My students often wonder why I have such enthusiasm for Chesterton, a zeal that often outstrips my wonder for more famous writers. The answers are manifold, but here's a shot at putting the whole thing into perspective.
Imagine that Jane Austen (since we've discussed her) was forgotten, almost completely left in the ashes of the past, abandoned by the literary canon. Now imagine that you, being a fan of fine words and British literature, are introduced to this stuff by a friend. Imagine your surprise at learning that one of the greatest writers in English history had been forgotten. It would be a tragedy, would it not?
Now stretch that a bit, a great bit, and put in her place a great, fat, jolly specimen of an Englishman: Chesterton. He wrote far more than Austen did (I've read of his four books, a few dozen essays, a handful of short stories and poems yet I have barely scratched the surface of this mammoth collection) and he was widely known in his day. He was friends with many prominent names, debated almost anyone of any importance who would try him, always winning, and was loved by friend and foe alike. People would travel for miles around just to hear the man speak.
And have you heard that Chesterton's Everlasting Man was one of the reasons C.S. Lewis converted to Christianity, or that he was an influence on Tolkien? Or that dozens of writers from Hemingway to Kafka were admirers as well? Or that his book on Dickens was one of the reasons that author saw his own revival in the early 20th century? Did you know that one of the most influential hagiographers (an academic whose specialty is saints) of the 20th Century, Etienne Gilson, greatly admired his work on St. Thomas Aquinas?
This is Chesterton. His writing is not only beautiful, lyrical at times, but also brilliant. And he has been forgotten in a way that is truly frustrating for his admirers. One of the greatest Canadian writers, Robertson Davies, called Chesterton the most unfairly forgotten writer of the 20th century. But my zeal grows greater because I don't think it's an accident that Chesterton was forgotten. Because he was Catholic.
Tolkien, you might note, was also Catholic yet remains popular. But Chesterton was a warrior (named a Defender of the Faith by the Pope, and a better one then Henery - Henery!), his arguments irrefutable, his worldview vast and inescapable. A postmodernist has great difficulty answering Chesterton, so the postmodernist ignores Chesterton.
In his way, Chesterton was a greater phenomenon than Jane Austen, yet unlike her he is forgotten. So, sometimes I speak with the zeal of the converted because I've only been poking into Chesterton's works for so little time (the past two years only.) But I read him because his writing is beautiful, and his thoughts similarly so.
For a long time now I've been trying to escape the mind-slavery of our time. That's what brought me to the study of history, and to literature. I've also been trying to recover a Catholic imagination, the psychology or perspective that my ancestoprs had when they looked out at the world. And I find that, as I read Chesterton, I not only discover the Catholic imagination. I slowly begin to assume it into who I am.
Imagine that Jane Austen (since we've discussed her) was forgotten, almost completely left in the ashes of the past, abandoned by the literary canon. Now imagine that you, being a fan of fine words and British literature, are introduced to this stuff by a friend. Imagine your surprise at learning that one of the greatest writers in English history had been forgotten. It would be a tragedy, would it not?
Now stretch that a bit, a great bit, and put in her place a great, fat, jolly specimen of an Englishman: Chesterton. He wrote far more than Austen did (I've read of his four books, a few dozen essays, a handful of short stories and poems yet I have barely scratched the surface of this mammoth collection) and he was widely known in his day. He was friends with many prominent names, debated almost anyone of any importance who would try him, always winning, and was loved by friend and foe alike. People would travel for miles around just to hear the man speak.
And have you heard that Chesterton's Everlasting Man was one of the reasons C.S. Lewis converted to Christianity, or that he was an influence on Tolkien? Or that dozens of writers from Hemingway to Kafka were admirers as well? Or that his book on Dickens was one of the reasons that author saw his own revival in the early 20th century? Did you know that one of the most influential hagiographers (an academic whose specialty is saints) of the 20th Century, Etienne Gilson, greatly admired his work on St. Thomas Aquinas?
This is Chesterton. His writing is not only beautiful, lyrical at times, but also brilliant. And he has been forgotten in a way that is truly frustrating for his admirers. One of the greatest Canadian writers, Robertson Davies, called Chesterton the most unfairly forgotten writer of the 20th century. But my zeal grows greater because I don't think it's an accident that Chesterton was forgotten. Because he was Catholic.
Tolkien, you might note, was also Catholic yet remains popular. But Chesterton was a warrior (named a Defender of the Faith by the Pope, and a better one then Henery - Henery!), his arguments irrefutable, his worldview vast and inescapable. A postmodernist has great difficulty answering Chesterton, so the postmodernist ignores Chesterton.
In his way, Chesterton was a greater phenomenon than Jane Austen, yet unlike her he is forgotten. So, sometimes I speak with the zeal of the converted because I've only been poking into Chesterton's works for so little time (the past two years only.) But I read him because his writing is beautiful, and his thoughts similarly so.
For a long time now I've been trying to escape the mind-slavery of our time. That's what brought me to the study of history, and to literature. I've also been trying to recover a Catholic imagination, the psychology or perspective that my ancestoprs had when they looked out at the world. And I find that, as I read Chesterton, I not only discover the Catholic imagination. I slowly begin to assume it into who I am.
9 comments:
You speak of mind slavery, as I believe you have mentioned in an earlier post. I am acutely aware of it but do you mind summarizing it for everyone else? And how would we be able to reintroduce Chesterton into our ever dwindly, cultureless society?
Jeremy W.
Well I don't know about you Jeremy, but I'm definately feeling a violent revolution in the name of Chesterton. Anyone else game?
*Runs to the corner to hide from the blood-splatter of Brett from the inevitable Hammer that will be coming down from Herr Johnson*
I would really love to start reading some of his work. Johnson, would you mind if I borrowed a copy of "Everlasting Man" over the summer? I'll talk to you in person about it.
indomita malleus Johnson est.
A few things: Garvin, thank you. Chris, very sensible but not necessary.
Brett. All amusement aside (and knowing you as I do I can't help but be amused) the violent revolution idea is such a perfect example of what I'm talking about. So thank you for the chance to think about it. I'll post on it.
Everlasting Man is a tough slog. If you are looking to begin with Chesterton this summer, and don't want to try Common Sense 101, I would recommend Orthodoxy, but hey, any Chesterton is good Chesterton.
Austen and Chesterton, an interesting comparison. Chesterton makes several positive references to Austen, though it seems he believed (perhaps wrongly) that she was an atheist. Perhaps when each Austen book has been made a movie five times they will finally get around to Chesterton.
I have recently been introduced to Chesterton, perhaps by the same man as you Mr. Johnson. My personal account of Chesterton has been a journey. It started off in Mr. Corrigan's class with a few quotes and a few rants on how great Chesterton was, but from the name and quotes, Chesterton had a different face to me. Chesterton always seemed like an arrogant name without a face to me. I recently finished reading Common Sense 101. The book starts off describing how Chesterton was six foot four and over three hundred pounds, and as the author Dale Ahlquist puts it "He is a giant. But he is no Goliath. He is actually an overgrown Elf." I personally really enjoy that because it put a face to the name that I had to unwillingly expand upon his quotes. Ahlquist continues telling stories about Chestertons jolliness, and how he would have to buy his own paper in order to get the address to his own work. This does not seem like arrogance to me and the fact that it is clear that not only can I laugh at Chesterton, but that Chesterton will laugh at himself. Now when I see the name Chesterton, I don't see work, or a picture of a troubled writer pulling out his hair in order to create answers to questions, but I see a man with a smile, describing logic in nothing but a logical way. I personally loved Common Sense 101 and will soon try to dig a hole in the pile of Chesterton writings. This is one person that won't soon forget about Chesterton.
naught to do with the discussion, but
welcome aboard Mr.Corrigan
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