thing that we absolutely must have an opinion about but which we won't remember tomorrow. How do we navigate our way out of this trap? We can steal a little wisdom from C. S. Lewis, who wrote about the importance of old books in a generation far less hooked on screens than ours. Our peril is greater, but his way out remains just as good. In his introduction to a (then) new translation of On the Incarnation by the fourth-century Church Father Athanasius, Lewis puts forward an extremely short but potent argument for reading old books. Dr. D. T. Sheffler is a professor of philosophy with Memoria College and has taught philosophy, logic, Latin, and history at the University of Kentucky, Georgetown College, and Asbury College.
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In the first place, Lewis points out that the old wisdom is really not as hard to understand as people assume. They stick to "an exclusive contemporary diet" because they think that these ideas are easy while the old classics will be too hard for them. I encounter this humility frequently in students who are thinking about taking classes with Memoria College. They think they need an introductory book before they dive right in to Plato. In reality, they are usually much more intelligent and prepared for the greats than they give themselves credit for. Or they think they might discuss contemporary politics with more ease than the metaphysics of St. Thomas Aquinas. In reality, most contemporary issues are extremely complex—despite the shallowness and simplicity of our commentators—and a wise opinion on any of these issues requires an extensive knowledge of history, ethics, metaphysics, theology, foreign policy, and economics. By contrast, the perennial questions that we find in the canon of the Great Books are common to our human experience. While some questions may never have a final answer, if they are asked by Homer and Plato, Dante and St. Thomas, you will invariably find that your own experience will make the canon approachable and your own life will profit from the asking. In the second place, the debate in every historical period is conducted against the backdrop of a host of unstated assumptions that the disputants share. C. S. Lewis on Why We Should Read Old Books
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"All contemporary writers share to some extent the we need their help to see our own. We reel in disgust contemporary outlook," said Lewis, even those like when we read about what the Romans did to prisoners himself "who seem most opposed to it." But this is not of war in the Colosseum. What elements of the unique to the present age. Every age has its zeitgeist, contemporary zeitgeist—what elements of your own and the sides caught up in the temper of the age usually life—would a Roman similarly reel from in disgust? tacitly agree on far more assumptions than explicit You need to read Cicero to find out. points of disagreement. We may think of the way the I have frequently encountered students who Whigs and Tories during the time of the American hear this argument and immediately think, "Oh Revolution both shared a great number of values, yes, I know just what Lewis means. I can see clearly premises, and sentiments because they both came several blind spots of the present age," as they from the perspective of Englishmen in the age of the proceed to rattle off the cliché caricatures of what's Enlightenment. Or we may think of the way the intense wrong with the other side, whoever the other side dispute between Catholics and Protestants might be. They have little sense that any blind spot during the Reformation that they themselves can only makes sense within see clearly is probably not the context of Christianity. the kind of endemic blind In our own case, Team Red spot that Lewis means. and Team Blue can only If we can only see what's have the fights that they wrong with someone have within the context of else's worldview, but American, modern, liberal cannot see what we have democracy. But you won't in common—what would see the tacit assumptions— shock and appall the assumptions without which inhabitants of any other the fight between Team Red age in human history and Team Blue fails to make about us both—then any sense—if you only listen we have yet to gain the to Fox and CNN. You'll need perspective that SUMMER 2022 to read John Locke's Second Lewis advocates. Introduction to Classical Education Treatise, or better yet Plato's But this leaves one Laws and Aristotle's Politics. asking, "How can I start Classical Pedagogy This means that the to see that which, by Introduction to the Great Books literature of every age definition, is very difficult comes with the danger of its for someone like me to see? The Adult Fiction of C. S. Lewis own particular blind spots. How can I become wise to Every age is "specially good G. K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy follies that I and all in my at seeing certain truths and generation share?" The only More classes at MemoriaCollege.org specially liable to make answer is to find a vantage certai n mistakes." The point outside our own trouble with our own age generation so we can see is that we, being steeped in it, are blind to its ourselves and our culture more clearly. Lewis tells us: blind spots. The blind spots of Greece or Rome or None of us can fully escape this blindness, but we Renaissance Italy, on the other hand, are glaring to shall certainly increase it, and weaken our guard us and unlikely to become temptations. Sometimes against it, if we read only modern books. Where they one finds a troubling tendency in classical education are true they will give us truths which we half knew already. Where they are false they will aggravate the circles to unquestioningly elevate all that is error with which we are already dangerously ill. The premodern and unquestioningly denigrate all that is only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the modern. This is not Lewis' point. The ancients and centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be medievals had their brutal wars, their Simonism, done only by reading old books. and their slaves. But we can see these problems. They If you know you need to read these books for practically jump off the page and horrify us (so long as yourself, consider an alternative to doomscrolling; we don't conveniently clip them out of our textbooks). dig in to something deep. Lewis' point is not that they have no faults but that
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C. S. Lewis on Why We Should Read Old Books
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That Which Is True Is Ours On Building a Bookstore by Warren Farha
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have always loved to read. I have always loved the sense of entering a completely new world, yet finding points of contact with my own. I have always felt the relentless pull of whatever might be on the next page of a book. I have often lived through my imagination. And I have always been somewhat shy and introverted, so reading has offered a safe haven where, in solitary times, I could find an endlessly varied occupation. In the early seventies, when I was in my teens, I became part of a large group of young people who made open commitments to Christ in a sort of evangelical context. My sub-group was, of course, the readers. We didn't stop with the Bible. We read books about the Bible; we read apologetics; we read books on theology and church history and spirituality. When I entered college, I chose religion as my major because no profession held any attraction for me compared with the issues my friends and I had been probing for the previous several years. My college years were decisive for me. My faith matured, joining itself to the Orthodox faith into which I had been born and baptized and intermittently nurtured, and which I had never really left. The process had begun before college, when I began reading the works of C. S. Lewis at sixteen or seventeen. His extraordinary writing—its beauty, clarity, and penetrating descriptive accuracy, especially regarding emotion and the spiritual life—not only confirmed the fundamental truths taught by the church, but connected these truths to a much wider spectrum of experience: mythology, philosophy, literature, even cultural criticism. Rigorously honest, selfeffacing, and unpretentious, his portrait of the experience of joy—"the inconsolable longing"—permanently and globally shaped my perceptions and priorities. Shortly after encountering Lewis, I read The Holy Fire by Robert Payne, a book filled with vibrant sketches of John Chrysostom, Gregory of Nyssa, Basil the Great, Gregory of Nazianzus, John of Damascus, and others—a roll call of saints whose work and words molded Christendom. I also encountered what to me were the incredibly winsome works of such contemporary Orthodox theologians as Alexander Schmemann, John Meyendorff, Lev Gillet, Thomas Hopko, and Kallistos Ware. The immensely powerful literary (yet in a sense catechetical) works of Dostoevsky followed not long after. It was an awesome and pivotal time, a time of intellectual ferment and exchange. One friend, a doctoral student in literature at Columbia, introduced us to the Victorians and Romantics. Another, pursuing New Testament studies at Duke, incarnated the conviction—later so important to me—that academic studies need to mirror reality by being interdisciplinary. Warren Farha is the owner of Eighth Day Books. This article appeared in the Spring 2005 issue of Image Journal.
14 That Which Is True Is Ours
My friendships continued to revolve around books. Books formed the center of our social life. We read books together; we discussed ideas; we joked about and argued and pondered things we read. Sometimes, just for fun, we would muse over what the perfect bookstore would have on its shelves. Meanwhile, the other half of my life was family and work. I grew up in a family business within an ethnic immigrant Lebanese community, and from the time I was nine years old I worked in my father's grocery store, as did my older brother, my mother, and my two sisters. There I learned hard, dirty, sweaty, honest work: good work, neat work. Through high school and college and even into my early married life I continued working for my father and with my family. I loved them and was reasonably content to have the two discrete halves of my life going on simultaneously. I worked hard because I had been taught to, and I read and probed and discovered new and delightful things about my faith because I loved the pursuit. Work and that deeper sense of delight remained in entirely separate spheres. And I could live with that. As I said, I was reasonably happy. On May 17, 1987, my wife Barbara, on her way home from work, was hit by a drunk driver who ran a red light. Some two months later, injuries from that accident took her life and the life of our unborn third child. I felt that my life had also ended, and that I had to start over. For a number of months I had no idea what to do. When I began to recover from the numbness that goes with grief, I started to ask myself obvious questions. What kind of job could I look forward to going to every day? What kind of work would involve the tendencies, loves, talents, and gifts that were part of my particular makeup? The thing I could look forward to was opening a bookstore. The old circle of friends and the tossing around of ideas about what the ideal bookstore would contain came into play. As I drew on those discussions, the advice of my friends both past and present, my experience in the evangelical world, my studies in college in the humanities and in literature, my exposure to church history and the fathers, my deepening convictions about the fullness of the Orthodox faith, my growing sense that all things good and true and excellent and beautiful belonged together—the essential elements of Eighth Day Books—converged. There came a time when I knew that I could not not do this thing. Whether or not I sold a single book, I knew that this was the thing that I had to do. The two discrete halves of my life seemed to coalesce. All the seemingly separate and distinct strands intertwined. Life began to make sense. The journey has not been an uninterrupted rapture. Far from it. There are days of chaotic frustration, MemoriaPress.com
confusion, overwhelming insufficiency or mindnumbing paperwork (each of those thousands of books has a paper trail). Finances are always an adventure tinged with terror. But there are also days pervaded by a sense of golden wholeness and completion, days of almost heartbreaking beauty. You continue. Our building is one of those early twentieth-century quasi-Victorian houses that abound in certain parts of Wichita, in a neighborhood that turned commercial in the 1960s. Our books occupy two levels plus a basement—euphemistically called "the hobbit hole" and devoted to children's books—and an attic converted into an office full of odd angles, with a view of trees and the old neighborhood. This attic is where I live about seventy hours a week. We stock around fifteen hundred titles, or forty thousand books, compared to the estimated one
Eighth Day Books is not huge. In a certain sense we may even be negligible. But we’ve looked at each and every one of those forty thousand books, and made a decision about each one, all conforming to a vision, not a projection of “turns per year.” hundred fifty to two hundred thousand books in the average Barnes & Noble. Eighth Day Books is not huge. In a certain sense we may even be negligible. But we've looked at each and every one of those forty thousand books, and made a decision about each one, all conforming to a vision, not a projection of "turns per year." Our mail-order catalog includes these words: We hope there is a coherence within this eccentric community of books, an organizing principle of selection: if a book—be it literary, scientific, historical, or theological—sheds light on ultimate questions in an excellent way, then it's a worthy candidate for inclusion in this catalog. Reality doesn't divide itself into "religious" or "literary" or "secular" spheres, so we don't either; we're convinced that all truths are related, and every truth, if we pay attention rightly, directs our gaze toward God. One of our customers found us "eclectic but orthodox." We like that. We also resonate with Saint Justin Martyr in his Second Apology (paraphrased a bit): That which is true is ours.
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Christ's resurrection is the lodestone of my life, my hope, my faith. And the early church had a rich symbolism for this: The resurrection took place on the first day of the week, which was also the day after the seventh day—the eighth day. This Sunday of all Sundays represents a new creation, eternity breaking into time. The eighth day represents eternity contrasted with the time of this world. Our vision is all about the unbreakable connections between all things that are true and good and beautiful. In the simplest of terms, Eighth Day Books specializes in classics in religion, literature, and history. These criteria are surprisingly spacious. We try to stock that which is of perennial, not ephemeral, interest. A wise theologian friend told me thirty years ago in answer to my anguished adolescent query about whether to engage "non-Christian books" that if we lay all the cards on the table, the truth will make itself known. His answer has become one of the foundations of title selection at the store. We believe that overarching principles have to manifest themselves in messy particulars. If indeed, as Paul Evdokimov writes, "no form of life or culture escapes the universal reach of the Incarnation," then we must stock Saint Athanasius' On the Incarnation and Curious George, Belloc's The Path to Rome and Kerouac's On the Road. That's how C. S. Lewis and Friedrich Nietzsche, Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow and Oswald Chambers, Bertrand Russell and Frederick Copleston, Martin Luther and Robert Bellarmine, James Whitcomb Riley and T. S. Eliot, Michael Novak and Wendell Berry, Camille Paglia and Lucy Maud Montgomery—the antinomies can be multiplied endlessly—all find common space on our shelves. We opened in September 1988 in about fifteen hundred square feet, with a few lovingly chosen books, staffed by the owner and one part-time employee, a friend and New Testament scholar who has since made his mark internationally. He was the first in an unforgettable series of friends who came to work at the store, and of strangers who became friends and even family. I consider the staffers brothers and sisters—or, now that I'm nearing fifty, sons and daughters. They came not just because they wanted jobs, but because they wanted to work at a place like Eighth Day Books, and their terms here have mostly been long because they knew the scent of the place, identified with its vision, and added their sweat to the pursuit of that vision. We have dwelled together and formed one another. I have witnessed remarkable convergences of lives and friendships and whole communities. There have been a few who might keep the store going when I pass from the scene. I'll be interested to see who it is. That Which Is True Is Ours
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"How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?"
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Moonbeams and Music by Dr. Carol Reynolds 16
his charming line from the song "Maria" in The Sound of Music reminds us that music cannot be held in the palm of one's hand or measured by physical parameters. Like a moonbeam, music's substance is intangible. Music springs to life from sound waves emanating from instruments and voices. These waves are received by the ear and pressed into our brains. The phenomenon we call "hearing music" triggers a complex web of responses and associations. It sets our minds and our bodies into motion. Even more marvelously, humans have the capacity to memorize, store, and recall vast amounts of music. Endless hours of musical compositions can dwell in our brains. This mental or remembered music exerts a discernable effect on our feelings and uplifts our spirits. From the womb until our last breath, music ranks as one of life's most powerful forces. With music as such a force, would we not expect it to be accorded a hallowed place in the formal instruction of our children? Tradition proclaims "yes," but the situation today is quite the opposite. Finding schools where music is taught seriously, including institutions engaged in the revival of classical education, is distressingly rare. The magnificent commitment to music evidenced in a school like Highlands Latin School in Louisville, KY, where serious choral training begins at the youngest ages, proves how much can be achieved, but also demonstrates the institutional constancy needed to achieve such levels. What makes the teaching of music so difficult? Do the logistics of required time and materials account for the problem? To a degree, yes. But our modern misunderstanding of music as entertainment is a bigger factor! After all, once music is labeled as an entertainment, the hapless label of "elective" is quick to follow. The first step in restoring music to its core position in a child's educational development may be to acknowledge its ephemeral nature. Real music exists solely in real time. It sounds only as long as the sound waves vibrate. To repeat the image above, it cannot be contained in the palm of the hand, which means that its benefits are harder to measure
Dr. Carol Reynolds is a widely acclaimed author, speaker, and educator. She regularly leads arts tours throughout Europe and the Mediterranean, recently in partnership with the Smithsonian Institute.
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in the short term. The second step—the most difficult to remedy—brings us face to face with the mixed blessing of recorded music. In a world where a three-year-old can utter "Alexa, play a famous symphony," and strains of Beethoven's Ninth fill the room, the ancient equation of striving towards accomplishment is turned upside down. Quickly, the irreproachable status that music-making and musical training formerly held in Western culture disintegrates. As an example, why stretch the budget to buy a piano or organ and search for someone to play it when—click—with the push of a button a digitally sampled Steinway or pipe organ can accompany our hymns at chapel? Would we accept this appr oac h e l s ewh er e i n our curricula? Would we be content with: "Alexa, conjugate these irregular verbs"? Indeed, why teach the periodic table when Alexa already knows the atomic number of zinc? But let's push these two considerations aside and take on the biggest culprits t h at mu st b e defeat e d: t h e f a l s e n o t i o n s t h at gen ius a lone dr ives t he creation of good art, and that emotional fulfillment is music's primar y goal. Western culture fell prey to these concepts in the nineteenth century, when the Romantic era gave rise to the idea of the "creative ge n iu s" whos e emot ion a l pa s sion mag ic a l ly produced great works of art. This false façade taped over and obscured the actual, tedious process of composing, learning, and performing music. It contributed mightily to music losing its ennobled status within pedagogy as part of the quadrivium and being perceived, instead, as a product merely of emotional outpouring. Talent, of course, does play a role in music. Emotional expression has its place also. But neither aspect alone can produce great art. Great art begins with classical training. The essential process of tediously molding, honing, and polishing an artistic creation has not changed since time began. We see 1-502-966-9115
this fact demonstrated vividly if we watch a sculptor cut away a block of marble so that a statue can emerge. It is harder to see the mechanical steps in an art that is based on invisible sound. People often are surprised to learn that most of what a J. S. Bach or a Mozart achieved can actually be trained into a moderately talented person. Granted, that final ten percent of elusive "genius" does make a difference. But without step-by-step training across many years, a composer cannot write a great fugue, structure a towering sonata, wrestle poetry into an unforgettable opera, or turn melodies and harmonies into a brilliant tone poem like Also sprach Zarathustra or Don Quixote. The copybook, then, is just as relevant a tool for training in music as it is for literature or language. This copybook, though, has blocks of five lines and four spaces. Equally essential is the watchful eye of a demanding teacher, particularly in the areas of harmony, partwriting, counterpoint, and orchestration. Necessary, too, is the ceaseless diligence of a teacher who shows a student repeatedly how to finger a complex passage or produce the pure vowel sounds that carry a singer's voice to the highest balcony (sans microphones, of course!). Like the rays of moonlight that enchant the eye, notes of music inspire and energize our being. Glorious music can change the entire outlook of a child towards life itself. Such music can bind up the inevitable wounds of experience and foster the internal stability each child needs to strive towards his goals. Remember, too, that our society absolutely does support the resources and training necessary for gymnastics or sport, endeavors highly praised by the ancients not for their entertainment value or emotional fulfillment, but for the strength and focus they conferred on body and mind. It would do us well to remember that music was once encompassed in the same way, and by the same thinkers. The intangible qualities of music are, in fact, transcendental qualities, and like things "invisible, Moonbeams and Music
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SIMPLY CLASSICAL
BOOKS WORTHY TO OWN by Cheryl Swope
“I NEED HELP,” she said. "I can
no longer change clothes in my bedroom." Pausing my work, I promised our daughter, Michelle, that I'd help clean her overcrowded room. I knew the usual suspects were partly to blame: Shoes needed to be returned to her closet, papers needed to be sorted, and a good sweeping would do wonders. But this time the true culprit spanned her floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. We had installed those bookshelves a few years before to forestall the chaos of overflowing books. Instead, like carp in a new pond, the contents only swelled to fill the enlarged space. Intending to organize one twin's bedroom, my husband and I knew it was time to do the same in the other's too. My son Michael's shelves—worse even than Michelle's—were so heavily double stacked that they hid his best and favorite books. (As most of us can appreciate, bulging bookshelves are often part love, part compulsion.) Rather than jump headfirst into their clutter, I first wanted to tiptoe into their hearts and minds. What do books mean to you? I had not asked the question in years, if ever. Which books have become the most meaningful to you, and why? I hoped the answers would assist our task. The ultimate question would be: Which books are worthy of residing on your personal and limited shelf space? I was curious to hear their thoughts. After all, the ordering of one's personal books carries far more meaning than straightening dishes in a cupboard. I needed to tread respectfully. Michael has often said, "If I ever have to live somewhere else, I just want to be sure I can take my books." I started with him. I asked Michael, "What do books mean to you?" He said, "My books give me rest. Books allow me to travel Cheryl Swope is the author of Simply Classical: A Beautiful Education for Any Child and Memoria Press' Simply Classical Curriculum, as well as editor of the Simply Classical Journal.
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to different lands. I have a love of books. I would say reading makes me less stressed. I like to read in my hammock because I relax when I have my book. (Pause.) I have a lot of happiness in my life because of books." I asked Michelle the same question. "A lot," she said. "If you take a book up and start reading, it's as if you're actually living in the story. You could be a humble peasant or a royal king. You can go from one place to another while enjoying the story unfolding. What appeals to the person could be logic; it could be rhetoric; it could be knowledge; it could be fantasy; but really what is important is getting to know the characters without necessarily relying on the plot to see you through. A book can only be as good as the very heart of the matter." At my daughter's request I tackled her room first. Many approaches would work for such a task, but I share our process for anyone—myself included—who needs a nudge. Space often does not permit us to keep every book we might have or want in our possession. We all need a means of determining how to keep the best, most beloved, and most beautiful books available to us. Ours is a cautionary tale. Back in Michelle's room, she and I sat on the edge of her bed across from the profound mess of books, pondering the mess. We closed the door to have privacy and quiet. I suggested we first determine how many books were on the shelves. We counted the books on a single shelf. We multiplied by the number of shelves. A staggering 1,400 books had accumulated in her petite ten by ten room. Again, part love, part compulsion. On a piece of paper I drew a pie graph with quadrants. Familiar with such visual arithmetic aids, she listened as I asked, "What percentage of books do you think will need to go, if we are to restore order and beauty to your room?" Previous decluttering efforts had resulted in sending away one or two books, or perhaps a paltry dozen, only to leave the tumbling MemoriaPress.com
towers crowding her shelves. I suggested fifty percent to let her know how massive this issue had become. (I reminded her that she could not even change clothes in the room.) We settled on twenty-five percent. Armed with a number, we gathered necessary bins. My husband lent bankers boxes to the operation. Our next step became obvious: We needed criteria for keeping and culling. How do we determine what is worthy to have in our homes and schools? Which books are not only worth reading, but worth owning? Such questions should have preceded so many twenty-five-cent purchases from local library and garage sales. Respecting Michelle's ability to discern, and wanting to cultivate this further, I asked her the possibly easier question: "How do we determine what must go?" Immediately she had one criteria: Books too "creepy" must go because they trigger disturbed sleep. She grabbed an example or two. Then she decided that books too "fluffy" lack substance and, though perhaps fine for a quick read in a waiting room, do not need to be owned. Books "poorly written" could be placed in the boxes. "Trendy" or "contemporary" books without a redeeming purpose could also go. A side note: For Michelle, any wholesome, humorous book that elicits hearty giggling redeems itself. This provides lighthearted refreshment to troubled days. We began. For two days, series by series, author by author, I stood on a chair and handed them to her as she pondered each book, weighed them against her criteria, and placed discards in boxes. As you can imagine, this was not for the faint of heart. Some
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decisions were harder than others. A few hours into the task, she began keeping everything. We had to recall our twenty-five percent calculation more than once. At some point, Michelle created a new category: "just not my cup of tea." As in, "I started this but it was just not my cup of tea." My own judgment trumped this criterion if I knew the writing was stellar and the characters would enrich and delight her. I told her the book could become her cup of tea if she sipped patiently. We restored these to the shelf. Her discernment and wisdom grew visibly as we continued. With increasingly mature ruthlessness, she sorted as I organized remaining books by series, author, size, and color with her direction as needed. The pleasing aesthetic of the new arrangements spurred us on. Together we persevered until we knew that every book residing in her small room was worth owning. When the boxes were full and the last beloved book was placed on the last shelf I stepped back to admire the results. Michelle opened her arms, a bright smile illuminating her face, and she twirled in grateful contentment. "I love my room!" Best of all, I know that she loves her books. Each shelf will welcome her to ponder, chortle, or travel. Each book will let her explore, grow, refresh, and feel as if she has visited favorite friends. The moment we finished, my husband came home. He called upstairs, "Michelle, I have something for you." He handed her a book. Michelle and I exchanged glances and burst into laughter. We share one final suggestion: When organizing your books, save space for any new friends that may come your way.
Books Worthy to Own
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C. S.
An Exemplary Fairy Tale by Leigh Lowe
Lewis said, "No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally (and often far more) worth reading at the age of fifty." The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald is a book worth reading. It is worthy of the primary student as an exemplary fairy tale that will forever set his standards. It is worthy of the grammar student who is living in Middle Earth and Narnia, worlds born of MacDonald's castles and caverns. And it is worthy, as a final blessing, to graduating students, embarking on life's adventure—yet eternally knotted to home. But The Princess and the Goblin is not only a book for students. Its appeal is universal. The Princess and the Goblin is endearing and rewarding; it is worth time and contemplation at any age and any hour. But don't just take my word for it. G. K. Chesterton described The Princess and the Goblin as "the book that influenced his whole existence." C. S. Lewis called MacDonald his master. J. R. R. Tolkien read MacDonald to his children; perhaps it's not just chance that goblins are ubiquitous in his works. So what is it about this fairy tale that has garnered such distinguished regard? The answer is simple. It is completely Truthful, completely Beautiful, and completely Good (in every sense of the word). Ursula Le Guin, the author of the introduction in my tattered and marked-up copy, identifies the broad appeal of MacDonald's book. She says, "He wrote for children, not down to them. He didn't confuse being young for being simpleminded." The Princess and the Goblin draws definitive battle lines and offers a wisdom that speaks to the innocent as well as the aged. Le Guin says: MacDonald was stern and clear about what nobility is …. [A] princess is a girl who behaves nobly. Curdie the miner, being brave and kind and behaving nobly and wisely, is a prince. The king is a king because he's a good man. No other definition is allowed. This is radically moral democracy.
Thus, nobility is a choice that is accessible to all of us. This truth makes The Princess and the Goblin as hopeful as it is harrowing. The book's heroes, the sun-people, must actively choose to follow literal shining threads that commit them to something Leigh Lowe is the daughter-in-law of Cheryl Lowe, founder of Memoria Press and Highlands Latin School. Leigh worked closely with Cheryl for years as a teacher, editor, and writer. Leigh consults on curriculum, trains teachers, and speaks publicly about classical education and the vision of Memoria Press and Highlands Latin School.
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higher than themselves. But the lesson is clear that we are all tethered too. Each of us has the freedom to accept our callings and follow our given paths to nobility like the sun-people—or else bury ourselves in darkness and revel in our hard heads and hard hearts like the goblins. Like the stairs of Princess Irene's castle home, the choice is up or down; moral middle ground is not allowed. The murky grays so pervasive in modern literature have no place in The Princess and the Goblin. Ascent or descent is illuminated with every comment and decision; small but important differences offer the lines of moral demarcation. In this well-told tale, MacDonald shows what nobility is by giving us heroes (the sun-people) who are relatable but pure—at onc e b el ievably si m i la r to us in t heir str uggles, yet authentically superior in their consistency and c ha rac ter. We s e e t hem bei ng, not necessar i ly p e r f e c t , b ut ad m i ra bly earnest. More than anything, they want to be good. They are sincere and tr ut hf ul. Their virt ue is believable because it stems from humility. Throughout the book, the sun-people are always st r iv i ng a nd s e l f- c or r e c t i ng , a nd s o their sentences often begin with the words, "I should h ave …." T h e a r r oga nt a nd ig noble gobli n s, by contrast, too often start off with "You should …." MacDonald reveals the bad and the deceitful and the ugly in the goblins and their creatures. The goblins hate light, they hate verse, and instead of celebrating the glories of Creation, they believe the upper world "is far too glaring" and must be treated as an "outhouse." Their values are distorted, just like their tender, toeless feet. They revel in their ability to make their own light and they shun dependence on that "thing hung up in the air" that they believe is "intended no doubt to blind." MacDonald's goblins speak, think, and behave in complete contrast to the sun-people. They consistently run in the wrong direction and their affections are completely upside down. Always seeking autonomy, what they get is isolation. But as MacDonald warns explicitly, it is "foolish indeed … 1-502-966-9115
to run farther and farther from all who could help …." He knew that it is not good for man to be alone. The goblins expose the gloomy consequences of hiding away and rejecting the Sun. And though the goblins are reviled for their terrible decisions and tarnished souls, we are not allowed to dismiss them. We are told, importantly, that they weren't always disordered. This makes them pitiable. Once members of the upper world, the goblins chose to sulk and cower in the darkness in pursuit of selfish, shortsighted goals. They were initially led into the ground by a bitter, jealous king, but, increasingly comfortable there, they eventually became creatures who couldn't stand the light. MacDonald warns us that it was easy for them to acclimate to a life filled with bad words, deeds, and ambitions underground— but he does not allow us to forget that it is not their intended home. We are reminded that, like us, the goblins are never doomed to eternal darkness, but they must look up and climb out of the dirt. MacDonald shows us what is possible in the sunpeople who consistently seek the light. They resist threats against their cherished aboveground culture by seeking help from "above." Confident in the very-dependable grandmother who lives upstairs, the wise children step out in faith instead of running away from conflict. Without knowing exactly where they'll be led, they trust the paths revealed by their unbreakable guiding threads. As Vigen Guroian points out in Tending the Heart of Virtue, this "faith fortifies courage." Ultimately, while defiance destroys the goblins, submission saves the sun-people. MacDonald's fairy tale offers clear and simple lessons that pierce the heart and demand reflection. He doesn't allow ambiguity (or justification) to distract from the truth. He forces us to wonder plainly, "Am I a princess or a goblin?" It doesn't matter if you are ten or fifty, The Princess and the Goblin will guide you toward nobility. It exalts eternal truths about the human experience and speaks to every age in every age. An Exemplary Fairy Tale
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o say that a book is a great Christian novel obviously and necessarily implies two things: first, that it is great and, second, that it is Christian. Many of the books here are widely considered to be great, but there seems to be little consciousness that they are also explicitly Christian. Although Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov is widely thought of as a Christian work, as are Flannery O'Connor's stories, Cry, the Beloved Country and Tolstoy's War and Peace— and even Anna Karenina—are almost never referred to in this way. How many literate people are not even aware that Les Miserables and The Count of Monte Cristo are unapologetically Christian? And The Lord of the Rings—how many among the vast multitude of its fans even guess that it is thoroughly and deeply Christian? Here's the list.
Twelve Great Christian Novels by Martin Cothran 22
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy A young engaged couple came to me recently and asked if I would give them marriage counseling. "Absolutely not," I responded. "I'm not qualified. But I'd be glad to meet with you and answer any questions you have." My only condition was that they read this book, which is possibly the greatest Christian novel ever written, and is certainly the best novel on marriage ever written. (There may be some other great book on marriage I have never read, but I simply refuse to believe there is one better than this.) There are several marriages in this book, but two are primary: that of Levin and Kitty, the paradigm of a Christian marriage—a model of marriage—and that of Anna and Vronsky, which is a mockery of marriage. What Levin and Kitty have is love; what Anna and Vronsky have is mutual idolatry. It is Christian marriage and its evil twin. Reading this book might change your life. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy I had a psychological block about even attempting this book because it was, to people of my generation, the quintessential Long Book—even though I had read longer books than this without psychological consequences. But once MemoriaPress.com
you begin this book, the length becomes your friend and the fact that it ever ends, an enemy. The story's only weakness is that it doesn't last forever. I have had a number of people tell me how sad they were when they had finished because they would simply miss these characters. Tolstoy had the great gift of being a master storyteller who could create an utterly real world with utterly real people. The best translations are those by Louise and Aylmer Maude and by Pevear and Volokhonsky. The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien I heard someone say that Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings is the greatest evocation of the Christian West ever written. Every time I read it (and I think I have read it six times now) this judgment seems more accurate to me. Every time I see some deeper insight into the human experience, which is a quest like that of Frodo and Sam. Tolkien's is a world in which evil must be fought, and where, as bad as it seems sometimes, we have to have faith in the fact that good wins in the end and that we can make a difference. Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton This is my wife's favorite book. It is the story of Stephen Kumalo, an elderly Black Anglican minister in South Africa in the time of Apartheid whose son has moved from their now-impoverished tribal town to the city of Johannesburg and hasn't been heard from since. One day, the minister is told that his sister, who is also in Johannesburg, is in trouble. Kumalo takes what little money he has saved and goes in search of his son and sister in the city. He finds his sister is a prostitute and is addicted to alcohol, and his son a suspect in a murder case. Johannesburg in this story is Babylon, luring young people away from their tribal homes to their destruction. It is a story of faithfulness, forgiveness, and redemption. It is the story of how one man comes to terms with the requirements of justice and how mercy overcomes all. It is a stunningly beautiful book, not only in its message but in its telling. Dostoevsky said, "Beauty will save the world." If this is true, this book will play a part. Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry I believe Wendell Berry to be the greatest living American writer. He is one of the few authors I read for no reason other than the sheer enjoyment and enlightenment of reading him. This book is the story of Jayber Crow, who is orphaned as a boy, and who sojourns to a Bible college thinking he is called to be a Martin Cothran is the editor of The Classical Teacher and author of Traditional Logic Books I & II, Material Logic, and Classical Rhetoric.
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minister but leaves when he cannot find the answers to his theological questions. He learns how to cut hair and makes his way to his original Kentucky home, Port William, finding his real calling as the town barber. It is Jayber himself who narrates the story, and we see him as others do not. It is he who cleans the church and buries the town's dead. There is a scene in the graveyard where he reflects on the importance of memory and how a community is maintained only through our remembrance of it that is, in my mind, one of the greatest scenes in literature. This book is one part Dickens' David Copperfield, one part Homer's Odyssey, and two parts Dante's Divine Comedy. The least bookish of all my children says that this is his favorite book. The Talisman by Sir Walter Scott This was the first book I read by Sir Walter Scott. He was the most popular writer in English for a good hundred years or so, and now I know why. This book's historical background of the Crusades frames a fascinating comparison between Christianity and Islam. I have always thought, as Arnold Lunn once pointed out, that we have an obligation to judge any position by the best arguments for it, not the worst ones we can think up. There are several places in this story where two great world religions come into conflict—in the action and in the dialogue. Scott shows us the character of Western Christianity in the persons of King Richard and Sir Kenneth of Scotland, and the character of Islam in the person of Saladin, perhaps one of its most attractive historical exemplars. We really feel—justly, I think—that Scott is trying to give us the best arguments for both sides. And despite the fact that we feel we have been given the best representation of Islam, still we see the superiority of Christianity and we sense that we are able to judge fairly because we have fairly heard both sides. The next time I am asked what it is about Western civilization that makes it worth trying to save, I am going to point to this book. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas If it weren't for the existence of The Lord of the Rings, I would consider The Count of Monte Cristo perhaps the greatest Christian adventure story ever written. It continues to amaze me how a book written in the nineteenth century can speak so directly to a reader in the twenty-first, but this book does. As the reader you want vengeance for the wrongs committed against Edmond Dantès every bit as much as he does himself, but in the end you are far more satisfied by the redemption that eventually comes. The plot twists in this story are astounding. What a great Christian epic! Twelve Great Christian Novels
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The Violent Bear It Away by Flannery O’Connor Flannery O'Connor is famous mostly for her short stories, but I believe this novel to be her greatest work. The first thing you must do in reading O'Connor is to understand her impish sense of humor. Once you "get" O'Connor, you will never let her go. She is trying to shock the modern reader out of his secular lethargy by confronting him with stark characters and a sometimes absurd plot. This novel is about a boy caught between his seemingly crazy great-uncle who thinks he is an Old Testament prophet and his secular, scientistic uncle who thinks he can save the boy by convincing him that the other uncle's crazy religion is a sham. In this contrast O'Connor captures the two extremes of the modern personality—and the modern world. The Thanatos Syndrome by Walker Percy Like many of the authors above, Percy does not shy away from portraying the world in all its depravity. His stories are like a prism through which we see the good, not in the light itself, but in its refraction. The question he asks here is: If we could find a way to satisfy every human desire and at the same time render everyone peaceful and harmonious, would we do it? He knew that you could do this only at the cost of humanity itself. Percy is the great twentieth-century defender, not of "humanity," that dangerous abstraction, but of the human in all his imperfections. The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky I have disappointed a number of people by preferring the writing of Tolstoy to that of Dostoevsky. The advocates of Dostoevsky point to his more orthodox theology and to Tolstoy's relative heterodoxy. But somehow Tolstoy's works always seem to rise above his questionable theology, and in any case good theologians don't necessarily make great writers. Nevertheless, the flaws in how Dostoevsky writes are more than made up for in what he has to say. In this book he tells of three brothers: Ivan the rationalist, Dmitri, enslaved to his passions, and Alyosha, who is a balance between the two. It is the story of a murder that drives each character to his ultimate and proper conclusion. The story of the Grand Inquisitor alone would make this 24
Twelve Great Christian Novels
book great, but the chapter, "Rebellion," is one of the most harrowing confrontations with the problem of evil ever written. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo French writers tend to have an exuberance about their writing, which is one of the endearing things about them, but it does mean that their books are long. Hugo's book bears little resemblance to the Broadway musical or the movie. We see the characters portrayed in this book in all their glory and in all their degradation. If Tolstoy is life, then Hugo is the world. Les Miserables is the story of several characters: Jean Valjean, a former convict befriended by a priest whose act of charity changes Jean into a good man; Marius Pontmercy, a young student whose life is transformed after he falls in love with Cosette and is saved by Jean Valjean; and Cosette, whose simple goodness changes both Marius and Jean Valjean. This book is criticized by some readers for its frequent and extensive digressions. But the digressions are what make the book so universal—they take the lessons of the story and ruminate on them. I find them among the best parts of the book. Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset This book is about the life of a woman in fourteenth-century Norway. It won the 1928 Nobel Prize for literature. At the time of the story, Norway has been Christianized only for a few generations, and the pull of the old paganism is strong. This theme weaves its way through the story, much as it does in Beowulf. It is about Kristin, a young woman from a good family who rebels against her parents by running away with a young man. Her actions in defiance of the wise advice of her parents resound throughout her life. Her relationships with her husband and her children are all affected in indirect ways by her earlier choice. It is the story of how our sins can be visited upon our children. Kristin Lavransdatter is a book that will live with you for the rest of your life. It is about childhood, motherhood, and fatherhood, and has an ending that will make you weep—and rejoice. Read the extended version of this article at MemoriaPress.com. MemoriaPress.com
