The Literary Universe lifts us out of our singular, earthbound, time-trapped view into a higher, wider, and more comprehensive perspective. What do the greatest writers and thinkers have to say to us? Reflecting on recent reads, I find so many connections and familiar themes, I can’t help but wonder if, despite the limitations of our days, we don’t experience eternity in each other.

Reading books allows my mind to enter new environments while keeping a foothold on home base. In the last few months, I have entered a wild variety of settings, from Charles Dickens’ “rags to riches” journey in the biography, Dickens, by Peter Ackroyd, to Tolstoy’s “prince to pauper” reversal in Tolstoy: A Biography by A. N. Wilson. Whether rising or falling, literary genius offers a glimpse into the soul of humankind.

I enjoy reading biographies and the works of literary luminaries, not because they teach me how to write better or how to become “successful” but rather as a reality check on what a person can achieve in a lifetime, all the forces that come into play to create the appearance of “success,” and how easy it is to slip into self-deception.

Reflecting on impactful books sheds light on what nudges the spiritual and cultural needle toward emotional healing or—at times—to the edge of soul-crushing despair.

Let me start with Grimms Complete Fairy Tales (2011), Canterbury Classics Edition, Jacob Grimm. Horrifying yet touching on something so basic in the human experience that to deny this collection of chilling folklore would be like pretending that evil can’t hurt us. I found it very interesting to later read that J.R.R. Tolkien references the Grimm stories in his illuminating work On Fairy-stories. Tolkien refers to a whole host of authors and written works in his essay, including my favorite, Beatrix Potter’s stories and Kenneth Graham’s Wind in the Willows. It is this interconnectedness between wildly different authors and writing styles that truly astonishes and enlightens my spirit.

For months, I have been working slowly through The Complete Works of H.P. Lovecraft, an expert on the horror genre if ever there was one. The author may not have had faith in a religious sense, but he certainly acknowledged the power of evil working in the world, hidden as it may be in the labyrinth of our shadowed unconscious. Imagine my surprise when reading The Solomon Kane Stories by Robert E. Howard, another author with a firm grasp of the struggle between good and evil, I discovered that Lovecraft had written the introduction to Howard’s book. Both men, along with Tolkien and the Brothers Grimm, focus a literary laser on the influence of evil on the spirit of humankind. Geniuses in their separate crafts, they were also kindred spirits in their courageous acknowledgement of that which the world today would like to ignore—the destructive power of evil forces in our world, tangling our minds and deforming our souls.

I could add G. K. Chesterton’s name to that list. I greatly enjoyed his creative interpretation of the “detective story” in The Complete Father Brown Mysteries: All 7 Volumes of G.K. Chesterton’s Classic Detective Tales. What a wild ride! Though I would not call Chesterton a horror writer, he, too, tipped his hat to the mystery of elemental forces opposing the good and glorious nature of God. It is not remarkable, then, that Tolkien refers to Chesterton several times in his On Fairy-tales essay. They were both spiritual men with a high regard for the Catholic faith, who could accept the messiness of mystery, the reality that the “other world,” which intercepts our “real” world, constantly knocks humanity off our proud pillars.

In a brave attempt to understand the “science” behind faith in God, I read New Proofs for the Existence of God: Contributions of Contemporary Physics and Philosophy by Robert J. Spitzer. I probably only understood every tenth word, but I did get the gist of what he was saying, and I found the last chapters to be the most enlightening. Discovering that science is not as clearly defined as my school teachers led me to believe, that every scientific branch demands a level of faith, perhaps a greater stretch of daring than trust in our Creator God, left me standing on new ground which felt more like Terra Firme. Science is a powerful tool, but like any human experience, it can deform and distance us from elemental reality when we insist that we know more than we actually do.

Sword and Scimitar: Fourteen Centuries of War between Islam and the West by Raymond Ibrahim depicts a gory reality as blood splashed across the pages of history. With little to be proud of, evil wins horrific battles, proving that the Brothers Grimm weren’t lying and writers like Lovecraft and Howard have something important to say. Contrary to popular thought, not all religions are the same nor profess the same devotion to God.

While convalescing during a wretched illness, I downloaded the first books of the Maisie Dobbs series by Jacqueline Winspear. I enjoyed her literary finesse combined with a nod to the “otherness’ of spiritual reality. If her later eBooks hadn’t jumped in price, I would have ordered more. A lesson in pricing, I won’t soon forget. Even the best books will get dropped if they demand more than a person can reasonably expect to pay. Still, the combination of detective story, romance, historical fiction, and “other-worldness” offered a glimpse into wider literary possibilities.

I was given The Princes of Ireland by Edward Rutherford for Christmas and enjoyed the read, surprised at the level of historical accuracy. It was both an enjoyable story and a learning experience, providing food for both the mind and the spirit.

Great American Short Stories: Hawthorne, Poe, Cather, Melville, London, James, Crane, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Bierce, Twain & more by Paul Negri was a mixed-bag experience. I do not understand why some authors seem to travel at high speed through the worst human experiences, engage in terrific, mind-numbing events, and then drop their readers off on a dark road without the slightest concern if they can ever find their way home again. Maybe they don’t know where home is? Just sharing their desperation and grief? Perhaps. In any case, I was left with a renewed determination that the reputation of the short story genre not be forever stained by gritty grief in shadowed confusion. Dark despair is real. Hence, the great need for something more powerful than the chaos of doomed human thoughts.

I am currently reading American Jennie: The Remarkable Life of Lady Randolph Churchill by Anne Sebba. Food for thought on many levels: historical influences, the insidious dangers of social status, the complexities of marriage, and why human love, even for one’s children, isn’t enough. So easily confused, we humans tend to use self-deception to console our spirits, excuse our actions, and wrap ourselves in false security. At this point, I can hardly see the connection in the odd mix of strength and weakness, sacrificial love and self-centeredness between the mother and her son, a man who would one day serve the world with strength and nobility. I will continue reading…

But this is what makes reading so powerful—the chance to peer into the larger world, consider other hearts, minds, and souls, and catch a glimpse of our shared human struggle, all the while, praying for our redemption.