Beginning in 2021, during the height of Covid, I began choosing three books or authors to concentrate upon during the winter months – one each for January, February and March. That year, I chose to read first War and Peace, then Les Miserables, and then Don Quixote. It was a wonderful way to get through the darkness and cold of winter, and I found myself feeling spiritually and emotionally lifted as a result. That year Carleen joined me, and Mary Tomassetti did as well. Last year, we tried it again, with a few different books: Middlemarch (George Eliot), Our Mutual Friend (Dickens), and Pere Goriot (Balzac). A few more folks joined us for parts of that last winter. This year, we’re going to try it again, and I wanted to invite anyone who would like to to join in. Here are the picks:
January: The Betrothed by Alessandro Manzoni. This is a 19th century Italian novel that ranks second only to Dante in Italy’s national consciousness, a book that Pope Francis keeps on his bedside table. It was just translated into English for the first time in more than 50 years. Have you ever heard of it? Me either. Time to get acquainted.
February: The Short Stories of Anton Chekhov. I’ll be using an edition called 52 Stories (a full deck, the translators call it). As the war in Ukraine enters a second year, I find myself reaching for reminders that some of the world’s greatest wisdom and literature has emerged from Russia. Like people, so too nations possess wisdom greater than the worst things those entities have unleashed. And I haven’t spent nearly enough time with Chekhov, a man of deep religious convictions, and an astute observer of human interactions.
March: The Complete Stories by Clarice Lispector. Lispector was a Jewish Ukrainian exile who settled in Brazil early in the 20th century. She’s a huge presence in Latin American literature, but her status as an exile from Ukraine makes her an especially intriguing figure right now. Her biographer calls her the most important Jewish writer since Kafka. High praise. Again, it’s time to get to know her work.
So: three ways to seize the moment, and to beat the gloom of winter. Three ways to join hands with figures from the past who have reached toward us, in gestures that deepen the mystery of our common existence, that raise critical questions about what it is to be alive, and that offer the possibility of empathy and a shared understanding across vast geographies and times.
If enough people are interested, we may even find a time to get together to talk about what we’ve encountered after each month. Drop me a line if you’re reading along, or if you’re thinking about it (steven@jungkeit.net).
Steve