I like to have two books going at any given time. To
keep me focused and confusion-free, I generally read one fiction and one nonfiction
book simultaneously. I usually go through phases too, especially with my nonfiction
reading. There’ve been lengthy phases of religion, the books of the Bible, physics
and mathematics, Civil War, World War II. Over the past decade I’ve read 37
Civil War books, and over the past four years 40 books on World War II. As far
as religion and the Bible go, I’ve read through the Good Book twice, have read
separate books of the Bible multiple times in multiple translations, and have read
countless books on Catholicism, Christianity, Christian Science, Buddhism, Zen and
Hinduism.
I say this not to brag (well, maybe a little; I could
probably do pretty well on Jeopardy), but to let you know what type of person I
am. I’ve written earlier that I’m planning to spend the first half of 2024
reading through Tolkien’s oeuvre, something which I haven’t done in several
years now but never in the story’s internal chronological order. But what nonfiction
to compliment Tolkien?
There are several ideas that appeal to me.
All kind of relate to the insane frenetic upside-down current
state of the world we live in.
Two ideas are religious-oriented. I am coming more and
more to the belief that Bergoglio is an anti-pope (or rather, I have the
near-certainty future history, long after my lifetime, will regard him as one).
I think he is doing incredible damage to the Catholic Church. Statistics show
this. He’s the best thing to happen to the Eastern Orthodox Church, based on
the numbers of Catholics entering the other lung of the church. Suffice it to
say that not only do I dislike the direction the Catholic Church has been
heading since 1965, I definitely despise what has happened in 2013 and after.
So one idea would be a deep dive into the history of
the Catholic Church, pre-Vatican II. I am having trouble finding an unbiased tome,
but detective work of this sort is part of the fun. Additionally, I’d like to
read some of the early Church Fathers and some pre-1965 papal documents,
particularly those of Pope Leo XIII and those of the early 20th century (i.e.,
the documents opposed to Modernism and Marxism).
The other would be an in-depth exploration of the Eastern
Orthodox Church, particularly the 1054 theological split which separated the
two parts of the Church. Sure, it has its own set of issues dealing with our
evil liquid modernity, but it seems to be doing a better job sparring with it.
It seems a more manly, vigorous, ascetical system of belief and practice, and,
for better or worse, it has no Pope or papal system of governance.
My semi-serious reading of Nostradamus over the summer
has sparked an interest in 15th-16th century Europe. Kings, Queens, Empires, Wars,
Intrigue – the O.G. Game of Thrones. The Hundred Years War, said to be more devastating
to the continent than World War II. The religious divisions and upheavals. The
great Spanish Empire and its proselytizational efforts in the New World.
Interesting in a way to intelligently distract me from the constant,
never-ending bread and circuses of today’s world.
Then there is a 180-degree turn – or return – into physics.
My youngest is now taking a chemistry course in high school and I am helping
her with it, and it’s all coming back: Sub-atomic particles, electron shells
and orbitals, the Periodic Table. Ah, my first love! I told her how, way, way
back in the early 90s when I was at Seton Hall, I’d dream of exploring this microscopic
world. Rutherford’s probing of the gold foil with alpha and beta particles –
which my daughter is familiar with (or at least had to know for a test and
probably has forgotten) – mesmerized young me. So she said, “Dad, why don’t you
get a book on this stuff and start reading about it again.” Good idea! I have a
couple already, in fact, unread on the book shelf behind me.
Then I read on Twitter a few days ago this simple
question: What skill do you have that would be valuable if the whole world fell
apart? I knew exactly what the questioner was getting at, and I was also
immediately dismayed at my lack of response to it. All this reading … to what
purpose? What good would knowledge of 16th-century Europe bring if the apocalypse
that so many in power seem to be superhumanly striving for actually happened?
Yeah, I read 77 books on war, but could I even lead myself in battle?
I discussed this with the Mrs, who was also intrigued
by the question. She suggested that I’d be great at making detailed plans to
implement should catastrophe befall. “That’s the first thing you should do. It’d
be good for your peace of mind, no matter how far-fetched the situation.” Then
she said I should learn some survival skills, some first aide skills, “Boy
Scout handbook”-type stuff. I agreed. “Trauma response,” a subject I always
wanted to explore since it factored so heavily in the two manuscripts I wrote
and I had to fudge most of it. Lastly she said, “How about plants? Gardening?
It would be a relaxing hobby and would be valuable if food became scarce.” Hmm.
My buddy started a garden as a response to the Covid lockdowns, and now it
covers nearly half his backyard.
So, my nonfiction choices for 2024 seem to be:
- Pre-1965 Catholicism
- Eastern
Orthodoxy
- 15th-16th
Century European Game of Thrones
- Sub-atomic
Particles
- Survival Skills
- Or, possibly,
some other subject that hits from out of the blue in the next 10 days …
And if I can’t decide on any of those, I have a second
book on Nostradamus I could begin January 1 as a placeholder of sorts …
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