Hi reader, what are you thankful for? I think my answer is that I didn't spend more time writing about the following books. The obvious follow-up point is that I mean no offense, it's just that some books are simply better to read than write about, but of course there is another reality in this case - sometimes, ignoring the details is the only way to see the big idea.
Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri (October 2021)
I think at some point in my life, say, maybe when I was a junior in high school (though let's be honest, it was probably true even two years ago), I would have been perfectly happy to sit down with the title story and connect every sentence to the larger theme of the work. I just as likely could have done the same with the collection as a whole, mining Unaccustomed Earth for every symbolic detail reinforcing Lahiri's meticulous patterns, which is the obvious suggestion when her characters seem to overlap so much in terms of their heritage, opportunities, and experiences. This time, all I tried to do was read the stories once, then return to the ones I liked the most - "Only Goodness", "Unaccustomed Earth", "Year's End" - without imposing any obligation on myself to dig further into the stories.
The unexpected thing was how I still ended up sensing a certain direction regarding the theme of this collection - it would be something about the way we are easily deceived into assuming others are seeing a situation with the same perspective as our own. In most cases, this is a self-delusion, and it comes apart with the same good manners of a shattering mirror. I'm not sure I could have noticed this if I'd considered each story within its own confines - the evidence in any given work is too subtle - but across multiple examples it became clear to me. The specifics of this lesson vary among the stories - some enjoy the solitude of a suburb while others are crippled by its isolation; silence about an event can be as much punishment as it is protection; the death of a loved one can be a moment of liberation just as much as it is one of suffering - but it's often the characters who bring the idea to the forefront, usually through a kind of epiphany when they recognize the temporary nature of a connection forged through similarity with others. Whether a deeper link results from relating across difference is the question left unanswered by Unaccustomed Earth, and it's one I'm comfortable leaving open for now.
Walking on the Pastures of Wonder by John O'Donohue (January 2020)
I'm tempted to insert a somewhat sensational claim about this book, such as "a miracle of a work" or whatnot, but as usual with books I read so long ago I'm having trouble recalling enough of it to support such a statement. That said, there is something to the thought because this collection of radio conversations involving the late O'Donohue is about as highly rated as any book I've ever searched online. Going through my notes, I saw much of what I liked about his work, and it led me to add Anam Cara to my list for the traditional December rereading month.
One advantage of holding off on a review for so long is that I can give an honest account of what stuck with me from the reading. I'm tempted to highlight the note that memory is a kingdom filled with the ruins of presence, but this wasn't strictly true throughout these past couple of years (though it did resonate when I finally saw people again after a year of almost total isolation). I'm also intrigued by the idea that it can be a gift to help others open their imagination, but I must add that the past couple of years has reinforced how difficult this work is given how the average person initially resists the idea of thinking outside his or her established patterns. I think the winner in this regard is the insight that the most frustrating aspect of hearing a story is knowing that there is likely a more important story being left untold, with countless examples from my pandemic experience supporting the claim. It's undoubtedly true that the pandemic for many people was a time of doing nothing, but the fact that stories of nothing held the stage during what was surely an opportunity for growth of the inner life underscores the "unprecedented spiritual hunger" of our time, the satiety of which O'Donohue pursued with the full energies of his life's work.
Returning to my notes for this review also pointed me to a comment about God - there is nothing in the world that resembles God so much as silence. It reminded me of something I've noticed lately about digital communication - the greatest moments of isolation grow not out of feeling alone when there is no possibility of connection, but rather in those instances where the digital medium reinforces that someone is there but not present. As O'Donohue comments in this work, the opposite of presence is not absence but vacancy, and the way our digital tools can reduce priceless interpersonal communication into the background noise of modern life is symbolic of how being connected without necessarily being present is the surest way to strip ourselves of the very essence that defines connection.
