Review: All the Beauty in the World

All the Beauty in the World

I don’t remember where I saw All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me by Patrick Bringley recommended. I had somehow gotten the impression that the book was written from a Christian viewpoint. It was not.

I don’t restrict my reading completely to Christian sources. But I read and evaluate everything through Christian eyes. Wanting to avoid bad language and sexual elements doesn’t leave me a lot of secular choices. I understand that unbelievers are not going to act like believers. But I don’t want certain words and images floating around in my head.

There’s a smattering of bad language (3 uses of the f-word, taking God’s name in vain, and others) in this book. I almost set it aside a few times. But, for whatever reason, I kept reading.

The book is a memoir of the time Patrick Bingley worked as a guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He had begun work at the New Yorker. But when his older brother, Tom, died of cancer, Patrick felt the need for a change. His mother had taken him to art museums when he was a child, and he had visited the Met then and in college.

When in June of 2008, Tom died, I applied for the most straightforward job I could think of in the most beautiful place I knew. This time, I arrive at the Met with no thought of moving forward. My heart is full, my heart is breaking, and I badly want to stand still awhile (p. 12, Kindle version).

Bringley worked as a guard at the Met for ten years. Part of the book tells details about what’s involved in being a guard, how the Museum is laid out, what’s on display in the different sections, what it’s like to work amidst the art, and the various people who come to see it. The backstory of his relationship with his family and Tom’s illness and decline are woven into the narrative.

But to me, the best parts of the book are the ones where he discusses some of the art that touched him. He describes some of it in great detail, often giving some background of the artist or the painting. But sometimes he just shares the feeling that overcame him when connecting with a great work of art:

I responded to that great painting in a way that I now believe is fundamental to the peculiar power of art. Namely, I experienced the great beauty of the picture even as I had no idea what to do with that beauty. I couldn’t discharge the feeling by talking about it—there was nothing much to say. What was beautiful in the painting was not like words, it was like paint—silent, direct, and concrete, resisting translation even into thought. As such, my response to the picture was trapped inside me, a bird fluttering in my chest. And I didn’t know what to make of that (p. 10).

I startle at the picture because I can’t believe he’s captured it—that feeling we sometimes have that an intimate setting possesses a grandeur and holiness of its own. It was my constant feeling in Tom’s hospital room, and it’s one that I can recover on these church-mouse quiet mornings at the Met (p. 17).

When we adore, we apprehend beauty. When we lament, we see the wisdom of the ancient adage “Life is suffering.” A great painting can look like a slab of sheer bedrock, a piece of reality too stark and direct and poignant for words (p. 33).

I was struck by how often Bringley used words like “sacred” and “holy” in connection with art. He speaks of some visitors who regard the Met as a “secular church” (p. 70). I don’t think he was talking about idolizing or worshiping the images, but rather the experience of looking at something which takes us out of ourselves. Bringley speaks of a photograph of Georgia O’Keefe:

There’s a frame around her, putting space between her sacred beauty (an older meaning of the word sacred is “set apart”) and the profane, mundane world. I think that sometimes we need permission to stop and adore, and a work of art grants us that (p. 80).

I think God has put in the human heart a longing for something transcendent. That’s Russ Ramsey’s theme in Rembrandt Is in the Wind–that truth, goodness, and beauty are attributes of God. He points out that as Christians, we look for and emphasize truth and goodness, but often neglect beauty. “This is the gift of beauty from an artist to their community—to awaken our senses to the world as God made it and to awaken our senses to God himself (p. 14).

A couple of other quotes from Bringley’s book that stood out to me:

Art often derives from those moments when we would wish the world to stand still. We perceive something so beautiful, or true, or majestic, or sad, that we can’t simply take it in stride. Artists create records of transitory moments, appearing to stop their clocks. They help us believe that some things aren’t transitory at all but rather remain beautiful, true, majestic, sad, or joyful over many lifetimes—and here is the proof, painted in oils, carved in marble, stitched into quilts (p. 177).

I am sometimes not sure which is the more remarkable: that life lives up to great paintings, or that great paintings live up to life (p. 88).

In the Kindle version of this book, there is an appendix titled “Artwork Referenced in the Text.” Chapter by chapter, works of art referred to are listed with a link to them at the Met’s website. I wish the publishers had included these links in the text, like a footnote. It would have much more enjoyable and seamless to click on the link to the art right there while reading about it rather than having to go back and forth from the text to the appendix.

I enjoyed reading about Bringley’s experiences and observations.

Review: The Prince of Spies

The Prince of Spies

The Prince of Spies is the third novel in Elizabeth Camden’s Hope and Glory series. Luke Delacroix is the younger brother of Gray, who heads the family’s spice business. But Luke doesn’t have a head for business. His one attempt was a drastic failure that continues to haunt him.

Instead, Luke has become a journalist. He’s just returned from a fifteen-month stint in a Cuban jail. He was thought to be supporting insurrectionists there, but he was actually on an undercover assignment that outed a traitor in the US military.

Now he has set his sights on five Congressmen whom he would like to see removed from office by research and articles showing their downside.

Enemy number one is Congressman Clyde Magruder, the head of Magruder Foods, the rival to the Delacroix company. But it’s not just the business rivalry. The Magruders cut costs by using additives and chemicals in their products. There were no laws about food labeling in the early 1900s. Luke knows personally of people who have been harmed by contents from Magruder’s.

In addition, Clyde is known to have had at least two children from affairs.

One day, Luke spies a young woman trying to rescue a dog who had fallen through ice in a pond. He jumps in to help her, depute Gray’s admonitions not to. Luke and the young woman, whose name he learned is Marianne, successfully rescue the dog, and Gray whisks Luke away to get him into dry clothes. Luke tracks down the fact that Marianne works as a photographer for the government and eventually finds her. But he’s stunned to learn she is Clyde Magruder’s daughter.

They decide not to see each other, but they keep crossing paths–sometimes on purpose.

Luke learns of an opportunity to join a group of volunteers for experiments testing the effects of additives in food. He applies and is accepted, planning to use the information in his articles. The volunteers nickname themselves the Poison Squad. The author says in her end notes that there really was such a group. The experiments eventually led to laws to protect food products.

There were several layers to this novel: Luke’s finding his place after not feeling he fit in for so long, the Romeo and Juliet-type romance, the food safety issues. Also, Marianne struggles with wanting a “normal” family. She loves her family, but their constant bickering and her father’s indiscretions are hard to deal with. Then, as she joins Luke in his research, she finds her family’s business has not always operated candidly. Trying to find the right perspective and balance with them is difficult. And Luke has to learn that, in the course of righting wrongs, it’s all too easy to forget that innocent people who could be hurt by his actions.

I enjoyed this book, and the series, a lot. I’ve missed visiting with the characters since I finished.

Review: The Characters of Easter

I enjoyed Daniel Darling’s The Characters of Christmas quite a lot. So when I saw he had also written The Characters of Easter: The Villains, Heroes, Cowards, and Crooks Who Witnessed History’s Biggest Miracle, I got it in time for Easter season this year.

Normally I like my seasonal reading in the form of shorter devotionals, because I don’t want them to replace my regular Bible reading. This book was not written in a short devotional style, but it only had ten chapters, so it was easy to work in.

The introduction discusses why Easter is so important and encourages us to look at it through fresh eyes.

Daniel devotes a chapter each to several individuals connected with Easter: Peter, John, Judas, Barabbas, Pilate and Thomas. The remaining four chapters discuss groups: the religious enemies of Christ (Pharisees, scribes, and Sadducees), the women who discovered the empty tomb, the secret disciples (Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea), and the Roman executioners.

Each chapter gives what background we know from the Bible of each person, as well as their actions and sayings connected to Jesus’ death and resurrection.

The chapter about John shows that the writer of a book and three letters bearing his name, as well as the book of Revelation, did not start out as the “Apostle of Love.” He and his brother were called “the sons of thunder.” They wanted to call down fire from heaven on a Samaritan village that did not receive Jesus. They wanted places next to Jesus when He established His kingdom. “When John became a disciple, he was far from ready for spiritual leadership. This is a reminder that Jesus didn’t choose His disciples because of their impressive résumés” (p. 47). It was good to follow John’s transformation and to be reminded we’re all in a state of growth. I’m thankful for God’s patience and kindness in dealing with us as we mature spiritually.

The chapter about Thomas was my favorite. We don’t know as much about him as some of the other disciples. Perhaps unfairly, many people only remember him for doubting that Jesus rose from the dead. Earlier, however, he was a brave follower of Jesus when others left because of His hard sayings. When Jesus wanted to go to Bethany after Lazarus died, to an area where His enemies had recently tried to kill Him, Thomas said, “Let us go also, that we may die with him” (John 11:1-16).

It’s kind of a macabre response, perhaps giving us insight into Thomas’s more pessimistic personality. It seems Thomas was the one always counting the cost, weighing the facts, looking for certainty when others like Peter were guided by the more emotional and subjective compass of the heart. And Thomas didn’t understand all that he even said. Thomas or any of the other disciples couldn’t really go with Jesus to die. To pay for the sins of the world, Jesus had to go alone to the garden, alone to the cross, alone to the grave.

And yet in a sense, Thomas understood the call Jesus gives every disciple to come and die with Him . . . 

This is a bold statement. Thomas seems like the silent one, who carefully weighs and thinks before coming to a conclusion, and yet when he speaks, it is a profound statement of courage and loyalty. “Let’s go die with Jesus” could be a life verse, the call of everyone who sees and believes Jesus” (pp. 124-125, Kindle version.).

When Jesus began to tell His disciples that He had to go away, “Thomas, the seeker, the inquirer, the analyzer, asked, ‘Lord, we don’t know where you’re going. How can we know the way?’ (John 14: 5). This is a good question. Thomas, you remember, was the one willing to ‘go and die’ with Jesus. Thomas is willing to obey Jesus at all costs, but he just needs to know where to go” (p. 126).

But Jesus’ response to Thomas—the question-asker, the seeker, the one who hears things and rolls them around his mind until he can process them—is a stunning declaration, perhaps the most important and most controversial words ever uttered in human history:

“I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14: 6)

This is the meaning of Easter. There is not a path or a principle. There is only a Person. Jesus is the way. Jesus is the truth. Jesus is the life. He didn’t merely point to the truth. He didn’t merely show them the way. He didn’t merely tell them how to improve their lives. He’s the end of the journey, the object of our obsessions, what our hearts truly long for (pp. 127-128)

And, finally, Thomas wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus first appeared to them after His resurrection. He refused to believe it unless he saw Jesus in person with His scars. “Like a good shepherd, [Jesus] meets His struggling disciple where he is, carefully tending to his soul” (p. 130). Thomas responded, “My Lord and my God!”

Daniel writes of others like Lew Wallace (author of Ben-Hur), C. S. Lewis, and Lee Strobel, who didn’t believe until they looked up the facts for themselves. “Thomas’s story shows us the paradox of Christianity: it is both faith and facts, believing and seeing. Our faith is grounded in a mountain of historical facts . . . ” (p. 131). 

“Jesus is not inhospitable to those who doubt, those who seek earnestly for the truth” (p. 132).

I enjoyed this book so much. I appreciated the author’s perspective and graciousness and his way of looking deeper into each of these people’s lives and hearts.

Looking at Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection through the eyes of people who were there at the time was an interesting and enlightening way to spend Lent and Easter. My heart was touched many times over. I can “amen” what the author said here: “You’ll notice that nobody in Scripture is ever casual after an encounter with the living God: Moses glowed, Isaiah was ‘undone,’ Ezekiel face-planted in fear, John fainted. Peter was overwhelmed—but he left his nets and followed” (p. 25).

(I often link up with some of these bloggers.)

Review: A Gilded Lady

A Gilded Lady

A Gilded Lady by Elizabeth Camden is the second in the Hope and Glory series, a sequel to The Spice King.

Caroline Delacroix is the younger sister of Gray Delacroix, owner of the Delacroix Spice Company in the early 1900s. Caroline and her twin brother, Luke, had been frivolous and undisciplined growing up. Gray, twelve years older, was more like a father figure, especially after their father died.

But now Caroline is the secretary to the First Lady, Ida McKinley. Ida has epilepsy and other ailments and has been grieving the loss of her two children. She is excessively dependent on her husband. Plus she is notoriously difficult (the author says in her notes that the medication Ida was given to calm her nerves and help her epilepsy may have actually caused irritation).

Caroline has been blessed with common sense, political savvy, and a charming manner. She can usually talk Ida down, smooth over her moods, or intervene to avoid political embarrassment, such as when Ida wants to wear a hat with egret feathers to a function, when the papers had just carried news of a shortage of the egret population due to their feathers being used in women’s fashion.

Nathaniel Trask has been hired as the new head of the Secret Service, tasked with beefing up security at the White House. Nathaniel is by the book, no-nonsense–just the opposite of Caroline’s free spirit. So they clash repeatedly.

Furthermore, Caroline must keep her family secret under even tighter reigns. Her brother, Luke, has been arrested in Cuba, charged with helping insurgents there. Luke says he is guilty and has fired every lawyer Gray has hired. But Caroline knows her twin: she knows Luke is not guilty. She hopes that President McKinley will eventually grant Luke a pardon. But if Nathanial Trask ever finds out about Luke, Caroline will likely lose her job as well as Luke’s chance for a pardon.

I had known next to nothing about the McKinleys, so their history as well as behind-the-scenes looks at living in the White House in that era were interesting. The second half of the plot went in a little different direction, which I can’t reveal without spoiling the story. It was good to finally learn what was going on with Luke.

I didn’t like that this story overlapped with the previous book by about four months instead of picking up where the last one had left off. And I didn’t like that Caroline was given a vice in this book–smoking–that was not mentioned at all in the previous book. I think that took away from rather than added to the story.

But, overall, I liked the story and the characters. I listened to the audiobook, which had a much better narrator than the first book.

Review: The Spice King

The Spice King

The Spice King by Elizabeth Camden takes place during the Gilded Age in Washington, DC.

Annabelle Larkin had come to DC from Kansas when her blind sister, Elaine, received an opportunity to volunteer at the Library of Congress. Elaine had been depressed for a long time after her blindness, but now she was venturing out of her familiar safety. But she was still fearful and dependent on Annabelle.

Annabelle was given a temporary position as a junior botanist at the Smithsonian. Her boss promised her a permanent position if she could persuade Gray Delacroix, owner of Delacroix Global Spice Company, to donate his plant collection to the Smithsonian. Mr. Delacroix had traveled the world for his business, bringing back and cultivating plants he found along the way.

But the famously reclusive Mr. Delacroix has no interest in donating anything to the Smithsonian. He flatly refuses all of Annabelle’s requests.

Undaunted and determined, Annabelle shows up at his home with a gift. At first he refuses to see her. But his interest is piqued, so he allows his assistant to show her in. Their mutual love of plants draws them into conversation, but he still won’t give her any.

When Gray was young, the Union Army seized his father’s ships and burned their home to the ground. Gray and his father lived in a shed while they rebuilt their business. His father later remarried and had two more children: twins, Caroline and Luke. The twins had not known privation and hard work, so they tended to spend and act frivolously. But when Luke’s antics go too far, his life as well as the family’s reputation is in danger. And, unfortunately, Annabelle may have had a hand in his troubles.

Meanwhile, Gray’s business’s fiercest rivals are filling their food products with additives and fillers, making them cheaper than his wares and dangerous to people with sensitivities to them. But can he prove it? His distrust of the government makes him reluctant to appeal to them for regulation. He prefers the food industry to police itself, but what if it won’t?

I’ve read a few of Elizabeth’s books, but this one is my favorite by far. First, I enjoyed that the subject matter was different from other historical fiction books I’ve read. Most are situated in WW2, which is fine–I enjoy those stories. But I do get a little tired of them and wonder why authors don’t venture into the multitude of other eras available.

Then, the spice and food industry proved to be really interesting. Elizabeth shares enough detail to be informative but not academic. Good Housekeeping magazine even makes an appearance in the story long before its “seal of approval” days.

None of that would be helpful if the story and characters weren’t good–but they were!

Though this was Christian fiction, there were a couple of little oddities mentioned, like the luck of a horseshoe and the “stars coming into alignment.” Overall, however, faith in God and living by His Word were the main emphases.

I listened to the audiobook which was well done except that the narrator over-enunciated words, ran sentences together as if they didn’t have periods between them, and emphasized odd words in her inflections, like prepositions (“She disembarked FROM the streetcar,” “his empire IN Virginia,” “He stared at her hand BEFORE offering his own,” and so on). It took a concerted effort to concentrate on the story and not get distracted by the narration.

I thought one character’s fate was left hanging, but then I realized this book was the first in a series called Hope and Glory. I’m looking forward to reading the rest.

Review: Light Upon Light

In Sarah Arthur’s introduction to Light Upon Light: A Literary Guide to Prayer for Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany, she writes:

Many of us, when charting the timeline of our lives, can point to a moment when a story or poem happened. It happened the way an accident or a record-breaking snowfall happened: it was perhaps expected, perhaps not. One moment we were performing the usual routine–pouring cereal, say, or opening the mail–and the next moment we sat motionless with a book in our hands, eyes unfocused, a wave of words washing over us as relentlessly as a newsreel.

I’ve had that experience of being stopped in my tracks by a poem or piece of literature, staring out the window or up at the ceiling while the words reverberated in my mind. So I looked forward to such experiences in the pieces Sarah compiled.

There are eighteen sections, beginning the first week in Advent and continuing on until the ninth week of Epiphany. I don’t come from a church background that observes Epiphany, but I knew some churches celebrated it as the time the wise men found the Christ child. I didn’t realize it was observed for several weeks.

Each section has a theme, from Annunciations, to Sojourners, to Love’s Offices, etc. The section begins with an opening prayer, usually taken from a poem. A few Scripture passages are suggested, then several readings from different works are included. There are no assigned readings for specified days: the reader is allowed to meander at his or her own pace.

I loved the idea of this book. Unfortunately, I didn’t enjoy many of the selections. Some I didn’t “get” (my fault). Some were a little off theologically.

I tended to like the classical selections better than the contemporary ones. I don’t have anything against modern literature. I read modern writers all the time. But in this case, the modern pieces were most often the ones I questioned, or the ones that seemed more mystical than biblically accurate.

I did find a few nuggets that spoke to me. There were a couple of old familiar favorites, like an excerpt from Dickens’ The Christmas Carol and G. H. Chesterton’s “The House of Christmas.”

There were some new-to-me treasures, like “Hymn on the Nativity of My Savior” by Ben Johnson, “Moonless Darkness” by Gerald Manley Hopkins, “Ring Out the Wild Bells” by Tennyson, and a handful of others.

The introduction says, “Some of the works in this collection are obviously seasonal, some obviously Christian. Some are neither.” I know even secular work can express spiritual truth, so I don’t have a problem with it being included–as long as it’s not misleading. I have more trouble with spiritual works that are inaccurate.

I suppose if I had looked at the book as a collection of literary pieces on certain themes revolving around the holidays, my expectations would have been different. Looking at the introduction again after finishing the book, I see that’s how it was presented. My disappointment came from thinking the book was from a distinctly Christian viewpoint and finding it wasn’t. It seemed more in the “spiritual” rather than Christian vein.

Review: All We Thought We Knew

All We Thought We Knew

In All We Thought We Knew, a novel by Michelle Shocklee, Mattie Taylor was adamantly against the Viet Nam war. So she was stunned when her twin brother, Mark, and his best friend joined the military. She blamed her father for not discouraging Mark from going. Then Mark died in the war. The day after his funeral, Mattie left for the hippie movement in California.

Now, a year later, Mattie receives news that her mother is dying and wants to see her. Though Mattie still bristles with anger over the war, she rushes home to see her mother.

Mattie’s mom, Ava, wants Mattie to read some old letters hidden away in a shoebox. Mattie isn’t very motivated–she doesn’t know the people addressed in the letters nor the senders. But she reads a letter or two at a time to placate her mother.

Ava had become a young widow during WW2 when her new husband was killed at Pearl Harbor. Ava lived with her unkind mother-in-law on the horse farm her husband, Mark, had intended to sell. When the military opens a base nearby and sends out a notice that they are hiring civilians, Ava applies for a job to help support herself and her mother-in-law.

Part of Ava’s job is to update the ever-changing personnel files. One day this takes her to a German detainee, Gunther. She learns that Gunther had come from Germany to America before the war to study medicine and become a doctor. Yet when America joined the war, officials rounded up German citizens and detained them at military bases as enemy aliens. Some were allowed to work on the base. Gunther’s medical experience opens a door for him to work as an orderly while under guard.

The point of view switches back and forth from Mattie in 1969 and Ava and Gunther in 1942, slowly unraveling the mystery of what ties the three together.

Though I have read several novels set in WW2, this is the first one that has touched on German detainees in America. It’s heartbreaking that they were gathered up and treated as Nazis, even though some fled their country because of Nazism.

It was also interesting to see the inner workings of a couple of temporary military bases in the WW2 section of the story and the horse farm in the 1960s section.

Mattie got on my nerves a bit. She’s totally self-centered–her opinion is the only right one in her eyes. But there was hope that she would mature and grow through the novel, and she did. I liked the way the others in her life patiently dealt with her anger, doubts, and questions.

I felt the “reveal” of the mystery was pretty obvious by the time it came out (to everyone but Mattie). But overall I enjoyed the book.

Review: Rebel With a Cause

Rebel with a Cause

Franklin Graham’s autobiography, Rebel With a Cause, was not on my radar. However, someone gave it to me. I don’t always pray about what book to read next, but when I did a few weeks ago, I couldn’t get this book off my mind.

Franklin Graham is the son of well-known evangelist Billy Graham. In his earliest days, Franklin didn’t have a clear picture of what his father did. He just knew he was gone much of the time. He was quite a handful as a child. I enjoyed some of his mother’s creative and unconventional ways of dealing with him.

Franklin loved where his family lived in NC, motorcycles or almost anything with an engine, guns, and fun, even if it got him into trouble. And it frequently did.

In his first or second year of college, he went on a trip to help two single female missionaries–not for any spiritual reasons, but for a chance to go to a foreign country. He saw their work and simple trust in God and wanted to help more. He began to organize supplies for them, little realizing that this would eventually lead to his life’s work.

Franklin writes of the different male figures in his life who influenced him, mostly for good, in his father’s absence. One day, everything came together to convince him and help him be willing to surrender his life to God.

By his own admission, he was never much of a student. But he finally got serious about his studies and finished college whole married to his wife, Jane Austin.

I had thought that he began Samaritan’s Purse, but, actually, a man named Bill Pierce did. Franklin went on many mission trips with Bill. When Bill knew he was dying of cancer, he talked to Franklin about taking over SP when he was gone. After thinking and praying much, and waiting for the SP board to come to the same conclusion, Franklin agreed.

The SP website states, “Samaritan’s Purse is a nondenominational evangelical Christian organization providing spiritual and physical aid to hurting people around the world. Since 1970, Samaritan’s Purse has helped meet needs of people who are victims of war, poverty, natural disasters, disease, and famine with the purpose of sharing God’s love through His Son, Jesus Christ. The organization serves the Church worldwide to promote the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

I appreciated that, whenever they heard of a need, Franklin, or, later, one of his team would go investigate the situation first. They’d try to discern exactly what the need was, whether and how they could help, and who could facilitate the efforts there. They made it clear that they would share Christ while there, and most of the time that was not a problem.

Franklin shares story after story of horrific needs and miraculous supply of both provisions and people to help. My heart was touched by those here and in various countries who stepped in to meet needs.

In later years, Franklin felt he might be called to be an evangelist. But he knew he was where God wanted him at SP. He didn’t want to be compared to his father or look like he was following in his footsteps. Then others began to tell him they thought he was called to be an evangelist as well. Finally one evangelist convinced Franklin to come along with him and help with his meetings. Franklin did, and then began to preach at meetings himself. He concluded that Jesus preached as well as helped people with their physical needs, so Franklin did not have to choose one or the other.

This book was published in 1997 when both his parents were still alive. They contributed a few words at the end.

He doesn’t say anything about Operation Christmas Child in this book. I assume that was started after this book was written. I just saw there is a separate book about that ministry.

While I wouldn’t endorse everything written or all the people and organizations Franklin and his ministry associated with, I was blessed by how God worked in and through him.

Review: Barnaby Rudge

Barnaby Rudge

The title character in Charles Dickens’ Barnaby Rudge is a young man in his twenties with the mind of a five-year-old. He’s often called an “idiot” in the book–not in derision, but that was the main word they used at the time for someone with mental or processing deficiencies.

Barnaby lives with his widowed mother in a small village a few miles from London. His father had been the steward of Reuben Haredale, owner of a manor called the Warren. Both men were murdered twenty-two years before. The missing gardener was assumed to be the culprit. Locals still told the story of the murder, especially on the anniversary of it. Some say they see a ghost of one of the murdered men each year on that date.

Barnaby has a pet raven, Grip, who talks and interacts in the story in surprising ways. Dickens says Grip is based on two pet ravens he had. Wikipedia posits that Grip was the inspiration for Poe’s poem, “The Raven.”

Reuben Haredale’s brother, Geoffrey, now lives at the Warren with his orphaned niece, Emma, as her guardian. Emma is in love with Edward Chester, the son of Sir John Chester. But neither Geoffrey nor Sir John will agree to the match because of the disparity in each family’s financial situation, in their religion (the Haredales are Catholic, the Chesters Protestant), but mostly because the two men have been strong enemies since their school days.

Various people in the village, including Barnaby, have helped the young couple by delivering messages and aiding their rendezvous, but their guardians put a stop to it.

The Maypole is a tavern and inn in the village, run by John Willet. John’s son, Joe, feels oppressed by his father’s treating him like a child, especially in front of the clientele. He decides to run away and become a soldier. First he stops to confess his love to Dolly Varden, the locksmith’s daughter. But, though she likes him, she’s a flirt and doesn’t give him any encouragement.

Hugh is the gruff hostler at the Maypole inn. His mother had been hanged for stealing when her husband had been “pressed” into military service and some of their belongings has been seized for debts. Hugh was just a child when this happened and had a rough upbringing.

Lord George Gordon, head of the Protestant Association, comes through the village on his way to London. He’s protesting the Papists Act, which lessened in some degree discrimination against Catholics set in the Popery Act of 1698. Though Gordon is fictionalized in the novel, he was a real historical character who really did protest the Papists Act, which stirred up anti-Catholic sentiment and resulted in several days of riots, looting, burning of Catholic homes, storming Newgate prison, and threatening anyone who did business with or helped Catholics. Wikipedia says the rioting “was the most destructive in the history of London.”

The novel’s characters get caught up on opposite sides, resulting in tragedy or near-tragedy for some and the emergence of heroism in others.

Some years ago, I set myself a mission to read all the Dickens’ novels that I wasn’t familiar with. I had previously read A Tale of Two Cities (two or three times–my favorite), David Copperfield (second favorite), Great Expectations, and Oliver Twist. Barnaby Rudge was the last one I got to

Barnaby was one of his earliest novels written, but it was the fifth one published. It wasn’t a complete flop, but it didn’t sell nearly as well as his others. I think the lack of interest in it may have been because it was presented as a story about the Gordon Riots some sixty years after they happened. The subtitle of the book is A Tale of the Riots of Eighty. In fact, one reason this book is the last of his I read was that it did not sound at all exciting. It looks like it wasn’t thought to be exciting even in 1840. But I trusted that he would write a good, colorful, redemptive story. And he did.

Saying Barnaby is about the Gordon Riots is like saying A Tale of Two Cities is about the French Revolution. It is, but it’s more about the lives of Charles Darnay, Lucie Manette and her father, and Sydney Carton and how their lives intersect amid the happenings of the Revolution.

Barnaby Rudge is the same way. It’s not an encyclopedia entry. It shares the history of the times in the lives of mostly fictional characters.

It might seem strange that animosity against Catholics could grow into such monstrous rioting and pillaging. But England had fought wars in the past over Catholicism.

Dickens says in his introduction that he had “no sympathy with the Romish Church, although he acknowledges, as most men do, some esteemed friends among the followers of its creed.” He felt his descriptions were impartial. He definitely painted the rioters as villainous. He also says in his introduction:

It is unnecessary to say, that those shameful tumults, while they reflect indelible disgrace upon the time in which they occurred, and all who had act or part in them, teach a good lesson. That what we falsely call a religious cry is easily raised by men who have no religion, and who in their daily practice set at nought the commonest principles of right and wrong; that it is begotten of intolerance and persecution; that it is senseless, besotted, inveterate, and unmerciful; all History teaches us. But perhaps we do not know it in our hearts too well.

I’ve often marveled at riots in our own time. It seems incongruous that people mad about something in society would take it out on their neighbors who had no part in the situation, There’s a kind of madness in the midst of a wild mob. Then again, in this time as well as in Dickens’ not all the rioters and looters were acting for their cause. Some of Dickens’ characters didn’t care about religion at all–some were anti-authority of any kind, some thought it was fun, some just got caught up in the crowd, some were taking advantage of the situation for personal gain.

The riots are the main subject of the middle part of the book. Gordon isn’t even mentioned until about a third of the way through. The first third sets up the characters and situations mentioned, plus many others, and the last third tells the aftermath and wraps up the various threads.

I wondered why the book was named for Barnaby. Perhaps because of his innocence, perhaps because Dickens often brings to the forefront how society treats the poor and marginalized.

Dickens doesn’t say in his introduction which characters are based on real people except Gordon and the young woman who was hanged. He does say that “in the description of the principal outrages, reference has been had to the best authorities of that time, such as they are; and that the account given in this Tale, of all the main features of the Riots, is substantially correct.”

I enjoyed the book very much, despite being not very excited when I started it. It contains Dickens’ trademark humor and pathos along with an array of characters ranging from decent, salt-of-the-earth types, to quirky ones, to villains.

My favorite characters are Gabriel Varden (the locksmith) and Joe Willet.

I listened to the audiobook, marvelously read by Jason Watkins. He did such a good job not only with the sound of the different characters’ voices and accents, but with infusing their personalities in his voice. I also got the Kindle version for reference. You can find the Kindle versions for a lot of classics ranging from free to a couple of dollars.

Review: James for You

James for You

The New Testament epistle of James has been a controversial book over the years. Some have felt that his emphasis on showing faith by works contradicts Paul’s writings that salvation is by faith, not works. But Sam Allberry shows in James for You: Showing You How Real Faith Looks in Real Life that the two writers are really saying the same thing. They are just looking at faith and works from different angles.

One of the main things I appreciated in Allberry’s books is that he showed how the book flows together. We tend to–or at least, I have tended to–read the paragraphs as isolated topics. For instance, James 2-3 talks abut the sin of showing partiality, then faith without works, then taming the tongue, then wisdom from above, then worldliness. But each paragraph leads into the next.

Allberry describes James’ style as “practical, pithy, and very direct.” James was the half-brother of Jesus, and his book is “soaked in the words and wisdom of James’ older brother. He may not be named much in this letter, but his presence is felt throughout.” Like Jesus, James uses simple, everyday illustrations.

Some of the themes James deals with, in addition to faith and works, are wisdom, obedience, dealing with trials, needs of the poor, responsibility of the wealthy, the danger of double-mindedness, the dangers of the tongue.

A few quotes that stood out to me:

Faith needs the pushback of trials for us to grow spiritually. Trials and difficulties are an opportunity to cling on to the promises of God more tightly.

It is what God can accomplish through suffering that is good, not the suffering itself. It is an opportunity to gain the most valuable thing on earth: a faith that is complete and lacking nothing; maturity and depth in our relationship with God.

Good behaviour in one area does not cancel out law-breaking in another.

And so the battle is with the will. James is not saying that Christians will automatically be able to experience joy in suffering. We are called to “consider” trials in this way. We need to fight to think about them in the right way: consciously to force our perspective and vision above and beyond the present suffering, so that we look forward to the good that God will, over time, produce through them.

I have not read anything else by Sam Allberry–I had not even heard of him before. But I appreciate the insights he brought to the study of James.