A Severe Mercy

It's been a while, I know, but don't worry . . . I've been reading plenty since then.

A few of my favorites since then, you ask? Plotinus, Virgil's Aeneid, Hemingway and O'Connor's short stories, William Faulkner, and The Virginian. And then there's this book: A Severe Mercy.

I found it in the university bookstore one day, and plopped down in the aisle to read it, knowing I didn't have anything else to do for an hour or so. I was engrossed right away in the story, narrated by a young man, of a beautiful love. It was haunting and uplifting and strange and . . . I knew I had to finish reading it at some point, so I finally got it when I was coming home for the summer.

I haven't read very far yet, but it's about a young couple who secretly marry and discover the way to make love last, through anything. They experience the "heights and the depths" as the man puts it, knowing joy and sorrow. I know that later in the book the young woman, Davy, dies tragically, hence the title of the book. The husband's dear friend, C. S. Lewis (!!!), helps him get through with a series of letters that are also published in the book. It's a sweet story, and almost too perfect to be believed, except for the fact that it doesn't remain perfect. It's so true - pain must come with beauty. The couple's love of poetry and the outdoors is especially attractive to me. It is just such a simple book, but I know I've found a nugget to treasure for years.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Aaaaaaahhh, Keats.
But, to be friends with me, you can't just say, "Yeah, you're right, those are pretty words." They have to mean something to you. Do they? Keats believes, as we all do, that something truly beautiful never really ends, but actually grows more beautiful, remaining in our memories to soothe us. That's why Wordsworth can look at Tintern Abbey one day and come back 5 years later to write about it.

Today in class we discussed Aristotle's Poetics, where he describes his beliefs of what tragedy, epic, history, comedy, poetry, and literature in general are. Aristotle says that the difference between the historian and the poet is: "the one tells of things that have been and the other of such things as might be. Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher thing than history, in that poetry tends rather to express the universal, history rather the particular fact." We had quite an interesting debate about what the difference would be between a historical novel and a book of history. As we were discussing Aristotle's definitions of poetry and literature, I found myself thinking about the Romantics and their beliefs of what poetry is. Fundamentally, poetry is different from prose not only because of rhythm and rhyme and embellished language, but mostly because it looks deeper than facts and sees the causes of things. Poetry has to convey truth and bring pleasure, in order to be truly great, Wordsworth says, and Coleridge writes of the value of literature of power versus just plain old literature of knowledge. You can't have just one or the other. That's why I don't understand people who see no use or reason to read novels or poetry. They're missing something really big, I think.

So does that tie back to Keats' words about "a thing of beauty?" I don't know . . . you decide.

random topics

A couple of fun things, first off . . . I had my article printed on the front page of the Troubadour, the campus newspaper, today! Exciting, eh?! Not that the article was anything exciting, although it was pretty interesting. It was about spiritual direction - what it is, how to get it, what to do once you have it, etc. I enjoyed going to the seminar, I must say, and learned a lot. It was funny, I had always had this idea that spiritual direction was something the saints always did, so we should do it too, which is logical, or so it seems. Fr. Dan, however, said that's precisely NOT a reason to receive spiritual direction. You have to see a need for it in yourself, he said.

Something else, very random, but that's not unusual around here. I was sitting in my room tonight doing homework, when all of a sudden I heard loud male voices outside my window, singing. A bunch of guys had just run out of Marian hall, singing Salve Regina as loud as they could, before running back into Trinity. How often do a bunch of college guys yell/sing an ancient Marian hymn?!?! It was like it was their fight song or something!

To get back to books (oh yeah, is that why I started this blog?), I also got to go to a ministry called Music in our Schools today, which was unexpectedly amazing. We went to School of Bright Promise, a school for special needs-children of all ages, starting off by singing songs in one classroom and then reading a book in another class. The latter was a class of high school age students, all special needs, some more severe than others, and I got to read a story called Can't You Sleep, Little Bear? It was so much fun - I could be as dramatic with it as I wanted, and they only laughed more! I made them smile, and they made me smile! The power of a good story, huh?! Well, obviously, it was more than that, because of who they were . . . I had never done anything like that before, and I was surprised to find that I really loved it.

On a more serious vein, my honors class discussed the wonderful (ha ha) Greek tragedy Antigone today in class, and it actually got very exciting. I could tell, for once, that everyone had definitely read the play, and everyone had definite opinion on it. We got into really heated discussions about what the difference between man and woman is (because of what Creon says about women being inferior), about whether it is right to be radical and stubborn in one's views, to the point of suicide (not as obvious as you would think). I was very happy, because I got to put in my two cents-worth multiple times, especially when I said that Antigone is not the heroic character everyone sees her as. Wow, I am really not writing coherently.
Let me just say, though - if there's only one Greek tragedy you ever read, it should probably be this one. There's just more life, character, choice, love, and distinct beliefs in this one than in Oedipus, and just more of everything than in the Oresteia. Make sure you don't fall into the same trap as everyone else, though, in underestimating Ismene. As a younger sister myself, I sympathize more with her. I guess you probably don't know the story, though. Antigone and Ismene are sisters whose two brothers have both died, by the hands of the other, in battle for the city of Thebes. Creon, their uncle, is now ruling, and he issued a law saying no one can bury the brother who had been exiled from the city, and came back to win the crown. Antigone wants to be loyal to her brother, and obey the laws of the gods, which require the dead to have proper funeral rites, but must suffer the consequences when she breaks Creon's law. Ismene loves her brother as well, but is more cautious than Antigone. I love Ismene's lines in the play: to Antigone, she says, "You are in love with the impossible . . . though you are wrong to go, your friends are right to love you." I think that's beautiful.
And, of course, as in any honors discussion, we brought up the politics in the play, since Creon is all about absolute rule, and the laws of the state versus the laws of the gods. There's always some underlying political message, or at least, people try to find one in literature. I think people just read too far into it sometimes, especially with historical novels and such. It's not going too far to say that Antigone has deep political messages, however. The lesson Creon learns in the end is really powerful, although it reminds me a little too much of Romeo and Juliet. That's a hint, by the way.
I certainly recommend Antigone to anyone interested . . .
Happy reading!

What our beloved Jane Austen would look like in a modern setting . . .

Book Covers

Too many thoughts running through my head at once . . .

I find it amazing how every day literature hits me in some new way, or how I just fall more in love with it. A few days ago, I checked some books out of our campus library, Vanity Fair and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, hoping to get some extra time to read them. Fat chance! I try though . . . I may not have time to read them thoroughly, but I need to be able to read something without trying to be critical of it, like I have to in all my other classes. I started with Vanity Fair, which, on the seventh page, has a situation where the main character throws a dictionary onto the ground. Shocking (for an English major)! The subtitle is, after all, "A Novel without a Hero," so I shouldn't expect more from Becky Sharp.

Today I was also trying to register for classes for spring semester, and was frustrated when I was waitlisted for Classical Mythology and Medieval Lit. I don't want to end up taking a course on Ezra Pound or Modern Poetry . . . well, there's always prayer. If it's God's will . . .
It's funny, I told my roommate that choosing which English classes to take is like being a kid in a candy store. They're all good, so why am I complaining? Especially my Romantic Movement class - no, not romantic movement, The Romantic movement. Those nature-loving, convention-breaking, hierarchical genre-wrecking, revolutionary Romantic poets, like Blake (he sends shivers down my spine - "Energy is Eternal Delight . . . One Law for the Lion and Ox is Oppression . . . every thing that lives is Holy"), Burns ("The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men"), Wordsworth ("Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity"), Coleridge, Byron and the rest. They're really not as bad as you'd think they are. In class today we discussed how poetry can really convey Truth about Man, and not just pleasure. Through the beauty and pleasure we can get out of reading beautiful words, and from the words themselves, we can grasp the truth that comes through. Coleridge says that in his Biographia Literaria - truth is the ultimate end of literature. Some unmentionable person (heretic!) said in class today that the sonnets don't teach us anything, and do you know what Dr. Braun said to that? "You've never been in love, have you?"

I also randomly today - well, maybe not randomly; it was divine providence - picked up a book about Chesterton while I was killing time in the library before Media class. It's called The Apostle of Common Sense, and it's by Dale Ahlquist, the guy who knows Chesterton. He begins his preface of the book by saying that he first read Chesterton on his honeymoon, when he started The Everlasting Man, while his newly-wed bride was reading Les Mis, believe it or not. My kinda guy! I really should read more of Chesterton, though.

Finally, I went to a lecture tonight called "Classics and Theology," given by a theology professor here who happens also to teach Latin and Greek. He said that neglecting to study the classics is like leaving out the Old Testament when we study Scripture. Boy, am I learning more and more of that. Reading all these ancient Greek epics, histories, comedies, and tragedies, which many people see as dry and antiquated, I really see a lot of common themes that we've lost today. Moderation, for one. And, of course, ahem, arete.

I meant actually tonight to write a whole vent on why I love Pride and Prejudice . . . think of it as a coming attraction. For now, though, here's a fun quiz I found that proves whether you know your stuff, meaning, the books, not just the movie adaptations. Good luck! - http://www.janeausten.co.uk/quiz/index.ihtml

humble beginnings

I can't believe I'm actually doing the whole blog thing . . . it's actually kind of exciting, though. freeing. exhilarating. breathtaking. incredible.
You don't have to tell me - for an English major, I'm not off to any sort of impressive start, am I? I would like to explain the title, though, for all of you who are saying to yourselves, "This is Greek to me!" Well, maybe that's because it is . . . Greek.
Arete is the Greek word for excellence, virtue, goodness, and all kinds of other good stuff. Here's a link to a site that explains it much better than me: http://www.wsu.edu/~dee/GLOSSARY/ARETE.HTM
I named my blog Arete, or Arete for Him, because I truly believe that what we dedicate our hearts and minds to in our everyday lives affects our relationship with Christ. The ancient Greeks had it right when they strove for this arete. Excellence and virtue might be a lofty goal, but it's worth it! In my own life, great literature, music, and other rich culture only help me grow in my faith. I think that these set us firmly on the path towards beauty, truth, and goodness, which ultimately lead to God.
Soooo, long story short, I want to devote this blog to good books, inspiring quotes, pictures, and anything else that I find keeps me on this path to arete. I hope you enjoy the ride!