By E. L. Doctorow
Publisher: Abacus (2001)
Paperback 320 pages
Publisher: Abacus (2001)
Paperback 320 pages
“Perhaps the first songs were
lullabies. Perhaps mothers were the first singers. Perhaps they learned to
soothe their squirming simian babes by imitating the sounds of moving water,
the gurgles, cascades, plashes, puddlings, flows, floods, spurts, spills,
gushes, laps, and sucks. Perhaps they knew their babies were born from water.
And rhythm was the gentle rock of the water hammock slung between the pelvic
trees. And melody was the sound the water made when the baby stirred its
limbs.”
A few have called this the author’s
written mid-life crisis, which may be well deserved. But I don’t call such a
description damning. This book is a reflexive look at the author’s world
through a series of seemingly disconnected events, characters, and personal
revelations that are interwoven together (at least thematically) in an
examination of faith and God, and how the two connect together in the lives of
many people. It focuses extensively on how one’s faith (or lack thereof) can
powerfully affect people decades later for whom the original has no knowledge.
A few people might have written off
the similarity in names between this text and the 5th Century Christian
philosophical work by St. Augustine of Hippo, but the parallels between the two
works are very apparent. The Augustine text was written after the sack of Rome
by the Visigoths and was meant to comfort and direct Christians who found their
world crumbling about them. It is one of the cornerstone of Western thought
giving written form to such key concepts as the suffering of the righteous, the
existence of evil, the conflict between free will and divine omniscience, and
the doctrine of original sin. Essentially these ideas boil down to a singular
struggle between earthly delights and spiritual growth.
Author E. L. Doctorow |
St. Augustine places all of human
history in this struggle, naming one the Earthly City and the spiritual side as
the City of God. Thus all actions are a result between the forces of evil and
good, interacting in ways that one might not realize. Taken through this lens,
the novel begins to make much more sense.
Now what this means (especially in the
life of the character Pem, a fallen priest) is that, regardless of one’s
personal faith, a person living in this world cannot help be affected by faith-
whether for good or evil. And that, even if a person renounces all forms of
society and religion, much the direction of their lives will be caught up in
this struggle between the Earthly City and the City of God. It cannot be
helped. This is the structure of life and will always be so.
The writing in this novel is
brilliant, inspired, a whirlwind of form and shape. Often I read passages aloud
and just let the rhythm of the verbal constructs wash over me. Not to say that
this is for everyone. If you want a tightly structured plot, where the
protagonist goes through a five-act character arc, look elsewhere. These are
vignettes tied through sub-text. Let the action wash over you, and the purpose
beneath will reveal itself.
For more readings, try books by Rex Hurst.
For more readings, try books by Rex Hurst.
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