Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith
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I was very moved, and actually envious of the comfort Lamott's faith has given her life. Not only has her spiritual awakening played a role in controlling her alcoholism, but it has lead her to a Christianity more resonant of the teachings of Christ than is true of many more "traditional" spiritual authors.
However, this book may in many ways appeal more to those who are TOLERANT than those who might find the word "faithful" as the first on their tongue to describe themselves. Even the deeply skeptical, or the totally without faith will enjoy this book if they are "tolerant", because it is about the faith of someone so unlike those one generally finds writing about spirituality. This fact also makes the book a great deal more interesting than one might expect of a text about a spiritual journey (for those who aren't wild about that sort of literature in general), because you get to see how Lamott sustains her faith despite a mind with little of the "obedient" nature one generally associates with religious fervor. This is particularly true for those of us who see the word "religious" and think more of Pat Robertson and the Religious Right than somebody we might like to talk with at dinner.
I read this book maybe a year ago, and was shocked to see it now on the best seller list, since it's really quite liberal, and is not the sort of book I would expect to appeal to a wide range of Americans, given the fact that so many people voted in primaries for the son of George Bush--a man for whom Annie Lamott has never had a good word (to put it MILDLY! ).
Anne Lamott writes for Salon.com, and is not your average American by a longshot. She's got an incisive mind, she is witty and articulate, but she is also wildly opinionated (in a way I find attractive), and so liberal that most right wing "Christians" (as opposed to Methodists or Episcopalians or Roman Catholics)will run in the other direction should they pick up this book by accident-- These are probably the people responsible for most of the one star reviews of this book.
For the rest of the reading public, however, this is a taste of Annie Lamott at ALMOST her best--(I do think that "Operating Instructions" is even better, but so few books in my life have been capable of making me laugh OUT LOUD in the New York City subway system during rush hour, that it may be the funniest book about motherhood on the planet--and motherhood is its own unique kind of spiritual journey.)
It is also true that this book is about religious faith--the sincerity of this woman's vision of God is very touching for those of us willing to admit more than one concept to the way in which God is defined. It's somewhat disturbing to read reviews on this page where the way Lamott talks about God is considered offensive--this book is definitely NOT for those into dogma, fundamentalism or thought control.
It is however, a delight for those of us who have not entirely lost the idealism of a generation much maligned by the numbers of its members who have become so conservative with age that they view their younger selves as the enemy--if that's you, avoid this book like the plague, because there's lots of things here that will offend you. And for those who find reading about one person's spiritual life interesting--a fairly self-destructive person whose faith has enabled her to cope without flipping her out into a person who believes her way is the only way--the book is an incredibly enjoyable, irreverant and sincere journey documenting her less than well-traveled path.
But I didn't like the book, and for reasons that I had a hard time pinning down. She struggles earnestly with life's messes, trying to find grace in the mundane or the irritating or the sorrowful; she is clearly a loving and devoted mom (although c'mon: wouldn't you have let your kid go hang-gliding?); and she would probably make a fiercely devoted and rather interesting and unpredictable friend. But I kept getting the sense in reading through the vignettes in this book that I was watching a home movie, one where the camera was trained almost exclusively on a somewhat confused middle-aged baby boomer as she stumbles into and then out of the various crises in her life. But her crises are nothing we haven't all experienced, and many would have been completely avoidable with a tad more foresight and common sense. So by the end (and, truth be told, long before), my reaction was: so what? Augustine or Bonhoffer this isn't.
About midway through the book, Lamott reads a review of a lecture of hers that described her as "narcissistic", and that, I think, hits the nail pretty much on the head. It's not that one cannot find inspiration here, or humor, or compassion; the main difficulty in Traveling Mercies is that the essays are so consistently self-absorbed as to miss many of the lessons she could have learned were she able to get beyond herself even a little bit. So we have her chalking up as a minor miracle her being able to play the `bon vivant' with a fellow air-traveler who happens to be of a religious and political persuasion at which she would normally have sneered; it never seems to occur to her, however, that were the shoe on the other foot (as in: "I actually talked to a feminist today, and even though she's spreading Satan's lies, she really wasn't all that bad!"), the essay would have read as intolerably patronizing. Elsewhere she talks about how lovingly her church accepted her unwed pregnancy, unlike what might have happened had she been in a church in the South (one of a few such gratuitous swipes at the South). But then again, perhaps not: I used to live in the South, and she might well have found there the support and acceptance she craved but mixed with the kick in the butt and the admonition to "sin no more" that she needed.
So this is a mixed bag overall. I think it's fair to say that pretty much everyone will find something to relate to in Lamott's recollections, and few are better than she is at the craft of writing. But if you're looking for wry stories of domestic crises, read Erma Bombeck instead; she's funnier. If you want a spiritual autobiography, try David Brainerd or Julian of Norwich; they're theologically meatier. If your quest is a tale of life's adversity overcome imperfectly, I'd recommend C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed. But if you want somewhat witty autobiographical essays by a neurotic left-coaster whose theology seems to have come straight out of a blender, look no further than Traveling Mercies.
Lamott writes about herself and all around her. The first third of the book, my favorite part, is a journey of faith from California hippie agnosticism/mysticism to strict atheism to christianity. She writes about her son, about her friends, alive and dying, about her journies and discoveries. She is very real, very tough, very high-strung emotionally and quite honest, I think. She reminded me of Ani Difranco -- if Ani Difranco was a bit older, had a son, was christian, and lived in California.
This book could be a cool drink of water to many sick and tired of "mainstream" christianity. Anne Lamott isn't mainstream, but she is definitely christian. She writes, "My friends like to tell each other that I am not really a born-again Christian. They think of me more along the lines of that old Jonathan Miller routine, where he said, "I'm not really a Jew -- I'm Jew-ish." They think I am Christian-ish. But I'm not. I'm just a bad Christian. A bad born-again Christian. And certainly, like the apostle Peter, I am capable of denying it, of presenting myself as a sort of leftist liberation-theology enthusiast and maybe sort of a vaguely Jesusy bon vivant. But it's not true...I could go to a gathering of foot-wash Baptists and, except for my dreadlocks, fit right in. I would wash their feet; I would let them wash mine."
Anne Lamott describes herself as "slightly more anxious than the average hypochondriac", and maybe it's well-earned. There is a lot of disease and dying in this book -- often used to paint a wonderfully painfully important lesson about faith, God, and people. I can't quite decide if reading this while being close to a serious illness would be incredibly good or disastrously bad.
All, in all, her writing is pretty good. At the end of some chunks, I was a little lost about how we got to this conclusion, or even what conclusion we came to. But the book is quite enjoyable, and potentially powerful. It's a quick, easy read, with pieces to savour.
A sample:
"Nothing happened. No burning bush, no cereal flakes dropping from heaven, forming letters of instruction in the snow. It's just that God began to act like Sam-I-Am from Green Eggs and Ham. Everywhere I turned were helpful household hints on loving one's enemies, on turning the other cheek, and on how doing that makes you look in a whole new direction. There were admonitions about the self-destructiveness of not forgiving people, and reminders that his usually doesn't hurt other people, so much as it hurts you. In fact, not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and then waiting for the rat to die. Fortune cookies, postcards, bumper stickers, everything but skywriting -- yet I kept feeling that I could not, would not forgive her in a box, could not would not forgive her with a fox, not on a train, not in the rain."...