|
Theology: The Nicene Creed by Phillip Cary. This book is little short of miraculous, which perhaps should be expected of Phillip Cary. A very brief study of the Nicene Creed, it is the most eloquent, thoughtful, and efficient description of the theology of the Holy Trinity I’ve ever read. If you ever thought trinitarianism was weird, off-putting, mathematical, or not your pay grade, please please please rush right out and get this book; it will turn your mind inside out and put your faith on a firmer footing in the process. My gushing endorsement is based on stress-testing the book, so to speak, in my own congregation. After just the first chapter, I had parishioners exclaiming with delight, “I finally get the Trinity!”—and then proceed to explain what they had learned with equal lucidity and flawless orthodoxy. Cookbook: The Old World Kitchen by Elisabeth Luard. This is the kind of cookbook that sneaks up on you. It is not flashy, lavish, luxurious, or illustrated. It might take you awhile to actually see the recipes for what they are. But once you do, you will be well and wonderfully fed. Luard spent years collecting recipes from European home cooks, noting their local variations and adaptations. It’s a cuisine of simple and inexpensive ingredients, made marvelous by effort and ingenuity; and at the same time a cuisine of farmhouse abundance that needs only the lightest treatment to let the natural virtues shine. Vegetable stews of every kind, beans in all their glory, pasta both homemade and store-bought, every kind of cheese. Plus, should you happen to have some reindeer chops in your freezer, Luard will help you figure out what to do with them. Novel: Dram of Poison by Charlotte Armstrong. If the theme of this edition of Book Recommendations is gushing, then here comes the gushiest of gushes. I had never ever heard of Charlotte Armstrong (1905–1969) until a couple months ago there was a passing reference to her on a podcast. I know for sure that if I’d ever come across any of her works in a used book store, I would have passed by with a sneer—they look like the worst kind of sensationalist pulp fiction of the mid-twentieth century. Thank goodness for new editions with new covers! The more restrained versions on the ebooks available in my library persuaded me to give her a try. The result is that in three months I have read all thirteen of her novels that the library offers (and have since been scheming how to procure the rest—she was nothing if not prolific). A good portion of her books are considered pioneers in the genre of domestic suspense, which is accurate, but doesn’t quite capture it. I’d describe them as ordinary decent people suddenly finding themselves in a face-off with an utterly unscrupulous enemy—but being an ordinary decent person, the protagonist finds it hard to believe the other person is really so bad. Even when the truth is finally undeniable, it’s hard for a decent person to figure out how to fight back. Armstrong brilliantly captures the feeling of being out of your depth, and also the enormous moral challenge of not becoming what your enemy is. Even more than that, what has astounded me in her novels is that she never cheats by dangling a clue and then making you wait for the end for it to be fulfilled (which I have come to realize is stock in trade for most suspense nowadays, books and film/TV alike). She always pursues every development immediately, so the plot is one tumbling consequence after another. While I basically recommend everything she ever wrote, I’d suggest starting with Dram of Poison. The thing is, there’s almost nothing I can tell you about it without spoiling it, because no small part of the pleasure is continually asking yourself, Wait, what is this book about? Every shift astonished me more, and the ending was not even remotely what I expected—it was better. If you want to dig into the unscrupulous enemy novels, try Chocolate Cobweb or Turret Room. Less in the way of suspense, but rather an extraordinary extended meditation on what counts as truth and responsibility toward other people, read The Seventeen Widows of San Souci.
|
