Accept my apologies for the title. I could not think of any other, and Whose Body?, intriguing at its best, was grabbed by the neck. I will get to this book later. If you wonder who this Dorothy Sayers, author of these two mystery novels, is, she is the same genius that penned The Lost Tools of Learning, which I listened to in a CD format with delight, and the unforgettable The Mind of the Maker.
After reading The Mind of the Maker, by Dorothy L. Sayers, and profusely enjoying it, my dear friend came to me with these two findings. They are simply mysteries, yes, I know, but I am giving Lord Peter a chance, as she advices.
Now, for my review:
The Mind of the Maker is a book you probably should read with paper and pencil, write notes, study. Some have participated in a book club, as I have done in the past for other books. But lately, I do not find the time to write a post per chapter, or to keep up with that format, and I do not say this regretfully, it is just a different time in my life. There were the days in which I needed company to read some books. Today, I enjoy these books alone, or I share my thoughts with Heather, my mother in law, or anyone that has read that title. And then I come to the blog, and write about it like now. Actually, this space is turning into a book review kind of blog.
Back to The Mind of the Maker, the book is unique. Some chapters are challenging, still a pleasure to read, sort of like with C.S. Lewis, I loose him, as I loose her too, but I get the general idea. Dorothy Sayers makes a beautifully knit case for humans as creators. The last chapter in particular, is a brilliant culmination of her analogy, and a criticism to the philosophy or modern trend of thought of reducing life to a set of problems and a quest for the solutions.
I am traveling from Sayers’ book, to The Hidden Art of Homemaking, (which, when mentioned to Heather I pronounced more like The Heathen Art of Homemaking, to which she looked at me with a question mark face), by Edith Shaeffer, and they both seem highly compatible. Shaeffer starts with the last point of Sayers: we, as humans, are creators, artsists, and it is our nature to develop these talents to the fullest. When anyone does that, it shows and reflects His Creative Power, and it is an imperfect and incomplete, but a healing, uplifting, and intimately reassuring, and outwardly communicating experience. But mind you, Dorothy Sayers’ book is a heavy weight text, high density piece of art, though it reads very fluidly, while Shaeffer’s book is much lighter and conversational, more on the practical side, with several examples of her life experiences.
Then the mysteries. I am just reading Whose Body?, and this metaphor on the very first page won me over,
His long amiable face looked as if it had generated spontaneously from his top hat, as white maggots breed from Gorgonzola.
Yes, a mystery is a mystery, those are pass times, they are not educating us in the same way than other books do, but when it comes to Sayers, they are slightly over my head, which I deem pleasantly educational, since her command of the English language, the setting, the talk in them, is not that familiar, it is Britain of the early 20th century, it always teaches, and that agrees with my outlook on what reading should be. As a Sherlock Holmes loyal girl, I am ready to prepare a cozy niche in my reading heart for another British investigator, Lord Peter. (He collects used and rare books himself, that is a double plus).