Sometimes, especially with good fiction, I’m enjoying a book so much, I hate the thought of finishing it. And so, I put it aside for a few days and return to it when I can resist no longer. Other books demand more than my aging brain can handle and must be read and digested in small bites. These call for more and deeper thought than I can usually conjure up as I read. So I set them aside, occasionally think about what they’re trying to tell me, and then return to them when my mind seems ready to dive into them once again. And then there are the books that simply conflict with whatever my current mood might be. These include poetry, short stories, or books of a certain genre, for example, science fiction, fantasy, mysteries, and what are often called, “ghost stories.” Yes, indeed, I enjoy all them all, but only if they’re well written and I’m in the mood. These, then, are the reasons for the “unsightly pile” (Dear Diane’s words) of books on my end table.
What books now reside in this pile, and who are their authors? I’ll start from the top and work my way down. Here goes...
The Daughter of Time, by Josephine Tey (1896-1952).
Okay, in truth, I finished this book yesterday, so it shouldn’t still be in the stack with the others. After closing its cover, I just plopped it down on top of the pile, thinking I’d find a spot for it in a bookcase today. But I enjoyed it so much I just had to tell you a little about it. Anyway, my friend asked his question a week ago, so the book should still qualify as a true member of the current pile.
Josephine Tey (a pen name of Elizabeth MacKintosh) was one of those classic British crime writers of the first half of the twentieth century, authors like Dorothy Sayers, G.K. Chesterton, Agatha Christie, Margery Allingham, E.C. Bentley, and so many others. The Daughter of Time (1951) is among the more unusual of her Inspector Grant of Scotland Yard mystery novels, in that Grant investigates a centuries-old crime from a hospital bed in which he is recovering from severe injuries. The crime? The fifteenth-century murder of the “Princes in the Tower” that historians and many others (including William Shakespeare) long attributed to King Richard III despite a lack of any real evidence. (Spoiler Alert!) Naturally, as a lifelong fan of Richard III, I agree with the good inspector’s ultimate conclusions. The real killer probably acted on orders from King Henry VII, the first of the Tudor monarchs, but really just another murderous member of that family.
Richard, who lost his life and his crown 535 years ago (yesterday) at the Battle of Bosworth on August 22, 1485, has had his reputation restored by a number of current historians who actually examined the evidence. Among my favorite biographies of this misunderstood and mistreated king is Richard the Third, by Paul Kendall, first published in 1955, and still in print.
The most recent news about Richard III involves the remarkable 2012 discovery of the king's body beneath a parking lot in Leicester, the site of what was once the Franciscan Grey Friars Church. It's a remarkable story and you can read the short version here: Finding Richard III. If you want the whole story by the woman who led the team of archaeologists who found Richard, read Philippa Langley's book, The King's Grave (another book in my current pile).
As you might suspect, I'm a bit obsessed with Richard, and have been for decades. This last great Catholic king of England was systematically defamed by his Tudor successors. The Franciscans had buried Richard in their friary church shortly after his death in battle. The friary church and Richard's tomb were demolished by Henry VIII in 1536 as part of his sacrilegious dissolution of the monasteries. To me, the final insult was Richard's re-burial in 2015 in the Anglican Leicester Cathedral. The Anglicans despised and defamed this good king for centuries, but now that he's fashionable, they lay claim to him. Thankfully, Vincent Cardinal Nichols, the Catholic Archbishop of Westminster, celebrated a funeral Mass for King Richard at Holy Cross Priory in Leicester.
Four Quartets, by T. S. Eliot (1888-1965).
Okay, in truth, I finished this book yesterday, so it shouldn’t still be in the stack with the others. After closing its cover, I just plopped it down on top of the pile, thinking I’d find a spot for it in a bookcase today. But I enjoyed it so much I just had to tell you a little about it. Anyway, my friend asked his question a week ago, so the book should still qualify as a true member of the current pile.
Josephine Tey (a pen name of Elizabeth MacKintosh) was one of those classic British crime writers of the first half of the twentieth century, authors like Dorothy Sayers, G.K. Chesterton, Agatha Christie, Margery Allingham, E.C. Bentley, and so many others. The Daughter of Time (1951) is among the more unusual of her Inspector Grant of Scotland Yard mystery novels, in that Grant investigates a centuries-old crime from a hospital bed in which he is recovering from severe injuries. The crime? The fifteenth-century murder of the “Princes in the Tower” that historians and many others (including William Shakespeare) long attributed to King Richard III despite a lack of any real evidence. (Spoiler Alert!) Naturally, as a lifelong fan of Richard III, I agree with the good inspector’s ultimate conclusions. The real killer probably acted on orders from King Henry VII, the first of the Tudor monarchs, but really just another murderous member of that family.
Richard, who lost his life and his crown 535 years ago (yesterday) at the Battle of Bosworth on August 22, 1485, has had his reputation restored by a number of current historians who actually examined the evidence. Among my favorite biographies of this misunderstood and mistreated king is Richard the Third, by Paul Kendall, first published in 1955, and still in print.
The most recent news about Richard III involves the remarkable 2012 discovery of the king's body beneath a parking lot in Leicester, the site of what was once the Franciscan Grey Friars Church. It's a remarkable story and you can read the short version here: Finding Richard III. If you want the whole story by the woman who led the team of archaeologists who found Richard, read Philippa Langley's book, The King's Grave (another book in my current pile).
As you might suspect, I'm a bit obsessed with Richard, and have been for decades. This last great Catholic king of England was systematically defamed by his Tudor successors. The Franciscans had buried Richard in their friary church shortly after his death in battle. The friary church and Richard's tomb were demolished by Henry VIII in 1536 as part of his sacrilegious dissolution of the monasteries. To me, the final insult was Richard's re-burial in 2015 in the Anglican Leicester Cathedral. The Anglicans despised and defamed this good king for centuries, but now that he's fashionable, they lay claim to him. Thankfully, Vincent Cardinal Nichols, the Catholic Archbishop of Westminster, celebrated a funeral Mass for King Richard at Holy Cross Priory in Leicester.
Four Quartets, by T. S. Eliot (1888-1965).
This poetry, by one of my favorites, was Eliot’s final major poetic work. Originally written in 1943, the year before I was born, Four Quartets applies equally to today’s confused world. Here for example...ponder these words from the third part, The Dry Salvages:
There is no end, but addition: the trailing
consequence of further days and hours,
While emotion takes to itself the emotionless
Years of living among the breakage
Of what was believed in as the most reliable —
And therefore the fittest for renunciation.
I’ve read Four Quartets several times, as well as much of Eliot’s other poetry and prose. While he's sometimes unsettling and confounding, he never disappoints me.
On Islam: a Chronological Record, 2002-2018, by James V. Schall, S.J. (1928-2019).
Father Schall, who died last year, was one of the few good things to come out of Georgetown University in recent decades. A prolific author -- all of his many books are worth reading -- and political philosopher, Schall takes a hard look at Islam during the years immediately following the 9-11 Islamist attack on New York City and the Pentagon. I found the book especially interesting because it covers those years through which we all lived, but does so by looking deeply into the very heart of Islam and its worldview. Few others, including many of the West's political, religious, and social leaders, understand Islam and its deep-rooted aims, leading to predictably ineffective responses. The book also includes a commentary on Hilaire Belloc's prescient writings on the nature of Islam, writings that, 50 years ago, had a major impact on the evolution of my own thinking on Islam.
Lord Peter, by Dorothy L. Sayers (1893-1957).
Back again to those British mystery and crime writers. Although Dorothy Sayers was also a Christian apologist and translator of Dante, she was best known for her Lord Peter Wimsey mystery stories. I've always believed if you truly like something, you might as well get it all. This book, then, is the "complete" collection of Lord Peter Wimsey stories, most written in the 1920s and 1930s. (It does not, however, include the many Lord Peter novels.) If you haven't read any of these stories, you might have watched a few of the TV adaptations produced by the BBC some years ago and aired on PBS here in the U.S. Short stories are far more easily adapted to the television medium, and the BBC actually did a fairly good job with Lord Peter. But no TV show will ever be as good as the original.
Lord Peter, though, isn't everyone's cup of tea. The English aristocrat and amateur sleuth is a bit odd, at least for American tastes, with his strange mannerisms, his monocle, and his upper-class manners. But one grows to like him and his valet, Bunter, along with many other of the stories' recurring characters. Wimsey and Bunter served together in World War One and the latter's care for his "lordship," who suffered from what today we would call PTSD, adds more than a little touching poignancy to many of the stories.
Unbelievable, by Michael Newton Keas (2019). This book's subtitle says it all: 7 Myths About the History and Future of Science and Religion. Published by the Intercollegiate Studies Institute (ISI), an organization that offers a wide selection of books, all worth reading. Keas, a historian of science and a senior fellow at the Center for Science and Culture has written a readable and well documented book addressing many of the most pernicious myths that have infected and distorted much of modern thought. Most of these myths (can we simply call them lies?) seem to have one goal: the undermine Christianity in general, and specifically Catholicism. This is one of those books that you should send to every high school and college student you know.
How to Read Buildings, by Carol Davidson Cragoe (2012). Now, this is a book that falls well outside my usual interests, and represents a field of study about which I know far too little: architecture. Although I've traveled extensively during these almost 76 years, and seen a lot of buildings from many historical periods, I haven't always been able to identify one architectural style from another. Yes, I can tell the difference between Gothic and neo-classical, but when does Romanesque end and Gothic begin? What unique features really separate the two? How did one evolve from the other? And did you know that there are many different kinds of buttresses in those Gothic cathedrals? Can you identify the various kinds of columns or arches or vaults? Assuming you, too, are plagued by an inability to answer these questions, and would like to be able to answer them, this is the book for you. Given its subtitle -- A Crash Course in Architectural Styles -- this was one of those bookstore impulse purchases I couldn't resist because it offered a quick, down and dirty overview of building architecture as it has developed over the centuries. It's enabled me to sound much more broadly educated than I really am. It's also well illustrated and published in a very handy size that I can take with me on my travels -- a wonderful little book.
____________________
That's the extent of the current "unsightly pile" of books. It will no doubt undergo major changes in the days to come.
On Islam: a Chronological Record, 2002-2018, by James V. Schall, S.J. (1928-2019).
Father Schall, who died last year, was one of the few good things to come out of Georgetown University in recent decades. A prolific author -- all of his many books are worth reading -- and political philosopher, Schall takes a hard look at Islam during the years immediately following the 9-11 Islamist attack on New York City and the Pentagon. I found the book especially interesting because it covers those years through which we all lived, but does so by looking deeply into the very heart of Islam and its worldview. Few others, including many of the West's political, religious, and social leaders, understand Islam and its deep-rooted aims, leading to predictably ineffective responses. The book also includes a commentary on Hilaire Belloc's prescient writings on the nature of Islam, writings that, 50 years ago, had a major impact on the evolution of my own thinking on Islam.
Lord Peter, by Dorothy L. Sayers (1893-1957).
Back again to those British mystery and crime writers. Although Dorothy Sayers was also a Christian apologist and translator of Dante, she was best known for her Lord Peter Wimsey mystery stories. I've always believed if you truly like something, you might as well get it all. This book, then, is the "complete" collection of Lord Peter Wimsey stories, most written in the 1920s and 1930s. (It does not, however, include the many Lord Peter novels.) If you haven't read any of these stories, you might have watched a few of the TV adaptations produced by the BBC some years ago and aired on PBS here in the U.S. Short stories are far more easily adapted to the television medium, and the BBC actually did a fairly good job with Lord Peter. But no TV show will ever be as good as the original.
Lord Peter, though, isn't everyone's cup of tea. The English aristocrat and amateur sleuth is a bit odd, at least for American tastes, with his strange mannerisms, his monocle, and his upper-class manners. But one grows to like him and his valet, Bunter, along with many other of the stories' recurring characters. Wimsey and Bunter served together in World War One and the latter's care for his "lordship," who suffered from what today we would call PTSD, adds more than a little touching poignancy to many of the stories.
Unbelievable, by Michael Newton Keas (2019). This book's subtitle says it all: 7 Myths About the History and Future of Science and Religion. Published by the Intercollegiate Studies Institute (ISI), an organization that offers a wide selection of books, all worth reading. Keas, a historian of science and a senior fellow at the Center for Science and Culture has written a readable and well documented book addressing many of the most pernicious myths that have infected and distorted much of modern thought. Most of these myths (can we simply call them lies?) seem to have one goal: the undermine Christianity in general, and specifically Catholicism. This is one of those books that you should send to every high school and college student you know.
How to Read Buildings, by Carol Davidson Cragoe (2012). Now, this is a book that falls well outside my usual interests, and represents a field of study about which I know far too little: architecture. Although I've traveled extensively during these almost 76 years, and seen a lot of buildings from many historical periods, I haven't always been able to identify one architectural style from another. Yes, I can tell the difference between Gothic and neo-classical, but when does Romanesque end and Gothic begin? What unique features really separate the two? How did one evolve from the other? And did you know that there are many different kinds of buttresses in those Gothic cathedrals? Can you identify the various kinds of columns or arches or vaults? Assuming you, too, are plagued by an inability to answer these questions, and would like to be able to answer them, this is the book for you. Given its subtitle -- A Crash Course in Architectural Styles -- this was one of those bookstore impulse purchases I couldn't resist because it offered a quick, down and dirty overview of building architecture as it has developed over the centuries. It's enabled me to sound much more broadly educated than I really am. It's also well illustrated and published in a very handy size that I can take with me on my travels -- a wonderful little book.
____________________
That's the extent of the current "unsightly pile" of books. It will no doubt undergo major changes in the days to come.
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