Upcoming selections

We went ahead at our September meeting and set out the selections for the rest of the year, based on the list we've been compiling of Books We Want to Read Before We Die.

First up, for October . . . Lilith, by George MacDonald, and The Man Who Was Thursday, by G.K. Chesterton.

About The Man Who Was Thursday: "G. K. Chesterton's surreal masterpiece is a psychological thriller that centers on seven anarchists in turn-of-the-century London who call themselves by the names of the days of the week. Chesterton explores the meanings of their disguised identities in what is a fascinating mystery and, ultimately, a spellbinding allegory."

About Lilith: "Rich in symbolism, steeped in paradox, this is a tale of a man's journey and his coming to terms with the frailty of humanity when it is seen in the light of God. MacDonald never hides the basis of his paradigm--that there is a God who loves us, who knows better than we do what is best for us--rather, he weaves it into a rich tapestry of adventure wherein key characters make known the paradox that is at the heart of Chrisitianity: he who would be first must be last."

Both are very different, a little difficult, interesting. We should have a good discussion on the 20th.

November - Home, by Marilynn Robinson. We read Gilead our first year. This is a follow-up book. You might want to read Gilead if you haven't already. Great book.

December - off

January - Life of Pi, by Yann Martel. Winner of the 2002 Man Booker Prize for Fiction. "Pi Patel is an unusual boy. The son of a zookeeper, he has an encyclopedic knowledge of animal behavior, a fervent love of stories, and practices not only his native Hinduism, but also Christianity and Islam. When Pi is sixteen, his family emigrates from India to North America aboard a Japanese cargo ship, along with their zoo animals bound for new homes. Life of Pi is at once a realistic, rousing adventure and a meta-tale of survival that explores the redemptive power of storytelling and the transformative nature of fiction. It's a story, as one character puts it, to make you believe in God."

February - The Michigan Murders, by Edward Keyes, and Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, by Mary Roach

March - The Blue Star: A Novel, by Tony Earley. This is a sequel to Jim the Boy, our first-ever selection, a sweet tale. You'll want to read it.

April - The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot

May - The Spirit of Food, by Leslie Leyland Fields, and Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India, and Indonesia, by Elizabeth Gilbert

We settled on these, and then, on the way out the door at Schuler's I saw a book by a feminist writer I've appreciated: Naomi Wolf's The End of America: Letter to a Young Patriot. I'd like us to squeeze this in by making it our summer reading selection, or first thing next September. It would be a good lead-in to the 2012 election. And it has linkages to Thomas Paine's Common Sense. We should read them both.

Review: Silas Marner

Somehow I made it through school without having to read Silas Marner. If what Susan Hallender said is true, then I think that's a good thing. One sure way of killing great literature is to force a person to read it. I'm very grateful for Wordsmith's selection of this classic. I may never have read it otherwise, because unfortunately it has that taint of being "a book you read for school."

If I were a young person, I know I would have had a hard time completing the book. At one point I couldn't figure out Eliot's point in suddenly introducing the townsfolk through their lengthy discussion in the pub. Who are all these people and why should I care? For I while I put the book down because I cared about Silas and Eppie too much and feared something really awful would happen to them.

A good writer doesn't waste anything, and Eliot is a good writer. Tension is natural in any love story; she doesn't have to do anything really awful to her characters to keep you interested. And the scene in the pub is, after all, important because this isn't just a story. It's an examination of civic life. How do people live together? What orders their lives? How do they handle crises? How do they treat strangers?

It's also an examination of faith versus reason. Lantern Yard seems to represent a hyper-spiritual community, where faith is mistaken for mysticism and superstition. Knowledge and reason are mistrusted. It doesn't eradicate envy and greed, theft or falsehood. It doesn't know what to do with them.

Raveloe villagers, in contrast, have things, enjoy food and drink, go to church irreligiously. It isn't devoid of faith at all, as evidenced by the hearty exhortations of Dolly Winthrop. People know what they believe and have woven it into the fabric of their lives. (Nice metaphor, eh?) At least they behave correctly toward Silas, and they remind him to behave correctly, too. I'm thinking of the scene where Silas accuses a fellow who's been in his home of taking the gold. Another man reminds him of the law against presuming guilt until it's proven, a law derived from the scriptural requirement of two or three witnesses. They accept Silas, they help and seek justice for him. They support him in his adoption of Eppie. It's not accidental that Lantern Yard ceases to exist, overtaken by the Industrial Revolution, while Raveloe thrives.

Eliot seems to admire the natural and rustic. She writes of "unnurtured souls" and "least-instructed human beings" as being capable of the highest, finest qualities.

"There is hardly a servant-maid in these days who is not better informed than Miss Nancy; yet she had the essential attributes of a lady -- high veracity, delicate honour in her dealings, deference to others, and refined personal habits. . . ."

Aside from Silas, I found the character of Godfrey Cass most interesting. He was complex. There was more actual tension in the story concerning him. Would he sacrifice himself? Would he do right by Nancy? What kind of man was he? Would he insist on having his way? Would he ruin everything?

Nancy's a little flat, but she asks herself a good question, with which I'll close: "I can do so little -- have I done it all well?"