Ημερολόγιο προσευχής

by Flannery O'Connor, Γιάννης Παλαβός (Translator), Σταύρος Ζουμπουλάκης (Addendum)

Στο Ημερολόγιο Προσευχής αποτυπώνεται η πορεία μέσα από την οποία συγκροτείται η συγγραφική αυτοσυνείδηση της Φλάννερυ Ο'Κόννορ. Στις εγγραφές αυτού του νεανικού τετραδίου, το οποίο ανακαλύφθηκε πρόσφατα, η Ο'Κόννορ συνειδητοποιεί σταδιακά τον προορισμό της, μέσα από μια ιδιότυπη και απολύτως προσωπική μορφή προσευχής. Στο επίκεντρο της πνευματικής της αγωνίας βρίσκεται η ανάγκη της να συνδυάσει την καλλιτεχνική δημιουργία με τη μυστική σχέση με τον Θεό, από τον οποίο ζητά διαρκώς τη χάρη που θα τη βοηθήσει να γίνει σπουδαία συγγραφέας.

Genres: Nonfiction, Religion, Spirituality, Faith, Prayer, Christian, Memoir

72 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2013

About the author

Critics note novels Wise Blood (1952) and The Violent Bear It Away (1960) and short stories, collected in such works as A Good Man Is Hard to Find (1955), of American writer Mary Flannery O'Connor for their explorations of religious faith and a spare literary style.

The Georgia state college for women educated O’Connor, who then studied writing at the Iowa writers' workshop and wrote much of Wise Blood at the colony of artists at Yaddo in upstate New York. She lived most of her adult life on Andalusia, ancestral farm of her family outside Milledgeville, Georgia.

O’Connor wrote Everything That Rises Must Converge (1964). When she died at the age of 39 years, America lost one of its most gifted writers at the height of her powers.

Survivors published her essays were published in Mystery and Manners (1969). Her Complete Stories , published posthumously in 1972, won the national book award for that year. Survivors published her letters in The Habit of Being (1979). In 1988, the Library of America published Collected Works of Flannery O'Connor, the first so honored postwar writer.

People in an online poll in 2009 voted her Complete Stories as the best book to win the national book award in the six-decade history of the contest.

Reviews

[Bill Kerwin · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a slight book, meriting only slight attention, but that is not Flannery O'Connor's fault. I am sure she would be mortified to see it published here, for it is a private journal, the product of her university years, written before the love of God, the cross of lupus and tons of hard work transformed her into one of the great writers of her time.

One of the things one takes away from this brief series of entries (made in large print in half of a composition book) is Flannery's considerable ambition. We overhear her as she prays that God will keep her from being "mediocre," both in her writing life and in her prayer life. It is clear that her two-fold goal is to be both genius and saint, and that for her these two ambitions are inextricably bound together. For her, striving toward perfection brings with it both beauty and truth.

[Jakob J. 🎃 · Rating 3 out of 5]

Lord, please forgive my prying eyes. Though I am not responsible for the publication of private journals, I am too weak to avert, and would that I acquired a facsimile of Flannery O’Connor’s shopping list, I would frame it. (Forgive my idolatry too, Lord). Like Kafka, O’Connor is too tantalizing to consider whether she would wish me to read her innermost thoughts from stowed away notebooks.

Lord, I too pray to escape mediocrity, but am far more familiar with it than O’Connor ever was. A tortured yet ever devout catholic that she was, her supplications seemed to be served well before she realized.

However—and without having to assume posthumous publicizing consent—her fiction remains the foremost source of her mystical marvels.

[Rowena · Rating 4 out of 5]

“My mind is in a little box, dear God, down inside other boxes inside other boxes and on and on. There is very little air in my box.”

This is only my second O’Connor and I found it a lot more interesting than “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” O’ Connor’s prayers were beautiful and so honest, and her writing very charming. She calls Kafka “Mr Kafka” , which I found endearing. It was obvious that her Catholic faith was very dear to her. There was some internal religious struggles going on; in the diary she obviously yearns for a deeper fellowship with God and to be a great writer.

It was a very short book: of the 100 or so pages, half were photocopies of the original diary. I’ve read several literary diaries/journals before but this is the first time I’ve actually felt as though I was intruding into somebody’s private thoughts.

At times O’Connor was self-deprecating:

“Maybe I’m mediocre. I’d rather be less. I’d rather be nothing. An imbecile. Yet this is wrong. Mediocrity, if that is my scourge, is something I’ll have to submit to. If that is my scourge. If I ever find out will be time to submit. I will have to have a good many opinions.” (1/11/47)

At first I was surprised by her negativity, but then I realized it’s probably a normal emotion when one is unsure of their talent. It makes sense.

I can’t say I’m a fan of Ms. O’Connor yet but reading this has definitely made me more curious about her life and her work.

[Eliasdgian · Rating 2 out of 5]

Προσευχητάρι, ασήμαντο λογοτεχνικά, που αξίζει την προσοχή του αναγνώστη του μόνο και μόνο διότι οι (ως επί το πλείστον αποσπασματικές) εγγραφές είναι της Φλάννερυ Ο' Κόννορ και γιατί είδε το φως της δημοσιότητας σχεδόν πενήντα χρόνια μετά τον θάνατό της. Πάντως, ό,τι έγραψε στα εικοσιένα της χρόνια, εκλιπαρώντας τον μεγαλοδύναμο να της δοθεί η χάρη να γίνει συγγραφέας τρανή και να βιώνει την οδύνη (και μόνο), δεν είμαι καθόλου βέβαιος ότι ήθελε όντως να το διαβάσουμε. Κρέντιτς στον Σταύρο Ζουμπουλάκη για το εξαιρετικό επίμετρο και στον W.A. Sessions για την κατατοπιστική Εισαγωγή. Από τις προσευχές της νεαρής Ο' Κόννορ, αξίζει να μνημονεύσει κανείς την κατακλείδα της τελευταίας: "Σήμερα φάνηκα λαίμαργη - για σκωτσέζικα μπισκότα βρόμης και ερωτικές σκέψεις. Δεν έχω τίποτε άλλο να πω."

[amapola · Rating 4 out of 5]

Quando ho visto questo libriccino (11 euro) - un centinaio di pagine, di cui la metà occupate dalla stampa in facsimile dell’originale manoscritto - ho subito pensato alla fregatura: Bompiani sta raschiando il fondo del barile della O’Connor, mi sono detta. Ma l’ho preso lo stesso, perché voglio leggere tutto quello che ha scritto questa donna.
Il diario risale al periodo 1946-1947, quando la O’Connor (allora ventunenne) aveva incominciato a frequentare il “Laboratorio degli scrittori” presso l’Università dello Iowa. Molto più che una raccolta di preghiere, questo diario è un singolare dialogo con Dio, un dialogo fatto di esitazioni, dubbi, autocritica, richiami all’umiltà, slanci lirici, squarci di vita quotidiana. Parole semplici, apparentemente ingenue, che si fanno quasi poesia nella freschezza dell’impeto che la anima.
Questo libriccino è un libro vero, che ci dice qualcosa in più della sua autrice, anche se non ne svela il mistero. Una cosa, però, è chiara e lampante: il barile di Flannery O’Connor è senza fondo.

Dalla bella prefazione di Mariapia Veladiano:

La felicità possibile, quella che si vive qui in terra, è intravista come un profilo di capriolo nella luce improvvisa del mattino presto, sotto un abete dietro la curva del sentiero, in basso, lontano. Scappato per il nostro trattenere il respiro per la sorpresa e la felicità. Ma c’era e non era illusione e si può cercarlo per sempre e poter far parte del quadro, almeno nella narrazione.
Flannery vuole raccontare, sa le regole del nostro inquieto restare, ma vuole raccontare lo stesso anche se sa di essere una scamorza, o una ragazza insaziabile di biscotti ai cereali. Questo resta e va accolto: “Non c’è nient’altro da dire, su di me”. Così si conclude questo straordinario frammento della sua vita fissata nelle parole del diario. D’ora in poi dal luogo giusto, mai perfetto, un interstizio sapiente da cui osservare il mondo, inizia la possibilità di narrare, narrare, narrare.

https://youtu.be/vXdEMY5noZM

[Juliet · Rating 2 out of 5]

I feel like a jerk giving 2 stars to Flannery O'Connor's prayers. I mean, how can anyone judge someone else's prayers? I guess what I mean by the 2 stars is that it felt incredibly voyeuristic and kind of wrong to read this. The only reason I did is because someone gave me the book as a gift. I admit, it was interesting to see that she was as anxious as anyone might be about wanting her work to be good, and wanting to be a better person. Still, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that someone was exploiting the journal -- and O'Connor -- by publishing this. But then, if O'Connor didn't think anyone else would read it, why bother to tear out pages or parts of pages? Why was she concerned about how things she wrote would come across if she intended it for her own eyes only? I was emotionally confused by the whole thing.

The introduction suggests that we don't know to whom she was directing her prayers, presumably it's to someone she thinks of as "God." Come on. Enough with the academic I-couldn't-possibly-entertain-the-possibility-that-someone-might-actually-believe-in-God BS. I mean, you're publishing her prayer journal for crying out loud. Don't act like you're such an atheist you don't know who she's talking to. Geez.

[Neil R. Coulter · Rating 5 out of 5]

Flannery O’Connor wrote this collection of prayers and meditations when she was 20–22 years old, just entering the world of academia at the Iowa writers’ workshops (and beginning work on her first novel, Wise Blood). The composition book that contains the handwritten prayers was kept (except for some excised pages) but never intended to be published. I’m glad they are now available. I would of course be cautious about posthumous publications that radically contradict who an author was known to be in life, but in this case what I see is exactly who O’Connor continued to be as she developed into one of the great writers of the 20th century and a beacon for all of us who strive for excellent art and honest Christian faith.

I love this collection of prayers, for a number of reasons. First, it’s fascinating to listen in on O’Connor’s struggles with reconciling her faith with the intellectual challenges to that faith that she was just encountering. “Please do not let the explanations of the psychologists about this make it turn suddenly cold,” she writes (4). This is right where a lot of my own students are, and so I like seeing the struggle in someone who spent her life finding answers but never looking away from the complexities. “I would like to be intelligently holy” (18).

I also resonate with O’Connor’s desire to be more than mediocre and yet humble before God. “Mediocrity is a hard word to apply to oneself; yet I see myself so equal with it that it is impossible not to throw it at myself,” she says (22). “Can we ever settle on calling ourselves mediocre? . . . Mediocrity, if that is my scourge, is something I'll have to submit to” (27). I find it thrilling to read this cry to God to rise above mediocrity in some area of life, knowing that God very much answered that prayer. “Take me, dear Lord, and set me in the direction I am to go" (35).

Less comfortable to read are O’Connor’s pleas to be entrusted by God with some form of suffering, to deepen her faith and her dependence on God. This prayer was also answered: O’Connor died of complications from lupus at age 39. But her belief that suffering would make her more faithful and perceptive was proven true; while enduring lupus, she wrote over two dozen short stories and two novels.

What Flannery O’Connor left us, in her stories, novels, letters, lectures, and even these not-intended-for-the-public prayers, is a great encouragement to those of us who share the struggles she faced in her life and who desire the things she desired. The “intelligently holy” life is possible, and God hears and answers our prayers, even when we can’t seem to escape our own hypocrisy, irony, contradiction, and fears.

[Brodolomi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Voajerski je zavirivati u tuđi dnevnik, a ovde je stepen voajarizma kudikamo veći jer je u pitanju duhovni dnevnik, ostvaren u vidu neugledne sveščice sa ispisanim molitvama upućenim Bogu. Pronađen je posthumno među papirima Flaneri O’Konor, a objavljen gotovo pedeset godina kasnije. Dnevničke molitve su kratke, intenzivne, intimne, napisane, bez ikakve sumnje, samo za ličnu upotrebu i nema ni najmanjeg nagoveštaja da je autorka računala da će ih iko pročitati osim nje i Boga. Vidi se da ih je pisala mlada osoba (imala je dvadeset godina), introvertna studentkinja koja sanja o dve stvari - da postane veliki pisac i da postane svetica.

Meni su svi mladalački snovi dirljivi, posebno kada se njihovom ostvarenju pristupa sa ovakvim žarom. Biti veliki pisac i biti svetac ovde ne stoji u suprotnosti, već se stapaju u jedno. Nalik srednjovekovnim piscima želela je da kroz nju progovori Božja reč i molila se da nikad ne napiše ništa što bi bilo u suprotnosti sa hrišćanskim učenjem. Pretpostavljam da je kroz ovakvu prizmu provlačila i autore koje je u to vreme čitala i moja znatiželja ostaje zagolicana kratkim pomenima Kafke, Prusta, Lorensa, Bernanosa i Leona Bloao (vidi se da je sa uznemirenjem zadivljena Bloaom, baš kao i Andrić, ali smo u oba slučaja ostali uskraćeni nekog šireg orazloženja). Najveću prepreku za ostvarenje oba cilja, videla je u osrednjosti. Za nju je mnogo bolje biti loš pisac i loš vernik nego pisac mediokritet i osrednji vernik. A pošto su mladi isto toliko nesigurni koliko i kočoperni, dnevnik se baš iz tih razloga pretvara u rvanje sa svojim sumnjama. Pokušaj erotskog uzdizanja ka Bogu se pretvara u razočarenje, te se poslednji zapis završava ironično-melanholičnim zaključkom: „Danas sam ostala praznog stomaka – bez integralnih kolača i bez erotskih misli. Nemam šta više da kažem.” Smatrala je da je Bog nije čuo.

Ono što je intrigatno, tiče se vantekstualnih okolnosti. Ako sagledamo njenu biografiju, ispalo je da je Bog ipak odgovorio. Sa nekim samo Njemu dokučivim smislom i sa zakašnjenjem, ali je odgovorio. Kroz molitve, molila je Boga da joj dodeli krst kojim će dokazati svoju veru, a krst je stigao nekoliko godina kasnije u vidu dijagnoze lupusa, bolesti sa kojom će se boriti i koja će je usmrtiti. Nije postala svetica, ali se sa bolešću borila kao svetica. Tek kad je ponela krst, napisala je svoje najbolje priče. Nije postala osrednji pisac. Danas niko ne spori, čak ni oni kojima ne leži, da je napisala neke od najboljih priča u američkoj književnosti.

Stoga, „A Prayer Journal ” je knjiga više za obožavaoce, nego za one ravnodušne i neupućene u njen rad. Ne samo što se iz ovih intimnih ispisa može steći bolji utisak ko je bila Flaneri O'Konor, nego dnevnik, sagledan u okviru njenog života, nalikuje na neku od njenih priča parabola - nešto što je mogla da napiše, ali je, igrom Boga/slučaja, proživela.

[Steven Rodriguez · Rating 4 out of 5]

In a recent interview in the New York Times, Marilynne Robinson criticized Flannery O'Connor, saying, "Her prose is beautiful, her imagination appalls me." The two women have become in my mind a kind of polarity of Christian fiction writing. On one side, Robinson represents the majority stream of Christian fiction writers who champion an expansive doctrine of creation which swallows up salvation and the narrative of the gospel inside its own preoccupations with beauty. On the other side, O'Connor represents the minority position: those Christian fiction writers who stress the radical otherness of God, the disruptive nature of revelation, and the stark, difficult, subversive, cruciform nature of the gospel. I don't have a side in this fight; I kind of want to have it all.

I do, however, think that O'Connor's fiction should never be read without also reading her prose. Her prose is the key that unlocks her disturbing and violent fictive worlds. This is even more true of her recently published prayer journal, written when she was a young student in her early twenties. It offers us a precious glimpse into the fervent piety boiling underneath her angry, jagged, sarcastic fiction.

It was especially illuminating to see her reacting so violently to the psychology she was encountering. Clearly, she experienced these psychological ideas as a direct threat to her faith and her soul. It was exciting to see her grappling with them so deeply. If fighting can be a kind of intimacy, then O'Connor is a great example: it is almost as if, having discovered that Freudianism has lodged itself in her mind and in her heart, she knows she cannot rip it out without killing herself, but she doesn't want to die for that. She wants to die for God. What emerges is a powerful example of the soul grappling with the problems presented to it by modernity.

Even still, I would go so far as to say that O'Connor's fiction is unavoidably corrupted by a deep hatred for herself and for human beings in general. She was never able to accept the gospel's declaration that God is for us and that in Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are able to love others and even ourselves with a holy, rightly ordered love. This self-hatred is on display in this prayer journal, and it is never resolved. In spite of this, it is a great book of prayers and very much worth reading. Her piety is inspiring, her youthful voice is endearing, and her struggles are deeply moving.

[Eva Pliakou · Rating 5 out of 5]

«Όμως εγώ πιστεύω στην Κόλαση. Στο φτωχό μου μυαλό, η Κόλαση φαίνεται πιο πραγματική από τον Παράδεισο. Το δίχως άλλο επειδή θυμίζει περισσότερο τα εγκόσμια. Μπορώ να συλλάβω τα μαρτύρια των κολασμένων, αλλά δεν μπορώ να φανταστώ ασώματες ψυχές που, λουσμένες σ' ένα κρυστάλλινο φως, αιωρούνται αιωνίως υμνώντας τον Θεό. Είναι λογικό να μην μπορώ. Αν είχαμε τη δυνατότητα να φτιάξουμε έναν λεπτομερή χάρτη του Παραδείσου, κάμποσοι από τους νεαρούς και φιλόδοξους επιστήμονές μας θ' άρχιζαν να ετοιμάζουν σχέδια για τη βελτίωσή του, ενώ οι έμποροι θα πουλούσαν οδηγούς προς δέκα σεντς για τους άνω των εξήντα πέντε. Όμως δεν θέλω να το παίζω έξυπνη, παρότι, αν το ξανασκεφτώ, θέλω να το παίζω έξυπνη και θέλω να είμαι έξυπνη και να μου το αναγνωρίζουν.»

[Λίνα Θωμάρεη · Rating 1 out of 5]

Όσοι είστε θρησκευόμενοι στο φουλ ίσως το εκτιμήσετε περισσότερο. Εγώ πάλι το βρήκα εγωκεντρικό, εγωιστικό και σε κάποιες σελίδες λίγο παρανοϊκό. Σίγουρα ήταν ανώφελο να το διαβάσω.

1.5 αστεράκι ...

[João Carlos · Rating 4 out of 5]

Flannery O´Connor (1925 – 1964)

A escritora Flannery O´Connor (1925 – 1964) é unanimemente reconhecida como um dos expoentes máximos da literatura norte-americana do século XX, particularmente aclamada pela genialidade dos seus trinta e dois contos, coligidos em três volumes: “O Gerânio – Contos Dispersos”, “Um Bom Homem É Difícil de Encontrar” (5*) (1955) e “Tudo o Que Sobe Deve Convergir” (5*) (1965).

“Sangue Sábio” (5*) (1952) e o “Céu É dos Violentos” (5*) (1960) são os seus dois únicos romances publicados e que se inserem na tradição Gótica Sulista, focada na religiosidade e na decadência do Sul e nas suas gentes malditas.

“Um Diário de Preces” é um “diário” escrito entre 1946 e 1947 por Flannery O´Connor, onde revela a sua paixão pela escrita e a sua adoração por Deus e pela religião católica.

“Meu bom Deus,…”

Reflectindo sobre as suas angústia e sobre um sentimento de desânimo pede a Deus: “Meu bom Deus, sinto-me tão desanimada em relação à minha obra. Isto é, há em mim um sentimento de desânimo. Compreendo que não sei o que compreendo. Por favor, ajuda-me, meu bom Deus, a ser uma boa escritora e a conseguir que me aceitem mais textos para publicação. Este desejo está tão distante do que eu mereço, é claro, que a desfaçatez com que o formulo me deixa naturalmente estupefacta.” (Pág. 24)

Faz igualmente um profunda reflexão sobre a esperança ou a fé, sobre a confiança e sobre a sua mediocridade, num relato dramático escrito na forma de um diário, onde posteriormente, algumas partes foram eliminadas, com um desejo de querer ser uma excelente escritora – “Se alguma vez conseguir tornar-me uma excelente escritora, não será porque sou uma excelente escritora, mas sim porque Deus me deixou arrecadar os louros de algumas das coisas que Ele caridosamente escreveu por mim." (Pág. 35)

Depois de lermos “Um Diário de Preces” facilmente compreendemos e apreendemos a temática dos seus contos e dos seus dois romances, dominados por uma religiosidade doentia, as dúvidas sobre o amor e sobre os sentimentos, a fé, a mediocridade, e muito, muito mais…

A forma com termina “Um Diário de Preces” é emblemática: “Nada mais resta dizer acerca de mim." (Pág. 49)



Da edição Fac-Simile "A Prayer Journal"

[Raymond · Rating 3 out of 5]

"I don't want to fear to be out, I want to love to be in." -Flannery O'Connor

Interesting book of prayers, the quote above spoke to me the most. You can definitely finish this in a day but I tried to read one prayer a day. Its not really useful as a devotional as I initially thought it would be before reading the synopsis and the book itself.

[Jenny (Reading Envy) · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a quick read because half of it is a facsimile and the other half is transcribed (fixing spelling errors.) This is Flannery's writings to God (most entries start "Dear God,") during her time in college in Iowa. Entries range in topic from aspirations to faith to guilt to some peeks at her firey personality (through conflicts with others or frustrations over reading or rejection) and the intention behind her writing.

This isn't something that Flannery prepared for publication, and it suffers from that. It is incomplete (front pages and entries are missing) and it lacks her own commentary and editing. And it doesn't span a lot of time. But it will be interesting for people who enjoy her work, as an extra quick read to add a little context.

It ends abruptly with these two sentences, and I can't tell if they are frustration or humor: "Today I have proved myself a glutton - for Scotch oatmeal cookies and erotic thought. There is nothing left to say of me."

I read this for the Reading Women Challenge because I had already read her short stories and thought I'd go outside the box.

[Claire · Rating 5 out of 5]

"I must write down that I am to be an artist. Not in the sense of aesthetic frippery but in the sense of aesthetic craftsmanship; otherwise I will feel my loneliness continually . . . I do not want to be lonely all my life but people only make us lonelier by reminding us of God. Dear God please help me to be an artist, please let it lead to You."

(An amazing confirmation gift from ben and a great quick read. Yes, I am still obsessed with Flannery O'Connor and not planning on not being anytime soon :))

[María Carpio · Rating 4 out of 5]

Guardando las distancias, este diario podría ser un pariente lejano de Las confesiones de San Agustín. Está también dirigido a Dios y es también una especie de plegaria. Ya no de testimonio de conversión espiritual, sino de la búsqueda de discernimiento entre el mundo y lo celestial. O'Connor escribe este diario personal entre 1946 y 1947 cuando empieza a estudiar en la Universidad y el afán de la intelectualidad puramente racionalista (también snob y algo frívola) se contraponen con su interés espiritual. Flannery está divida en dos mundos pero sabe que quiere ser una escritora, sin con ello faltar a su fe y eso le pide a Dios. Al parecer, y como dice el prefacio de este volumen, Dios se lo concedió. Se trata de una interesante reflexión sobre el acto de creación, lo humano y lo divino.
Casi le pongo tres porque es un diario incompleto, faltan páginas y por eso queda debiendo, pero la pluma de O'Connor está ahí, impecable.

[Alexandra · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Please help me to know the will of my Father - not a scrupulous nervousness nor yet a lax presumption but a clear, reasonable knowledge; and after this give me a strong Will to be able to bend it to the Will of the Father."

[Ken · Rating 1 out of 5]

Shows you can't trust every recommendation you read in the New York Times' "By the Book" section. I don't even remember which author it was, but he said that this was one of the delights he returns to, and me, being susceptible to good spiritual stuff (often an oxymoron) clicked CART.

Well, cart my good sense off. To make this already anorexic book thicker, the publisher printed all 40 pp. of her "prayers" and then provided pics of her handwritten journal (yes, the same words) to fill the book out a bit. Oy.

In it, the 20/21-year-old Flannery O, living in iOwa, chastises herself for weaknesses and an inability to focus on faith and the lord and whatnot. Maybe fans of O'Connor (I've only read Wise Blood) can find gems in this short slurry, but me? I was mystified by the lack of mysticism. And by the recommendation. Did the author know the publisher? Do publishers and other authors contact future "By the Book-ers" to see if they can land a shout-out?

Now he begins to wonder, this being America...

Amen.

[Wendy Jones · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a very short book, but it packs a punch!! I play a video game called Monster Hunter with my husband and boys. In the game, prehistoric monsters can stun and daze you, making it impossible to move unless another player knocks you out of your stupor. Flannery O’Connor is exactly like that; blunt trauma to bring you out of your slumber. I’ve now added Bernanos and Bloy to my must-read list because she mentions them in her prayers, (Bloy much more often), and it’s obvious the influence they had for her. I love her. I love her prayers, and I love how brutally honest she is with herself and God.

[Nikos Tsentemeidis · Rating 2 out of 5]

Ένα ημερολόγιο με προσευχές και θρησκευτικούς στοχασμούς. Η συγγραφέας εκλιπαρεί τον Θεό να της δώσει τη Χάρη του γραψίματος.

[Maria Thomarey · Rating 2 out of 5]

2,5 ωραια γραφή , αλά οχι για μένα .

[César · Rating 3 out of 5]

Da reparo leer lo escrito por una joven a Dios. Sus deseos, sus anhelos, sus reproches y flaquezas, debilidades y esperanzas. Da reparo entrar en un terreno tan íntimo como es la oración de alguien. OʼConnor era muy joven cuando escribió estas páginas, propias de quien comienza a caminar por la fe adulta. En alguno de sus excesos me pareció oír a Simone Weil, a quien leería años después, y con sumo interés, la propia Flannery.

[Steve · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hard book to rate. It's so short it's almost ridiculous. The "book" clocks in at 93 pages or so, half of which is a photographic "facsimile" of O'Connor's journal. (Anything for a page count.) There is a thoughtful Introduction by W.A. Sessions, an English professor who knew O'Connor. It anchors the reader to the time (January 1946 - September 1947) and place (Iowa City). O'Connor is a college student, age 21 to 22) who has switched from journalism to English (the creative writing wing). She wants to write fiction, and that is largely the main substance of these "prayers." I would call these prayers and/or journal entries vocational in nature. O'Connor, to my mind at least, is praying about a decision already made (to be a writer of fiction). There are times when she asks whether it would be better to be a mystic, but then she backs off from that, doubting she has the Holy wiring necessary. Some of the prayers can be repetitive, as even O'Connor admits. But they are always infused with a touching, intelligent honesty that holds your attention. By journal's end, you can't help but smile when she writes "Today I have proved myself a glutton -- for Scotch Oatmeal cookies and erotic thought. There is nothing left to say of me." That's my girl.

I think this journal, slight as it is, has an important place among O'Connor's works. I'm always interested in artists who are believers and the intersect between their Art and their Faith. O'Connor's prayer journal provides a revealing bridge for understanding O'Connor that compliments her fascinating letters as well as her fiction. Despite the college girl's cookies and erotic thought, O'Connor would go on to successfully integrate her faith into her fiction without compromising either.

[verbava · Rating 3 out of 5]

за цю крихітну книжечку я довго не могла взятися, і, мабуть, щось у тому було правильне: дуже багато вуаєризму в тому, аби підглядати, як – про що – людина молиться. але якщо вже шукати глибинного, інтимного, то навряд чи є краще джерело. та й, з іншого боку, коли фланнері таки вирішать канонізувати, всі все одно побіжать по ці тексти, то чому б не почитати превентивно (і я зараз не знаю, скільки в цьому реченні жарту: останнім часом католицька церква дедалі відкритіша до канонізації світських осіб, а у фланнері є безперечний бонус у вигляді тяжкої хвороби й ранньої смерті).
у «молитовному щоденнику» тільки 24 записи, 10 перших – які більше молитви, ніж щоденник – не датовані. початкових сторінок бракує, деякі фрагменти з тих, що лишилися, акуратно витнуті; фланнері пише: Tore the last thing out. It was worthy of me all right; but not worthy of what I ought to be. вона багато рефлексує щодо своєї віри, тому молиться про складні речі: боже, дай мені хотіти тебе; боже, дай мені бути письменницею і йти цим шляхом до тебе; боже, дай мені віру, не винайдену для того, щоб удовільнити мої слабкості. і дуже багато – про писання: Oh dear God I want to write a novel, a good novel. I want to do this for a good feeling & for a bad one. The bad one is uppermost. The psychologists say it is the natural one. Let me get away dear God from all things thus “natural.” Help me to get what is more than natural into my work—help me to love & bear with my work on that account. If I have to sweat for it, dear God, let it be as in Your service. I would like to be intelligently holy. так, якщо хтось каже, що хоче писати, його сміливо можна посилати до цього щоденника з дидактичною настановою: не заради молитви, а для глибини хотіння.

[木漏れ日]

Reading this prayer journal felt like spying, like prying into some intimate part of O'Connor's life in which I had no place. Perhaps it says something about my moral character that I could not put this little book down.

These prayers are obviously the work of a young O'Connor—an O'Connor who does not know the illness that would gradually sap away her life—and one in oscillating spiritual struggle. In this intimate medium, we should not be surprised at the tenaciousness of her voice: sincere wit and refreshing phrases are found in their most unassuming, simple forms.

I provide no rating, because this is not a 'book' to be rated. These are not poems—though poetic—but prayers. To ascribe any such sort of valuation would feel impersonal, and these prayers are nothing if not personal.

Suffice to say, there is much truth here. And very much honesty. And very much beauty.

"I do not wish to presume. I want to love.

[...]

Please help me to get down under things and find where You are."

[Jahnie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Personal, intimate, honest and sincere prayers so that I feel a bit disrespectful and invasive reading it. It humbles me to know the heart of the Flannery O'Connor so broken and constantly yearning for God. She questions her motives, her thoughts, her soul, her heart, and she reaches out to God for answers and help. Relatable.

[Jess Schurz · Rating 4 out of 5]

Saint Flannery at her most piercing.

“Dear God, I cannot love Thee the way I want to. You are the slim crescent of a moon that I see and my self is the earth’s shadow that keeps me from seeing all the moon.”

[Dhanaraj Rajan · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is much that can be said of this slim volume. I learnt a lot personally from this prayer journal. O'Connor teaches me to be humble, to accept the faults, to ask for the faithfulness in spite of the 'intellectual quackery' that is very much part of this world, and to be courageous to ask for the refuge in the embracing hands of God.

Here is a Review of it by Marilynne Robinson that appeared in NEW YORK TIMES. Looks to be very interesting. If interested go through it: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/11/17/boo...

[Christine · Rating 5 out of 5]

I LOVED this book, though I did feel a little intrusive as I was reading it. I'll have to disagree with some of the introduction, though. I know Sessions was a friend of O'Connor's - and so how do I presume to know more about her than him? - but it seems to me he doesn't understand Christianity, and especially Catholic Christianity, at it's core.

O'Connor's prayers, pleadings, and analysis of herself and God are touching and insightful.

Re-read 05/2016 More moving the second time around. Her knack to put into the world the common feelings of artists is astounding

[Ρένα Λούνα · Rating 4 out of 5]

«Δεν θέλω τέτοια συναισθήματα, ψεύτικα κ επιφανειακά σαν αυτά που εξάπτει η χορωδία της εκκλησίας. Σήμερα φάνηκα λαίμαργη – για σκωτσέζικα μπισκότα βρόμης κι ερωτικές σκέψεις. Δεν έχω τίποτε άλλο να πω.»

Έχω χάσει τον αναγνωστικό μου δρόμο αυτές τις ημέρες και το ένα βιβλίο με κάνει πάσα στο άλλο. Δεν θυμάμαι ποιο με πέταξε στην καλή καθολική Ο' Κόνορ, αλλά με κάποια αίσθηση επείγοντος πήρα πριν 1-2 βδομάδες το ημερολόγιο προσευχής και το Και βιασταί αρπάζουσιν αυτήν. Το δεύτερο φάνηκε πιο κοντά σε κάτι που θα διάβαζα, αλλά από τις πρώτες σελίδες ένιωθα έναν πυκνό, κρυπτικό λόγο να με πετάει έξω κι έτσι πήρα πρώτα στις προσευχές (καλά θα επιστρέψω, κανείς εμμονικός δεν χάνεται).

Πόσο χαίρομαι που ψήλωσα επαρκώς ώστε να μη μου κακοφανεί, με αφόρητο τρόπο, ένα προσωπικό προσευχητάρι της μικρής Ο'Κόννορ. Από τη μια, η Πλαθ μέσα μου, λέει, ο ουρανός είναι άδειος, από την άλλη η Ο'Κόννορ έκανε τη διαφορά με το να συναντήσω μια συγγραφέα που προσεύχεται να απέχει από τη λογοτεχνική μετριότητα. Τώρα εάν πω πως θα μας χρειαζόταν καμία τέτοια προσευχούλα θα ενοχληθείτε. Καλά, ας τα λέγατε ωραία κι ας λέγατε ό,τι θέλετε.

Οι λίγες σελίδες από το Και βιασταί αρπάζουσιν αυτήν έβγαλε κάτι πολύ ωμό κι άγριο από τον αμερικάνικο νότο, κάπως δυσνόητο και σίγουρα απαιτητικό, ενώ οι προσευχές είναι μάλλον βαθιά προσωπικές, με πολύ ενδιαφέρον σε σημεία, ενώ άλλου χαρακτηρίζονται από τη χριστιανικά πληκτική επανάληψη. Από τη μια θα ήθελα να της πάρω ένα φορτηγό από αυτά τα σκωτσέζικα μπισκότα βρόμης κι από την άλλη, ο λαβύρινθος του Θεού που μας πλάθει με σοφία, με αμαρτία, με επιμονή ελέγχου, κάπως με γονατίζει δίχως προσευχή.
Ενδιαφέρον είχε και το επίμετρο του Ζουμπουλάκη μιας και φαντάζομαι δεν ήμασταν λίγοι που δεν είχαμε πλαισιώσει τη Φλάνερι Ο' Κόνορ.

Όσοι απορρίψουν τις προσευχές επειδή τις κρίνουν ως μη λογοτεχνικές, καταλήγουν να χάνουν φροϋδικούς όρους εντός ευφάνταστης χριστιανικής οντολογίας και τους λυπάμαι. Αυτά.