Bedtime or Reading Time?

 ...when, I say, these things leave us, we either sink exhausted into longings for the future, or turn back and recall visions of the far departed past.

- The Duke of Zamorna, Charlotte Brontë

I stay up late to finish the last story in this collection of early writings by Charlotte Brontë. What is it that causes me to ignore my necessary bedtime to read a good book? Why wouldn't I just close the book at the precise time I need to go to bed? Ah, it's too difficult to stop reading a good book.

This collection of stories, Tales of Angria, is from Charlotte's late teens and early twenties, when she and her siblings created an imaged world of dukes and duchesses, mystery and intrigue, drama and wars. The storytelling draws me in. It's just wonderful, not necessarily what is happening in the story, but the storytelling and characters she develops is superb. She draws on politics from her day, and characters that are modelled after those figures. This is where Charlotte is developing her skills as a writer. You, the reader, somehow find yourself liking the Duke of Zamorna, but you know he is kind of a scoundrel, modelled after the scandalous Lord Byron (who was alive in Charlotte's time). He tangles himself into webs of family drama stemming from his father-in-law, Northangerland, modelled after the Duke of Wellington, which leads to ill regard and anger, and yet the Duke shows he is brave, charming, witty, and stands up for those he loves.

The intrigue and sweeping storytelling is something I love. I am removed from the world and dropped firmly into this imagined world where Charlotte often describes the action without saying it (developing these scenes as atmospheric glimpses as if viewing a silhouette from afar), and then goes inside the feelings and thoughts of the character. A sort of glittery spotlight on a moment that freezes in time for deeper inspection.

Something in Charlotte's writing sparkles for me, lifting me outside the boundaries of this world and into a realistic fantasy (what an oxymoron!). The creative imagination is flowing freely and such delights show up through the fantastic dialogue, full of quips, quirks, wit, and plays on words. The way charm and jealous suspicion battle each other through the conversations is so fun to read. It is so outside the way you the reader would live, and you stand to the side watching the drama unfold, deciding for yourself the quality of the characters, and why they might be like that.

'I've got a head-ache, Mary." This was a lie, told to awaken sympathy and elude further cross-examination.
"Have you, Adrian? Where?"
"I think I said I had a head-ache. Of course it would not be in my great toe."
"And was that the reason you came away so soon?"
"Not exactly. I remembered I had a love-letter to write."
This was pretty near the truth. The Duchess, however, believed the lie, and disregarded the truth. The matter was so artfully managed that jest was given for earnest and earnest for jest.

Why am I drawn to good atmospheric scenes and witty dialogue? I confess I am not a fan of idle chatter and shallow talk in any aspect, and Charlotte pokes fun at such things frequently in the tales. It's a delight to me to read that. Thus, I end up staying up late to finish reading a tale and eventually the book.

As we, in our everyday reality, view the scenes of real life war and suffering destroying lives of so many, it is all too easy to get caught up in it, letting it consume us and thinking of little else. But that is like letting the battle be won before the war has even hit your land. If something is worth doing and enjoying during regular times, it's just as important to partake in times of darkness and uncertainty in the world. Indeed, it is almost in defiance of the darkness that clouds, as the pursuit of good things is never done in any "normal" circumstances. Days are never "normal".

Vita Nuova

 

As I rode out one day not long ago
by narrow roads, and heavy with the thought
of what compelled my going, I met Love
in pilgrim's rags coming the other way.

Vita Nuova (new life). Dante writes this short book of prose and poetry to share what experiences led him to a new life. This is Dante's first major work, and it is beautifully written. The parallel of Beatrice and his love for her follows the path that leads to God, and therefore the truest, deepest love that is at the centre of all things. The three characters of this book are Dante, Beatrice, and the Love that sees all outside of time and as one whole thing. Yet it is a Love that still shares tears with Dante and seeks him in the joys and sorrows. Ah, the more I read of Dante the more I am drawn to his writings and want to read more and study more.

Dante opens this book of his memory to share the story through prose and verse, telling of the catalyst that began his new life. The vita nuova. What preceded this story doesn't matter. He looks at this as the important episodes to share, leaving out anything else he sees as not significant.  

We become more familiar with his love for Beatrice, which at every level points to God. All the allusions and trinity-inspired language clearly points to this deeper source of how Dante became something new. If we feel low or in a point of darkness of grief along with Dante, Dante's recollection from his book of memory tells of the dreams/visions he has when visited by Love himself, who shares his tears and has compassion on him.

When Dante asks the Lord why he weeps, the answer he receives is - 

"I am like the centre of a circle, 
equidistant from all points on the
circumference, but you are not."

Dante is not sure what this means, so he asks why he speaks so obscurely.
The Lord replies - 

"Do not ask more than is useful to you."

More mystery in the reply and Dante is left confused in these moments. But what we learn later is the truth of God's place outside time. So, He is at the centre and can see all of everything at once, equidistant from everything at his central position. There is no time for Him - He sits above it all. So, He knows the sorrow that is to come for Dante when Beatrice dies. Yet, He reminds Dante that sometimes we aren't meant to know more than is useful to us at that moment. We are made to live inside time, yet move toward the centre all the while, closer to God, who knows all and draws us to Him.

Love, who perceived her in my memory,
had come awake within the ravaged heart
and to my signs he said, 'Go forth from here,'
whereat each one went on his grieving way.

It's beautiful writing, nourishing to a soul divided with questions and battles with reason. It lays down the pathway to discovery of the deeper recollections of the trinity and God's place in our longings. As the reader, you can follow down that path and ponder more about his use of numbers, 3 and 9, and how those are perfectly fitted to the trinity and also the medieval astrological views of the 9 spheres that move, and have relation to one another. This segues so smoothly into the main theme of The Divine Comedy where he explores this in much more detail as Love is One who moves the stars and planets, and the lyrical perfection of the heavenly spheres is the pathway leading closer to Him.

This short book sets us up for his later masterpiece, The Divine Comedy, which he even alludes to at the end of the poem saying if he is one day capable of writing about her (Beatrice) in a more worthy fashion, he hopes to write more. 

Winter Raindrops

 

Winter Raindrops

Scattered leaves, verdant, and made of 
a camphor page,
Adorn the roof outside my window.
Glued in place with winter droplets of rain.

The pitter pat of the soft rain, not heavy,
Lest the leaves scuttle if by water fall
From clouds, swept away, no longer steady
Would their clinging be.

But a notion of refreshment accompanies
this gentle rain.
The air is quiet and still, holding the morning
In its embrace - giving the birds, one by one,
A spotlight to sing their refrain.

Daring to go against all popular opinion, I love the soft winter rains, and I won't change my mind about it. It is pure delight to me. Soothing and calming. Providing interest to the day - a little bit of unpredictability never hurt anyone. Perfectly suited for a cup of coffee/tea and some deep reading or writing. I sit my rain-loving self at my desk looking out the window trying to take in all the atmosphere I possibly can, which usually results in me writing a few words, which morphs into a poem of sorts.

Whether you love rain or love when rays of sunshine glimmer across your face, notice those moments that you are graced with and stop to enjoy them. Take a deep breath and let nature soothe you by it being itself, simply doing what it was created to do. Don't let anyone tell you that you are wrong about it. Our own inclinations and the way we were made might need a different kind of atmosphere to feel calm and at peace. Discover what that is for you, if you don't know already, and let yourself indulge in the enjoyment of the simplest of moments.

Curious About The Old Curiosity Shop

 

She sat down at the window where she had spent so many evenings - darker far than this - and every thought of hope or cheerfulness that had occurred to her in that place came vividly upon her mind, and blotted out all its dull and mournful associations in an instant. (The Old Curiosity Shop, pg. 102)

If you have read any Charles Dickens you know that he wrote about the time in which he lived, creating characters that portray the aspects of life that were frequent in England in the 19th century. You can see the grit and grim on the paths of London. It is not always the friendly place we envision now. There were dark corners where child labour was the norm and poverty was extreme. I can see how Dickens would have been criticized for sentimentality in this novel, but even so, it has been worth the time reading it.  

We meet little Nell, who is mostly referred to as "the child" throughout the novel, when she is living in the old curiosity shop with her grandfather. She is a happy child, sweet and innocently facing challenges of the darkness and corruption during the industrial revolution in England. Her grandfather is poor and we find that he spends his evenings out at the gambling tables, leaving Nell at home alone, as he squanders away their last coins with that ill-fated hope of winning big next time. Instead he loses it all, and eventually becomes largely indebted to the evil-spirited Quilp (referred to as the dwarf), who finds immense pleasure in torturing everyone around him. When grandfather cannot pay their debts, Quilp takes over the shop and brave Nell sees the evil that he is, and proposes to her grandfather that they take their chances out in the world, getting away from London.

Can you suppose there's any harm in looking as cheerful and being as cheerful as our poor circumstances will permit? (pg. 173)

So, they walk into the countryside, meeting other travelers and gypsies, making acquaintances, and dodging some dangerous situations. They are sometimes met with kindness, sometimes absurdity, and always Nell tries to look toward hope. When her grandfather falters again, getting into the greedy slippery slope of gambling away all their money and being tempted to steal money to continue that urge, Nell again takes charge and forces them to walk away, deeper into the country, deeper into the heart of the black smokes of the industrial revolution.

The characters are quirky, offering some comic relief, especially with the lawyers Mr. Brass and his sister Sally Brass. Richard's observations and the comments he makes about them made me chuckle. While Quilp makes me cringe every time he shows up on the page with his evil grin and dark motives, I love the descriptions of nature in its raw and beautiful form, as Dickens personifies it, offering comfort to Nell as they journey, and contrasting it to the grim and darkness of certain places. 

The moon rose in all her gentle glory...

The noble sun rose up, driving the mists in phantom shapes before it...

Overarching the story is this sense that there is a Divine one overlooking the good, but it doesn't stop her from suffering. It just offers her comfort and glimpses of the light and joy because she chooses to see it before her, even in the more dire of circumstances. 

The same spirit which has supported her on the previous night, upheld and sustained her now. Her grandfather lay sleeping safely at her side, and the crime to which his madness urged him, was not committed. That was her comfort. (pg. 329)

Eventually they are met with kindness and a place of rest and solitude at an ancient church, where Nell and her grandfather are given a duty and house to stay in; a purpose for her life that Nell had been seeking all along and could not find. She is completely fascinated by the church, in equal measure, the church and the graveyard.

Upon these tenements, the attention of the child became exclusively riveted. She knew not why. The church, the ruin, the antiquated graves, had equal claims at least upon a stranger's thoughts, but from the moment when her eyes first rested on these two dwellings, she could turn to nothing else. (pg.354)

Sometimes in this big, strange world full of darkness, if we are able to let ourselves be riveted by the good, the life-filling, the acknowledged grace that sets itself before us, our decisions will be easy because they are obvious as we view the contrasting options the world sets up. Not letting ourselves get mixed up in the middle ground of grey maybes and slanted morals leads to a simpler life. Reading these kinds of stories highlights that way of living, by choice, and acceptance of the grace we are given, the goodness we can look to dwell in, to whatever end.

Everything in our lives, whether of good or evil, affects us most by contrast. (pg. 401)

The Library

Libraries only last as long as people find them useful.

How do you use your public libraries? Do you find them useful?

What would our world be like if there were no libraries? What if they were only digital?

There are millions upon millions of books in the world held within libraries. Vast collections of ancient documents of parchment, leather, paper, and clay tablet (the beginnings of the written collection). And for us, re-prints and modern books in our local libraries. Looking back through our history as humans, this chunky book, The Library, A Fragile History, is a lovely book to add to my own library and is a study of the history of the library through time. It explores how and why a library was created throughout history. What was happening in history to encourage or deflect the efforts of a library. I am endlessly fascinated by the history of the library as it mingles with the history of humanity. They cannot be taken separately as they are linked always. It discusses the effect of wars, shifts in culture, resources available (parchment, paper), religious history, printing history (printing press), manual processes (hand made), publishing history, human influence (power). It is about so much more than just a simple library.

In our modern times, I think some of the questions that rise are: What would happen if libraries were taken away, and everything was digital? If you wanted a book, you would go online? Where would the community meet for study, research, classes, events, or mingling? Where would children go to browse and delight in the sense of discovery of a book they never knew they wanted to read?

As the world shifts in priorities and deepens the reliance on technology,  libraries are used less and less. Many have become more of a community centre than a library. Is this a good thing that it has shifted from its original intent?

This was a brief age (in the time of illuminated manuscripts) in which books were an expression of the highest form of visual art, and where the price of a book might match or even outstrip the value of other possessions of the home.

Do we value books today in the same way? Most of the illuminated manuscripts or precious old books are now held within university libraries or great museums, some are on display so the public can view them. But is there a norm in our culture today that deeply values books as if they were treasures, rather than toss away items (or something to be moved to digital, and is it okay that one company, name starts with a G, owns and can control those digital books?)?

I treasure my books, but I don't just collect to collect. I read all of them. I remember growing up I revisited the same books on the bookshelves constantly. The feel of the pages, the scent of the book, all of it was enchanting to me. And it still is. As my own book collection has grown over time, I confess I am much more of a personal library person. I want to own the book, underline passages, jot notes in the margins, reflect and re-visit the book later, re-read in a year, etc. I cannot do that in library books. So, I do not check out books too often. But I love to buy books from their books sales, and I love to sit in the library to read or write in the quiet atmosphere that is a great alternative to a coffee shop for focused time (and while I am there end up picking some books from the surrounding shelves to dip into while there, sometimes checking them out to bring home). A library should always be a safe place for exploration, study, and learning.

But what do we do as the culture demands for libraries is diminishing? There were predictions years ago that books and publishing would be dead by around this time and that the digital books would take over everything - that was proven wrong. People still want physical books, and I believe they always will. More bookshops are opening. One opened this last summer in my downtown. There is an experience you get with a physical book that you cannot ever get with a kindle or reading online. The books on my shelves will never run out of batteries. They will never be lost in cyberspace. They will never by owned by G and controlled for any reason. I can go pick a book off my shelf anytime. No internet connection needed. 

I love reading about the history of books and collections like libraries because it tells a bigger story and asks some bigger questions I think deserve some thought. As you study books, you study human history. We have much wisdom to gain from this. Books and libraries have spanned thousands of years and something tells me that it will continue for the next thousand years. I won't be part of that time, but I can do my part now in appreciating books and places of learning like libraries and museums preserving such treasures, and sharing that love.

Ah, Bitter Chill it Was!

 

St. Agnes' Eve - Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told
His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,
Seemed taking flight for heaven, without a death,
Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.

- from "The Eve of St. Agnes", John Keats

Reading these lines makes you feel cold, doesn't it? 

I love the image of the owl, for all his feathers, still a-cold. I can see him shivering as he sits perched on the tree limb dozens of feet above the ground, looking out across the landscape, perhaps catching a glimpse of the hare who is trembling through the frozen grass, trying to get to his warm burrow. The frosty, crunchy grass seems frozen in time as the evening advances.

Ah, John Keats, who so beautifully mingles the spiritual and the temporal in his poetry, I read again this poem that invites me to imagine a medieval landscape of trials and bitter chill, and an introduction of the mythical.  This is where my heart and soul can expand beyond the norm of the everyday, and into the relish of the imaginative story that is bigger and older than me. It has much to tell, even in a microcosmic manner. Two young souls from challenging opposing families risk their lives to run away on the bitter cold, mystical night of St. Agnes' Eve, where the legend presents an opportunity.

I have been soaking up these cold, wintry, grey days. Even though I might shiver and for all my blankets and sweaters feel a-cold, I live for these days as they are so rare in Florida, and feel like a special treat to me. I realize that my love of winter and the grey clouded days we have had recently go against the general consensus of enjoyment out there, so if you think I am mad, I know. Most people do. I accept that and challenge you to try to see it from another angle, just as I need to see the summer sun and heat from another angle in those long, arduous months. 

A few days ago there was frost on my car and on the grass lawns of all my neighbors. I could not help but smile. The snowy dew was magical to me. I wanted to take a walk and linger with the scenes before it melted away a short time later. When I see things like that, especially in nature, where the changeable stance is that of the unpredictable, I am swept into the imaginative world mingled with my own. The two worlds collide, which makes the magic that I see.  

Musing on Why Dante Matters

 

Over a cup and saucer of coffee (refilled a few times), I am reading the academic voiced book Why Dante Matters. Truthfully, I already know the answer, for Dante is a great master of delving into the human heart and reaction to love, placed within the cosmic backdrop of the seven heavens of Medieval cosmology, which is absolutely fascinating to me.

You say, "I discern clearly what I hear; but for me darkling still is why God should have chosen this means of our redemption." This decree, brother, lies buried from the eyes of each and ever one of those spirits less than adult in the flame of love."

- Paradiso VII. 55-60

Dante died 700 years ago (1321), and I find him to be more relevant and deeply engaging to the longings in our hearts than most any modern writer trying to sort out the meanings of love and the cosmos. He combines faith and science as they should be, co-mingled as colleagues and friends in the vast depth we study of God to try to understand just an ounce of God's love, which moves everything.

I think I am deeply moved by this concept, thanks to the Medieval aspects and beliefs. Though a geocentric cosmos was later proved to be false, the same ideas can all play out, with all the mystery included about how the plants move in circles around a centre and how they move in time with Love Himself, the Maker and the Intelligence behind it all.

To me, that knowledge and imaginative vision of the heavenly bodies and their organized system that allows us to live here on a planet with the perfect conditions gives me utmost assurance in God being who He says He is. No force could create and sustain a complex system of the cosmos other than a Creator, an intelligent mind. It is pretty darn clear to me, and to a lot of science today. There should be no bifurcation of science and faith - right there present in both is myriad beautiful examples of God.

Dante helps me see this all from his perspective from the 1300's where the world was a different place both in history and science. It is astounding how profound his knowledge of the cosmos and of God is, from his time in Italy (and exile) in the 1300's. That was all more than 700 years ago. Yet today there are still many arguments that try to provoke others to believe that there can be no God and all of this is a complete fluke, an accident, and we have no meaning or purpose.

How could anyone wake up and look at the dawn sky with multi-coloured glowing orbs of light emerging over the sleepy horizon as our planet turns, and not feel the awe and wonder of creation, and attribute that to a higher being/intelligence? Even as we sub-create, it is all pointing still toward the One Creator. We were made to sub-create. God gave us minds to wonder, learn, seek out knowledge, search for clues in the mystery, and aim to create as well. Since we are made in His image, perhaps that is why we have this hidden desire to sub-create and use our imaginations.

"O beloved of the first lover, O divine one," said I then "whose speech so floods and warms me such that I am ever more quickened, my affection for all its depth is scarce sufficient to render you grace for grace..."

- Paradiso IV.118-32

This book was published last year, the 700 year anniversary of Dante's death,  analyzing three major works of Dante, the Vita Nova, Convivio, and Commedia. With extensive quotes from each of these volumes and textual analysis, it is rather a studious text, like being in a Dante course in graduate school. I rather enjoyed the depth, knowing that still much is over my head, but I am always open to being out of my depth, for there is room to grow and learn. I am very eager to read Vita Nova and Convivio now, as those are two works I have not yet read. I think this book left open for me a door that I may now enter into with some better knowledge of what Dante is conveying in his works.

What, then, we need to understand is this, that, for the reason shown above, everything has its own proper love. Just as simple bodies have within them a natural love for their proper place, which is why earth is always drawn to its centre, and just as fire has a natural love for the sphere above us bordering that of the Moon, and so always rises towards it, so the primary compound bodies, the minerals, have a love for the place where they are created, and where they grow and whence they derive vigour and energy; thus we find that  a magnet always acquires its power from the place when it comes.

- Convivio III.iii

Taking Note of Smart Notes

Having a clear structure to work in is completely different from making plans about something.

- Sӧnke Ahrens

I would be remiss not to jot out my notes from this book on taking smart notes that I just finished. This book was not just for students and writers. There are many elements provided in these pages that I can incorporate into all aspects of my life, including work and writing. Do you takes notes? How to you organize? I am always up for learning, so here are my brief notes taken for myself to review again, after I turned the last page.

Keep things as simple as possible. 

Assemble notes and ideas as drafts in notebooks or on napkins (whatever works or is at hand). These are temporary resources for those flash ideas you want to get out onto an external memory bank. Writing is not the main work - reading, thinking, and understanding is. To fully understand, you need to translate what you read into your own words, as you write it out you are forced to think about it and weigh it against what you know already.

Instead of collecting ideas, your aim should be to develop ideas and arguments. Keeping a growth mindset, keen to look at changing for the better, which looks at inward development, rather than looking to receive praise as an outward reward. Know an essential part of learning is the feedback loop.

 Seek out feedback, don't avoid it. And note that multi-tasking drains your ability to shift, and it delays your good focus. At the same time, we need to be flexible in ways that keep us concentrating if something comes along that makes you depart from it.

Let your thoughts linger. Sometimes your brain will work it out in the downtime when it's out of focus. A break will allow you to learn better by letting your brain the chance to process and move information into the long-term memory so there is space for new information.

Read with a pen in hand. If you know me, this is a given. Have a dialogue with the book in the margins. Take notes by hand. There is research that shows how the act of writing out notes by hand actually helps you learn and understand more. Since the hand can't write as fast as your typing, you are forced to think about what you are encountering, and to write the main points. Of course, this takes work, but as it is said, the one who does the work does the learning.

A wise person is one who can make sense of things by drawing from many resources of interpretation. Some tips include:

1. Pay attention to what you want to remember.

2. Properly encode info you want to keep, with cues that can help you remember.

3. Practice recall.

Ultimately, if you want to follow the book, you would start a organizational system with the notes on index cards and writing in your own words to build future projects. 

Index, A Bookish Review of the

 

...the index presents a perfectly sized nook for the deployment of discreet snark.

Index, A History of the
By Dennis Duncan

I finished reading Index, A History of the last night and it was delightful. I always find bookish history interesting but this one added some friendly intrigue to the tales, with some added doses of snark from history. History does have some funny tales to be told. 

I am not sure that indexes are used as much today except by scholars, or thought about in much depth (being that there was no history of the index, Dennis Duncan had to fill that gap and write this book), but it does actually influence us every single day because chances are you Google something most everyday, and what you access when you type in your inquiry into the Google search bar is Google's index. Fascinating that the tech giant of all information out there in the web world uses a system invented in the 1230s. I love that. I love learning how ancient and/or medieval systems or tools are still being used today. That the physical book and its included search engines (the indexes - and yes the plural is indexes, not indices. Indices are for mathematics, and indexes are found at the back of books. You can blame Shakespeare for this usage if you want to argue.) are relevant and still used now, perhaps in varying capacities, but still using the original invention.

The index, I learned, was a place where occasionally in history an editor would insert some objection or snarky comment about the contents of the book, by writing entries for subjects with an added personal commentary attached (such as adding an Index to Tears into a poorly written highly sentimental short novel, whereby listing all the 50-60 times a character would suddenly burst into tears). 

The index works best when created with a human mind, rather than a computer. A subject index is what people would use an index for, such as to look up forgiveness or mercy in relation to finding the story of the Prodigal Son in Scripture. A word for word index (or concordance) that a computer would create would have no connection between the concepts of forgiveness and mercy (words not actually used in the Biblical narrative) and someone would be out of luck in searching for it. But if a human creates a subject index, they would know to include the story of the Prodigal Son under the subjects of forgiveness and mercy in anticipation of someone possibly wanting to look that up where those examples might be.

I loved learning about medieval broken links. As the copied manuscripts ranged in different sized paper and books from their originals, the pagination changed and the index often would point to the wrong page if not updated to correct the references. And how astounding that in this modern day of Kindle and electronic books, we could have a similar issue as the pages can be enlarged/expanded beyond the borders, or fonts could be changed, thereby possibly causing a post modern broken link.

Fiction is usually not indexed (as we all probably know, usually it's non-fiction books that have indexes at the back), except in a few instances - my favourite of which is of course Lewis Carroll. Leave it to him to add whimsy to the humble, mundane index. I can't help but laugh and smile at the logic and fun he provokes in me by creating such index entries as  --

General, Things in, 25

Ideas upon ink, 73

In General, Things, 25

Ink, Ideas upon, 73

Milk, Musings on, 61

Musings on Milk, 61

On Milk Musings, 61

Things in general, 25

There are many more entries in the index, but I just pulled out a few of the favourites. The wit is pure delight. What fun it is to play with words. One huge reason why I love Lewis Carroll so much.

So, get to know your bookish history, friends, and get ready to enjoy every step of that journey.

2021 Bookish Notes

 

Wrapping up the year 2021 means a bit of reflection time. It has been an amazing year of reading this year, and I loved putting together this little listing of some "best of" books just for fun. I didn't even get all the books in the photo. the tower would be much higher. I am very much looking forward to more wonderful reading in 2022!

What books offered fodder for thinking deeply?

The Divine Comedy: Hell, by Dante  

Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius 

The Letters of Dorothy L. Sayers  (1899 - 1936) 

Lifting the Veil, by Malcolm Guite 

What books were so good they should be read again?

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, by Anne Brontë

The Feast, by Margaret Kennedy

What books were fascinating studies of nature?

Entangled Life, by Merlin Sheldrake 

Underland, by Robert McFarlane 

Best books of total escapes into another imagined world?

Piranesi, by Susanna Clarke

A Winter's Promise, by Christelle Dabos  

Best book of essays?

A Vertical Art: Oxford Lectures, by Simon Armitage 

 

Best books that made me laugh?

Very Good, Jeeves!, by P.G. Wodehouse 

The Man Who Knew Too Much, by G.K. Chesterton 

Best mystery books?

Peril at End House, by Agatha Christie 

Murder Must Advertise, by Dorothy L. Sayers 

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, by Agatha Christie

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, by Stuart Turton 

Best epic book (that I would love to re-read)?

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke 

Best theology book?

Repetition and Philosophical Crumbs, by Søren Kierkegaard 

Best poetry books?

David's Crown, by Malcolm Guite

The Owl and the Nightingale, newly translated by Simon Armitage