I’m doing a combined post with shorter reviews here, because in the summer my attention span for blogging has gone out the window. Plus, these books happen to go together well, as I hope you’ll agree…
In early June I read All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me by Patrick Bringley. I enjoyed this glimpse behind the scenes by a former museum guard, a job the author took on in the wake of his brother’s death when his high-profile job at the New Yorker became meaningless to him. In some ways undemanding, in other ways challenging (especially on the feet), being a guard gave him a chance to soak in the presence of great art and to spend many hours reflecting on what he saw. He shares some of his insights, along with giving us respect and appreciation for some of the most unsung members of the huge crew that makes such a place possible. He reminds me of the value of slowing down in the presence of art, not trying to inhale everything at once, but taking time for deep encounter with our surroundings — and also with the people we meet. Even as a museum full of random objects tempts me to hurry by and not stay with anything for long, I can try to resist that impulse, hold still and think, return and look again.
Fortuitously, pretty soon I had an opportunity to do just that, when I took ten days in July to visit the cathedral in Chartres. Along with simply looking, I read a number of books before, during, and after the visit, one of which was Chartres: Sacred Geometry, Sacred Space by Gordon Strachan. There was lots to ponder in this architectural-historical-geometrical-theological consideration of the great cathedral, many mysteries to be considered and often no clear answers, but an interesting case to be made for the influence of Islam on Gothic architecture, as well as some of the links to ancient Celtic sites. The author sometimes lost me with his geometrical square root calculations, but made a fascinating point about the rectangular crossing of the cathedral representing the self-denial of God (backed up by theological quotations). It gave the saying “deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me” a whole new meaning for me.
After I got home, I finished The Brain that Changes Itself by Norman Doidge, a book I’ve been chewing on for a while and would like to read again. My favorite kind of science book is one that gives a glimpse into science as a living, evolving process, rather than a fixed body of knowledge. And that’s what Doidge does here, giving examples of current research into how the brain, contrary to previously held opinion, is “plastically” formed and re-formed throughout life. Not only knowledge itself, but the instrument through which we come to know things, can and does change! Many of the stories involve people with injuries or disabilities coming to do things previously thought impossible, a reminder to keep our minds ever-open to possibility. Another important insight is that the plasticity of the brain is, paradoxically enough, what can cause us to become stuck in certain adverse patterns. This is compared to a sled sliding down the same path over and over — impacting the snow more and more until it’s very hard to get out of that track. Again, however, it is possible, only it takes effort, and it helps greatly to have some understanding of how the brain works. Fortunately, although at first there was resistance to the concept of brain plasticity — aptly demonstrating Doidge’s point about rigidity! — this idea is now becoming accepted and could lead to great advances in many fields.
An essay placed in the appendix considers how culture shapes the brain — far more quickly than evolution. Thus, the transformative power of art is confirmed by modern science, and we ought to take it seriously.
Patrick Bringley, All the Beauty in the World (Simon and Schuster, 2023)
Gordon Strachan, Chartres (Floris Books, 2003)
Norman Doidge, The Brain That Changes Itself (Viking, 2007)
Read for the Nonfiction Reader Challenge — Culture, Architecture and Science categories; three of my Ten Books of Summer
A lovely trio of reviews, any one of which I’d probably be delighted to read and all, as you point out, indirectly related to each other.
Three worthy books for your attention, Chris.
Impressive how well you linked these three books, they sound interesting to read.
They made for an interesting combination, for sure.
I think I mentioned somewhere that when I was younger, there was a fascinating series on French TV Sunday afternoon about sacred geometry. I liked it a lot. I really need to read this book on Chartres
Wow, that must have been a fascinating series. This was rather a short book, there so much more to learn I am sure.
There was a popular publication a few decades ago called Fulcanelli: Le Mystère des Cathédrales which was translated into English which had a lot about Chartres and sacred geometry; it was followed up by others, including a British architect obsessed with geodesic domes called Keith Critchlow.
The conceit I liked best was that if you folded the west front over the nave the rose window would fit perfectly over the labyrinth. I wrote a bit about it in ‘Marigolds and mazes’: https://wp.me/p2oNj1-6ae