Category Archives: Religion

A Time To Keep Silence by Patrick Leigh Fermor

A Time To Keep Silence - Patrick Leigh FermorA Time To Keep Silence – Patrick Leigh Fermor
NYRB Classics, 2011 (first published: 1957)
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After reading Between the Woods and the Water, I became fascinated with Patrick Leigh Fermor and started looking for other works of him. When I read the description of A Time To Keep Silence, an account of Leigh Fermor’s experiences visiting several monasteries around Europe, I could hardly resist buying it and reading it right away. And so I did.

In the introduction, Karen Armstrong remarks that Leigh Fermor’s conclusions about monastic life are at times faulty. For example:

“As he watched the monks going about their daily lives, Leigh Fermor assumed that ‘the dominating factor of monastic existence is a belief in the necessity and efficacy of prayer’ and concluded that without ‘this first postulate of belief’ monastic life would be farcical and intolerable. I think that he was mistaken in this. It is only since the eighteenth-century Enlightenment that the Christian West made ‘belief’ – the acceptance of certain creedal propositions – ‘the first postulate’ of religious life. (…) In the premodern period, however, in all the major world faiths, the main emphasis was not on belief but on behavior. First, you changed your lifestyle and only then could you experience God (…). This has been the experience of monks and nuns.”

This is not just Armstrong’s opinion. Catholic monastic life developed around the principles of acting out faith, instead of the idea that the acceptance of, believing in, Christianity, was enough. Though the above citation suggests that Armstrong links the monastic principles encountered by Leigh Fermor in the twentieth-century to pre-modern times (as if Catholicism is pre-modern at its core), she does in later paragraphs explain that this is simply where this lifestyle originated, and that thus, even though belief would be key to the lives of the monks Leigh Fermor encountered, practicing it through their lifestyle would still be the essential of monastic life.

I am not writing this review to argue for or against the views expressed by Leigh Fermor. In contrast, I think that the fact that in this book someone who has been raised in a different Christian environment, portrays Catholic monastic life according to his experience of it as an outsider, is what makes it so very interesting. Throughout the book, I wondered about the ways in which this small booklet reflects so many perspectives on a (by now) niche Christian phenomenon. Here I was, a girl raised atheist, but from a Catholic background, and having been schooled academically to a certain extent on Catholic traditions, reading a book by an English man who was most likely Anglican (?), that sets out his perspective on Catholic monastic life in Europe, through his own experience and his talks with monks who gave their own views on their life. It was not because of his information that I found this an interesting read, Leigh Fermor’s language can be quite dense and long-winded, with details that at times make little sense, but exactly because it was fascinating what he had to say about this way of life. Clearly, at first he felt it was not for him at all, and you can read the scepticism in some of the paragraphs, but he also admits he was changed by the experience, the rhythm of life, the simplicity. It becomes incredibly clear that Fermor is sympathetic towards Benedictines, but has troubles understanding what would bring spiritual fulfilment about life as a Trappist monk. While I do understand his questions, I felt at times he was very quick in dismissing someone else’s choice of life. Throughout the book it felt as if Leigh Fermor remains at a distance from the monastic lives he describes. To some extent this feels more as an memoir in which we learn little about monasteries and more about Leigh Fermor himself, but in which questions surrounding religion and worldviews are central. I may have found some of his more critical remarks baffling, in the same way that I find it quite hard to understand how you could start living in a monastery for a while without knowing what the basic precepts are, but I was keenly interested all the same. I guess this proofs once again that in all my studies of religions, I am never interested in the rules and official worldview per se, but intrigued about the perceptions and individual appropriation of them.

Now that that long-winded ramble is out of the way, let me tell you that I would not recommend this book to anyone. You would have to be able to look past Patrick Leigh Fermor’s tendency to write long-winded detailed sentences, and his sometimes pompous self-assertion, and definitely you would have to like venturing into a book that describes travels and religion (though I admit, I generally do not enjoy travel writing that much). I think this book serves a niche-audience more than his travel memoirs of Europe during the 1930′s, but for those who are intrigued by the subject matter, it is a worthwhile read, and a short one at that.

Other Opinions: A Work in Progress, Fizzy Thoughts, The 2 R’s, Book Garden, The Mookse and The Gripes.
Did I miss yours? Let me know and I will add it to the list. 

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Between the Woods and the Water by Patrick Leigh Fermor

Between the Woods and the Water - Patrick Leigh FermorBetween the Woods and the Water – Patrick Leigh Fermor
NYRB Classics, 2005
(first published 1986)
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*sigh*

Mind you, it was a contented sigh. There is nothing quite like the quiet out-of-this-world travel descriptions of Patrick Leigh Fermor.

Or at least, in my opinion. I am no expert in the genre of travel memoirs. I don’t think I will ever be. Sometimes I feel like I do not know enough about the countries the author describes and that the books would be more fun had I been there myself. Not so for this book by Patrick Leigh Fermor. Which is incidentally the first one I read by him, so my claim that there is nothing like his writing is not very well founded. But it feels like it anyway.

Between the Woods and the Water is the second book in what was originally meant to be a trilogy of travel memoirs about Fermor’s youthful travels through Europe, from Hoek van Holland to Constantinople, on foot, sustained by the kindness of people he meets on his way. I should have started with the first book in the series, A Time of Gifts, but it was unavailable when I wanted to read it which is why I turned to this one. And it is not as problematic as it may sound. This second volume is about Patrick Leigh Fermor’s travels through Eastern Europe. On the eve (or well, only a few years before) the start of the Second World War.

It is a completely different world you find here. Stories of castles and nobility, the rich of Eastern Europe. Eastern Europe itself, before the devastation of the Second World War and later communism. I know next to nothing about Eastern Europe, but that did not matter. It is so very different. So fairytale like, almost, that none of the problems of regular travel memoirs occur.

This book asked me to suspend my place in the here and now, it makes you let go of time and reality. While the book mentions names and sometimes even dates, you feel like you are wandering through the memories of Fermor as much as you are wandering through this forgotten world, even more so because this was written years after his actual travels. There is no map to complement his journey, something I lamented at times. But it also contributed to the otherworldly feel. To the feeling that reading this book was like meditation. A meditation on a world that is no more. But also a meditation on how it came to be. With many side trips to where the people he met came from, why the languages in the region are so alike and yet so different, stories of the many ‘tribes’ that fought for hegemony there, during the Middle Ages. Explanations about religions and the different strands of Christianity and later Islam that he came across on his travels. And sometimes, a small peak at what is to happen, at how things will never be the same in a few more years. But always glimpses, very short, before Patrick Leigh Fermor returns to the reality of back then.

The only small difficulty I had with the book is that, even if you meet people along the way, some of which apparently become life long friends, I never felt any personal connection to them. They were just figures you meet but never get to know. The landscape is a character the reader gets much more intimately acquainted with. I felt like I was often reaching, but rarely managed to grasp the persons he describes, even himself.

Between the Woods and the Water was a gem of a book. I am very grateful to Danielle for pointing it out to me many months ago. It may not be the kind of book every one enjoys. It is also one that needs a specific reading mood, but it was perfect right now. I cannot wait to start A Time of Gifts and I also have A Time to Keep Silence (focused solely on monasteries) on my TBR pile.

I read this book as part of the NYRB Classics Project.

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Making Saints by Kenneth L. Woodward

(I’m currently away from home, visiting pilgrimage sites in Belgium. I have scheduled posts for this week so my blog will update. However, I probably won’t be able to reply to comments until next week).

Making Saints - Kenneth L. WoodwardMaking Saints. Inside The Vatican: Who Become Saints, Who Do Not, And Why.. – Kenneth L. Woodward
Touchstone, 1996

It’s not often that I review my required reading, but sometimes I feel that there’s no harm in doing so.* Making Saints by Kenneth L. Woodward is one of those books. It is a specialist account on how saints are ‘made’ in the Roman Catholic Church, but it’s highly readable with many examples and anecdotes at the same time. Mind you, having to read this book for information instead of fun, the anecdotes got on my nerves at times.

Making Saints is not so much about what sainthood in the Catholic Church is or signifies. Rather, it is about the process by which Saints are made, the steps taken in canonisation and the changes that have recently (or recent for the Catholic Church: 1983) been made to this process. Woodward further highlights the things that the Vatican looks for in modern saints, because:

“The figure of the saint, though faded, is not disappearing. It is changing. So too is the process by which saints are made”

And:

“We are living in a different era now and what we are looking for are saints of the ordinary. We’re trying to get the message out – this is what Vatican II said – that everyone is called to sanctity, though sanctity is not the same for everyone.”

This is what I enjoyed most about the book, learning about how the changes made in Vatican II have been incorporated in the saint-making process. For example, under the reign of Pope John Paul II a lot of effort has been made to incorporate more lay-people and people from or seen as representing third world countries as saints, in trying to make the Roman Catholic Church reflect its status as a World church, instead of a European-centred one.

I also liked the little facts that I found out through the book, and didn’t know before. For example that every altar contains a relic and that Lutherans have not completely rejected sainthood and even proposed to include certain catholics as “saints” for their own faith, or the other way around have tried to make the Catholic Church recognise some of their own number as Catholic saints. Apart from these facts, the case-studies mentioned in making Saints often made me curious to find out more about some of the modern saints. There are some truly inspiring stories mentioned.

However, I think if I were to pick up a book on sainthood, I would rather read a book that pays more attention to what sainthood means to the believers and why it is still considered important today. I would also love to know more about the history of sainthood. I do not find fault with Woodward’s book for not doing so, the title of the book makes his intentions quite clear. I’m simply saying that when it comes to further reading, I think I’ll look for a book that provides a thorough overview of these subjects.

* It’s not that I don’t think the books I read are difficult to understand to the readers of my blog, but they are mostly too specialistic in that they often deal with a small piece of a bigger issue and concentrate on highly theoretical or regional subjects, such as things that happened in a certain are in the Netherlands from 1602-1604. I don’t think those books would be of any interest to you, especially since some of them haven’t been translated from Dutch, or German, to English.

Dreams of Trespass – Fatima Mernissi

Dreams of Trespass - Fatima MernissiDreams of Trespass. Tales of a Harem Girlhood – Fatima Mernissi
4 out of 5 stars

Fatima Mernissi’s Dreams of Trespass is about her childhood growing up in a harem in Morocco. On the surface, this is an enjoyable read with stories of everyday life in Morocco, seen from the perspective of the women living in the harem of Mernissi’s father and uncle. However, if you look more closely, it offers a lot more than that. It seems to me an insider’s account of how the questions of Islam and women were experienced in Morocco in the advent of the countries’ independence from France.

The title, Dreams of Trespass, refers to the visible and invisible barriers in life. Barriers that have to do with Islam, with women, but also with the issue of borders: France’s occupation of what the Moroccans clearly feel is their country and the French’ creation of invisible lines between different groups of people in the country. Another central question is which barriers are involved in the concept of the harem. Fatima experiences all kinds of barriers during her life in the harem. The exploration of what these barriers mean to her and her family is what make this book such a fascinating read.

Having had quite a few classes on women and Islam in Morocco, I especially loved how many of the things I had learned played a part in this book as well. I respect Mernissi for pointing out both the limitations and the opportunities of women in Morocco. I also like how she shows how certain forms of “open display of weakness” might work in advantage of those concerned: for example the possession by djinn’s that might be constructed as a way of being permitted to dance or be openly cross for people who are in no position to do so if they weren’t classified as possessed.

I thought the concept of the harem made for another interesting theme. I might be a typical westerner in that I associated “harem” with one man that “owned” several wives living together in one building. However, It seems the word has different meaning in different cultures and periods (I feel so stupid for not realizing this before). The harem that Mernissi grew up in exists of her father’s family (one wife), his uncle’s family (also one wife), a grandmother and several of the spinsters or widows that are related to the family. Mernissi pays attention to the phenomenon of the harem by looking at the word through the eyes of the small girl she once was. Slowly Fatima finds out that both the harem she inhabits, but also the harem of her grandmother (who lives in the country and who isn’t closed in by walls that she may not leave without permission like Fatima is) involve barriers of what women can and cannot do and that visual barriers or walls might not mean that there’s less freedom involved.

Which brings me to the last two themes that stood out: First, there is the evident hope of most of the older women that Fatima might see a future in which she can make her own way in life, without any limitations. While she discusses this, Mernissi also pays attentions to the inevitable subject of tradition vs. modernity and the divided opinions of the women living in the harem on the subject. Second, stories, dreams and plays make up a huge part of the book. This is the escape for all the women in the harem. Through the telling of stories about famous women they can experience life outside of the walls surrounding them. These stories are fascinating in themselves, and I can’t help but feel I should read the 1001 nights sometime, as well as some of the other titles Mernissi refers to in her notes.

Dreams of Trespass makes for a fascinating read if you’re at all interested in women, Islam and life in Morocco. I’ll be looking forward to reading more by Mernissi, who has done sociological research on women and Islam.


Note: It seems Dreams of Trespass has been released under a different title as well: “The Harem Within: Tales of a Moroccan Girlhood.” Since I read the Dutch translation, I guess I could’ve chosen to review this book under either of those titles, but Dreams of Trespass held an instant appeal and is I feel the better title, because it refers to one of the most important themes in the book.

Also: This counts towards both the Women Unbound and the Orbis Terrarum Challenge.

Reviews of Three Short Books

Traitors of the Tower - Alison WeirTraitors of the Tower – Alison Weir
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I came across The Traitors of the Tower by Alison Weir for a very cheap prize, so I thought I’d order it along with some other books. This however, turned out not to be my kind of read. It is a quick and easy-to-read account of 7 persons who were imprisoned and put to death in the Tower of London. I am not familiar with the concept of “Easy Reads”, but I have a feeling it has to be just that to make people pick up a book more often. When it comes to history however, I enjoy lots of information, and especially lots of footnotes and a bibliography at the end of the book, all of which was missing. I know that it was probably done on purpose, but referring to a recent historical discovery as “someone recently stated that..” without any reference whatsoever gets on my nerves. Maybe I’ve been trained as a historian for too long to take such statements at face-value. I know Weir has written a lot of history books, and they probably involve footnotes, so it might just be the format of the book that bothered me. However, I did enjoy reading about Lady Jane Grey, as I never knew anything about her (this might sounds shocking to Americans or people from the UK, but we simply only learn the general outlines of British and American history, you can specialize in a certain period, but I never took a class on Renaissance England). I think I might want to learn more about her.

Flesh and Grass - Libby ConeFlesh and Grass – Libby Cone
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Flesh and Grass by Libby Cone was given to me through the member-giveaway programme on Library Thing. I feel bad for not enjoying a book that I was given for free, but I want to be able to be honest in my reviews.
Flesh and Grass is about a small Dutch Mennonite settlement in Delaware. The reader follows the community through their struggle to survive and the changing ownership of the land (at first a Dutch colony, to be taken over by the UK during the Anglo-Dutch wars) through the eyes of Cornelis, the blind son of the initiator of the settlement Pieter Cornelissoon Boom.
I had two problems with this story. First, it is very hard to relate to the characters and what is happening. The story reads as a sequence of events happening, but isn’t detailed enough to start to feel anything for the people involved. Second, there’s the style. I get that authors try to make a story look more historical by using what I take to be older styles of English. In this case this involved a lot of capital letters throughout the story, but I couldn’t make any sense of why they were used in some instances and not in others. For example, food-wares sometimes got a capital letter and sometimes didn’t. Also, a lot of the sentences used the word ‘did’ and I do mean a lot. After reading four lines that all started with the use of “He did feel.. he did think.. he did pray, brother [X] did..” the style gets on your nerves. Especially if it isn’t just one paragraph, but the whole book that is written in this manner. At one point I started reading did everywhere, even if it wasn’t used. And then there’s the use of Dutch words, which aren’t explained when they’re used. I understand their use in giving the story a more authentic feel, but I don’t think it works in this case and I can imagine it being really annoying to people who do not read Dutch.

God is Gek – Kluun
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I read God is Gek (“God is Crazy”) by Kluun for the read-a-thon (this small book isn’t translated to English, but the author has been translated to English as “Ray Kluun”). It is a book about the dictatorship of atheism in the Dutch media. This may yet again come as a surprise to US-citizens (or inhabitants of other countries, but I don’t know that much about their religious landscape), but in Dutch media it is not considered intelligent or modern to express your religious beliefs in the media, let alone defend them. I think Kluun has a point there. It seems a lot of the time people have to defend their religious affiliation on TV, getting mocked about it, or are simply told that ‘the pope has such weird ideas on condom-use, how can you even consider being a catholic?’. Kluun did a great job describing some of the broader debates on atheism v. religion, and refers to all the right people in his description of the debate on Richard Dawkins, for example.

As you might know, I am not a huge fan of Dutch literature in general, and I have been avoiding Kluun’s books. But I have to admit that his style was amazing. I went from laughing out loud at certain pages to crying my heart out in the next few. I never expected that to happen, let alone in a book on religion, but it did. I am still not sure if I’d like to pick up another book by Kluun, but I’m more likely to do so nonetheless.

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