Grace and 'The Goldfinch'

I am two years late to The Goldfinch’s party, but I am not so insecure as to let that bother me. Donna Tartt’s tome still takes up a good amount of real estate in bookstores and libraries, and for good reason—the novel really is what many critics call a modern-day Dickensian tale.

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In short, the protagonist Theo Decker gives an account of how he came into possession of The Goldfinch, a small painting by Dutch Golden Age artist Carel Fabritius, and how that possession turned into a lifelong obsession which drove him to extraordinary adventures and contemplations of the role of fate. It’s basically Great Expectations with drugs, PTSD, and fine art.

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Although I did enjoy the story despite it having many passages filled with my pet-peeves— descriptions of dreams, drug-induced hallucinations, and drunken misadventures—the character development is what made this story great.

I fell in love with all of the characters to the point where I could overlook their flaws (their human flaws, not flaws in the writing), even in Theo’s closest pal Boris, who always shows up with bad decisions in his pockets. The characters are so well thought out that they effortlessly carry themselves through the nearly 800 pages. They lean a little towards the romanticized, this is being told through Leo’s foggy worldview remember, but never to the point that I stopped believing they could be real people.

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When reading a book review, I often think “blah blah okay character development is nice” and don’t give it the importance that I should. I should know myself better: I don’t like plot-driven stories, and I detest when it is obvious that the author doesn’t actually know how real people in the real world act. Give me characters or give me a blank notebook, I’ll write my own story thankyouverymuch. The reason why I am able to read and enjoy stories from so many different genres is testimony to this. Characters, no matter how different their personality is from my own, give me an idea as to how I would react in their situation and how to show grace to real people like them.

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The Goldfinch is not a perfect book. It shows human depravity, and what’s worse, at the end it preaches that perhaps sinning isn’t really anyone’s fault and we should just focus on the good things that happen.

So, why not stop then? I said.

Why should I?

Do I really have to say why?

Yeah, but what if I don’t feel like it?

If you can stop, why wouldn’t you?

Live by the sword, die by the sword, said Boris briskly, hitting the button on his very professional-looking medical tourniquet with his chin as he was pushing up his sleeve.

And as terrible as this is, I get it. We can’t choose what we want and don’t want and that’s the hard lonely truth. Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us. We can’t escape who we are.

I get the feeling that The Goldfinch embodies the mainstream beliefs in our culture now (it did get the Pulitzer, after all), and that Theo is a representation of us Millennials. That our duty in life is to drift along, to try to make good decisions but shouldn’t be blamed if we end up making bad ones, and if two wrongs make a right…. then so be it. I completely disagree with this premise. So does the ancient wisdom written by Saint Paul:

All that passing laws against sin did was produce more lawbreakers. But sin didn’t, and doesn’t, have a chance in competition with the aggressive forgiveness we call grace. When it’s sin versus grace, grace wins hands down. All sin can do is threaten us with death, and that’s the end of it.

Grace, because God is putting everything together again through the Messiah, invites us into life—a life that goes on and on and on, world without end. So what do we do? Keep on sinning so God can keep on forgiving? I should hope not! …

As long as you did what you felt like doing, ignoring God, you didn’t have to bother with right thinking or right living, or right anything for that matter. But do you call that a free life? What did you get out of it? Nothing you’re proud of now. Where did it get you? A dead end. (Romans 6, The Message)  

We are not slaves to fate. We do not have to do something bad to force karma to tip the balance of the scales in the world and create something good. On the contrary, I think we have to work all the harder to not only correct wrongs, but prevent them in the first place. And when our humanity fails us, which it will, we have grace to catch our fall.

Even though I think the message of the book is decidedly false, I would absolutely recommend this book. For,

It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.

- Aristotle

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'Welcome to My Country' puts us in touch with mental health struggles

Recently I have been on a pop-psychology binge, fueled by my plunge into several amazing podcasts. This led me to download or request all of the remotely interesting e-books that my library has on the subject... and my three-day holiday weekend just got completely full.

I started with Welcome to My Country by Lauren Slater, a thin memoir about the author’s experiences of working with six memorable mental health patients. The language is poetic and introspective—fans of Ann Voskamp will revel in this—as Slater intertwines memories of her own mental health struggles, the collective human spirit, and primordial physical processes with those of the patient to help the reader understand that really, the problems of “the other” are all of our problems.

Published in 1996, it’s now a teensy bit dated in the fast moving world of what is and is not politically correct to say. The first chapter is particularly hard to swallow with phrases like, ‘I can tell, from his fatness and his sweat, [that he is] a patient.’ Uh, what? Perhaps Slater’s Harvard education trained her olfactory nerve to be sensitive in a way that us plebeians just aren’t able to understand.

Her writing did get significantly better each chapter, as she reflects on former patients with the following conditions:

• a group of men with schizophrenia
• Peter, with anxiety that manifests as abusive misogynism
• Joseph, with schizophrenia and hypergraphia (compulsive writing)
• Marie, with depression and bulimia
• Oscar, with schizophrenia and catatonia (becoming physically ‘frozen’)
• Linda, with borderline personality disorder (though that chapter is more about Slater confronting her own past)

The book stays very positive in light of the heaviness of the subject, yet it still manages to give proper gravity to very serious stories. It doesn’t give a false sense of hope or flippancy to the daily struggles of the millions of people struggling with some type of mental illness. I think the author showed that making progress towards healthy, sustainable independence takes a lot of work, a lot of patience, and a lot of time. She encourages us to be more patient with people in our own lives (or perhaps even with ourselves!) who are on that journey.

Perhaps the best thing that I walked away with was this quote about the author's own journey towards healing:

‘Ultimately, it was not the treatments or their theories that helped me get better, but the kindness lodged in a difficult world.’

I may not ever be able to get proper training in therapy or psychology, and I’m probably not a great person for that job anyways, but we laypeople have an important job to do. We are the listening ears, the helping hands, the kind mouths, and the faith-full hearts that can give reassurance and hope to people who are fighting to stay in the country of the whole.

Self-Published Spotlight || Neverland by Shari Arnold

Besides being the cover-whore that I am, I love the tease of a retelling. Neverland, by Shari Arnold, was just too much bait rolled into one package for me to resist. At the same time, it’s a self-published book, and I’m still in the middle of confronting my prejudices about those.

Neverland was able to meet me where I was at, and far exceeded my expectations. The editing was spot on, the structure was well-developed, and the idea was interesting—a contemporary Peter Pan told from Wendy’s point of view.

Wendy in this book is named Livy, and she is in the midst of grieving over her younger sister who had lost the fight against cancer. Everyone in her family is still grieving, actually, and they are expressing it in different ways. Her father is socially unresponsive, and her mother is busy trying to pretend that everything is fine by throwing herself even further into her career. I was impressed by how they show different sides to their grief, and how its complexity was revealed even in the mechanics of the storytelling.

It was fun to hunt for familiar characters—Peter Pan, Captain Hook—but even more fun to realize that their story isn’t as black and white as I remembered from childhood. For example, in this story Captain Hook is a quasi Grim Reaper character, but is passing from this life to an unknown (and potentially better) life such a terrible thing?

Perhaps one of the best things this book speaks to is romantic relationships. Okay, yeah, sometimes the teenage girls sound more like moms of teenage girls (‘Stalkers are only sexy in the movies.’), but I think it’s nice that they are able to set some real ground-rules for what a normal dating relationship should be (especially with all the examples of harmful dating relationships that teenagers/new adults are eating up these days). The characters aren’t there to preach, however. They do make bad decisions, and express real, authentic insecurities. I think the self-doubts were the most therapeutic parts of the book, because when you read them you realize that you are not alone with those doubts. And by seeing you are not alone, you can begin to see doubts for what they really are: just a story we tell ourselves.

Note: I got an e-copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. That of course didn't affect my opinion of the book.

Guest Post || We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Charlene from Bookish Whimsy and I decided to exchange book reviews of Shirley Jackson novels! I'm really happy that one of my go-to book bloggers was so friendly and willing to play along in spite of my flakiness (hopefully I'll be able to return to normal programming soon). I liked learning more about her tastes, even if they are a bit different than mine.  -- Alisa


This is the first Shirley Jackson book I have ever read, and it was an interesting introduction to her kind of curious and creepy world - with characters who act a little strangely, and a view of the human race that is not at all kind. I am still not sure what I feel about this book actually. It was a gently harrowing read, with a heroine in Merricat Blackwood who I have such weirdly contradictory feelings for. On the one hand, I’m intensely sympathetic towards her, and yet at times, I find her very annoying. Although her instincts for the most part are right on, especially when it came to one character who was so unlikable, I couldn’t help but root for Merricat’s murderous thoughts about him.

The novel is a study in strange characters. There is a mob-like, and very unpleasant group of people who live in town and look down on the Blackwoods. The author captured a vivid realism in the small town gossip and small-minded hatred of the people which was both disturbing and thought-provoking. And terribly sad. The surviving Blackwoods are each eccentric and have their own unique mannerisms and behaviors which also made them vividly realistic and interesting to get to know. While all the Blackwoods are unfortunate in different ways, I had the most sympathy with Constance, who was such a good character and yet afflicted by her past and her apprehensive nature. I really wanted something good to happen for her.

There is a reveal in this book, that is not at all shocking because it is made pretty obvious from the start, but because of this, I found the story meandering and slow at parts - and again, much more of a study in characters and atmosphere than in plot development or suspense.. There is a pervading sense of stagnation though, in this book, that I think is part of the characters, and so perhaps it’s purposely made a part of the plot. This is short read though, with some very intense moments of dread woven into the story. I don’t think I actually enjoyed dwelling in this world Shirley Jackson created because it can be so unnerving and sad, but this was quite a vivid book.

The Problem with Preaching

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I have read three books lately, and they all committed the same sin: preaching.

You've read this before: a certain character breaks the fourth wall so to speak, and starts being the mouthpiece of the author. It's the part in the book when I stop reading and start skimming, not unlike a teenager's eyes glazing over when an adult starts to lecture about the importance of not breaking curfew.

Before I touch on the books, I want to show you an excerpt from an NPR interview with the director of Inside Out, the most recent Pixar film about emotions. (Go see it; it’s amazing!)

GROSS: So did you imagine, when you were making this film, psychologists and parents using the film to explain to children what their own emotions were and to tell - to help tell children, like, it's OK to be sad. Tantrums aren't very helpful (laughter). We know you have anger, but, you know, you have to kind of mix that with the other emotions. 

DOCTER: Well, not really... 

GROSS: So did you think of this as a kind of, like, teaching film? 

DOCTER: (Laughter) No. In fact, I know, like, for a lot of people that's kind of a bad word, right? You don't want to have a lecture. … There are - we've already had discussions with people who feel as though the film has really helped them. There's one story that's pretty amazing. A guy who we work with - and we had screened the film for our friends and family along the way just to make sure it was working and it wasn't too complex, you know, especially for younger kids. Luckily, they not only got it, but this guy came back the next day and he said, I got to tell you this story. My son has been taking swimming lessons. And he's been afraid to dive off the diving board. It's just too high, and he's scared, so he hasn't been able to do it. Yesterday, after seeing the film, we went to lessons, and he dove off the diving board. And everybody said, yeah, that's great. How did you do it? And he said, well, I just felt like fear had been driving, and I asked him to step aside. And for us, we were sort of blown away. Not only did he get the film, but it was actually making an impact in his life. That was, like, the ultimate receipt.

The takeaway lesson here, from a company that understands how to communicate to people possibly better than any other company in business today, is: Don’t preach, demonstrate.

I don’t know why authors of contemporary novels choose to preach, why whole publishing houses are based on this concept, but I can speculate:

1. It’s easier to preach than to demonstrate. It’s very straightforward, and it requires considerable less thought to mind-dump than to craft a story in which the message is conveyed between the lines.
2. The audience is not considered trustworthy or able to receive the correct message. Anyone who has actually worked with kids/teens can tell many stories of how they were caught off-guard by how perceptive, insightful, or observant kids are. That’s part of what makes kids funny, because they can make such astute connections that they seem like little adults. And yes, when books make inferred connections about a moral lesson, it’s really important to have a conversation with the younger reader about what they understood or have questions about. But next time you talk to a youth, ask some open-ended questions about a story they read or watched recently, and you might gain some life advice in the process.
3. The author is not skilled enough. Though I believe that nearly anyone can be a good author with enough reading, writing, critiquing, and editing, it’s possible that the author of a preachy book just hasn’t developed their skills to a point where they can objectively look at their manuscript and know what to change.
4. The author and editor did not do sufficient revision work. Maybe they were running short on time, or perhaps the editor isn’t assertive or confident enough to confront problems in the book. Maybe it was self-edited and the author was holding on too tightly to beloved passages.
5. There is a lack of patience. Not enough patience to write and revise. Not enough patience to address what is working and what isn’t in a manuscript. Not enough patience to develop characters, plot, and scenery to reach a point where a message can be gracefully conveyed. Not enough patience with the reader. Not enough patience from the publishing house to push out a finished product.

These are the books that I read, and could agree with all, or at least part, of their sermons:

• Fragile Bones: Harrison & Anna by Lorna Schultz Nicholson preaches about understanding and accepting people with special needs.
• Barry Goupe: In the Midst of Lies by Sean P. McClure preaches about Christianity.
• The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand preaches about individualism.

The problem for me was not the message per se, but the method of delivery. If I may distort Marshall McLuhen’s famous line, “The medium is the message,” then the message becomes: shove your beliefs down the throat of the person you are talking to. Beat them over the head if you have to. This medium of delivery, however, is outdated and irrelevant for western culture in the 21st century.

It’s why McDonald’s ads say, ‘I’m lovin’ it’ and not, ‘We sell cheap burgers that will save you time and money.’ And it’s also part of the reason why Instagram is used by 52% of teens and Twitter is used by 33% (source). Because our generation cares more about witnessing emotions and experiences than being told about them.

The novel has a unique position. We don’t go to it because we want to read lecture notes about humanistic philosophy, or to have the pillars of the Christian faith explained. We go to it because we want to be able to relate to the experiences that the characters have there. We want to travel with the characters as a gradual understanding of these tenants change their decisions, and ultimately shape their lives.

In Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy demonstrated the process of converting to active faith in the Christian God from agnosticism over a span of 800+ pages. He so gracefully showed all facets of possible arguments within the decisions that the characters make (and how their actions frequently contradict their conversations), that when finally Konstantin Levin has a full spiritual awakening, the reader has such a grounded understanding of how it came about that s/he is able to experience the joy and relief that Levin is feeling. This is what novels were created for.

‘Preach the Gospel at all times; when necessary, use words.’ 

- Francis of Assisi