|
I'm an avid reader of Ms. Norris' work, but this one suffers from far too many digressions, citations of the writing of others, and rather turgid prose. I feel that the book might have attempted a healing attitude toward acedia, not becoming part of its cause. A disappointment for me.
A meditative walk through Norris's struggles with acedia, her husband's depression, the spiritual and writing life. I think the distinction she tries to draw between acedia and depression is not at all clear (and perhaps not tenable), but lovely writing, and food for thought.
Sometimes doing work helps, sometimes prayer, and sometimes the strength of our will along with faith - if a person has it. Some points were repeated a few times, I agree. It's these impulsive thoughts we must work hard to reform, to rework negative thoughts into something, anything positive. Being human requires constantly making decisions, but there are also moments when our minds take us by surprise, choosing for us on impulse. "Would a more steadfast spirit deaden me, somehow, or at least dampen the writer in me. Norris writes well about subjects ranging from marriage, to spirituality, to what it means to be a creative, seeking soul. Her writing is brilliant, though the book, as some have said, may be longer than it really needed to be. Any author less educated, and less in tune with her own spirituality, could never have managed to create such a piece of art.
There are times we need to hear things more than once, in order for them to sink in. While not everyone experiencing depression can shed it by use of will alone - and Norris never claims there are not circumstances in which drug and talk therapy are essential - she speaks about ways in which those who experience less severe bouts can lift their spirits. This up and down, unsteadfast person is who I am; this is the devil I know."Norris writes about the complicated nature of being human, of the eternal struggle between right and wrong, happiness and sadness. But that in no way diminishes the high literary quality of the book. It is so easy to fall into despair, so comfortable to fall in with the "noonday demon," wondering why anything is worthwhile and what, if anything, it all means. In her case, her deep faith sustains her, but even she falls, proving her humanity.No one who hasn't been through these same struggles, with the benefit of the wisdom of a lifetime, could have written such a gorgeously realized book. I suspect Norris is fully aware of that.I enjoyed the book, finding much reassurance in its pages despite my own lack of abiding faith in a higher power. There is much hope in her prose, and never a time humanity couldn't use a whole lot of that.
This book is very slow going. I am by no means a dummy or slow learner, but find this book tedious. Only have read four chapters and can only tell you that the "monks" have a hard time with depression because their daily routines are monotonous.
It is morphine to our spirits, squelching joy from life. Norris, the poet, has brilliantly crafted an accidic lair. It took Norris 20 years to produce her book on acedia; it took me 30 years to publish mine. Norris is a seductress. I wanted to hear her wisdom on the subject, but exhaustion won--my ticket was never redeemed; it is my bookmark in her book.
Damn her. This book is only for the serious soul pilgrim. CAUTION. In the fall, 2008, two of us published books which explore acedia.
It's an irony that there is so much creative energy bursting forth around acedia, often defined as sloth, torpor and lassitude. Acedia prompts dangerous lethargy, stubborn sadness, world weariness, restless boredom, and cynicism. And then, she suggests I read the Psalms--meditatively--to heal my soul. From the Greek akedos it described those who didn't care enough to bury the dead on the battlefield; their defeat drained them of zeal and passion. "This book is drudgery--too much work--I don't want to care about this book and this subject; Norris doesn't want a relationship with me--she doesn't care about me--I don't care either." All are symptoms of acedia, one of the seven deadly sins of classical Christianity and also one of Ian Fleming's deadlier sins of our day portrayed in both James Bond and his adversaries in the 007 tales. On the day I returned from England, having lectured on acedia (accidie) at the British Psychological Association, Kathleen Norris presented an evening lecture on her latest book, Acedia & me, at the National Cathedral, Washington, DC.
Countless paragraphs I read twice or more. So poetically has she crafted this lair that I felt acedia's tentacles tightening around my soul long before my mind grasped this elusive concept, known only by the astute through the ages. Acedia, accidie.you may never have heard the word, but I'm positive you've experienced it. I wanted to abandon and ban this book.but no--I read it, many sections more than once. It was like looking at my own soul's journey from the bottom side of the toilet seat.
CAUTION.
So elusive is acedia that it pervades our current culture but is seldom identified by name.
Don't miss the last chapter--a 43 page compendium of quotes on acedia from authors down through the ages.
Even God is no longer viewed as good.
To be read often--with humble patience and disciplined persistence.
She weaves a web with strands from her marriage, her writing journey, and her pilgrimage as a Benedictine Oblate.
Slogging through Norris's accidic web, I was sucked back into its clutches: I felt bored, tediously bored; I felt lethargic, tepid, like warm milk at midday; I wanted to escape the confining and cramped cell of this book; I enviously wanted to be elsewhere reading an exciting book; I felt cynical--angry, even bitter.
To read Norris's book requires extreme patience and persistence.
Reviewed by Benjamin Pratt, author of Ian Fleming's Seven Deadlier Sins and 007's Moral Compass.
|
