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The Life You Save May Be Your Own: An American Pilgrimage
The story of four modern American Catholics who made literature out of their search for GodIn the mid-twentieth century four American Catholics came to believe that the best way to explore the questions of religious faith was to write about them-in works that readers of all kinds could admire. The Life You Save May Be Your Own is their story-a vivid and enthralling account of great writers and their power over us.Thomas Merton was a Trappist monk in Kentucky; Dorothy Day the founder of the Catholic Worker in New York; Flannery O'Connor a "Christ-haunted" literary prodigy in Georgia; Walker Percy a doctor in New Orleans who quit medicine to write fiction and philosophy. A friend came up with a name for them-the School of the Holy Ghost-and for three decades they exchanged letters, ardently read one another's books, and grappled with what one of them called a "predicament shared in common."A pilgrimage is a journey taken in light of a story; and in The Life You Save May Be Your Own Paul Elie tells these writers' story as a pilgrimage from the God-obsessed literary past of Dante and Dostoevsky out into the thrilling chaos of postwar American life. It is a story of how the Catholic faith, in their vision of things, took on forms the faithful could not have anticipated. And it is a story about the ways we look to great books and writers to help us make sense of our experience, about the power of literature to change-to save-our lives.
593 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2003
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 204 reviews
December 4, 2024
ok as a wavy american catholic i am EXTREMELY predisposed to dig this book, and also i have awarded it five stars despite only being halfway through it, but basically if you are a wavy american catholic or have any positive feelings toward flannery o'connor, thomas merton, dorothy day, and/or walker percy, read this immediately. this book is seminal, even if the rest of it is just random strings of characters. go buy this.
update: i finally finished this 2.5 months after starting, and i seriously wish there was a special nuclear sixth star you could use for only like five books in your life. i would give this a sixth star. basically paul elie has, through thoughtful research, graceful writing, and a really keen spirit, turned a wad of paper and ink and glue into a balm for the spirit. i am going to miss having the four writers at the center of this book as companions in my life, but every so often i'll take this down from the shelf and page through. meanwhile, the wisdom imparted in their lives and words and elie's thoughtful arrangement of them will either lead or follow me, like a stray cat that can't decide to walk in front of or behind you.
update: i finally finished this 2.5 months after starting, and i seriously wish there was a special nuclear sixth star you could use for only like five books in your life. i would give this a sixth star. basically paul elie has, through thoughtful research, graceful writing, and a really keen spirit, turned a wad of paper and ink and glue into a balm for the spirit. i am going to miss having the four writers at the center of this book as companions in my life, but every so often i'll take this down from the shelf and page through. meanwhile, the wisdom imparted in their lives and words and elie's thoughtful arrangement of them will either lead or follow me, like a stray cat that can't decide to walk in front of or behind you.
April 5, 2012
What a herculean task this was: writing about the lives of four great writers. Four great American Catholic writers. Their common faith defined their lives and their works. They are all dead now but for many years in our recent history they had all been living and looking at the same world. I enumerate them here in the same sequence they had passed away:
1. Flannery O'Connor
2. Thomas Merton
3. Dorothy Day
4. Walker Percy
O'Connor was just 39 when she died of lupus, Day was 84. Percy died of cancer, Merton just had a bath (after delivering a lecture), slipped, held an electric fan wire with his wet hands, and was electrocuted. He was in his early 50's.
It is not my habit to take down notes while reading books so I may be mistaken here on one or two points. But as far as I recall, except for Day who refused to read Percy's books (this was at the time when she was already in her 70's and felt she's too old to read anything new, contented as she was with rereading her favorites by Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Dickens and Silone), these four read and admired each other's works. Merton and Percy actually met, so did O'Connor and Percy. Day and Merton never met each other. The novelist Alice Walker was too young to have met O'Connor but the latter had a profound influence on her. Percy met the mother of John Kennedy Toole, who had killed himself at age 30, and she gave him the manuscript of her son's novel written in the spirit of the Southern Catholic fiction (like O'Connor's). A publisher had turned it down before Toole committed suicide. Percy found it an engrossing read despite the lousy paper it was printed on. It was later published and won the Pulizer Prize.
Both Day and Merton--from a Catholic point of view--had sordid pasts. When she was younger Day had lived in with a man, hippie-style, and bore him an illegitimate daughter. Merton also had a child out of wedlock before he was converted to the Catholic faith and became a monk. And when he was already a monk, and a famous Catholic writer at that, he had an affair with a beautiful nurse who had given him sponge baths when he was sick in a hospital. Even O'Connor apparently had some racist streaks; and Percy appeared confused with his philosophy.
Apart from the juicy, gossipy parts of this book, there were a lot of interesting philosophy, religion, history and literature here which I faithfully marked with dog-ears. I was prepared to give it 4 stars but Paul Elie's own encore, at the end of the Epilogue which carries the book's title, pushed the rating to a five. Despite its length, I am happy to type it here in full as a holy week penance for my sins:
"We are all skeptics now, believer and unbeliever alike. There is no one true faith, evident at all times and places. Every religion is one among many. The clear lines of any orthodoxy are made crooked by our experience, are complicated by our lives.
"Believer and unbeliever are in the same predicament, thrown back onto themselves in complex circumstances, looking for a sign. As ever, religious belief makes its claim somewhere between revelation and projection, between holiness and human frailty; but the burden of proof, indeed the burden of belief, for so long upheld by society, is now back on the believer, where it belongs.
"This is the significance of a piece of writing that makes a case for the Communion of Saints by way of one girl's short, hard, complicated life--and, perhaps, the significance of the religious faith that makes its case through the account of God's experience of life on earth as a certain person at a particular place and time. There is no way to seek truth except personally. Every story worth knowing is a life story.
"In their different ways, the four writers this book is about sought the truth personally--in charity, in prayer, in art, in philosophy. Their writing was the most personal way of all, for in the act of reading and writing one stranger and another go forth to meet in an encounter of the profoundest sort. In this encounter, there are no self-evident truths. Nothing can be taken for granted or asserted outright. The case must be made to each of us individually, with fierce attention on both sides; we must be persuaded one at a time.
"Perhaps that doesn't tell us much; but it is enough, and perhaps a little modesty is a good thing, a useful check on our strivings. Like it or not, we come to life in the middle of stories that are not ours. The way to knowledge, and self-knowledge, is through pilgrimage. We imitate our way to the truth, finding our lives--saving them--in the process. Then we pass it on.
"The story of their lives, then, is also its meaning and its implication for ours. They saw religious experience out before them. They read their way toward it. They believed it. They lived it. They made it their own. With us in mind, they put it in writing."
And we read it. Thank you Flannery, Thomas, Dorothy and Walker.
1. Flannery O'Connor
2. Thomas Merton
3. Dorothy Day
4. Walker Percy
O'Connor was just 39 when she died of lupus, Day was 84. Percy died of cancer, Merton just had a bath (after delivering a lecture), slipped, held an electric fan wire with his wet hands, and was electrocuted. He was in his early 50's.
It is not my habit to take down notes while reading books so I may be mistaken here on one or two points. But as far as I recall, except for Day who refused to read Percy's books (this was at the time when she was already in her 70's and felt she's too old to read anything new, contented as she was with rereading her favorites by Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Dickens and Silone), these four read and admired each other's works. Merton and Percy actually met, so did O'Connor and Percy. Day and Merton never met each other. The novelist Alice Walker was too young to have met O'Connor but the latter had a profound influence on her. Percy met the mother of John Kennedy Toole, who had killed himself at age 30, and she gave him the manuscript of her son's novel written in the spirit of the Southern Catholic fiction (like O'Connor's). A publisher had turned it down before Toole committed suicide. Percy found it an engrossing read despite the lousy paper it was printed on. It was later published and won the Pulizer Prize.
Both Day and Merton--from a Catholic point of view--had sordid pasts. When she was younger Day had lived in with a man, hippie-style, and bore him an illegitimate daughter. Merton also had a child out of wedlock before he was converted to the Catholic faith and became a monk. And when he was already a monk, and a famous Catholic writer at that, he had an affair with a beautiful nurse who had given him sponge baths when he was sick in a hospital. Even O'Connor apparently had some racist streaks; and Percy appeared confused with his philosophy.
Apart from the juicy, gossipy parts of this book, there were a lot of interesting philosophy, religion, history and literature here which I faithfully marked with dog-ears. I was prepared to give it 4 stars but Paul Elie's own encore, at the end of the Epilogue which carries the book's title, pushed the rating to a five. Despite its length, I am happy to type it here in full as a holy week penance for my sins:
"We are all skeptics now, believer and unbeliever alike. There is no one true faith, evident at all times and places. Every religion is one among many. The clear lines of any orthodoxy are made crooked by our experience, are complicated by our lives.
"Believer and unbeliever are in the same predicament, thrown back onto themselves in complex circumstances, looking for a sign. As ever, religious belief makes its claim somewhere between revelation and projection, between holiness and human frailty; but the burden of proof, indeed the burden of belief, for so long upheld by society, is now back on the believer, where it belongs.
"This is the significance of a piece of writing that makes a case for the Communion of Saints by way of one girl's short, hard, complicated life--and, perhaps, the significance of the religious faith that makes its case through the account of God's experience of life on earth as a certain person at a particular place and time. There is no way to seek truth except personally. Every story worth knowing is a life story.
"In their different ways, the four writers this book is about sought the truth personally--in charity, in prayer, in art, in philosophy. Their writing was the most personal way of all, for in the act of reading and writing one stranger and another go forth to meet in an encounter of the profoundest sort. In this encounter, there are no self-evident truths. Nothing can be taken for granted or asserted outright. The case must be made to each of us individually, with fierce attention on both sides; we must be persuaded one at a time.
"Perhaps that doesn't tell us much; but it is enough, and perhaps a little modesty is a good thing, a useful check on our strivings. Like it or not, we come to life in the middle of stories that are not ours. The way to knowledge, and self-knowledge, is through pilgrimage. We imitate our way to the truth, finding our lives--saving them--in the process. Then we pass it on.
"The story of their lives, then, is also its meaning and its implication for ours. They saw religious experience out before them. They read their way toward it. They believed it. They lived it. They made it their own. With us in mind, they put it in writing."
And we read it. Thank you Flannery, Thomas, Dorothy and Walker.
May 11, 2008
This book was unlike every other book I have ever read, which was perhaps why I enjoyed it. It follows the life of four authors: Flannery O'Connor, Thomas Merton, Dorothy Day, and Walker Percy.
I wasn't expecting their lives to run into each others, and I wasn't expecting it to intrigue me into reading more of their writing now that I know so much about them.
Paul Elie writes like that of an esteemed professor, while I feel like a pupil of his sitting in his class every other day, and briskly keeping notes while he talked of a subject that one would normally consider boring but because of his teaching style, all of his students enjoyed his classes.
Dorothy Day's life as a passionate Catholic pacifist, O'Conner's blunt and truthful short stories that provoked anger, thought and change, Merton's wisdom living as monk and sometimes hermit, and Percy's Doctor gone novelist lifestyle, come together to display people (even famous ones) who used their skills to make change. They read each other's writings and also that of Dostoyevsky, Hawthorne, and others. They sought peace. and love. and to imitate Christ.
More than anything else this book is about their transformations in life as seen in their writings, and the pilgrimage that everyone must make spiritually.
There have been few books that I would write to the author in gratitude of his work. This is one.
I wasn't expecting their lives to run into each others, and I wasn't expecting it to intrigue me into reading more of their writing now that I know so much about them.
Paul Elie writes like that of an esteemed professor, while I feel like a pupil of his sitting in his class every other day, and briskly keeping notes while he talked of a subject that one would normally consider boring but because of his teaching style, all of his students enjoyed his classes.
Dorothy Day's life as a passionate Catholic pacifist, O'Conner's blunt and truthful short stories that provoked anger, thought and change, Merton's wisdom living as monk and sometimes hermit, and Percy's Doctor gone novelist lifestyle, come together to display people (even famous ones) who used their skills to make change. They read each other's writings and also that of Dostoyevsky, Hawthorne, and others. They sought peace. and love. and to imitate Christ.
More than anything else this book is about their transformations in life as seen in their writings, and the pilgrimage that everyone must make spiritually.
There have been few books that I would write to the author in gratitude of his work. This is one.
August 13, 2012
Fantastic book that left me with a deep conviction about the necessity to cultivate more time and space for contemplation in my life.
October 10, 2019
The ultimate goal, I believe, of reading is to develop as a person, to take tiny steps towards wholeness, maturity and wisdom. And, I’ve known for some time that my emphasis on non-fiction reflects my overemphasis of the head over the heart.
Paul Elie’s The Life You Save May Be Your Own was that perfect mixture of head and heart where you’re introduced to some of the most compelling people of the 20th century along with their ideas and convictions. Simply put, I loved it, and I’m so thankful for Nate suggesting it. (I had read and didn't like or understand Flannery O’Connor’s first book Wise Blood, to which he recommended this.) Their lives pulled your forward with zest; their thoughts, questions and exploits inspired; and on top of it, Elie included ample literary reflection and insight, not to mention perspective particularly on the American 1950s and 60s.
The book interweaves the stories of 4 of the most influential Catholics of the 20th century – Thomas Merton, Flannery O’Connor, Walker Percy, and Dorothy Day. All were writers and all sought after truth and God in their own ways. Here Elie tells of their pilgrimages and particular journeys.
Before reading this book, I had read a bit of O’Connor, Day, and Merton, and knew just bits of their lives, but I was downright shocked at some of the twists in their stories, which I won't spoil here. Many of their ideas, enacted in their lives, were powerful. Here are a few: a theology of the grotesque or “freaks” seen particularly in O’Connor’s fiction. Love for the poor and Therese of Lisieux’s Little Way (mentioned, I believe, by all). The importance of place and committing to a place. Care for the poor. The practice of letter writing. The love of the written word and literature! I hope to read many more of the classics, particularly Dickens, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Orwell, James, not to mention many more by these 4 authors. And perhaps most of all – the emphasis on solitude, silence and contemplation. I was left with a yearning for depth.
It is a book to savor, to grow deeper in love with life, and to be inspired by their lives. And, if done well, a 4 part biography cannot be short. So be prepared to read.
Some quotes noted mostly for personal significance:
A quote from Walker Percy: “Life is a mystery, love is a delight. Therefore I take it as axiomatic that one should settle for nothing less than the infinite mystery and the infinite delight, i.e., God. In fact I demand it. I refuse to settle for anything less.”
A quote from Day: “Buddhists teach that a man’s life is divided into three parts: the first part for education and growing up; the second for continued learning, through marriage and raising a family, involvement with the life of the senses, the mind, and the spirit; and the third period, the time of withdrawal from responsibility, letting go of the things of this life, letting God take over.” And that was how she announced her retirement from the Catholic Worker.
Merton:
One from O’Connor retelling a conversation she had with “Big Intellectuals”:
Lastly in the concluding epilogue Elie writes, “What is the meaning of their lives? It is a presumptuous question, and yet one that demands to be asked.” To which he then describes his own pilgrimage to each of their main stomping grounds. He continues: “There is no way to seek truth except personally. Every story worth knowing is a life story. In their different ways, the four writers this book is about sought the truth personally – in charity, in prayer, in art, in philosophy.” A lovely summary, I thought.
Paul Elie’s The Life You Save May Be Your Own was that perfect mixture of head and heart where you’re introduced to some of the most compelling people of the 20th century along with their ideas and convictions. Simply put, I loved it, and I’m so thankful for Nate suggesting it. (I had read and didn't like or understand Flannery O’Connor’s first book Wise Blood, to which he recommended this.) Their lives pulled your forward with zest; their thoughts, questions and exploits inspired; and on top of it, Elie included ample literary reflection and insight, not to mention perspective particularly on the American 1950s and 60s.
The book interweaves the stories of 4 of the most influential Catholics of the 20th century – Thomas Merton, Flannery O’Connor, Walker Percy, and Dorothy Day. All were writers and all sought after truth and God in their own ways. Here Elie tells of their pilgrimages and particular journeys.
Before reading this book, I had read a bit of O’Connor, Day, and Merton, and knew just bits of their lives, but I was downright shocked at some of the twists in their stories, which I won't spoil here. Many of their ideas, enacted in their lives, were powerful. Here are a few: a theology of the grotesque or “freaks” seen particularly in O’Connor’s fiction. Love for the poor and Therese of Lisieux’s Little Way (mentioned, I believe, by all). The importance of place and committing to a place. Care for the poor. The practice of letter writing. The love of the written word and literature! I hope to read many more of the classics, particularly Dickens, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Orwell, James, not to mention many more by these 4 authors. And perhaps most of all – the emphasis on solitude, silence and contemplation. I was left with a yearning for depth.
It is a book to savor, to grow deeper in love with life, and to be inspired by their lives. And, if done well, a 4 part biography cannot be short. So be prepared to read.
Some quotes noted mostly for personal significance:
A quote from Walker Percy: “Life is a mystery, love is a delight. Therefore I take it as axiomatic that one should settle for nothing less than the infinite mystery and the infinite delight, i.e., God. In fact I demand it. I refuse to settle for anything less.”
A quote from Day: “Buddhists teach that a man’s life is divided into three parts: the first part for education and growing up; the second for continued learning, through marriage and raising a family, involvement with the life of the senses, the mind, and the spirit; and the third period, the time of withdrawal from responsibility, letting go of the things of this life, letting God take over.” And that was how she announced her retirement from the Catholic Worker.
Merton:
“Can I tell you that I have found answers to the questions that torment the man of our time? I do not know if I have found answers. When I first became a monk, yes, I was more sure of ‘answers.’ But as I grow old in the monastic life I become aware that I have only begun to seek the questions. And what are the questions? Can a man make sense of his existence? Can a man honestly give his life meaning merely by adopting a certain set of explanations which pretend to tell him why the world began and where it will end, why there is evil and what is necessary for a good life? … I have been summoned to explore a desert area of man’s heart in which explanations no longer suffice, and in which one learns that only experience counts.”
One from O’Connor retelling a conversation she had with “Big Intellectuals”:
I hadn’t opened my mouth once, there being nothing for me in such company to say. The people who took me were Robert Lowell and his now wife, Elizabeth Hardwick. Having me there was like having a dog present who had been trained to say a few words but overcome with inadequacy had forgotten them.
Well, toward morning the conversation turned on the Eucharist, which I, being the Catholic, was obviously supposed to defend. Mrs. Broadwater said when she was a child and received the Host, she thought of it as the Holy Ghost, He being the ‘most portable’ person of the Trinity; now she thought of it as a symbol and implied that it was a pretty good one.
I then said, in a very shaky voice, ‘Well, if it’s a symbol, to hell with it.’ That was all the defense I was capable of but I realize now that this is all I will ever be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable.”
Lastly in the concluding epilogue Elie writes, “What is the meaning of their lives? It is a presumptuous question, and yet one that demands to be asked.” To which he then describes his own pilgrimage to each of their main stomping grounds. He continues: “There is no way to seek truth except personally. Every story worth knowing is a life story. In their different ways, the four writers this book is about sought the truth personally – in charity, in prayer, in art, in philosophy.” A lovely summary, I thought.
November 14, 2024
The best biography I've ever read. Elie masterfully weaves together the stories of 4 quirky, lonely American Catholic writers who shared the same core question: how to approach, talk about, and love God in a world that isn't certain God matters.
It was a comforting read for this particular time, as all the subjects dealt in some way with American political upheaval and were often discouraged by the lack of moral leadership from the institutional Church. They relied on the sacraments, on their own acute spiritual awareness, and occasionally on each other as well.
Refreshing, too, is the firm resistance of hagiography: while some of these figures certainly approach sainthood, they're not airbrushed and they did not lead lives of bypassing pain or shying away from emptiness. The narrative feels whole and honest as we encounter Day's anarchy, voluntary poverty, and stubbornness, Merton's unfulfilled idealism, spectator's envy, and craving for love, O'Connor's awkwardness, chronic illness, and casual racism, and Percy's boredom, lack of direction, and generational burdens. This book doesn't skip over or smooth out the gaps between Divine longing and human experience.
Elie's framing of the writers' lives as a shared pilgrimage, one for which their works serve as guideposts for future readers, made me feel understood: Day and O'Connor have been trusted traveling companions of mine for a while now, and I'm grateful for this thoughtful immersion into their lives, and for the opportunity to learn more about Merton and Percy.
Not a quick read- you've got to meander with them and take time to reflect- but I highly recommend this one.
It was a comforting read for this particular time, as all the subjects dealt in some way with American political upheaval and were often discouraged by the lack of moral leadership from the institutional Church. They relied on the sacraments, on their own acute spiritual awareness, and occasionally on each other as well.
Refreshing, too, is the firm resistance of hagiography: while some of these figures certainly approach sainthood, they're not airbrushed and they did not lead lives of bypassing pain or shying away from emptiness. The narrative feels whole and honest as we encounter Day's anarchy, voluntary poverty, and stubbornness, Merton's unfulfilled idealism, spectator's envy, and craving for love, O'Connor's awkwardness, chronic illness, and casual racism, and Percy's boredom, lack of direction, and generational burdens. This book doesn't skip over or smooth out the gaps between Divine longing and human experience.
Elie's framing of the writers' lives as a shared pilgrimage, one for which their works serve as guideposts for future readers, made me feel understood: Day and O'Connor have been trusted traveling companions of mine for a while now, and I'm grateful for this thoughtful immersion into their lives, and for the opportunity to learn more about Merton and Percy.
Not a quick read- you've got to meander with them and take time to reflect- but I highly recommend this one.
January 31, 2021
The hazards of just starting a book on Kindle is that you don't realize you've picked up such a lengthy one until you're already committed! But I'm glad I made the effort to get through this one, and found myself highlighting and pondering a lot on the way. The style of telling four biographies concurrently was pulled off well, with the themes speaking from one to another and helped my understanding of the era in question as well as O'Connor, Merton, Day, and Percy.
I had just recently finished works by both Flannery O'Connor and Walker Percy, and have one of Dorothy Day's on my nightstand, but aside from the most cursory biographical knowledge, I knew very little about their lives or how to fit their cannon into their own journeys. I didn't always agree with Elie's assessment of their works that I had read, so I'm trying to not let him color too much the ones I haven't, but my grasp of them as real people, and not just the enigma of "author" was greatly enhanced.
Beyond the biographical, the pondering of what it is to be a pilgrim and the nature of a religious journey was very thought provoking and I'm sure will be staying with me.
"Like it or not, we come to life in the middle of stories that are not ours.... We imitate our way to the truth, finding our lives—saving them—in the process. Then we pass it on."
I had just recently finished works by both Flannery O'Connor and Walker Percy, and have one of Dorothy Day's on my nightstand, but aside from the most cursory biographical knowledge, I knew very little about their lives or how to fit their cannon into their own journeys. I didn't always agree with Elie's assessment of their works that I had read, so I'm trying to not let him color too much the ones I haven't, but my grasp of them as real people, and not just the enigma of "author" was greatly enhanced.
Beyond the biographical, the pondering of what it is to be a pilgrim and the nature of a religious journey was very thought provoking and I'm sure will be staying with me.
"Like it or not, we come to life in the middle of stories that are not ours.... We imitate our way to the truth, finding our lives—saving them—in the process. Then we pass it on."
December 18, 2024
buzzer beater, very strong candidate in a loaded field for best book I read this year
“The way to knowledge, and self-knowledge, is through pilgrimage. We imitate our way to the truth, finding our lives - saving them - in the process. Then we pass it on.”
“The way to knowledge, and self-knowledge, is through pilgrimage. We imitate our way to the truth, finding our lives - saving them - in the process. Then we pass it on.”
July 12, 2011
The title, taken from a Flannery O'Connor short story, sums up a key theme developed by Elie: one's spiritual experience, no matter how public or inspirational, always starts and ends at the deeply personal, individual level. As Elie says in final chapter, "The clear lines of any orthodoxy are made crooked by our experience, are complicated by our lives." This quote also sums up E's main achievement in this masterful group portrait of 4 American Catholic writers, O'Connor, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, and Walker Percy: his ability to show how the "crooked experiences" and "complicated lives" of these four did more to enrich their spiritual lives than blind obedience to dogma. Instead of settting them up as one-dimensional paragons of piety, E. works in the spirit of Day's own command, "Don't call me a saint!" In the process, he humanizes them in ways that, ironically, make their lives all the more inspirational by rendering them more accessible. And though each wanted to reach a wider audience in his or her writings, they resisted being held up as, what Merton angrily called "surrogate believers" that unintentionally prompt others to "bury their unbelief in a master's belief."
E's other main achievement is the manner in which he weaves together four such rich lives in a seamless way, alternating and juxtaposing sections, some lengthy, some as brief as a short paragraph. And though he offers a good sense of their daily lives, this is more of a critical biography than a conventional chronological one, "reading" their lives, so to speak, by examining the books they read and how those readings, as well as their personal experiences, influenced their writings. And my oh my, did these folks write a lot -- columns, letters, diaries, essays, memoirs, stories, novels. More inspiring, for me, than their devotion was their intellectual curiosity; I found myself making lists of other books and authors to look up. These folks were big readers, of everything, including Literature. They were all influenced by the great Russian writers, especially Dostoevsky. At the end of her life, when asked what she would like to be her legacy, Day said she wanted to be remembered as reader, as someone who was lived out the ideals in her favorites novels, by Tolstoy and Dickens, which she reread after her official retirement. As he was dying of cancer, Percy was discussing Chekhov through letters with his lifelong friend the writer Shelby Foote (in particular, he liked C's "The Bishop," about a dying bishop who realizes and embraces his own insignificance). Like Robert Richardson in his superb bios of Emerson and Thoreau, Elie is adept at summarizing complex ideas in a very accessible form without sacrificing rigor. Though Elie is a lucid writer, such depth and richness of material requires careful attention. I wouldn't describe the book as dense, in terms of accessibility, but thick with ideas that reward a slower pace of reading. Not a book to rush through. I never read more than 20-25 pgs at a crack, and I confess that sometimes I felt like I needed a break from so much spiritual commotion and struggling. Hence, it took me 2-3 months to finish the book.
Personally, I found Day's story the most compelling, and Walker's the least, but such is Elie's talent that I never felt impatient to leave one life to get back to another.
It would be a mistake to think of this book solely as a portrait of faith; it's also a portrait of writers working out their visions of the world on the page. These folks were highly dedicated to their craft as writers, and they are as inspiring for their aesthetic commitment as much as for their spiritual conviction. On a more general level, I think anyone interested in stories of how beliefs and values -- whether religious, social, political or aesthetic -- develop over a lifetime would find this a rewarding read.
My only complaint is that Elie tends to push the "pligrimage" theme too much, constantly reminding us of what quickly becomes fairly obvious throughout the book. Perhaps he thought it was necessary to hold together so much material from four different lives, but it all pretty much speaks for itself.
E's other main achievement is the manner in which he weaves together four such rich lives in a seamless way, alternating and juxtaposing sections, some lengthy, some as brief as a short paragraph. And though he offers a good sense of their daily lives, this is more of a critical biography than a conventional chronological one, "reading" their lives, so to speak, by examining the books they read and how those readings, as well as their personal experiences, influenced their writings. And my oh my, did these folks write a lot -- columns, letters, diaries, essays, memoirs, stories, novels. More inspiring, for me, than their devotion was their intellectual curiosity; I found myself making lists of other books and authors to look up. These folks were big readers, of everything, including Literature. They were all influenced by the great Russian writers, especially Dostoevsky. At the end of her life, when asked what she would like to be her legacy, Day said she wanted to be remembered as reader, as someone who was lived out the ideals in her favorites novels, by Tolstoy and Dickens, which she reread after her official retirement. As he was dying of cancer, Percy was discussing Chekhov through letters with his lifelong friend the writer Shelby Foote (in particular, he liked C's "The Bishop," about a dying bishop who realizes and embraces his own insignificance). Like Robert Richardson in his superb bios of Emerson and Thoreau, Elie is adept at summarizing complex ideas in a very accessible form without sacrificing rigor. Though Elie is a lucid writer, such depth and richness of material requires careful attention. I wouldn't describe the book as dense, in terms of accessibility, but thick with ideas that reward a slower pace of reading. Not a book to rush through. I never read more than 20-25 pgs at a crack, and I confess that sometimes I felt like I needed a break from so much spiritual commotion and struggling. Hence, it took me 2-3 months to finish the book.
Personally, I found Day's story the most compelling, and Walker's the least, but such is Elie's talent that I never felt impatient to leave one life to get back to another.
It would be a mistake to think of this book solely as a portrait of faith; it's also a portrait of writers working out their visions of the world on the page. These folks were highly dedicated to their craft as writers, and they are as inspiring for their aesthetic commitment as much as for their spiritual conviction. On a more general level, I think anyone interested in stories of how beliefs and values -- whether religious, social, political or aesthetic -- develop over a lifetime would find this a rewarding read.
My only complaint is that Elie tends to push the "pligrimage" theme too much, constantly reminding us of what quickly becomes fairly obvious throughout the book. Perhaps he thought it was necessary to hold together so much material from four different lives, but it all pretty much speaks for itself.
September 30, 2011
It's hard to communicate how very much I enjoyed this book. It took me forever to read, but that's partly because I didn't want to rush my way through it. On its face it's pretty innocuous--four Catholic writers from the mid-twentieth century and how their lives intersected--but the intersections are more profound than mere acquaintance, correspondence or coincidence. Walker Percy and Thomas Merton, for example, apparently only met once and didn't actually click, and Merton and Dorothy Day never met, only corresponded. Flannery O'Connor bears almost no formal connection to any of them, beyond a bit of correspondence with Percy and Merton's surprisingly familiar eulogy of her. So the literal ties barely bind them to one another, and yet taken together they can be considered to define American Catholicism before Vatican II, and the American post-war postmodern spiritual condition along with it.
I've read quite a bit of Merton and the slightest bit of O'Connor; I'm a fan from afar of Dorothy Day and almost completely unfamiliar with Walker Percy. But in the terms laid out by Paul Elie, by which we're meant to understand them, I found myself toggling back and forth regularly among all four of them as saints and icons of my own spiritual pilgrimage. Elie starts with a common thread of a desire for direct experience--first of life in its fullness, then of faith in its full depth. Merton and Day both experience profound spiritual conversions, guided second-handedly by the writers they read but driven by a desire for a direct encounter with God. Both became icons of Catholicism for the twentieth century and moderating voices during the turbulent anti-war, pro-civil-rights 1960s. O'Connor and Percy, Southern whites and cradle Catholics both, explored the human condition through the lens of Catholic theology without seeing their art corrupted by their piety. The "grotesque," O'Connor's word for her milieu, was the point of entry for both of them to a deeper understanding of grace. Both wrote uncomfortably about the South during perhaps its most uncomfortable era, but as local and contextual as their work is, it transcends place and time to continue to make us uncomfortable.
I found myself moved as each of the four died, years apart from each other, each in some ways more tragic than the previous. O'Connor, the benign racist who dreamed progressive dreams for her beloved South but resented the intrusion of outsiders, died first from complications brought about by lupus. Merton, the monk who strayed from his calling and perhaps never should have been cloistered in the first place, was electrocuted halfway around the world from home. Day died at a ripe old age, content and serene as one might expect a candidate for sainthood to be, but her death and the mystique that's surrounded her since have presented peculiar challenges for those who have followed in her footsteps. By the time Percy, the least natural writer of the four, died, he had seemingly deconstructed himself again and again with each new novel, in an effort to shake off the shackles his readers had forced on him. We get the sense in Percy's death that he was right from the start, that "even the rare authentically direct experience is spoiled by modern self-consciousness" (p. 278), that our desire to be fully human is hopelessly complicated by the culture we've cultivated that encourages mediated experience, secondhand faith, indirect encounters, half-humanness. Only God, any one of these four might argue, can save us now.
The impact of two world wars, a holocaust and nuclear madness on the idea of a God who created us and continues to care for us is well documented. But the idea of God, these four would suggest, is not the issue. "We who live the contemplative life," Merton acknowledged, "have learned by experience that one cannot know God as long as one seeks to solve 'the problem of God.'" Instead we ought to avail ourselves of God, to look for God in the shadow of the people who surround us, to listen for God in their laments, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. An odd call to live in the real world from people who made their marks as writers in the marketplace of ideas, but 472 pages later I'm convinced that Merton and O'Connor and Percy and Day were the real realists; everybody else was one degree removed. Would that we all could be realists of their ilk; the world would be more as God imagined it, and a much better place.
I've read quite a bit of Merton and the slightest bit of O'Connor; I'm a fan from afar of Dorothy Day and almost completely unfamiliar with Walker Percy. But in the terms laid out by Paul Elie, by which we're meant to understand them, I found myself toggling back and forth regularly among all four of them as saints and icons of my own spiritual pilgrimage. Elie starts with a common thread of a desire for direct experience--first of life in its fullness, then of faith in its full depth. Merton and Day both experience profound spiritual conversions, guided second-handedly by the writers they read but driven by a desire for a direct encounter with God. Both became icons of Catholicism for the twentieth century and moderating voices during the turbulent anti-war, pro-civil-rights 1960s. O'Connor and Percy, Southern whites and cradle Catholics both, explored the human condition through the lens of Catholic theology without seeing their art corrupted by their piety. The "grotesque," O'Connor's word for her milieu, was the point of entry for both of them to a deeper understanding of grace. Both wrote uncomfortably about the South during perhaps its most uncomfortable era, but as local and contextual as their work is, it transcends place and time to continue to make us uncomfortable.
I found myself moved as each of the four died, years apart from each other, each in some ways more tragic than the previous. O'Connor, the benign racist who dreamed progressive dreams for her beloved South but resented the intrusion of outsiders, died first from complications brought about by lupus. Merton, the monk who strayed from his calling and perhaps never should have been cloistered in the first place, was electrocuted halfway around the world from home. Day died at a ripe old age, content and serene as one might expect a candidate for sainthood to be, but her death and the mystique that's surrounded her since have presented peculiar challenges for those who have followed in her footsteps. By the time Percy, the least natural writer of the four, died, he had seemingly deconstructed himself again and again with each new novel, in an effort to shake off the shackles his readers had forced on him. We get the sense in Percy's death that he was right from the start, that "even the rare authentically direct experience is spoiled by modern self-consciousness" (p. 278), that our desire to be fully human is hopelessly complicated by the culture we've cultivated that encourages mediated experience, secondhand faith, indirect encounters, half-humanness. Only God, any one of these four might argue, can save us now.
The impact of two world wars, a holocaust and nuclear madness on the idea of a God who created us and continues to care for us is well documented. But the idea of God, these four would suggest, is not the issue. "We who live the contemplative life," Merton acknowledged, "have learned by experience that one cannot know God as long as one seeks to solve 'the problem of God.'" Instead we ought to avail ourselves of God, to look for God in the shadow of the people who surround us, to listen for God in their laments, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. An odd call to live in the real world from people who made their marks as writers in the marketplace of ideas, but 472 pages later I'm convinced that Merton and O'Connor and Percy and Day were the real realists; everybody else was one degree removed. Would that we all could be realists of their ilk; the world would be more as God imagined it, and a much better place.
August 29, 2017
I read this over the course of the summer, when I could devote quiet time every lunch hour in a little courtyard on campus to contemplate the grandeur of this magnum opus of Catholic biography. Author Paul Elie has taken on the miraculous task of chronicling the life journey of four prominent 20th century Catholic figures and their writings--Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Flannery O'Connor, and Walker Percy. Elie tells each of their stories, while at the same time deftly describing how their lives crossed, intersected, and intertwined. He relates not only their literary achievements and struggles, but how those achievements and struggles came to define them. And the result is a magnificent journey on what it means to be a writer and a Catholic, and a Catholic writer. It is hard not to be moved by the personal journeys of each of the four, and after each day of reading, I spent time in deep contemplation over the humbleness and humanity that each of them portrayed. I also experienced a powerful feeling of needing to escape, to somewhere interior, as if I felt that same presence that all four were seeking. This masterpiece is a pilgrimage indeed, for both the subjects of the book as well as for the reader.
July 30, 2007
As a cradle Catholic, I thought I learned everything there is to know about Catholicism in elementary school, but of course I was wrong. I knew very little about Catholic writers and Catholic literature. This is a wonderful, four-part biography that weaves together the stories of four Catholic writers in the 20th century. It focuses on their background as well as their growth and development as artists. All four of them were wonderfully unique. Just be prepared to come away with a new reading list about a mile long.
March 19, 2021
Whew! That was A Book And A Half. But I'm very glad I read it.
(Side note: I found out about this book through Sarah Clarkson's Book Girl: A Journey Through the Treasures and Transforming Power of a Reading Life, which I would HIGHLY recommend for anyone who would like to be killed by their TBR in the near future. XD)
Where to start... The book entwined the lives of Flannery O'Connor, Walker Percy, Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton, with the common theme of pilgrimage holding the whole thing together. Going in, I knew very little about any of the authors, and the only one I had read anything by was Flannery O'Connor. I learned a whole lot about the lives and works of all of the authors, as well as about the Catholic ethos of the 40s-60s (scary! I like today's Catholic ethos a whole lot better!).
One of the ways that it impacted me the most was each author's journey to faith. Dorothy Day's reluctant conversion contrasted with Flanner O'Connor's cradle Catholicism, Thomas Merton's mystical conversion contrasted with Walker Percy's matter-of-fact "I'm becoming Catholic because it's the truth". And each of their approaches to Catholicism contrasted as well, bringing home to me the way that Catholicism is the truth, but can be approached and interpreted in different ways, while still remaining orthodox (or orthodox-ish...looking at you, Dorothy and Thomas). I hadn't really thought about that all that much before.
For the record, though, I like Flannery O'Connor the best. Walker Percy is also cool. Dorothy Day is intimidating, and Thomas Merton is just kind of weird. XD I guess the best thing to come out of reading this whole thing, in addition to the learning, is that now I really want to read a bunch more O'Connor. (I can just hear my friends Frodo and Eowyn cheering...I'm pretty sure they've subtly been trying to get me to read Flannery O'Connor for years.)
Critiques:
I did feel like the whole thing was very *loosely* tied together, but it didn't bother me all that much--I love books about groups of writers, even if they're not extremely cohesive. :) I think that's my only criticism; overall, it was an excellent book.
Four stars, I think? This one is hard to rate.
(Side note: I found out about this book through Sarah Clarkson's Book Girl: A Journey Through the Treasures and Transforming Power of a Reading Life, which I would HIGHLY recommend for anyone who would like to be killed by their TBR in the near future. XD)
Where to start... The book entwined the lives of Flannery O'Connor, Walker Percy, Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton, with the common theme of pilgrimage holding the whole thing together. Going in, I knew very little about any of the authors, and the only one I had read anything by was Flannery O'Connor. I learned a whole lot about the lives and works of all of the authors, as well as about the Catholic ethos of the 40s-60s (scary! I like today's Catholic ethos a whole lot better!).
One of the ways that it impacted me the most was each author's journey to faith. Dorothy Day's reluctant conversion contrasted with Flanner O'Connor's cradle Catholicism, Thomas Merton's mystical conversion contrasted with Walker Percy's matter-of-fact "I'm becoming Catholic because it's the truth". And each of their approaches to Catholicism contrasted as well, bringing home to me the way that Catholicism is the truth, but can be approached and interpreted in different ways, while still remaining orthodox (or orthodox-ish...looking at you, Dorothy and Thomas). I hadn't really thought about that all that much before.
For the record, though, I like Flannery O'Connor the best. Walker Percy is also cool. Dorothy Day is intimidating, and Thomas Merton is just kind of weird. XD I guess the best thing to come out of reading this whole thing, in addition to the learning, is that now I really want to read a bunch more O'Connor. (I can just hear my friends Frodo and Eowyn cheering...I'm pretty sure they've subtly been trying to get me to read Flannery O'Connor for years.)
Critiques:
I did feel like the whole thing was very *loosely* tied together, but it didn't bother me all that much--I love books about groups of writers, even if they're not extremely cohesive. :) I think that's my only criticism; overall, it was an excellent book.
Four stars, I think? This one is hard to rate.
February 10, 2020
This book is part four-way biography, part literary critique and part Catholic pilgrimage. It is always informative, balanced, well-written and entertaining. Paul Elie examines the intertwined lives of four Catholic writers from the mid-twentieth century: Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Flannery O'Conner and Walker Percy. He manages to tell each specific story and to comment on their literary works with balance and insight while at the same time pointing to the larger trends of the times. It is fascinating to see these four writers who grew up before WW2, become radicals -- or at least contrarians -- in their own ways and then confront the quickly changing world of the fifties and sixties. The intergenerational squabbles pre-figure ones that would continue to play out into the 21 century. Elie is especially gifted at allowing each person's writing to speak, even though their genres differ wildly. O'Conner wrote short fiction, but Merton wrote devotional and contemplative works. Day wrote direct protest articles and personal history, but Percy wrote novels and philosophical essays. Yet each was a Catholic writer, deeply committed to Christ, to the church and to the person as more than just a physical or social being. They were concerned about the effect of modern culture on the soul -- their own souls and those of the people in America. And in this, as Elie concludes, they wrote for themselves and they wrote for us. We are better for their labors and I am thankful to this author for his.
April 23, 2019
This lengthy volume traces the lives and work of four Catholic writers of the twentieth century - Thomas Merton, Dorothy Day, Flannery O'Connor, and Walker Percy - and shows how and where they crossed paths, as well as how world events and changes in the church influenced each one's vocation.
I read this just after finishing The Seven Storey Mountain, which I loved, but which left out some of the more controversial details of Thomas Merton's life. It was interesting to learn what the censors removed from the manuscript, and also to see how the fame Merton gained after publishing that book influenced the rest of his life.
I also found myself wishing I'd had a book like this when I was writing my Flannery O'Connor thesis in college. Though I had read many of the essays and letters referenced by Elie in this book, I did not have the larger historical context, nor the direct connections between her correspondence and her short stories. There are a few stories I plan to revisit after reading about O'Connor's process in writing them.
Finally, I now want to read The Moviegoer in the near future. This is one of several books by Walker Percy that figured heavily into Elie's book, and my curiosity has been piqued, especially since the book has been sitting on my shelf for several months after I won it in a giveaway. I don't own anything by Dorothy Day, and I have always felt wary of her, but this book encouraged me to read more about her too. Of the four figures in this book, she is the only one with an open cause for sainthood, and because her vocation is so different from mine, I think I could learn a lot by reading more about her.
This review also appears on my Instagram.
I read this just after finishing The Seven Storey Mountain, which I loved, but which left out some of the more controversial details of Thomas Merton's life. It was interesting to learn what the censors removed from the manuscript, and also to see how the fame Merton gained after publishing that book influenced the rest of his life.
I also found myself wishing I'd had a book like this when I was writing my Flannery O'Connor thesis in college. Though I had read many of the essays and letters referenced by Elie in this book, I did not have the larger historical context, nor the direct connections between her correspondence and her short stories. There are a few stories I plan to revisit after reading about O'Connor's process in writing them.
Finally, I now want to read The Moviegoer in the near future. This is one of several books by Walker Percy that figured heavily into Elie's book, and my curiosity has been piqued, especially since the book has been sitting on my shelf for several months after I won it in a giveaway. I don't own anything by Dorothy Day, and I have always felt wary of her, but this book encouraged me to read more about her too. Of the four figures in this book, she is the only one with an open cause for sainthood, and because her vocation is so different from mine, I think I could learn a lot by reading more about her.
This review also appears on my Instagram.
June 25, 2024
I am not a Catholic, but I have always been drawn to Flannery O'Connor, naturally leading me to read more about Catholicism. I found this book 3 weeks ago in a used book store, and it immediately drew my attention. I had no idea who Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, or Walker Percy were, but a book about the convergence of 4 Catholics in 4 radically different walks of life? I knew it would be, at the very least, fascinating! (And I got some more book recommendations through its pages! As of I needed any more🙃😂)
As far as the story-telling is concerned, Paul Elie has done a phenomenal job of detailing the lives of 4 people in less than 500 pages (not counting the notes and index). Obviously there were things left out, but that is to be expected. Still, Paul managed to capture what was most important: major events, evolving beliefs, and converging faith. Though these writers may seem completely unconnected in the physical world, they are united in the Mystical Body of Christ and in their life-long struggle and ideal to imitate Christ and point others to him. This is what compels the book from start to finish.
As far as the story-telling is concerned, Paul Elie has done a phenomenal job of detailing the lives of 4 people in less than 500 pages (not counting the notes and index). Obviously there were things left out, but that is to be expected. Still, Paul managed to capture what was most important: major events, evolving beliefs, and converging faith. Though these writers may seem completely unconnected in the physical world, they are united in the Mystical Body of Christ and in their life-long struggle and ideal to imitate Christ and point others to him. This is what compels the book from start to finish.
February 27, 2025
This is a laborious read. I would think you would have to have some prior connection to at least one of the four writers profiled which I did with Thomas Merton. Interestingly, I just stumbled onto this book on my wife's shelves and she had it as a good book for Eneagram 4's as suggested by Susanna Stabile. I really didn't see that part , my being a 7 that really wants to be a 4. Also, I'm no Catholic and this is a bio of 4 Catholic writers. That didn't get in the way at all. What I got to see in this book was a time in our country's history that stands out in it's purpose of a young country searching for it's identity through really engaged people striving for connection, understanding and deeper love.
Very interesting read if you're interested. If not, it'll be a struggle.
Very interesting read if you're interested. If not, it'll be a struggle.
February 19, 2021
A book that made me feel less lonely. A beautifully written book about book-lovers, writers, existentialists who believed in spite of their unbelief. It’s an amazing thing, to be human, and interact with humans gone long before.
(Also four stars because sometimes I got lost in the literary sauce about the writers themes and approaches.)
(Also four stars because sometimes I got lost in the literary sauce about the writers themes and approaches.)
June 28, 2021
This is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. It won’t be the last time I read it.
January 16, 2020
Well-researched book. Great summary of 4 biographies of 4 different Catholic writers. I found the premise enticing, however the execution was at times, long-winded.
May 19, 2023
Maybe my favorite biography ever - such a creative approach. By weaving the stories of four Catholic literary creatives together, I gained appreciation for the life and contributions of each in a way I never would have cared about on their own. I was already familiar with Flannery O'Connor and want to get to know about Walker Percy's novels, but it was Thomas Merton's and Dorothy Day's stories that most captivated me.
September 14, 2017
I may have a lot more to say about this book after I finish it the second time - I finished it, turned back to page one and began again. Not because it is the most enjoyable book I ever read - it was kind of a slog at times - but because it has so much to say about things that are really important to me: writing, Christian faith in general and Catholicism in particular, peer relationships, literature, the context of history, the making and juggling of one's priorities, and the interior life. And it has much to say about those things that I felt I didn't grasp as fully as I wanted to. So - here we go again. Despite describing it as "a bit of a slog" I found it extraordinarily worthwhile and I am in awe of Elie's work in writing it. I can't begin to imagine the amount of work that was involved. Also - while I respect and am intrigued by the four authors he profiles, there is no missing his own formidable skill in writing. All in all - quite a commitment of time and cognitive energy, but truly worth the investment. More to follow.
August 3, 2024
2nd read, and it’s as good as I remember. Spending time with Walker Percy, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, and Flannery O’Connor in the hands of Paul Elie is a fantastic use of one’s hours.
Want to read
September 20, 2024Favorite fact: in the last months of his life, Walker Percy wrote Bruce Springsteen a fan letter, the latter responding later in part that he was inspired by Flannery O'Connor in his writing of the album Nebraska and, generally, by a Percy essay entitled "Man on the Train" (notes, pg. 533)
December 3, 2012
When I was a Graduate Teaching Assistant in the English Department, one of the assigned stories was Flannery O’Connor’s A Good Man is Hard to Find. The students found the story disturbing as I always did. Undoubtedly O’Connor meant to discomfit the story readers and force them, as if by gunpoint, to examine their lives and perhaps to save it from a life unexamined and in the dark. The misfits in her stories were dragged up from her own discomfit in her parochial South and her personal torment.
Along with Walker Percy, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, all Catholic writers of the 1950s and 1960s, Flannery O’Connor and her life and work are examined in a history and biography of the four seekers of salvation, Paul Elie’s The Life You Save May Be Your Own. Perhaps none really found it, but their search became the common currency of the turbulent times where American attitudes toward war, religion, race, and power were in turbulence. The Life You Save May Be Your Own looks at the major writing of these four literary and social change agents. This is not traditional literary criticism, certainly not the critical outlook that dismisses the life of the writer as unimportant to the work. Rather, the social milieu and the very personal lives of each of the writers is examined with a sharp eye. Passing through the lives of the four writers and brought into focus in this book are many of the thoughtful and prominent religious and social activists of the age. In some way these writers knew, influenced and were affected by the Dalai Lama, Mother Theresa, the Berrigan Brothers, Pope John XXIII, Shelby Foote, Evelyn Waugh, as well as the civil rights workers, beat poets, peace activists, hippies, poverty workers, and other social advocates of change. Mostly, as all four taught us, change always comes from within.
Along with Walker Percy, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, all Catholic writers of the 1950s and 1960s, Flannery O’Connor and her life and work are examined in a history and biography of the four seekers of salvation, Paul Elie’s The Life You Save May Be Your Own. Perhaps none really found it, but their search became the common currency of the turbulent times where American attitudes toward war, religion, race, and power were in turbulence. The Life You Save May Be Your Own looks at the major writing of these four literary and social change agents. This is not traditional literary criticism, certainly not the critical outlook that dismisses the life of the writer as unimportant to the work. Rather, the social milieu and the very personal lives of each of the writers is examined with a sharp eye. Passing through the lives of the four writers and brought into focus in this book are many of the thoughtful and prominent religious and social activists of the age. In some way these writers knew, influenced and were affected by the Dalai Lama, Mother Theresa, the Berrigan Brothers, Pope John XXIII, Shelby Foote, Evelyn Waugh, as well as the civil rights workers, beat poets, peace activists, hippies, poverty workers, and other social advocates of change. Mostly, as all four taught us, change always comes from within.
March 29, 2016
The greatness of this book doesn't come from Elie's writing style, which can be a little formulaic and plodding at times. It is also not primarily a work of literary analysis. While Elie explains well the ideas captured in these authors' works and the way their writings relate to the times they lived in, the spirit, or "magic" of actually reading the books he discusses doesn't quite come through here. Rather, The Life You Save May Be Your Own's greatness is in the way Elie interweaves the lives of these three authors. They were not all best friends, nor were they even an obvious four to group together. However, Elie captures here the way their lives and ideas were intimately related: illustrating mainly the common theme of pilgrimage, or search for truth, that runs through the books and lives of all four of these authors, authors who ultimately settled on Christianity as the truth and authority over their lives. Uniquely, their four biographies are interwoven throughout the book. This allows Elie to illustrate how the authors interacted with one another over time, influencing each other's work and being influenced by changing times as the 20th century progressed. He doesn't interject his own personal religious beliefs, instead allowing the authors to speak for themselves, not hesitating to emphasize the commitment to Christianity as absolute truth, not just a motive for fiction or social justice, that the works of all four illustrate. You'll probably get the most out of it if you have at least read something by each author-having read books by Flannery O' Connor and Walker Percy I enjoyed their sections the most, although I think I was still able to appreciate the sections on the other two authors. Overall these authors lived remarkable, inspirational lives and this book gives their stories justice.
March 20, 2015
I liked this book quite a bit. It is a comprehensive account of four Americans: Thomas Merton (now that I think about it, he was born in France, but he ended up in Kentucky), Dorothy Day, Flannery O’Connor, and Walker Percy. They were all wrote about faith and religion. The author, Paul Elie, connects their books, as well as the way they lived, with the 20th century question of how to live a religious, faithful life in a time when the Bible has lost its authority.
Here, the answer is become a Catholic. Merton became a Trappist Monk, Dorothy Day founded the Catholic worker movement, Percy went to medical school, saw the limit of science, and converted to Catholicism. O’Connor is the only one who was raised Catholic.
Despite its multiple subjects and overwhelming content, this book was never unwieldy. I found it a pleasure to read. Mr. Elie does a fantastic job weaving the person’s own words into the story, which cannot be easy.
If, at times I grew a little bored, it is not because the topic is boring. I think everyone has a story to tell, but this gang takes the cake. Poor Walker Percy, for example. By the time he was fifteen, his grandfather and father had committed suicide, and his mother drove off a bridge in another apparent suicide. Dorothy Day was a sexually active single mother in the mid 1920s who eventually established a small empire of Catholic charity work and is now a candidate for saint hood. Mr. Merton struggled with leaving the Trappist life, and died in his early fifties in a freak accident.
I did not get the "American Pilgrimage" theme, if I want to figure it out, I will read the book again.
January 31, 2016
This is a fantastic book and I found it revelatory for all four of the book's subjects (O'Connor, Day, Merton, and Percy) and American Catholicism in the 20th century. To move in time with each of these four people and keep drawing together themes and historical intersections for each writer must have been a tremendous undertaking and one fraught with difficulty--though I think Elie succeeds strikingly well. One virtue of the book was that it never spent too long on discussing any particular person, so if I was feeling annoyed or frustrated with one person, I wouldn't have to read too much longer until the discussion would shift to someone else. Also, while I can claim no expertise on any of the four subjects, I found Elie's engagement with the narratives employed by other biographers of these to be thoughtful and helpful in terms of giving me tropes and easy but false explanations/interpretations that I should watch for if I read any other biographies of these subjects. Overall, I would say that if someone has an interest in any one of these four people, then that person should consider reading this book as that person will come more substantial and complex as one sees how they related to the other three and the challenges of their respective lifetimes.
May 4, 2017
Not a terrible book, but I felt as though it would have been far stronger had it been four separate biographies for each of the individual authors. True, there existed certain connections between them. Merton and Dorothy Day were frequent correspondents, though they never met, and Flannery O'Connor and Walker Percy shared a briefer correspondence and a single meeting, which made an impression on the latter. But on the whole, they do not really constitute a literary "circle" the way we usually think of it. And the format naturally lends itself to Elie playing favorites--to my mind, he tends to focus on Merton and Day at the expense of O'Connor and Percy. And that brings me to the final point, that in the last chapter of the book, Elie finally gets around to talking about the writer he is most interested in, the writer whose intrusive presence has been hovering behind the narrative like Frank Morgan behind the curtain in The Wizard of Oz: to wit, Elie himself. And in so doing, he gives us the only legitimate reason for amalgamating these four figures into a single collective biography. Apparently, they are his favorites. And that's the only connection he needs to bind them together.
January 18, 2010
This book entertained and inspired me; it felt like a combination of literary analysis, biography, and spiritual reflection about each of the four writers: O'Connor, Merton, Day, and Percy. The book enabled me to see O'Connor and Merton in a new light, and got me more interested in the lives and writings of Day and Percy. I was also fascinated by the correspondence that they maintained with each other, and how their dialogue with one another helped each of them to discover and refine their authentic voices, both literary and spiritual.
The Life You Save May Be Your Own is certainly a book one can burrow into: I underlined many passages and dog-eared many pages. It offers something for everyone: an account of the evolution of Catholic culture in the 20th century, a literary perspective on these authors' works, a sort of spiritual biography of each of them, and am implicit invitation to consider how faith, writing, and dialogue might awaken the reader's life in new, exciting, and unexpected ways.
The Life You Save May Be Your Own is certainly a book one can burrow into: I underlined many passages and dog-eared many pages. It offers something for everyone: an account of the evolution of Catholic culture in the 20th century, a literary perspective on these authors' works, a sort of spiritual biography of each of them, and am implicit invitation to consider how faith, writing, and dialogue might awaken the reader's life in new, exciting, and unexpected ways.
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