My 2016 reading plan has gone off the rails, thanks to my return to work. Even with working part-time, I am struggling to keep up with my self-imposed pace.
But that’s okay. My reading list should work for me, and not the other way around. I have been reevaluating my list, and have been deciding which titles are must-haves for the year, and which ones can be postponed.
My current Read pile includes a couple of titles I’ve been working on slowly since January, as well as a few new ones that I’ve just added.
During this season of life, I am finding myself drawn to books that focus on educational philosophy, parenting, and Christian faith.
One book that I am wrapping up this week (finally!) is C.S. Lewis Surprised By Joy.
While I have been exploring the writings of C.S. Lewis, it has been incredible to read about his childhood and early life experiences. So often, we have a one-dimensional view of authors; we only know them through their writings.
C.S. Lewis is of course known for his writings on Christian apologetics, but to read about his transformation into an atheist and eventual discovery of true Christian faith is quite moving.
Lewis shared about his time living with and being tutored by a family friend Mr. Kirkpatrick, or Old Knock as he was sometimes called. He wrote of his time reading and studying Homer in Greek.
In our homeschool, we are just getting started with Latin, which I am quite excited about since I studied Latin all through high school. We have also learned the Hebrew alphabet and are still in the early stages of learning vocabulary and basic grammar.
This passage, from Lewis’ time with Old Knock, really struck me as we work on learning new languages.
The great gain was that I very soon became able to understand a great deal without (even mentally) translating it; I was beginning to think in Greek. That is the great Rubicon to cross in learning any language. Those in whom the Greek word lives only while they are hunting for it in the lexicon, and who then substitute the English word for it, are not reading the Greek at all; they are only solving a puzzle. The very formula, “Naus means a ship,” is wrong. Naus and ship both mean a thing, they do not mean one another. Behind Naus, as behind navis or naca, we want to have a picture of a dark, slender mass with sail or oars, climbing the ridges, with no officious English word intruding.
As I find myself getting stressed out because I have less time available for personal scholarship right now, I am reminded of another passage, again from Lewis’ time with Old Knock. Reflecting on the ideal day of study and reflection, what he terms “settled, calm, Epicurean life.” This ideal schedule, defined by set study times and minimal interactions and distractions, sound wonderful to someone seeking a scholarly life. But as Lewis points out:
It is no doubt for my own good that I have been so generally prevented from leading it, for it is a life almost entirely selfish. Selfish, not self-centered: for in such a life my mind would be directed toward a thousand things, not one of which is myself.
These words will serve as a comfort as I try to find that perfect balance between family, faith, work and personal scholarship.