Book Ends

Last time, I wrote about Newman and Trollope and Ole Edvart Rolvaag. Since then I’ve read more of Newman’s Tracts for the Times, written in his Anglican period. I’m up to Volume III now, and so my impression while reading the first Volume, that Newman was making quick provisional barriers to divide his idea of Anglicanism from a Roman Catholic doctrine and practice, is no longer quite adequate. In these later Tracts, he takes on Roman Catholicism much more directly. It is interesting to read these because I have read many of his works written after he entered the Church, but I don’t remember many details about his change in understanding of Roman doctrines and practices. Many are probably in the Apologia Pro Vita Sua, which I haven’t read for two or three decades now.

This time I’m going to list a few library loans that are about to expire, that I feel slightly guilty about not finishing. What happened was that I placed several holds and most of them came at the same time. They were all fairly good books that I would probably be able to read one at a time, but not quickly in immediate succession. So here’s the list:

Pilgrim’s Wilderness by Tom Kezzia

I was researching cults. I don’t remember why. This one is about a family in Alaska — it’s apparently about a crime but I don’t know any of the details. I got pulled in because I’m from Alaska and continually low-grade homesick for it. And this does sound like an Alaskan story with homesteading and weird people.

Better Small Talk by Patrick King. I had already read TALK by Alison Wood Brooks. The Patrick King book had some interest but directly after the other book on the same subject (which I liked a lot) it wasn’t enough. Still, maybe another time. It’s a topic that may need refreshers in my mind.

The River of Consciousness by Oliver Sacks. I have read a lot of his books previously. This one is sort of a compilation of essays on various topics; it sounds like it was his last book, put together very close to his death, and that was sort of the impression I got from reading the first 2 or 3 essays, which were about: Darwin and the meaning of flowers, Speed, and Sentience: the mental lives of plants and worms. Good stuff, but the self-enclosed topics meant that I could pick the book up at any time and read a selection. I’ll probably try to finish it some time.

Proust and the Squid by Maryanne Wolf (PDF excerpt). I was searching “Reading” in my library system and this came up. It is actually the one I most regret that I probably won’t have time to finish — in fact, maybe I’ll try to extend the loan. It was about the evolution of the literate brain, basically — a tour of written language through history with regard to the neurological skills needed for this kind of ability.

First, We Make the Beast Beautiful by Sarah Wilson. It’s a sort of combination memoir and coaching book about living with anxiety. It seems like it might be helpful to some people — perhaps not so much to me because her anxiety is a kind of high-energy variety that I don’t have. I liked her encouraging tone and interest in helping other people thrive, but I read enough to know it wasn’t for me at this season in time.

Reading People by Anne Bogel It’s written by a mom and blogger who loves books. It is about personality types and how you can use those temperament quizzes to learn more about your best self and understand the people around you better. Another one I found by searching for “reading” in the library.

How to Carry What Can’t Be Fixed by Megan Devine. It is a book about journaling through grief. I think I searched for “journaling”. I wanted to page through it (in Kindle mode) to see what it was like, but not necessarily go from cover to cover. I like looking at books about journaling, since I have had the habit for the past half century or more, but I usually flip through them looking for ideas more than read them through.

I think that catches me up with my library list, except for one I actually did read through, called:

Growing Old: Notes on Aging with Something like Grace by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas.

She wrote it in her late 80’s and is now in her mid-90’s, and I was impressed not only with her life story but with her family history — her parents were both notable people too. Her mother lived to be 104. Her grandmothers both lived with her family as she grew up, and her mother did the same, and when she was writing the book, she was living in the house where several generations of her family had lived, with her son and his family living across the street. This kind of continuity is impressive especially when combined with distinguished careers.

This blog is becoming mostly about books, which is not surprising, I suppose, since I live a bookended life. Or not-ended, as the case may be.