Masterpieces of Medieval Literature, by Timothy B. Shutt

****

A series of fourteen lectures covering, well, the literature of the Middle Ages. Starting with the 'Germanic North', then moving west to the Icelandic family sagas, then back to the more familiar land of the Anglo Saxons and the Celtic West and on to France, Shutt covers a broad range of literary genres and, obviously, geographic locations.  He's a solid lecturer, and his enthusiasm about the subject matter is contagious.

Literary heavyweights Chaucer and Dante get short shrift here; Shutt notes that they are significant enough to their own separate courses. And indeed, the Modern Scholar offers a course on each--Dante and His Divine Comedy (by Shutt) and Bard of the Middle Ages: The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer (by Michael D.C. Drout, whose courses on science fiction literature and fantasy literature are definitely worth checking out).

Instead, Shutt focuses primarily on lesser-known works (to me anyway), many of which, as with the Icelandic sagas (vikings!) and epic poems of the Anglo Saxons, were written anonymously.  Not that it's all obscure stuff--there is an entire lecture devoted to Beowulf, and a thorough discussion of such important works as The Song of Roland, the tales that formed the basis for Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen, Mallory's Le Morte d'Arthur, and, one of my personal favorites, the deeply weird and yet thoroughly awesome Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

My Soul Is Rested: Movement Days in the Deep South Remembered, by Howell Raines

*****

This book is incredible: moving, eye-opening, horrifying, inspiring, and deeply disturbing, all at the same time.

Raines wisely allows the various historical figures to describe their experiences in their own words, and so on some level it is their storytelling ability that makes the events come alive. Yet Raines' skill in coaxing these stories from those who lived through the atrocities of the Civil Rights movement and the careful piecing together of those stories undoubtedly entitle him to his own fair share of the credit for this masterpiece.

My experiences with oral histories (both fictional and non-fictional) have been quite impressive, but the use of oral history as the medium for the story was, in this case, an inspired choice. As with other oral histories, the telling of the story through individual experiences (rather than dry, omniscient narration) heightens the emotional effect of the material--the reader feels the panic, senses the chaos, marvels at the senseless hatred and violence that plagued the South in the 1960s. Indeed, the book makes for a disturbing read, as the horror and fear and pain are all too clearly communicated through the memories of those who lived through the events.

The Story of Christianity, Volume 1: The Early Church to the Reformation, by Justo Gonzalez

****

A surprisingly readable history. Gonzalez is right to title his volume The Story of Christianity, as his style is closer to prose than it is to the usual dry and lifeless writing of most history texts. The organization is a bit confusing at times--not precisely chronological, but grouped by periods and then thematically within the period--but with so many moving pieces, there really isn't a better way to present the information. All in all, it's a great introduction to the history of Christianity, though I suspect it's far from comprehensive.

Gods, Graves and Scholars: The Story of Archaeology, by C.W. Ceram

****

An excellent and informative book. Ceram's unquenchable passion and unflagging enthusiasm for his field are quite contagious. Presumably all archaeologists chose their field because they care deeply about it; however, this excitement does not always translate in their dry and often lifeless writing.

Furthermore, Ceram is no snobby academic--he is most delighted by significant contributions from non-traditional and amateur archaeologists. Not that these amateurs are poorly educated--he reiterates time and again their brilliance and dedication to learning about the cultures they studied. But in many cases, these impressive educations were self-wrought. Ceram tells of doctors and lawyers and businessmen who taught themselves a variety of foreign and ancient texts and otherwise equipped themselves to pursue lost cultures that fascinated them. It is, in fact, rather surprising that Ceram is a German, as he clearly relishes the self-made man/underdog stories that are so strongly identified with the American dream.

It is not surprising, however, that Ceram was employed as a journalist--he does not write in an esoteric style, but with all the joie de vivre of a man who loves his job and wants others to share in his enjoyment. And the stories themselves are far from boring--before archaeology was a precise, toothbrush-wielding science, it was any man's game, and an impassioned amateur was just as likely to stumble across an incredible find as anyone else. In light of Ceram's artfully told tales, the exploits of Indiana Jones seem much less improbable.

The book is admittedly rather long, but worth the time and energy. Plus it totally counts as educational reading, and makes an impressive addition to any library.

Galileo (Christian Encounters Series), by Mitch Stokes

**

An account of Galileo's life, work, and beliefs, with particular emphasis on his interactions with the Church--his attitude toward the Church, and the Church's somewhat inconsistent reactions to his research and ideas. Most notably, Stokes claims that Galileo never intended to rebel against the Church, but saw himself as a devoted Catholic and was constantly surprised by the violence with which his writings and teaching were opposed.

Informative, to be sure. But Stokes can't seem to make up his mind whether he's writing a serious biography or a more lighthearted account of Galileo's life and work. I enjoy the writer-as-storyteller trope, but Stokes comes across as unable to decide whether he wants to insert his own voice into the book. The result is choppy and disconnected writing--at times Stokes presents a straightforward historical account, at other times a humorous commentary on the events. The presentation of those events, too, is full of stops and starts; it lacks a smooth story arc. Which, of course, is true of history, but need not be true of biographical accounts of that history. The book seems to be well-researched, and in the hands of a better writer it could have been much stronger and more compelling.

Also, I confess that after a while, all the (extremely similar) Italian names started to run together. Which is no fault of Stokes', though I suppose a more skillful author might have offered more assistance to the reader in wrestling with the long list of characters in Galileo's story.

Bottom line: I know more about Galileo now than I did before, but I didn't necessarily enjoy the process overmuch.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

1453: The Holy War for Constantinople and the Clash of Islam and the West, by Roger Crowley

****

An excellent and extremely informative book . . . and fun, to boot. Crowley takes a while to get going (lots of--admittedly necessary but nonetheless rather dull--set up and backstory and what-have-you), but once he finally hits his stride, he produces a fascinating tale.

The presentation is (understandably) a bit biased toward the Western defenders--Crowley is, like many of his readers, a child of Western culture. I freely admit that some of the pro-Western bias may be my own sympathies coloring my perspective. Americans tend to harbor a certain amount of natural empathy for the scrappy, outmatched underdog fighting to defend what is his. Such a cause is, for us, higher than the outsider's goal of conquest and domination. And of course, it is hard to read with complete neutrality the harrowing tale of a war between two religions if you identify yourself with one of them.

Popes and the Papacy: A History, by Thomas F.X. Noble (audio lectures)

****

Quite well done. Noble is a great lecturer, and knows his stuff. As with many audio lectures, I was in and out a bit, but I still learned plenty. The lecture on Pious XII was particularly good. Definitely worth a listen, even if it takes a while to get through the whole lecture series.

The Liturgical Year: The Spiraling Adventure of the Spiritual Life (The Ancient Practices Series), by Joan Chittister

*

This is quite possibly the worst book I have ever read.

Ostensibly a book about the liturgical year, its history, theology, and significance to our modern lives, this is more accurately two hundred pages of Chittister assuring her readers over and over (and over again) that the liturgical year is important . . . without ever really explaining why. From Chittester's prospective, the point of the liturgical year is to remind us of the life of Jesus so we can emulate him in order to become "fully human" and bring about God's kingdom. ("[The liturgical year] gives us the energy to become the fullness of ourselves.")

That's it.

The whole book contains perhaps 10 pages of actual substance. I had hoped for an educational discussion of the history of the liturgical year and the theological basis for each aspect thereof. (Reformed Protestants are, I think, sometimes too quick to dismiss the merits of the church calendar, and I was hoping to better understand it so I could explain and defend it to them).

I was quite disappointed. In what were easily the most readable sections of the book, Chittister briefly explains the historical controversy regarding calculations of the dates of Easter Sunday and Christmas, but other than that, the book is just page after page of poetic-sounding, frothy, but ultimately meaningless statements about her idea of Christianity, which frankly has more in common with Eastern religions than it does with orthodox Christian theology.

Dave Barry Slept Here: A Sort of History of the United States, by Dave Barry

*****

Man, I love this book. Dave Barry is consistently hilarious, but this book is especially brilliant. I don't know that much about history, but the more I learn, the funnier this book becomes. I've always appreciated Barry's even-handed political satire--no one is safe. If you behave ridiculously, you will be made to look ridiculous. And when it comes to this particular book, not even the reader is safe from Barry's insightful criticism.

It's an easy read, and a fun one, but there's probably wisdom in pacing yourself. Barry's writing can seem a little manic if read in longer sessions, and you may miss some of the more subtle jokes.

The Forgotten Man: A New History of the Great Depression, by Amity Schlaes

****

An excellent and quite illuminating read--very critical of FDR and his response(s) to the Great Depression. Still, it seems like a situation necessarily impervious to any real substantive answers. How can you know what would have worked? How can you know if something else would have worked better? And how in the world are leaders supposed to figure out the right answer in the moment, without the benefit of 80 years of historical and economic analysis?

My biggest takeaway from this book: I so do not want to be president. Not for all the WPA-felled lumber in the Pacific Northwest, or all the water in the TVA.

Maus II: A Survivor's Tale: And Here My Troubles Began, by Art Spiegelman

****

Not surprisingly, this volume is even more horrifying than the first--making this reader all the more grateful for the emotional distance provided by the author's decision to portray all characters as animals. Not only is it easier to stomach, but the enormity of the situation is in some ways more accessible because of that emotional distance. The modern-day elements of the story tied in better in this volume, and allowed the reader to see some of the after effects even decades after Auschwitz.

Maus I: A Survivor's Tale: My Father Bleeds History, by Art Spiegelman

****

Fantastic. I am not much for depressing books, so normally I would steer clear of Holocaust literature. But by depicting the characters as animals, Spiegelman provides just enough distance to allow the reader to actually appreciate aspects of a situation so enormous as to be overwhelming when studied directly. By taking a step back, the reader can engage with a story that is normally far too horrific to really be absorbed. Obviously, it's not a substitute for historical study of the Holocaust, but it is extremely valuable as a supplement thereto.

Handel's Messiah: Comfort for God's People, by Calvin Stapert

****

This. Book. Is. Incredible. The book gets off to a bit of a slow start with about 60 pages of history (not Stapert's strong suit, which makes sense since he's a music professor), then picks up a bit when Stapert delves into the deism Messiah was created to combat. The real strength of the book, however, is in the commentary on the music of Messiah. Stapert walks through each part, scene, and piece in the whole oratorio and points out the stylistic and symbolic choices Handel made in the music to drive home the content of the words. I've always loved Messiah--the words are powerful and the music delights the ears. But this book allowed me to interact on an intellectual level with the music itself, rather that just the words. I don't think I'll ever listen to Messiah in quite the same way ever again. I will definitely be re-reading this one.

NOTE: The audiobook, available as a free download at http://www.christianaudio.com/ in December 2010, features a few (admittedly mediocre) recordings of notable pieces from Messiah. Also, the narrator is British. Then again, some of the musical discussions may be easier to follow on the written page, so choose your your own adventure.

Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue: The Untold Story of English, by John McWhorter

***

An interesting read. McWhorter obviously has pet interests in linguistic history--interests which his readers may not always share (see, e.g., his obsession with the moderately intriguing, but not necessarily fascinating 'meaningless do'). Still, he makes seemingly logical arguments for the influence of Celtic languages on English grammar, the "strip down" of the language as a result of the Vikings, and the possibility that Proto-German finds many of its roots in Phoenician.

In fact, in my opinion, he actually argues too persuasively. If the situation were really as obvious as he claims, how could anyone disagree with him? And yet, linguists do disagree with him--a fact which he freely admits and summarily dismisses. As a result, I felt that I was not being told the whole story; there must be some reason why all these other linguists rejected McWhorter's theories. Rather than convincing me of the soundness of his conclusions, he made me want to read what the opposition has to say.

A side note: I felt McWhorter was overly dismissive of Whorf's hypothesis. While correlation does not always imply causation, or tell us which direction the causal arrow points, McWhorter seems to deny not only causation but any correlation at all. But for whatever reason, languages and cultures sometimes do reflect similar attitudes (rf. Yiddish).