Tracey Rowland exhorts us to recover the weirdness of a sacramental, enchanted worldview as an antidote to “correlationism” (h/t to Bishop Erik Varden):

…pastoral strategists who spent decades promoting sacro-pop music and folk liturgies and modernized prayer books and manuals of ethical behavior devoid of any reference to God, grace, or sacrality, just “principles”, woke up to find themselves surrounded by a generation who want to study scholasticism, attend liturgies in Latin and, in the context of ethics, want to know how this or that act impacts upon their relationship with God.

The very “weirdness” of things pre-modern is part of what makes them different and thus attractive to those of post-modern sensibilities. It’s a little like the difference between going into a coffee shop on some cobbled street of old Catholic Europe, with its not-to-be-found anywhere-else-in-the-world ambience and picking up a coffee at Starbucks. Those who were young in the 60s may have been excited by the proliferation of modern chain stores, replicated in every town in the country, but today’s youth are bored by this. If, for example, it’s the Feast of the Epiphany, they like receiving a little packet of blessed chalk from their parish priest so they can write the initials of the three magi—Caspar, Melchior,and Balthasar and Christus Mansionem Benedicat (May Christ bless this house)—above their doorposts.

Whoever attacks a brother in need, or plots against him in his weaknesses of any sort, surely fulfills the devil’s law and subjects himself to it.

— Blessed Isaac of Stella, Office of Readings, 5th Saturday of Ordinary Time

Thoughts on Pedro Páramo:

I liked it a lot. The narrative is non-linear which made it a challenging read in Spanish. I leaned heavily on plot summaries and occasional AI queries to make sure I wasn’t missing the thread. Will probably watch the Netflix adaptation this weekend while it’s still fresh on my mind and am curious about how they’ll handle some of the weirder stuff. I found myself reaching for the dictionary frequently, but rather than a Spanish-English dictionary, I’ve decided to switch a conventional dictionary (in Spanish). I used the online version of the DLE but have a hard-copy version on the way. It’s shipping from Germany, which I think is sort of funny, and will be here some time in March. Some of the scenes are just indelible in their weirdness, particularly the narrator’s meeting with the brother and sister about midway through. I won’t go into much more detail. If you know, you know.

I’ve started El llano en llamas (“The Burning Plain”), which is a collection of Rulfo’s short stories. I’m finding some of these even more challenging than the novella. I looked up one word in the dictionary and couldn’t find it, so I used Google and nearly all the hits were from people posting the text of the story. Back to context clues and educated guesses. The story was El hombre and the word was “engarruñándose,” in case you’re wondering.

I caught a reference in one of the short stories to Media Luna, which is an important locale in Pedro Páramo. I did some digging and, sure enough, Rulfo set his stories in a fictionalized version of his native Jalisco, along the lines of Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha, thought without the persistent family stuff. I’ve written here before about fictional geographies and the weird itch that the tend to scratch for me, so it was gratifying to add another page to my mental atlas of “Places That Are Real But Also Not Real.”

I can also tell you that reading stories set in a place which is always warm - where the sun, shadows, and heat play a large part in the mood - as we stare down another cold snap with snow in the forecast has been just terrific for my general mood. And, you know, the pictures of Jalisco I’m seeing online are perfectly lovely

I’m about halfway through Pedro Páramo. It’s slower-going than Borges—I have to check words and phrases more often. The story is also very surreal, with many shifts in time and place. Last night, I noticed that Netflix released a movie adaptation last year, so I’ll watch it after I’ve finished.

Katherine Rundell answers the question, Why children’s books? (h/t AL Daily)

There’s no doubt that reading for pleasure as a child can change your life. It is a key predictor of economic success later in life. But the main reason to help children seek out books is this: if you cut a person off from reading, you’re a thief. You cut them off from the song that humanity has been singing for thousands of years. You cut them off from what we have laid out for the next generation, and the next. It’s in the technology of writing that we’ve preserved our boldest, most original thought, our best jokes and most generous comfort. To fail to do everything we can to help children hear that song is a cruelty – and a stupidity – for which we should not expect to be forgiven. We need to be infinitely more furious that there are children without books.