These are from “The Eighth Day,” which I am still reading, and which I note here so I don’t simply forget them. I don’t know if I agree; I do know they merit a little more thought.
About John Ashley:
Men [and women] of faith […] are not afraid; they are not self-regarding; they are constantly nourished by astonishment and wonder at life itself. They are not interesting. They lack those traits – our bosom companions – that so strongly engage our interest: aggression, the dominating will, envy, destructiveness and self-destructiveness. […] They have little sense of humor, which draws so heavily on a consciousness of superiority and on an aloofness from the predicaments of others. In general they are inarticulate, especially in matters of faith. […] They are slow to give words to the object of their faith. To them it is self-evident and the self-evident is not easily described. But men and women without faith, they are articulate. They are constantly and loudly expatiating on it: it is ‘faith in life’, in the ‘meaning of life’, in God, in progress, in humanity – all those whipped words, those twisted signposts, that borrowed finery, all that traitor’s eloquence.
I can’t entirely agree with him – after all, if all men of faith are not interesting, and John Ashley is such a man, I should not be fascinated by John Ashley’s story.
A bit more on faith:
There is no creation without faith and hope. There is no faith and hope that does not express itself in creation. These men and women work. The spectacle that most discourages them is not error or ignorance or cruelty, but sloth. This work that they do may often seem to be all but imperceptible. That is characteristic of activity that never for a moment envisages an audience.
John Ashley speaking to his horse:
“Evangeline, I’m a family man. That’s all. I have no talents. I’m not even an engineer [which he was by profession]. All I have to show, living and dying, is that I’m a family man.”
Well, that’s enough for now. The quotes are on pages 98-100 and 106-107 in the UK Penguin paperback dated 1969, at the outset of chapter 2.
And another, on Miss Doubkov, page 69:
And another, on John Ashley’s mind, page 115:
Another few, first one about the Ashleys’ house “The Elms,” page 27:
Next, page 130, on native workers beating their wives:
On the problem of suffering, page 135:
On Ashley’s mother’s adoration of her son, page 137:
Still thinking back on his family, this time his closet miser of a father, page 138:
More on Ashley’s personality on page 140:
And finally (for now), Ashley’s reaction to a room painted in blue up to eye level to emulate the sea and decorated with a crucifix, pages 140-141:
On staying faithful to his wife, page 157:
Ashley standing up for the miners, page 159:
On the new priest straight from Spain, page 163:
On Mrs Wickersham, the heart of Manantiales, page 169:
On Wellington Bristow, page 172:
Mrs Wickersham on miracles, page 183:
On humor, page 192:
Roger Ashley’s reaction to the crowds in Chicago, page 196:
Talking to someone who believes in reincarnation, page 202:
Roger’s thoughts on college education, page 205:
His impression of medicine, page 207:
Still page 207, the description of where the journalists lived in a hotel:
And on the journalists themselves, pages 207 and 208:
Last one for today. On operas, page 209:
On writing letters in the Ashley household, page 213:
From T.G. Speidel, nihilist, dean of the journalists, pages 218-219:
He continues on about “the lie about property” and uses the word sockdologer. T.G.’s monologues are great examples of how someone gets it all wrong but gets enough chunks right to sound, if not convincing, then at least intriguing. On pages 220-221 he goes on about fathers:
I’ll try to prove him wrong – though I am one to advise caution…
The Maestro on art, pages 243-245, one I include particularly because of Wilder’s fine ear for how men can paradoxically declaim self-conscious self-contradictions with utter sincerity:
Finally, we return to the opera on page 251, Lily Ashley speaking:
There are 140 pages more to go.
Page 260, on John Ashley:
On snobbery, page 269:
On Beata Ashley’s father, pages 270-271:
On her mother, page 271:
On family life, page 272:
On John Ashley’s kind of independence, page 275:
On a writer, “Atticus,” who “had left America for the shores of the Thames and the Seine” and “from that safe distance, having taken out British citizenship, […] reviewed the horrors and absurdities of his native land:”
Typing it up, I wonder why I appreciate that last paragraph but don’t appreciate Mallard Fillmore, who uses much of the same technique.
Some more, while waiting for photos to upload.
On servants in a St. Kitts household, page 283:
On boredom, page 283:
On patriarchy, page 297:
(It seems to me, too, that during these transitions all parties want to hold on to their rights longer than their responsibilities, and impose them with show and posturing rather than on grounds of merit.)
Eustacia Lansing thinks about her life, page 303:
And again from Eustacia Lansing, page 308:
Eustacia talks about education with her son George, page 317:
Roughly 50 more pages to go. Let’s see if the pictures haven’t uploaded already.
I finished the book late into the night yesterday – with just about 30 pages left, I decided not to put it down. Here are the last quotes, the last of what I hope is a helpful review of sorts.
On giving to our children, page 366:
Looking at the graveyard of the Convenant Church in Herkomer’s Knob, page 387:
“The Eighth Day” is a book that can stand to have its last paragraph quoted without spoiling the reading for anyone. It’s on page 396:
That last paragraph was a bit of a let-down for me. I had invested in the characters; Wilder treats them with such respect and gentle redemption that I found it jarring for the book to end like that. “Well, that’s the story, but I’m not sure there’s a point to it.” I think having a new family made me connect more deeply with all the observations on family and the sweeping perspective covering several years and tracing different family members; I know for sure that when I slipped under the covers next to Janet (fifteen minutes before Joseph was to wake hungry) I felt that if I wasn’t the luckiest man alive, I certainly must be among the first runners-up. I also realized I better live like I believed that, and one first step might be going to bed at the same time as Janet. And if that’s what a book does to me, it deserves a recommendation, even if it kept me up past bedtime.
Your last paragraph is one of the sweetest I’ve read in a long time. I guess I’d better be preparing for an early bedtime tonight. 🙂
Faith is an ever-widening pool of clarity, fed from springs beyond the margin of consciousness. We all know more than we know we know.
Sorry for the lack of citation. I am not sure what page number this comes from. It is just a little something I memorized from ‘The Eighth Day’. I am fairly sure, though, that it comes from the section about Ashley traveling from Illinois to Chile.
Thanks, Lindsey! I still don’t know why Wilder’s editorializing style is so out of fashion these days. Maybe it’s just extremely hard to pull off well.
Frankly, I’m a little surprised anyone found this post…