Quarterly books roundup (January to March 2020)

Here’s the first of this year’s quarterly summaries of books I’ve been reading.

With the current coronavirus epidemic, many people have been writing or tweeting about what a fantastic opportunity the lockdown provides for reading lots of books. Well, if that’s you, then that’s great. For me, the combination of an exceptionally busy time at work, loss of time spent commuting, and (above all) the sheer mental and emotional exhaustion caused by The Whole Situation meant that my reading hit something of a buffer during March. Things have improved a little since then, but let’s see how the year has been going overall.

Fiction

Looking at my list of books read in January and February (everything up to and including the Priestley), they look like a list from about 2009. Was it really this year when I read those? Feels like an age ago. Which is a shame, as I’m sure several of them were pretty good, if I could remember anything about them.

Funnily enough, the one that leaves the clearest imprint on my memory now is one that seemed like the slightest at the time: J.L. Carr’s entertaining account of a fictional amateur football club’s glory trail to victory in the F.A. Cup. But it’s the books completed in March, though fewer in number, that have held up best for me so far.

Once I got into it, I loved Susanna Clarke’s massive Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (and am now watching the TV adaptation, also excellent). Vying with it for my favourite novel of the quarter is Rose Macaulay’s The Towers of Trebizond, which my wife, E, compared to “Muriel Spark writing a novel by Graham Greene”. Its combination of an eccentric feminism, whimsical humour and spiritual profundity won’t be for everyone – I described it at one point as “Weird Anglican Twitter, the novelisation” – but those to whom it does appeal are likely to love it.

The distractions caused by the coronavirus epidemic meant I took rather longer to stagger to the end of The Towers of Trebizond than might otherwise be the case, and once I’d completed it I needed something lighter. Cyril Hare’s legal whodunnit, Tragedy at Law, proved to be just the ticket. A fascinating slice of social history (following an Assize court around wartime England), very funny, and a plot that appealed immensely to my inner Law Nerd.

  • Barchester Towers (Anthony Trollope)
  • The Good Soldier (Ford Madox Ford)
  • A Division of the Spoils (Paul Scott)
  • How Steeple Sinderby Wanderers Won the F.A. Cup (J.L. Carr)
  • The Little Drummer Girl (John Le Carré)
  • Olive Kitteridge (Elizabeth Strout)
  • An Inspector Calls* (J.B. Priestley)
  • Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (Susanna Clarke)
  • The Towers of Trebizond (Rose Macaulay)
  • Tragedy at Law (Cyril Hare)

Nonfiction

My pre-distraction nonfiction reading has fared rather better in my memory than was the case for fiction. That may be because there is no post-distraction nonfiction reading. Looking at the list, I remain very fond of Dan Jackson’s warm and informative history of northeast England, The Northumbrians, and look forward to this being a guide when we take our family holiday in Northumberland in August (which I’m still hoping will happen!). Leo Damrosch’s Eternity’s Sunrise is a must-read for any fans of William Blake.

I also particularly enjoyed Deborah Levy’s post-divorce memoir, The Cost of Living, and Mary Midgley’s What Is Philosophy For?, which turned out to be mostly an analysis of the weakness of claims made for artificial intelligence by those who (in Midgley’s view) have too naively scientistic and unphilosophical an understanding of what “minds” are in the first place. Meanwhile, I finally completed reading Orwell’s collected essays, which I’d begun some time in 2017.

  • The Northumbrians (Dan Jackson)
  • Essays (George Orwell)
  • Eternity’s Sunrise (Leo Damrosch)
  • The Cost of Living (Deborah Levy)
  • What Is Philosophy For? (Mary Midgley)
  • Things I Don’t Want to Know (Deborah Levy)
  • Nothing: A Very Short Introduction (Frank Close)
  • This Is Not Propaganda (Peter Pomerantsev)

Theology

The standout book for me in this category was Matthew Myer Boulton’s Life in God, an assessment of the continuing value of John Calvin’s work from the point of view of practical theology. Boulton argues that Calvin’s aim was not so much to formulate a theology as to form a people: making the monastic disciplines of scriptural study, daily prayer, psalm singing and so on the backbone of Christian life for ordinary believers. It’s this emphasis on practical formation, Boulton argues, that holds most promise for Christian theology (and Christian living) today.

Benjamin Dueholm’s Sacred Signposts makes a similar point from a Lutheran perspective, the “signposts” of the title being the seven “possessions of the church” identified by Luther as the common heritage of all Christians: the Word; baptism; the Lord’s Supper; confession and absolution; the ministry; prayer, praise and worship; and suffering and the cross.

  • What’s So Amazing About Grace? (Philip Yancey)
  • Image of the Invisible (Amy Scott Robinson)
  • Life in God: John Calvin, Practical Formation, and the Future of Protestant Theology (Matthew Myer Boulton)
  • Sacred Signposts (Benjamin J. Dueholm)

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