Despite the ill-advised try at translation, Wills continues to burn brightly in illuminating one of the most profound, if...
The prolific Wills, already with a short biography of St. Augustine of Hippo (St. Augustine, 1999) and two translations of portions of The Confessions (Saint Augustine’s Memory, 2002, etc.), demonstrates anew his formidable powers as cultural commentator—and the devilish difficulties of translation.
Edward Gibbon, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Rebecca West criticized Augustine’s rhetorical style, particularly his discussion of sin. Years later, Elaine Pagels’s Adam, Eve, and the Serpent (1988) assailed the bishop for influencing Church notions on sex, the role of women, and the need for governmental authority. Wills, however, has little use for such arguments: “For a man supposedly obsessed with sex, Augustine spent very little time on the sins of the flesh in his sermons.” In analyzing Book Two of The Confessions (or, as he prefers to call it, The Testimony), Wills likens the saint’s theft and destruction of a pear at age 16 to Adam’s fall: both involve a fruit and were committed due to an association (in Adam’s case, with Eve; in Augustine’s, with his youth gang). Adam’s fall, together with Satan’s rebellion against God and Cain’s murder of Abel, form an Augustinian trio of “founding sins” that Wills glosses in his introduction and notes. Wills is never afraid to fly in the face of conventional wisdom—noting, for instance, that contrary to stereotype, Augustine was not particularly dissolute as a youth, staying faithful to one woman in a common-law marriage for about 15 years. As biographer and critic, Wills seems incapable of writing a pedestrian sentence. But as translator, he’s not as inspired. In an attempt to convey the “continual wordplay, the acoustical effects, (and) the intermeshing verbal arrangements” of Augustine’s “jazzy” style, he sometimes employs rococo flourish more reminiscent of his spurned conservative mentor, William F. Buckley Jr., than of the immortal cleric (e.g., “At the time of my young manhood, when I burned to be engaged with vile things, I boldly foisoned into ramifying and umbrageous loves”).
Despite the ill-advised try at translation, Wills continues to burn brightly in illuminating one of the most profound, if complex, figures in Western civilization.Pub Date: Nov. 10, 2003
ISBN: 0-670-03241-7
Page Count: 104
Publisher: Viking
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2003
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
A very welcome instance of philosophy that can help readers live a good life.
A teacher and scholar of Buddhism offers a formally varied account of the available rewards of solitude.
“As Mother Ayahuasca takes me in her arms, I realize that last night I vomited up my attachment to Buddhism. In passing out, I died. In coming to, I was, so to speak, reborn. I no longer have to fight these battles, I repeat to myself. I am no longer a combatant in the dharma wars. It feels as if the course of my life has shifted onto another vector, like a train shunted off its familiar track onto a new trajectory.” Readers of Batchelor’s previous books (Secular Buddhism: Imagining the Dharma in an Uncertain World, 2017, etc.) will recognize in this passage the culmination of his decadeslong shift away from the religious commitments of Buddhism toward an ecumenical and homegrown philosophy of life. Writing in a variety of modes—memoir, history, collage, essay, biography, and meditation instruction—the author doesn’t argue for his approach to solitude as much as offer it for contemplation. Essentially, Batchelor implies that if you read what Buddha said here and what Montaigne said there, and if you consider something the author has noticed, and if you reflect on your own experience, you have the possibility to improve the quality of your life. For introspective readers, it’s easy to hear in this approach a direct response to Pascal’s claim that “all of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” Batchelor wants to relieve us of this inability by offering his example of how to do just that. “Solitude is an art. Mental training is needed to refine and stabilize it,” he writes. “When you practice solitude, you dedicate yourself to the care of the soul.” Whatever a soul is, the author goes a long way toward soothing it.
A very welcome instance of philosophy that can help readers live a good life.Pub Date: Feb. 18, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-300-25093-0
Page Count: 200
Publisher: Yale Univ.
Review Posted Online: Nov. 24, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
An erudite and artful, though frustratingly restrained, look at Old Testament stories.
The Book of Genesis as imagined by a veteran voice of underground comics.
R. Crumb’s pass at the opening chapters of the Bible isn’t nearly the act of heresy the comic artist’s reputation might suggest. In fact, the creator of Fritz the Cat and Mr. Natural is fastidiously respectful. Crumb took pains to preserve every word of Genesis—drawing from numerous source texts, but mainly Robert Alter’s translation, The Five Books of Moses (2004)—and he clearly did his homework on the clothing, shelter and landscapes that surrounded Noah, Abraham and Isaac. This dedication to faithful representation makes the book, as Crumb writes in his introduction, a “straight illustration job, with no intention to ridicule or make visual jokes.” But his efforts are in their own way irreverent, and Crumb feels no particular need to deify even the most divine characters. God Himself is not much taller than Adam and Eve, and instead of omnisciently imparting orders and judgment He stands beside them in Eden, speaking to them directly. Jacob wrestles not with an angel, as is so often depicted in paintings, but with a man who looks not much different from himself. The women are uniformly Crumbian, voluptuous Earth goddesses who are both sexualized and strong-willed. (The endnotes offer a close study of the kinds of power women wielded in Genesis.) The downside of fitting all the text in is that many pages are packed tight with small panels, and too rarely—as with the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah—does Crumb expand his lens and treat signature events dramatically. Even the Flood is fairly restrained, though the exodus of the animals from the Ark is beautifully detailed. The author’s respect for Genesis is admirable, but it may leave readers wishing he had taken a few more chances with his interpretation, as when he draws the serpent in the Garden of Eden as a provocative half-man/half-lizard. On the whole, though, the book is largely a tribute to Crumb’s immense talents as a draftsman and stubborn adherence to the script.
An erudite and artful, though frustratingly restrained, look at Old Testament stories.Pub Date: Oct. 19, 2009
ISBN: 978-0-393-06102-4
Page Count: 224
Publisher: Norton
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2009
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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