Why “The Hobbit” is not just for kids – Reblog from Aleteia.org

I came across this commentary this morning and I think it’s just wonderful. While I haven’t read The Hobbit since high school, it is one of the books (along with Lord of the Rings) that I hope to introduce to my kids when they’re old enough. The author of this commentary, Tod Worner, captures, I think, the essence of why I read and what I hope my children gain from reading. I particularly love the GK Chesterton quote he includes! Please find the original piece here.

Why ‘The Hobbit’ is not just for kids

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How reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s story to his 10-year-old daughter unexpectedly stirred this father’s soul.

I have a confession to make.

I am just finishing The Hobbit for the first time. And I am almost 45.

Okay, okay. So it’s not scandalous. But to those who consider themselves well-read Catholics, not having read The Hobbit and its three-volume sequel, The Lord of the Rings, is considered perplexing if not irresponsible. After all, they are essential works of the moral imagination.

For years, I have been told how good these books are. In them, tales unfold of an extraordinary quest of unlikely heroes, unimaginable creatures and unexpected twists. Ice-capped mountains and lush valleys, barren hillsides and forbidding forests serve as terrain for a motley crew of unlikely allies who strive and suffer together towards an end much larger than themselves.

And so, earlier this year, my 10-year-old daughter and I decided to embark on reading The Hobbit together nightly as she went to bed.

And it has been extraordinary.

As we walked each night with the diminutive Bilbo Baggins from his cozy home in the Shire to the perilous wide world of Middle Earth, we encountered elves and wizards, trolls and goblins, spiders and orcs. We sensed the constant thrill of the adventure ahead mixed (paradoxically) with the forlorn homesickness for what was left behind. Again and again, we agreed with Bilbo’s skepticism about himself. He is a nimble thief? He is an indispensable member of group of dwarves trekking to reclaim a mountain and its treasure from a hell-spewing dragon? He is a hero? Right. But then, time and again, Bilbo proved he was just a little bit smarter, just a touch braver, just a smidge better than either my daughter or I expected. The little hobbit was growing. And we were growing with him.

But there were no small number of times that I wondered what the devil this hobbit thought he was doing. He had a comfortable home and an easy-going life. His books were well-ordered and his larder was full. His fire was toasty and his room warmly-lit. Why leave it all? Why walk away from the known and predictable for the wild and uncertain? Night after night, just walking with Bilbo into the greater unknown made me pull the comforter a bit tighter and snuggle a bit closer to my daughter.

But, after all, that is what these tales are all about. They remind us of our smallness, but our potential for greatness. They illustrate the peril of living dangerously, but also the risk of not living at all. They re-acquaint us with eternal verities (often considered outmoded) such as duty, loyalty and honor as well as the bright line (forever at risk of being blurred) separating right from wrong and good from evil. They instill in us a devotion to each other and a greater reason for being beyond our own selfish appetites. And they do this all in the form of a parable.

The great southern Catholic novelist Flannery O’Connor once observed,

“I tell a story because a statement would be in adequate.”

Quite right. In a world deaf to platitudes, J.R.R. Tolkien decided to shout with hideous orcs, an incinerating dragon and an intoxicating ring. But the tale isn’t a tale for the sake of telling a tale. Allegories are allegories for a reason. They speak to sins and virtues, temptations succumbed to and temptations resisted, damnation averted and grace received. As G.K. Chesterton once noted,

Fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.

Indeed.

We must remember: The dragon can be killed. The ring can be destroyed. You can endure suffering. You can return home.

Chesterton reminds us,

At the back of our brains, so to speak, there was a forgotten blaze or burst of astonishment at our own existence … The object of the artistic and spiritual life was to dig for this submerged sunrise or wonder; so that a man sitting in a chair might suddenly understand that he was actually alive, and be happy. 

As I was lying there reading The Hobbit to my 10-year-old daughter, I smiled and once again understood.

I am alive.

And I am happy.

Thank you, Todd and Aleteia!

Book Review: The Simple Soul of Susan by Noel Branham

The Simple Soul of SusanI was privileged to receive a free review copy of  The Simple Soul of Susan by Noel Branham in the fall of last year. At that point I already knew I was falling behind on reviews, but I said yes because I just loved the idea of the story. And I’m so very glad I did!

Susan Combs had long ago found the love of her life. The only problem was the other party still didn’t know he had been found.

Every day Susan saw Calder Hurtz, her next door neighbor and childhood best friend. They always enjoyed the short drive to school down the dusty streets of their small Texas town. She was happy in those perfect moments, for her life at home was most imperfect. The challenging homestead she inhabited was also the favorite subject of local gossip.

But one autumn day she overhears Calder and another boy having a conversation. This occasion of accidental audience sets Susan’s life on an unforeseen path. In the seasons to come, her future will be changed by two hospitalizations, two confessions of love, and one betrayal.

Compulsively readable, The Simple Soul of Susan is an engaging, soul-endearing romance and a mesmerizing debut.

The books spans a several-year time period, going season by season, which was a really interesting way to structure it. So many books focus on a much narrower time-frame, but this really enabled the author to develop the characters. The reader has the opportunity to see Susan and Calder grow up, and deal with the corresponding life transitions. Refreshingly, no character is perfect; even Susan has her faults and the author doesn’t hide them or rationalize them away. Rather, the book tells a real coming-of-age story as we watch Susan and Calder stumble along their respective paths as they discern where they’re headed in life.

I remember talking to a therapist years ago about something that had happened when I was 18 and her telling me to “forgive the children” who were involved in the incident. At the time, I was furious: how dare she call me a child?!? After all, I met my husband when I was 18 – I was a GROWN UP!!! We see Susan struggle with that dichotomy throughout the course of the book, and reading it helped me to judge my adolescent self a little less harshly and be more willing to see adolescence for what it is: a time of incredible growth and turmoil, with a lot of lessons to be learned along the way. (Of course, much of that holds true for adulthood as well…)

Despite enjoying the length of time the book spans, I did at times feel like the book was longer than it needed to be. I can’t tell you what I’d cut out because it all feels essential, it was more of just a feeling I had from time to time while I was reading it.

That said, I highly recommend the book and I think it’s a solid debut novel. I’d love to read more of Noel Branham’s work in the future.

Four stars!

Most Useful “Mental Health Books” I’ve Read

I’ve been mulling a post of this sort for a long time–maybe as long as I’ve been blogging–but never really got up the courage to write it. This will be far from perfect and probably emotional, but I thought that it’s a good time to share. So, in honor of Mental Health Awareness Month, I’m sharing here a list of books (with commentary – I always have commentary!) that I have found useful on my mental health journey.

The Postpartum Husband: Practical Solutions for Living with Postpartum DepressionThe Postpartum Husband: Practical Solutions to Living with Postpartum Depression by Karen Kleiman

I read this book and then shared it with my husband and my mother while I was going through a serious bout of perinatal depression during my pregnancy with my second daughter. It is very simple and easy-to-read, mostly written in bullet-point format, which makes it perfect for when you’re in the midst of dealing with the day-to-day business of depression. Most of my depressive episodes have been perinatal in nature (postpartum, during pregnancy, during weaning, etc.) and I read this five years ago so I’m not sure how much translates to other types of depression. HOWEVER. I will say that for me, it validated how I was feeling. I read the whole thing, nodding to myself, “THIS IS HOW I FEEL.” I was able to hand it to my husband (who was doing a wonderful job of supporting me, btw) and say, “Read this and you will understand me better. THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I FEEL.” He had already implemented many of the strategies in the book, but I felt like it enabled me to explain to him more accurately how I was actually feeling, which I can only imagine helped him cope with the craziness of our life as we battled through. I’ve since recommended this book to many people and will continue to do so. It has to be the single most useful book I’ve read on the subject.

31312The Dance of Anger by Harriet Lerner

Despite the title, this book is useful and enlightening even if you don’t consider yourself to have “anger issues.” I’ve struggled myself with depression and anxiety, though in my earliest, undiagnosed times I did express myself through anger. I read this years on, though, and found it illuminating in a couple of ways that have really stuck with me. First, the book describes anger as a secondary emotion, meaning that it is an emotional reaction to some other, more basic emotion. For example, if I’m angry because my husband “got to” sleep in, it’s an emotional reaction to me feeling overtired or overburdened. This lesson then taught me how to cope. Instead of being resentful and mad at my husband, what I need to do is communicate to him that I feel overtired and need a break. I started doing this sort of thing and it has had a huge beneficial impact on my own mental health and in our relationship. This was one of those books that was full of practical lessons for me – which I think, partly, I may have been open to because I’ve gone through years of psychotherapy and self-analysis. For this book to be useful to you, you have to be able to recognize your own faults and willing to implement practical changes.

23878688The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts by Gary Chapman

At first glance this doesn’t seem like a book that’s “mental health” focused, per se. And it’s really not — but what it did for me was allow me to better understand myself and my husband, and therefore to better accept myself. I learned that people show and feel love in different ways, and that’s ok. Rather than seeing differences between my spouse and me as failures or defects on my part, I learned to appreciate and understand myself. Ultimately, this was and continues to be a huge help to me in battling through bouts of anxiety and depression.

The Temperament God Gave Your SpouseThe Temperament God Gave Your Spouse by Art and Laraine Bennett

This is another one that is indirectly related to my mental health journey, but has been crucial to my own self-acceptance. Anyone who understands and has experienced the feelings of utter worthlessness that accompany severe depression knows that it’s important for long-term recovery to continually work on self-acceptance. I learned to understand myself and my own communication styles better, as well as my natural emotional tendencies (the “temperament”). A basic self-understanding is key to being able to implement the cognitive behavioral techniques I’ve learned in my many hours of counseling.

36235186100 Days of Mental Health by Paul Green

This is a very different book from those described above in that it is literally a 100-day journal of Green’s mental state. Truth be told, I did not finish the book; I couldn’t. I found that his descriptions so accurately reflected the unpredictability and pain of living with a mental disorder that it was slightly triggering for me. Coupled with the fact that I was reading it just about the time I was weaning my third child (a very sensitive time for me emotionally), I couldn’t emotionally handle reading about his struggle. I remember very clearly a description he writes about depression being like having 1,000-pound rock on top of you; no one would expect you to get up if you had a literal 1,000-pound rock on top of you, but that’s not the case with depression. It’s so often unseen, and sufferers are expected to just get up and live life as normal – except to them, the rock really is there. I recommend this book to anyone who is living with a relative or friend suffering from depression, as a way of potentially understanding their loved one. It won’t perfectly explain everyone’s situation, but it just might grant some insight.

39331472Spaghetti Head by Sarah Tyley

Regular readers might remember I recently reviewed this book here on the blog and commented on how the mental health aspects of the book particularly struck me. Ms. Tyley later told me that people who have undergone therapy are part of her target audience (though the book, I think, does have wider appeal). I won’t rehash everything I said in my original review, but I will say that it’s one of the best fictional portrayals of intensive therapy (futuristic techniques notwithstanding!) that I’ve read. It speaks to the depth of personal struggle, the variety of forms mental illness can take, and the incredible effort it takes to commit oneself to therapy and to implementation of the techniques learned. Therapy, in many ways, is just the beginning – if you can’t take what you’ve learned and apply it to your life, recovery remains out of reach. This book illuminates so much of the struggle without being “a mental health book.”

The Private War of Corporal HensonThe Private War of Corporal Henson by E. Michael Helms

I won a free copy of this book via Goodreads giveaway a few years ago (Goodreads tells me I read it in November 2015), and I am forever thankful. The semi-autobiographical novel follows Corporal Henson, a long-time PTSD sufferer from his time spent fighting in Vietnam. He is persuaded to participate in a PTSD support group for veterans and we follow him through his struggles to come to terms with what he experienced at war, how that has haunted him for decades since, and how to move ahead with his life and allow himself happiness. The greatest takeaway for me was perhaps a glimmer of understanding of what life was like for my maternal grandfather, who suffered with undiagnosed PTSD for 53 years (!) after fighting with the US Army in the Korean War; beyond that, it illuminated for me how his mental illness may have impacted the lives of his wife and children (my mother included). I don’t know his full story or theirs, but I felt like reading this book provided me with just a nugget of understanding and resulting compassion for their collective struggle. Because, I know, mental illness doesn’t only impact the person who is ill: it has far-reaching consequences for others, especially close loved ones; this reality alone provided most of the impetus for my efforts at recovery when I was at my lowest points.

So, those are my books and the smallest window into the struggle my family and I face as I continue to struggle with mental illness and accept it as a part of our life. St. Dymphna, patron saint of the mentally ill, pray for me and for all of us who suffer!