Glimpse of the holy: Notes on three spiritual writers
One of my pet peeves is the general addiction to the new book. It seems sometimes that we consider living writers only when they have emitted a fresh tome. This is understandable, I suppose, since a new book provides the natural impetus to look at previous work; but it’s also unfortunate, as between new books we let terrific writers fade away.
A second peeve—I am motley with peeve this morning—is the pigeonholing of writers. I understand the urge to categorize, to use shorthand, to choose a shelf on which to file a book; I get it that often a label does actually hint at the essence of a writer’s work and concerns; and I much enjoy finding my own books filed under a hilarious plethora of labels, from Parenting Skills (as if) to Men’s Studies (of which I know nothing).
I particularly bemoan the label Nature Writers inflicted on some authors, when to me and to many other awed and moved readers they are writers of immense spiritual power and verve.
