Flannery O'Connor has been studied and lauded under many the Southern author whose pen captured the soul of a proud region struggling to emerge out of racism and poverty, the female writer whose independent spirit and tragically short life inspired a generation of women, the Catholic artist whose fiction evokes themes of sin and damnation, mercy and redemption.
Now, and for the first time, The Abbess of Andalusia affords us an in-depth look at Flannery O'Connor the believer.
In these pages you will come to know Flannery O'Connor not only as a writer and an icon, but as a theologian and apologist; as a spiritual director and a student of prayer; as a suffering soul who learned obedience and merited grace through infirmity; and truly, as the Abbess of her own small, but significant, spiritual house. For decades Flannery O'Connor the author has touched her readers with the brilliance of her books. Now be edified and inspired by the example of her life.
Lorraine V. (for Viscardi) Murray grew up in Miami. She graduated from the University of Florida with graduate degrees in English and philosophy and then taught both subjects in college for many years. In her forties she finally got serious about pursuing her dream of writing and left teaching to become a free-lance writer. Today she is a columnist with The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
Lorraine lives in Decatur with her husband, and when she is not hunkered down at the computer, she likes to bake bread, watch hummingbirds, and chase squirrels out of the garden.
I enjoyed this book immensely. It has really encouraged me to read more of Miss O'Connor's work.
There were some unfortunate editorial gaffs in the book which surprised me: A sentence repeated twice on the same page, a couple of other sentences which, try as I might, I couldn't make sense from.
There was also what seemed to be a spell-check error (a correctly spelled word that should have been another word entirely), although it may have been a local term I was not familiar with. There is some dialectic use of language in the book.
I also thought there was a bit of preachiness in the presentation of Miss O'Connor's Catholicism. That may simply be that as a Catholic myself, I saw on my own what was being pointed out by the author.
Still, this did not take away from the fascinating personality and life of Flannery O'Connor. I recommend this book.
The Abbess of Andalusia is taken from letters of Flannery O'Connor to her friends and associates. It give an in-depth look at her Catholic faith and spirituality, her life on the farm with her mother as her caregiver, and her indomitable spirit in her time of great suffering.
I enjoyed this portrait of O'Connor, which is presented from a spiritual perspective, and liked how it drew on her letters and other nonfiction to round out knowledge of the writer. (As an aside, I also highly recommend those letters - gathered in "The Habit of Being" - especially to those who base assumptions about the writer solely on O'Connor's at-times difficult fiction.)
A solid biography, and an honorable homage to an endlessly intriguing individual. The author's personal biases do show up a bit in some sections however (mostly places where Catholic doctrine is concerned), which was a bit annoying. But overall, worth reading.
Life of Flannery O'Connor is a reminder to us of 'the redemptive nature of suffering'. She has been practical and human about her faith and practices in Catholic church but never against its teaching.
A fine introduction to the life and work of Flannery O'Connor. Her spiritual journey and her writing go hand in hand. I suggest that you read a few of her short stories before you read this book
The Abbess of Andalusia: Flannery O'Connor's Spiritual Journey by Lorraine Murray was a great read and one that immediately got-to-the-point. I would certainly recommend it to all readers of O'Connor's fiction who desire to better grasp the sometimes complex Catholic components which comprise her assorted works; this book in particular is definitely a superb contribution to the scholarly and critical canon of Flannery O'Connor studies. After reading Murray's work, it secured my sincere appreciation for Flannery O'Connor as a person as well as reaffirmed my already held respect for her stunning literary works. There is a kind of awe and personal kinship that I feel when reading O'Connor, and The Abbess of Andalusia only heightened that respect.
I enjoyed this book, because it eschewed the Catholic sentimentality that some readers have toward Flannery O'Connor as being above and beyond the human realm. She is conveyed in this work as a sharp intellectual wit who embraced her Catholic orthodoxy (to the best of her ability) while still maintaing the independence of the literary artist. Her independence came from her Catholic faith, and she was able to weave that thread of her faith fabric into her literary output, for as she herself commented, she would not be a writer if she did not have her faith, for it was-in her understanding-a literary vocation from God.
Off and on, O'Connor suffered from the debilitating effects of Lupis, the `wolf's' disease that would, as it did her father before her, claim the author's life. But in her journey of suffering, she did not make a big deal about it. Instead, she wrote, she wrote stories, novels (often misunderstood), literary criticism, book reviews (albeit reluctantly) and an abundance of letters. To try to increase her financial revenue, she lectured at colleges and universities. Book reviewing and the lecture circuit seemed to be her least favorite of all things to do, but she offered it all up to God as an act of charity and sometimes as a form of penance. Her sarcastic remarks in referencing these additional vocations within the larger context of her literary vocation are quite humorous and truly do not paint a holier-than-thou, plaster-cast saint wannabe. Indeed, she shuddered at the thought. Rather, she preferred her writing, her peafowl, her sundry lot of animals at her Andalusia farm and the vast array of guests who visited her there, including but not limited to, priests and nuns.
Murray's work offers a nice spiritual framework of the author and of her life, detailing specifically Flannery's own suffering and her acts of charity towards her friends, especially towards Betty Hester, known as "A" in The Habit of Being; she also helped shape, edit and write an introduction to a memoir of Mary Ann Long, a saintly child who was a patient at the Our Lady of Perpetual Help Home in Atlanta, run by The Dominican Sisters of Hawthorne, a religious order devoted to the care of terminally ill and oftentimes indigent cancer patients. All the while, however, Flannery O'Connor kept her rigid schedule in tact and that was two sold hours of writing every day, seeing to her animals, answering letters and encouraging writers and friends. Because she was herself physically limited, she adhered to a strict structure of prayer and writing and referred to her spare writing and bedroom as her cell. With meticulousness, Murray offers an excellent summary of not simply O'Connor's works but of the author herself. In understanding Flannery O'Connor as a person as well as her thinking and faith, it really dose provide information about the literary southern grotesque fiction that O'Connor was so adept at churning out, characters who were Southern Bible Belt Protestants yet who were guided, influenced and directed by Catholic orthodoxy. Her work seems so contrary in respects to her environment, but then again, that's what makes her work so unique and interesting. And O'Connor made it work.
While The Abbess of Andalusia: Flannery O'Connor's Spiritual Journey was, for me, a witty, analytical and thorough study, I did have a rather difficult time assenting to the belief that Flannery O'Connor was a Catholic saint. I would love it, however, if the Church would look deeper into her life and make a ruling either for or against that possibility. Murray goes even further in stating that O'Connnor should be considered a Doctor of the Church. Sometimes an appreciation for an author, even a Catholic one, can be a little over-the-top. I can only imagine Flannery O'Connor in Heaven smirking all sarcastic-like and quipping that she'd better not be dollied up all churchy-like with lilies and halos around her, frustrated and weary that such an unrealistic image would only detract perspective readers from her Godly work, a vocation that for her was her true labor of love, for she was a literary artist in His name.
For insight into the life and spirit of Flannery, this book is a must. Her own words--her letters--set her and her stories in the context of her faith and the forces of life that reveal both. An inspirational and edifying book I recommend on many levels: insights into her stories, writing, her deeply held faith in Jesus, the Catholic church, grace and suffering, friends, and more. It's a book about a celebrated American author that touches you deeply, both intellectually and emotionally.
This is a solid book about Flannery O'Connor, focusing on her Faith. For the most part, I really enjoyed it and now have many memorable quotes from my favorite author to write in my journal and ponder. The only critique I have is a few times I felt like the writing was long sequences of "and then she said..." I will take it though because there's such a wealth of information here, and beautiful reflections of my Catholic Faith!
There is no better place to start to get to understand Flannery O'Connor than right here! Well-written and researched, it was a real eye-opener for me, and I can't recommend it enough. Flannery is going to have a renaissance soon. Get ahead of the curve with The Abbess of Andulusia.