Cordelia, also known, more recently (hey, what good is a nickname if you can't change it from time to time?), as Margarita Aloysius is leaving to be a nun (not really, although she tells everyone that--she is actually going to be a sister, although not a sorority sister, which is somewhat worse) in August.Anyway, she is allowed to bring five books with her (although she's already announced to me her intention to cheat and bring six--What sort of nun is she going to be?, you might ask, but I think she'll be a fine one as she hasn't pitched a fit at the other requirements [you should have heard me!]).
This all made me think, if I had to go away with five books, which ones would I take? Do join me, dear reader.
1. Collected T.S. Eliot. I would actually have to publish this myself as a comprehensive collection of his work doesn't exist. But I would collect it, and then I would bring it.
2. Goodness gracious, I haven't read enough and am far too young to be responsible for this question! I certainly don't even know the best works to read, not to mention I'm lacking the necessary commitment to them. I would bring huge books to get over the smallness of number, I guess--collected Plato and 3. Shakespeare's plays. I think that that would keep me learning and sane.
4. I do love George MacDonald's Lilith and, try as I might, I really wouldn't go anywhere for the rest of my life without Cry, the Beloved Country.
4 comments:
We're too exactly the same to make my list interesting, but I would add Brideshead Revisited. Or better, the collected works of Evelyn Waugh.
And Percy's Love in the Ruins.
When we play the 'desert island' version of this, I try to get the Summa to count as one book, but I'm sure that will be on hand at a good nunnery.
Where to begin. Books, naturally. Stearns observes correctly that I'm not terribly concerned about access to Aquinas in the convent. On the contrary. There will probably be days when I would be glad to be rid of Aquinas. No, I take that back. Crazy talk.
I physically made out the list a few days ago. Silly to make a list of five things? Quite so. But until I started writing them down, I couldn't really rule out others. Here's what we have -
1. Apologia Pro Vita Sua. This is THE book. If you told me I could bring one, I wouldn't agonize over which. If you told me I couldn't bring this one, I wouldn't go. Sancto subito!
2. Collected Works of Plato. I hope this will scandalize the nuns (Sisters, if you must - but if you do, you have to capitalize Sister) and remind me that once upon a time, somewhere, people considered me an educated person.
3. Brideshead Revisited. Et in Arcadia Ego. Has been my theme for several weeks now. And also because I once looked out the convent window and got a very "Brideshead" feeling. I could be happy here. On this gorgeous estate in this gorgeous mansion with this maddeningly charming family, who has kept the Faith in a proud way in hostile territory for years. And the chapel. Oh, the chapel.
4. A Spiritual Aeneid, Ronald Knox. Give me a convert story of an Oxford-educated, Victorian era WASP, and I'm happy as a lark. Knox spent most of his life in fear of being compared to Newman. And so everyone did, of course. But what the old boy didn't realize is, he doesn't come off all that badly.
5. Idylls and Rambles, James V. Schall, SJ. No explanation necessary.
6. The cheater's book. A biography of St. Dominic, written by a Dominican, given me by a Dominican. Come on. That doesn't count.
As for the religious life more generally, all I can say is, JVS taught me to love the difficult things. The difficult doctrines of the Church, the difficult thinkers, difficult personalities. If it's not difficult, I'm not interested.
I could've picked the authors, although not the specific books. These suit you, though. I love that you have permission to go ahead and scandalize! Are you a Straussian, actually? Because you know they get tired of Aquinas, too. I need to find Idylls and Rambles--Maggie just told me it's her favorite, too.
An amusing post script on this story. I was recently lunching with a much beloved friend and a new acquaintance. Let's call the friend Sebastian. That's not to imply that he has problems with alcohol, just that he's beautiful and I love him like a brother. The new acquaintance was Romulus. Romulus is a prolific author, and he gave me a signed copy of one of his books. Sebastian immediately pointed out the five book rule (and also pointed out my sinister plan to cheat). He then said, "We'll see if you make the cut, sir." To which Romulus responded, "Oooh, this could be fun. Desert island scenarios..." Great minds, Stearns. Great minds.
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