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| Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life | 
 enlarge | Author: Kathleen Norris
Publisher: Riverhead Hardcover
Category: Book
List Price: $25.95
Buy New: $12.58
You Save: $13.37 (52%)
New (42) Used (19) Collectible (2) from $12.58
Avg. Customer Rating:  38 reviews
Media: Hardcover
Number Of Items: 1
Pages: 352
Shipping Weight (lbs): 1.2
Dimensions (in): 9.1 x 6.1 x 1.3
ISBN: 1594489963
Dewey Decimal Number: 818.5403
EAN: 9781594489969
Publication Date: September 16, 2008
Availability: Usually ships in 1-2 business days
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| Customer Reviews:
 Good writing, but pieces are cobbled together and the seams show November 15, 2008
0 out of 1 found this review helpful
The subtitle hints at a different direction for this interesting but overly-long book: a series or collection of essays on Acedia (Acedia & Me, Acedia & Writing, Monks on Acedia, Acedia & Marriage, etc.).
 Why are we so depressed? November 3, 2008
3 out of 3 found this review helpful
I have long harbored an intuition that the desert fathers and mothers have provided humanity with some of the keenest insights into the depths of the human conidion. Kathleen Norris in her newest book Acedia and Me: A Marriage, Monks and a Writer's Life, demonstrates a similar intuition, as she probes the little-known temptation acedia, which - although its usage has all but ceased in the English language - is alive and well in our consumer culture. What is acedia? Well, considering that Norris devotes a 40+ page appendix to laying out definitions and illustrations from historic and literary sources, one could say that acedia is hard to nail down. In brief, acedia comes from Greek roots that denote a lack of caring and could be described as a sapping of energy, motivation and focus that often leads to a restlessness culminating in "a hatred for the place, a hatred for [one's] very life [and] a hatred for manual labor" (xv) - to use the words of the fourth century monk Evagrius. The desert monks found that acedia often set in during the heat of the mid-day hours, which also led some to refer to it as "the noon-day demon."
Norris uses her own life, and particularly the story of her marriage to the late poet David Dwyer, as a framework to explore the multi-faceted temptations of acedia in the present age. Thus, her writing style follows in the pattern established in her previous autobiographical works including Dakota and The Cloister Walk. Her crystalline prose penetrates to the heart of the reader and her frequent illustrations from history (in this case, especially those from the monastic tradition) and literature draw the reader into a grand conversation about temptation, sin, desire, grace and hope - i.e., the fundamental elements of human nature. One of the key themes of this book is an exploration of the dynamics of the relationship between acedia and depression. From the definition given above, on can easily see the parallels, but Norris warns us early in the book that "It is an easy temptation to equate acedia and depression" (20). Thus, although frequently returning to her explorations of how the two interact, she is clear to draw the distinction between the spiritual experience (acedia) and the medical condition (depression). And therefore, she recognizes that sometimes one needs to treat the medical symptoms with therapy and/or pharmaceuticals in addition to addressing acedia with the three traditional monastic non-negotiables: community, stability and prayer. Norris's wisdom here should be taken to heart: let us first recognize and address the temptation of acedia by being rooted in community, stability and prayer. If then, the symptoms of depression are still unbearable, then let us explore medical therapies. How often do we jump to the pursuit of the latter, when we are unwilling to work through the real or perceived challenges of the former!
As we noted above in Evagrius's definition of acedia, one facet of acedia is the temptation to hate manual labor. As Norris is quick to point out, our middle-class American lifestyle is particularly vulnerable to this temptation. We have the capacity to pass off the daily work of life onto others or to "labor-saving" devices. Thus, Norris's chapter on the "quotidian mysteries" is perhaps one of the most pointed in the book. Here she asks the vital question: "Could we regard repetition as a saving grace, one that keeps returning us to essential understandings that we can discover in no other way?" (187). Norris goes on to observe that her experience is that the rhythm of repetitive actions lends itself well to contemplation and prayer. She would no doubt concur with the farmer and poet Liberty Hyde Bailey, who keenly observed that "to love and to work is to pray."
There is also a powerful undercurrent of cultural criticism in Acedia and Me, lurking ominously beneath the surface at every turn of Norris' narrative. For instance, one could ask the relevant question: "Why do so many people today experience depression-like symptoms?" While Norris does not directly answer this question, in exploring acedia, she reminds us how vulnerable we are to this temptation. The monastics, she notes, resisted acedia with three non-negotiable practices: community, stability and prayer. We, on the other hand, go to great extremes to resist these three practices. We resist community, instead glorifying individualism; our selfish ambitions and constant mobility shatter hopes of stability; in the increasing secularization of our culture and in our middle-class opposition to menial work, we find ourselves resistant to prayer. It is little wonder then that we have such little capacity for resisting the temptation of acedia!
Kathleen Norris has offered us here one of the finest books of 2008, deeply probing some of our cultural neuroses, and yet at the same time pointing us to the rooted wisdom of the monastics, which shines the light of hope in the midst of our individual and cultural brokenness. Indeed, the essence of the monastic tradition is to remind us that God is redeeming all of Creation through the formation of a contrast society. Acedia and Me is essential reading for the Church as we seek to understand the nature of Christian obedience in the present age, but it is especially important for those with a calling to (or at least a fascination with) new or traditional monasticism, in that it describes in depth one of the fundamental temptations that would shatter community and render as impotent our witness to the transforming Gospel of Christ.
This review originally appeared in
THE ENGLEWOOD REVIEW OF BOOKS, Vol 1, #41.
 Disappointed October 31, 2008
7 out of 10 found this review helpful
The book is like the subtitle as all of these areas were addressed---in a drop- in fashion. Continuity was hard to come by. The beginning of the book read much like an academic work with references within the text. Maybe the author felt she needed to prove Acedia exists. I don't think she had to do that. I was overwhelmed with numerous quotes (always giving credits) that seemed, at times, redundant and distracting. This author is really well read!! She is also well engaged in her religious life. That, some how, kept me separate from the K. Norris I remember from her first book "Dakota", for instance. I am glad K. Norris used her professional reputation in getting the word out on Acedia but I think the editor dropped the ball in how the material was put together. I liked the subject but can't recommend the book.
Brave and Real October 29, 2008
3 out of 4 found this review helpful
Kathleen Norris brings back into the postmodern consciousness an ancient concept that opens readers to a seemingly new path of looking at themselves and the world. By bringing the personal alongside extensive literary research, she shares an honest portrayal of what so many have experienced when confronted with the reality of our lives. Her honest assessment of her own fight with acedia is inspirational and personally thought provoking. In a culture where psychological diagnoses occur in fifteen minute interludes with primary care physicians, Norris gives fertile soil for learning from the very things that we so often run from. If you appreciated her previous works, you will feel right at home sitting down with her for another conversation full of wisdom and discernment.
Fascinating insight into a forgotten sin October 26, 2008
2 out of 3 found this review helpful
Acedia -- a spiritual state of soul-weariness, boredom, or perhaps even wilful depression -- is hardly the kind of topic I would expect to see an entire book devoted to; not even a book by an author renowned for her keen insight into the ongoing relevance of monastic spirituality in our time. But Kathleen Norris is capable, like few other authors I know of who are writing today, to unpack this mysterious concept and make it not only recognizable, but even urgently relevant, to both the spiritual and secular landscapes of our time. Norris does not revel in the kind of so-honest-it-hurts candor that characterizes the confessional writing of an Anne Lamott, but rather offers a calm yet steady narrative in which she recounts not only her own lifelong struggle with boredom and depression -- but also the much more dramatic story of her husband, whose struggle with depression, attempt at suicide, lengthy battle with failing health, and eventual demise at age 57 proves to be a compelling account against which she dissects her own ongoing struggle with acedia. Norris has a rare gift of being able to combine a genuine, heartfelt faith with a keen critical recognition that ours is an age that is too depressed or cynical or bored to believe (yes, I'm choosing those words on purpose). Consequently, not only is her insight into her own faith candid and honest, but her evocation of the link between acedia and unbelief is vital. This book soars when Norris does what she does best -- tells a story -- and is a bit less engaging when she gets theological. Still, her poetic voice not only brings this particular ancient concept of sin to life, but she makes quite a strong case for rethinking much of how we see our contemporary world, in the light of acedia. I don't know that I'll ever be able to listen to Kurt Cobain scream "Entertain us!" the same way again. For that primal yell may not be merely the pout of a bored generation, but rather a cry for help within a world where soul-weariness has all but triumphed on a universal scale.
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