Fairyland Frequencies
Books on Solitude, Beauty at the Museum, and K-Pop Demons
Hello, there! Newsletter round-up this week, with some book thoughts and some news items at the bottom. Since I wrote “We Are All Fairies to Each Other,” I haven’t stopped thinking about this set of ideas. I am becoming more confident that using a model of “internet as fairyland” is a far more functional and useful way of relating to digital culture than as mere behavior pattern or screen addiction. One of the many reasons it’s a better model is because of how it explains the observable phenomenon that not everyone “disappears” into internet technology in the same way. If we accept a definition of addiction as being based on time spent, we can see that heavy users are not always “addicted” in the same way that even casual users can become. The fairyland definition also allows us to reclaim the word “addiction” from the abuses of pop psychology and reassign it to its necessary, useful and functional medical context.
In order to continue unpacking this idea, I’ve been searching out and rereading fairyland tales, and meditating on what they have to teach us about interacting with digital culture. Two pieces that I’ve got in the works for next month include a breakdown of Christina Rossetti’s “Goblin Market,” and the lessons we can pull from it, as well as an idea piece on the economics of fairyland, particularly on how we can break out of the capitalist/socialist dyad with a transcending principle. To wit, I’m rereading some Hilaire Belloc and G.K. Chesterton, just to give you an idea of where I’m going. Make sure you’re subscribed so you don’t miss these!
Recently Reshelved
Bride of the Lamb, by Fr. Sergius N. Bulgakov
This book. Wow. When my friend gave it to me, she said, “Laura, this is The Book.” She wasn’t kidding.
For one, it’s taken me over a year to get through, and this is for several reasons. First, Fr. Sergius was a philosophical writer par excellence, and in this, his magnum opus, he is exceedingly careful in crafting his definitions and building his philosophical constructs. I deeply appreciated his scholarly care and consideration, especially because he is sometimes maligned in popular opinion. I came at this work with my antennae up for any whiff of unorthodoxy, and Fr. Sergius’ careful thinking very much put my mind at ease in this respect.
Another reason this book took me so long is because of the intense amount of meaning contained in each carefully parsed paragraph. I very frequently would read a short passage, and then have to stop and meditate on it, sometimes for days. Everything we read changes us, you know? Whether we realize it or not, whether we like it or not. Sometimes books change us in that we assimilate their ideas; sometimes they change us because of the ways we refuse to assimilate those ideas and instead fabricate defensive constructs against them. Reading is very much a kind of relationship, but the responsiveness we normally get from relating to another person is instead contained within the self. This is one reason why it’s so vital to develop healthy, integrated ways of relating within the self-- because when we do, we can become aware of how a book is changing us in real time, and both observe and interact with that process.
Two other books that hit me the same way, in which I experienced not only the ways in which they changed me but the process of that change itself, were Unspoken Sermons by George MacDonald and The Ethics of Beauty by Dr. Timothy Patitsas. All three of these books have given me the treasured experience of “my heart burning within me,” which I’ve come to understand as the feeling the heart makes when it is being enlarged. These books have all helped me to love Jesus Christ with the same kind of puppy-dog adoration that Fyodor Dostoevsky expressed when he said:
“I want to say to you, about myself, that I am a child of this age, a child of unfaith and skepticism, and probably (indeed I know it) shall remain so to the end of my life. How dreadfully has it tormented me (and torments me even now) this longing for faith, which is all the stronger for the proofs I have against it. And yet God gives me sometimes moments of perfect peace; in such moments I love and believe that I am loved; in such moments I have formulated my creed, wherein all is clear and holy to me. This creed is extremely simple; here it is: I believe that there is nothing lovelier, deeper, more sympathetic, more rational, more manly, and more perfect than the Saviour; I say to myself with jealous love that not only is there no one else like Him, but that there could be no one. I would even say more: If anyone could prove to me that Christ is outside the truth, and if the truth really did exclude Christ, I should prefer to stay with Christ and not with truth.”
Fyodor Dostoevsky
I don’t really want to waste words explaining these books, partially because I think each of them stands on their own merit and is worth encountering one on one, and indeed, I don’t know if I can do any of them the kind of justice they deserve. What I can tell you is that each of these books broke down false constructs that I didn’t even know that I held, and that in the breaking of these false constructs, in the smashing of these idols, the darkened glasses of my spiritual vision were cleared of a few smudges.
I will say, though, that I am utterly convinced that any charge of heresy against Fr. Sergius is utterly spurious. If, like I did, you heard rumors of him arguing for a fourth hypostasis of God as the Divine Feminine, or of promoting a wishy-washy universal salvation, or have heard him characterized as a kind of pseudo-Orthodox new age thinker, reading his actual words proves that all of these charges are slanderous. Every claim he puts forth is completely grounded in the Truth of Jesus Christ, as taught by His Holy Church. And if he is enthusiastic in his praise of our Holy Mother, well, so was St. Nectarios of Aegina, and everyone loves to enthusiastically belt out ‘O Pure Virgin’.
I highlighted a lot in this book, but in perusing my notes, I can’t really find a good soundbite to pull. This actually demonstrates why it’s such a valuable work— because Bulgakov so very carefully constructs his theology, so very carefully responds to Orthodox differences from Western theology, that it’s impossible to just pull a single piece.
Malicroix, by Henri Bosco
I picked up this novel after Gaston Bachelard praised it so highly in The Poetics of Space. I was a little intimidated, because, well, The Poetics of Space. It’s a deep book. But Malicroix turned out to be not merely deep, but a lush and gorgeous novel with a fantastic scope of both internal experience and external setting mirroring and amplifying one another. The plot itself ends up being surprisingly archetypal and emotionally moving as well, with the main character exploring the tensions between the self-in-isolation and the self-in-community in very loving and non-ironic ways. I was floored by how much I liked this book, and that I had never heard of it before Bachelard.
Just to give you a taste:
“Everything around me was silent. Nothing suggests unlimited space like silence. I entered that space. Sounds color an expanse and give it a kind of sonorous body. The absence of sounds leaves space completely empty, and in silence the sensation of vastness, depth, and boundlessness possesses us. That sensation pervaded me, and for several moments I was one with the grandeur of nighttime peace.
It imposed itself upon me like a living being.”
Now, unfortunately, I have a chronic tinnitus that becomes quite unbearable with even a modicum of silence, but this is exactly what I imagine silence should really feel like. Thank you, Henri.
I really want to read more Henri Bosco after this, but I see that not much has been translated into English. This is not the end of the world, however, as it just means that I’ve got to get my French off of the back shelf and dust it off a bit (haha, yeah, I will totally do this, no, it will not be a mere walk in the park, but yes, I will do it anyway, because in another universe I really am a polyglot). I’ve got my eye on a used volume that contains several of his works, including the other story mentioned in The Poetics of Space, Hyacinthe.
Incidentally, I have to make this connection, even if it outs me as a reader with a bizarre range of interests: Years ago, I read and enjoyed Jacquelyn Carey’s Kushiel books, and no, I can’t give them a free-and-clear recommendation because yes, they are very explicit. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that Carey’s meditations on the parallels between sexual and political power didn’t make a profound impression on me. In particular, I recall her observation that in S&M dynamics, it is the submissive who carries the true power in the relationship, by allowing the dominant to pretend to have the power that they crave, but do not really have. This is, not incidentally, the same power dynamic we see in representative democracy, in that the powerless/submissive people consent to giving power to the powerful/dominant rulers. It also highlights why our society still has difficulty navigating discussion of relational abuses, particularly spousal abuse. It’s truly complex, and Carey handled it so very well. I still think about those books, and not primarily because of the spicy stuff.
Anyway, /tangent. One of the mysterious and compelling characters in the series was the main character’s best friend Hyacinthe. Seeing that the Kushiel books are set in a fantasy-France, and that Hyacinthe in the series ends up a solitary character, I can’t help but wonder if he is a reference to Henri Bosco? A quick search on the internet cannot confirm or deny this, but then, we all know that search engines aren’t half the machines they used to be. Remember the days when you’d get 10,000 pages of results? And you’d find a jewel on page 974? Likely someone else on the internet has actually made this connection between Carey and Bosco before, and I just can’t find them to say, “Hey, yeah! Me, too!”
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenence by Robert Pirsig
This is a reread for me, though I’m not sure I completely finished it the first time. In any case, it’s worth several trips through. Every other page has some kind of practical philosophical gem, like:
“Stuckness shouldn’t be avoided. It’s the psychic predecessor of all real understanding.”
It’s the kind of popular philosophy book that made me fall in love with philosophy as a teenager; the kind of book that makes you marvel at the very miracle of existence as well as our even more marvelous ability to think about it and talk about it. Plus it’s a very good reminder that any kind of Cartesian dualism, any kind of split between body and spirit, will lead to insanity, and that the path back to reality seems to require this very messy embodied existence.
Not a book! On our latest trip to the museum, I got to experience an exhibit that absolutely blew my mind. Muñíz works largely in oil on large diptych and triptych canvas, as well as pen and ink sketching, and moreover, is completely fluent in symbolism from various mythologies, Carl Jung, Tarot, and his Roman Catholic background. It’s an intoxicating mix— his paintings are sometimes described as Baroque in their complexity and detail, and they offer thought-provoking social commentary in a truly meditative context. Recolections/Recollections is a perfect exhibition for a museum, because the paintings themselves are large and immersive and recall the experience of religious art in sacred space.
Muñíz seems to have captured something essential about how our contemporary society engages with the enchanted cosmos, and the liminal space that he portrays reveals how the colonialism of the Western Enlightenment era continues to inform our perspectives, frequently without our conscious acknowledgment. I think it’s his vision of unity that captured my imagination the most; how in his paintings, the mythological, the archetypal, the political, and the personal all interact in meaningful ways. I can’t wait to go back and look longer.
Do you know what I wish, though? I wish that Muñíz, and artists like him, would find ways to produce art books that would make their work accessible to families like mine, so that we could think through their art in our homes, on our shoestring homeschooling budgets. I’ll definitely enjoy his art while it’s available at the museum, and I will miss it when it has moved on. I encourage you to look through his website, even though the digital imagery doesn’t really do justice to how compelling it is embodied in real life.
(I’d put in a picture, but I’m not sure about fair use here; there weren’t even any gallery books for sale. Just click over to his site.)
K-Pop Demon Hunters on Netflix
In keeping with my tradition of curveball recommendations, I have to tell you that I’m enthralled with Sony Animation’s new release, K-Pop Demon Hunters. I make no secret about the fact that a core tenet of my philosophy of taste in books, movies, music, art, and so forth is that if someone I love likes it, I try to find ways to appreciate what they like about it. This has led me, over the years, to develop quite a taste for the family movie genre, simply because I have kids of a wide range of ages. (It has also led me to the unshakeable conclusion that I will never like NCIS, no matter how much my dad does.)
K-Pop Demon Hunters is a blast. The story is well-told, the characters are moving, the aesthetics are very pleasing, and man, those songs are caaaaaaatchy. I’m preaching to the choir / Can I get the mic a little higher…?
If you need some brainy reasons to like it, there are some universally compelling themes at work in the story itself, with the main characters working through personality growth as well as redemption. The ensemble deals head-on with demonic temptation, and they all struggle against it by practicing self-honesty, repentance, and self-sacrifice. In addition, the infectious joyousness of the K-pop soundtrack is absolutely an echo of the true festal celebration our hearts natively respond to.
I am also thrilled by the very meta transmedia experience of this movie. My teenagers have been engaged in watching the singles from the movie climb the actual, real-life streaming charts. As one put it, “Mom, everyone’s trying to make the real-time chart competition of Huntrix and the Saja Boys into canonical lore!” It’s not just us— our local pool had a night swim party, and I witnessed whole gaggles of kids and teens rocking out together when these songs came on the playlist. We’re going up, up, up / It’s our moment / You know together we’re golden… It was sweet, and charming.
All of my kids like this movie, ages 1 to 18. Their friends all like this movie. My khouriyeh likes this movie. You may like this movie, too, if you give it a chance. If you do, let me know, and we’ll turn up the radio and dance together. 🎶
It’s a great excuse for carb-loading, because you know, it’ll take like 10,000 calories to get through the choreo. 💃
From My Desk
If you participated in my recent flash fiction party, keep an eye on The Wood Between the Worlds Substack! I don’t yet have a release date for the party favors, but our friends over there are busy reading all of the stories and picking out their favorites for a feature. I will let you know when I know more!
In other news, Barbara Kavchok and I just got done making a new storyboard for our picture book, which is exciting. I hope to share more sketches with you soon. Also, over at the Patterns for Life substack, Lisa just announced that we will be kicking off the next season of our podcast with the interview we did with Dr. Timothy Patitsas. I had a fabulous time talking with Dr. Tim, and I can’t wait to share our conversation with you.
Finally, I’m doing a soft relaunch of my Orthodox sex-ed curriculum next month. I don’t make a big deal about this resource because (as I say ad nauseum) I am not and have absolutely no desire to be any kind of Orthodox sex guru. But in keeping with my philosophy of tailoring sex ed to every individual student, I found myself making more materials to use with my upcoming students because they have different interests and learning styles. And since I made these materials, I’d like to share them. In the parlance of the IndieWeb, I am cooking what I want, and eating what I cook. This is why the materials are only available on my own website, and there are no plans to publish them in a more institutionalized way. Incidentally, this is part of the reason why I used hand-drawn illustrations in the book— both because I wanted to encourage everyone to go ahead and make their own sketches, but also because this is how I’m doing it for my own family. IndieWeb principles are people-based instead of project-based, and I’m creating materials for real people, not a theoretical audience.
I’m going to leave you with a snippet of KPDH lyric because, hey, I really love belting out this song with my girls, and I still don’t seem to mind that it’s been an earworm for a week at this point (at least it keeps the tinnitus at bay):
We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back
But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass
The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like
Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head?
Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead
Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony
Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like
Have a great week, folks! Definitely hit me up and show me some love if you’re singing with your kids this week, whatever the song!
May you be blessed,
Laura