Customer Reviews

Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life

5 star:		(26)
4 star:		(26)
3 star:		(9)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

This is a thoughtful memoir, full of incisive literary quotes from the author's wide reading. You may not be acquainted with the term acedia, but surely you are familiar with its many symptoms, offshoots, and corollaries: among them, lethargy, apathy, paralysis, depression, and alienation.

The author tells the story of her marriage, of her husband's illness and death. Each chapter is a meditation, an essay on the author's search for clarity and meaning.

Kathleen Norris is also the author of AMAZING GRACE: A VOCABULARY OF FAITH. She is at her best when defining concepts, especially religious concepts. In ACEDIA & ME: A MARRIAGE, MONKS, AND A WRITER'S LIFE, she concentrates on the concept of acedia and you will be supprised to learn how common it is. She looks at acedia as experienced, then as observed.

Of course the author discusses Andrew Solomon's excellent study, THE NOONDAY DEMON, but she says that it is common to experience acedia without being clinically depressed. There are degrees of it, she says, respectable acedia and industrial acedia.

The last section of the book is devoted to quotes touching on acedia from the wealth of our literature, Thomas Merton, Saul Bellow, Joan Didion, Ian Fleming, Walker Percy, and many, many others. I read every one of them and looked up from the book struck anew by the significance of the the author's theme.

Those interested in reading more about intellectual acedia might want to start with Colin Wilson's THE OUTSIDER; those looking to read more on spiritual acedia might enjoy David Loy's take on it in LACK AND TRANSCENDENCE: THE PROBLEM OF DEATH AND LIFE IN PSYCHOTHERAPY, EXISTENTIALISM, AND BUDDHISM.

In Chapter XV of ACEDIA & ME, Kathleen Norris assembles quotations from august personages in a "Commonplace Book" on the subject. The "temptation to acedia" quote is plucked from the trappist Michael Casey's book, FULLY HUMAN, FULLY DIVINE: AN INTERACTIVE CHRISTOLOGY. That excerpt begins just as sternly, "The vice of noninvolvement is said to be endemic in the Western world. The acediac is a person without commitment, who lives in a world characterized by mobility, passive entertainment, self-indulgence, and the effective denial of the validity of any external claim." That is quite an indictment and one that ought to be both conceded and argued: we are all susceptible to feeling, as Charles Baudelaire did, "weary...of this need to live twenty-four hours every day" but we also, in the course of living, experience productive and highly optimistic times. Nearly everyone's life is a mixture of ups and downs.

Norris herself wrote the bestsellers THE CLOISTER WALK, and AMAZING GRACE. She also remained married to the same man, David J. Dwyer, until his death in 2003. So, Casey's definition of an acediac as someone who would leave creativity to others and who is without commitment seems too stringent to apply to her. Yet, Norris has written ACEDIA & ME because she recognizes in herself a stubborn tendency to sink into lethargy, boredom, detachment, apathy, and other facets of acedia. In a sense, this book is a form of therapy for her as she considers the subject from many perspectives. She consults the works of desert monks Anthony the Great and Evagrius. She compares and contrasts acedia and clinical depression and analyzes the psychological and psychiatric approaches to these related but not selfsame states of being. She also explores how acedia may affect us in the various stages of life, using chunks of her own autobiography as the prime example: "I have to resist the temptation to remain a spectator when I need to become involved. What I hate most about my own neuroses, and the foul mood of acedia that too frequently afflicts my soul, is how selfish they make me."

An introspective and sensitive woman who has had her share of challenges and sorrows as well as successes and insulations, Norris admits as a young person she never expected to either marry or have children. Now, she is a widow who did not have children, and, in her seventh decade of life (she was born in 1947) she still fences with this persistent lack of desire to engage fully in life. She "pray[s], with the psalmist, 'Make us know the shortness of our life / that we may gain wisdom of heart.' " She adds, "I may feel lost and weary, but these words provide hope. If the life of faith, like depression, is a cycle of exile and return, I am a prodigal become a pilgrim, if only I can come to my senses and remember to turn toward home."

ACEDIA & ME contemplates (and, in places, scours raw) a feeling we each encounter -- some more chronically than others. We all have to summon the will to beat back "soul weariness" at junctures in our lives. Gustave Flaubert wrote, "Aren't you tired, as I am, of waking up every morning and seeing the sun again? Tired of living the same life, of suffering the same pain?" We all, like Norris, do get tired of routine, of losing companions along the way, and of our own insecurities and inabilities to connect. ACEDIA & ME is a comprehensive (some might say exhaustive and might put in a "too" for good measure) exercise in approaching and trying to understand this state from historical and contemporary perspectives. For those who don't mind seeing parts of themselves in the mirror of a book, this newest Norris is confidently recommended.

Norris says in the introduction to this book that she's been working on it for a long, long time, gathering materials, reading, and writing. I suspect that what she was waiting for - consciously or intuitively - was an organizing structure. She never found it.

"Acedia & Me" is full of lots of wisdom and reflection on the spiritual problem of depression/apathy/boredom/distraction, as well as a smattering of wonderful quotes and stories from church literature that has been largely forgotten by the church, and stories about her husband's illnesses, and her own battles with depression (etc.) and quotes from modern authors about society's ills, and... anything else that managed to fall into her file marked "Acedia" over the years.

The problem is that it's barely organized at all. And at 327 pages, it's an awful lot of unorganized notes and thoughts. Some things repeat almost verbatim; often variations on the same theme are twenty pages apart. It gets kind of hard to keep plugging through after the first hundred pages or so; while new stuff does turn up now and then, maintaining a sense of progression through the book is almost impossible.

There is an awful lot of great stuff here. Norris has diagnosed a problem in society and written some excellent words of insight and reflection about it.

Too bad she never found that organizing structure.

I found this to be less satisfying than most of Kathleen Norris' work; it seemed to me to be a series of meditations on acedia without an overarching structure. Without the structure, it often becomes repetitive in a way that allows the reader to lose their way (the context/logic of the text).

On the other hand, this is a useful reflection on how acedia manifests in our culture - ennui as an artistic stance, consumerism, frantic schedules ... Particularly interesting is her discussion (a topic frequently returned to) of the roles of the wisdom of the desert fathers and mothers and of psychiatry/psychoanalysis. Here Norris does an excellent job of bringing their wisdom to bear on our contemporary human condition - reminding me of To Love As God Loves: Conversations With the Early Church.

Also interesting and useful are the biographic elements brought into the discussion - illness as a small child, her husband's suicide attempt, her sister's cancer, her own widowhood ... Through these events one sees how she balances wholeness as supported by her religious community with wholeness as supported by the medical community.

Closing the book is a commonplace book on acedia with quotes from a diverse group of people - Seneca, Evagrius (referred to frequently in the book), John Climacus, David of Augsburg, Dante, Chaucer, Pascal, Wordsworth ...

Acedia is a spiritual and psychological state of temptation that is characterized by--and here I am throwing figurative darts against a lexical dartboard--sloth, "spiritual torpor," ennui, apathy, laziness and maybe sadness. It's described by John Cassian, a fourth century monk, as among the "eight principle faults that attack mankind." These eight faults later become the seven deadly sins; you can guess which one was dropped (or, more accurate, merged with another). Being knocked off the Big Seven list meant being relegated to the edge of oblivion, and but for occasional later references there it may have remained. Kathleen Norris's book, ACEDIA & ME, revives the dormant concept for further reflection.

Despite Cassian's suggestion that acedia is among the "faults that attack mankind," this state of temptation or spiritual paralysis has been largely associated with the contemplative life, especially the lives of hermits. It was often new monks and hermits that were hit by acedia; after the initial euphoria of monastic life would pass, the rigors of the life, the repetition, the sameness, and the sense of physical confinement, would invariably become oppressive. Because this boredom with the spiritual life would often hit midday, acedia became known as the "noonday devil." The temptation for the young monk would be to give in to the "noonday devil" and so leave the contemplative life.

Despite the historical association with the religiously contemplative life, as Norris points out, acedia can afflict the spiritual life of the average person. One might argue that a writer's life isn't so average, but Norris confesses how acedia has been much more than writer's block in her life. ACEDIA & ME, as the title suggests, isn't a theology book, but a personal reflection on how Norris has struggled with acedia. I found the book frustratingly messy in its organization at times, and it wasn't until I received the book as the meditation it is that I began to appreciate it as much as I did.

ACEDIA & ME is partly autobiographical and partly a meditative treatment of the problem of acedia. Most of the autobiographical parts have to do with her husband's depression, physical decline and eventual death, and Norris's dealing with those circumstances in a life in which she turned to religion and in particular the monastic tradition for spiritual healing. Norris spends too much of her extended essay contrasting acedia with clinical depression, and in defending the concept of acedia from the criticism (real and potential) of medical and psychological experts. Her book isn't rigorously enough structured to enter what is, essentially, a religion-versus-science debate, not to mention that it's really not worth debating the point.

Kathleen Norris's book is spiritual reading, not a treatise. As spiritual reading, ACEDIA & ME mostly works. The autobiographical sections, despite the consciously made if confusing anachronisms, propel the book along and are heartfelt. When she starts invoking the ancients and moderns in treating the topic of acedia, the book can be a bit of a slog at times. That's okay, though, for spiritual reading, which isn't intended for quick consumption. Norris is, at heart, a poet, and this book is written, often beautifully, as if it were an extended prose-poem. Like Norris's earlier works, ACEDIA & ME is worth the time contemplating.

It's been fifteen years since Kathleen Norris captured the spiritual imagination of readers with memoirs about leaving New York City for Lemmon, South Dakota (Dakota: A Spiritual Geography, 1993), and drinking deep at the well of monastic spirituality (Cloister Walk, 1996). Having passed her sixtieth birthday, her latest book reflects a maturing vision of what authentic Christian identity might look like for the contemporary pilgrim. Partly a story of love and lament for her husband David who died of cancer in 2003 at the age of fifty-seven, part historical and theological inquiry, and part psychological analysis, Norris weaves these themes around a singular plot about what the early desert monastics called the "noonday demon" of acedia.

The Greek word acedia has a semantic range that is broad, complex, and elastic. Translators pile up the synonyms: torpor, malaise, ennui, listlessness, apathy and even sloth. Acedia figures prominently in the lives and literature of the early monastics who fled the chaos and clamor of the cities, only to discover a cacophony of voices in the human heart. Norris relates how she too has battled acedia since her teenage years, although she did not always know what it was. Trying to identify with precision just what this ancient and arcane experience really is proves elusive.

Is acedia an external attack by the devil? Interior bad thoughts? A temptation you can resist? How do personality types, your inherited neurobiology, family of origin, and developmental psychology inform the analysis? Most important of all is the similarity between acedia and clinical depression. Is acedia a spiritual sin or a medical sickness? Maybe both at the same time? Is this a matter of "do not," "will not" or "cannot" (204)? Norris is acutely aware of this dangerous territory; she knows that in our contemporary culture to distinguish between acedia and depression "can make one suspicious of being in denial, or worse, of judging people who are ill as being morally deficient." She admits that teasing out distinctions is murky and wants to avoid the "false assurances of either/or thinking" (268; cf. 35). But she draws upon her own experiences and the reflections of writers like Evagrius, Kierkegaard, Dante, and contemporary psychiatrists to maintain that whatever their many similarities, acedia and depression are not the same.

Readers can judge for themselves whether Norris succeeds in her task. At times I thought of the joke that when all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. For example, her final chapter is called "Acedia: A Commonplace Book" (289-329); it simply quotes without comment about 125 authors across four thousand years who speak broadly about her theme. A related problem is that the subject dies the death of a thousand qualifications, resulting in a distinction without a clear difference. Norris herself is a wise spiritual pilgrim, but an unintended consequence of her book might be that it encourages popular self-analysis of a complicated phenomenon by sufferers who are far less adept than she is, and who ought to seek professional help (whether spiritual or medical).

Let the scholars howl, says Norris (47). She knows her own story, she knows the early monastics and modern studies, and she's done her homework. She points us toward genuine human wholeness, to greater self-knowledge and less self-consciousness, and to the deep longing of Sarapion of Thmuis (4th century), "Lord! We entreat you, make us truly alive." Acedia and Me might be Norris's most controversial book; it also might be her best one.

Kathleen Norris has written a beautiful memoir in this book. The work is also a study, an exposition, really, of the ancient concept of Acedia (accidie, and many other spellings), which is a sort of spiritual torpor. Many moderns would call it "depression," but it is a separate condition. It is also sometimes confused with the spiritual "dark night," but that is different also. This is a kind of boredom, lethargy, sick of caring, sick of everything, that the ancients saw as a kind of spiritual attack. Norris discusses her own battles with this condition.

She also movingly writes about her husband, the brilliant poet David Dwyer, their life together, and his illness leading to his death, and how difficult it is to find your spiritual place again, once everything changes. Norris finds, not solace really, but endurance in the psalms and in small everyday activities, which are also the ancient treatment for acedia.

Having endured acedia myself during a few periods of my life, I felt moved to tears reading this. I hope the writing of it helped Norris; I know for sure that the reading of it will help many souls.

I recommend this excellent book with no reservations.

Though almost everyone is familiar with depression, acedia is a much less well known affliction. Mostly a term used in the monastic community, acedia can be described as a type of emotional slothfulness. Everyday tasks become harder and more pointless to perform, and emotions are dulled almost to the point of desensitization. Acedia takes the form of an unsettled boredom that permeates every area of life, be it physical, emotional or social. In her new book, Kathleen Norris examines acedia in all it's mysterious forms, attempting to explain why it is different from depression and some of the ways that it can be dealt with. Interspersed with her reflections on the issue, we become familiar with the religious implications of acedia and get a crash course on the spiritual response to this ponderous problem. In addition, Norris chronicles her life with acedia and her relationship with her husband, who battled physical and mental illness. Part memoir, part reflection, Norris attempts to explain the emotional lassitude that so many suffer from and so few can name. With courage and determination she delves into her psyche and that of the community at large to engage and define a problem that defies drugs, therapy and advice.

In large part this book was theoretical and illusive. Not really recognized by the mental health community, acedia lies merely in the realm of speculation and experience. While the author's attempt to explain and understand this problem was interesting, many people to whom I mentioned the topic "acedia" gave me a blank stare and said they had never heard of it. This included a mental health professional who expressed interest in the book. Though this problem seems to be an unknown entity, Norris gives us a historical frame of reference for this malady and explains why it is no longer recognized in society. She encourages the reader to look at this problem in terms of a spiritual dissonance that can be corrected with reflection and prayer rather than medication and rationalization. As the book went on, though, there were a few things that stuck out. The first was that although an attempt was made for the book to be hopeful, it was not. The picture portrayed was not unlike the myth of Sisyphus rolling the rock up the hill for eternity, only to have it roll back down over and over. The author seems to suggest that this affliction is doomed to be suffered over and over again, with different results from each self-administered treatment. Her own battle with this problem, she acknowledges, has been a lifetime struggle that she can never seem to overcome. Another issue that I came across was the implication that only those sufficiently pious would be able to overcome this problem. Many times her solution to acedia was prayer or spiritual reflection. While prayer is something that I do regularly, and does indeed benefit me tremendously, many people do not have the same feeling towards spiritual meditation. This makes her discourse a little alienating. With as many religious ideologies as there are out there, there are many people who don't ascribe to religion at all. To them, this book would be pointless. One can argue that most of those people wouldn't pick up this book, but the good points made in this book should be able to be shared by anyone affected by this problem. I think it is a bit dismissive to only examine one way of dealing with a problem. I am aware that this is the author's show, and it is her prerogative to handle her reflections in any way she would like, but the effect is a bit non-inclusive.

Despite these misgivings, I found that this book had a hypnotic quality to the writing that kept me wanting to explore further and delve deeper. Many of the passages had bits and snippets of prayers wrapped in, and some were moving and beautiful. I found many hidden gems among this book, new ways of looking at things, and reflections and connections that I would have never made without the author's introspective analysis. Her information had a way of winding around itself, coming back to the same points repeatedly, but this was not troublesome. In a way it was like a good speaker highlighting the same points in order to reaffirm their importance and drive home the message. The book was also very informative about the monastic community, its tenants and its values. There is no doubt in my mind that acedia exists, and that there is relief from this problem. I believe that the ability of this author to take a foreign and illusive concept and relate it in a way that everyone will recognize and understand is a great achievement

Norris' work was interesting, especially her personal story; however, the book seems disjointed and overly repetitive.

I understand the elusive quality of acedia, and I understand the author's multiple themes and their relation to acedia, but the disjointed feeling remains. Also, the nature of her writing seems to be such that only a certain audience will be interested in the work - and that audience will be one that is fairly well read and knowledgable - so there is no need to be so redundant...we got it by chapter three.

With that said, the middle of the book was great. Her personal story and personal examples of acedia in her life make the reading more valuable. Her peeks inside the writer's life were excellent. So, for those who want to try this book, I say stick with her past chapter three, and you will be fine.

Kathleen Norris is a bestselling author who blends memoir with Christian spirituality. Although books written from a theological perspective aren't my first choice of reading matter, I have a profound respect for the ages-old wisdom of monks and other religious orders, and wanted to see how their teachings helped Norris, a writer like myself, persevere in her craft and weather life's harsher moments.

Acedia, a.k.a. the 'Noonday Demon', is one of the seven deadly sins, according to Christian tradition. It manifests itself as mental, physical and spiritual apathy. Norris describes her experience with acedia as a profound soul-weariness that diminishes her energy and creativity and leaves her apathetic toward the religious faith that normally inspires her. She began struggling with acedia as a teenager, and after discovering the name of the malady in an ancient spiritual text, fortified herself with faith-based defences. `Acedia & Me' is her account of how the condition effected her life as a Christian, an author, and a wife to a terminally ill husband.

Taken as a whole, `Acedia & Me' is a profound study of a dangerous spiritual condition whose numbing effect on individuals and entire societies has persisted despite its sporadic public recognition. For me, the memoir sections of the book were the most powerful and provided the clearest understanding of acedia, because they were practical examples of the havoc that the affliction can wreak. But the first three chapters were almost exclusively given over to discussion of spiritual texts and traditions involving acedia, and as previously stated, I rarely read theological works, so it was difficult going until I reached Chapter Four.

Fans of Kathleen Norris's other books, which were probably written in the same vein, should love this newest release. Even a Norris neophyte like me was impressed by her obvious gift for memoir. But for me, the sections that read like intricate sermons made `Acedia & Me' an arduous read at times. Therefore I accord it four stars instead of five, while acknowledging that this book is a worthy contribution to Christian memoir.