But this poignant volume is more than a sequel to the runaway best-seller, A Severe Mercy: it is a continuing autobiography, and an engrossing chronicle of Vanauken's writings, and always, a challenge to live the spiritual life. Under the Mercy also mirrors the times during which Vanauken redefined his life. He takes readers through the turbulent sixties, that decade of campus unrest when he—as a college professor—became directly involved in civil rights and the peace movement. Caught up in the Spirit of the Age, Vanauken drifted from the Spirit of God. But gentle nudges from God led him back towards the Obedience. It was a chance rereading of one page of mentor C. S. Lewis that was used as a channel of grace. He corrected his errant course and was soon again under the Mercy. His spiritual journey led him to eventually cross the English channel to Rome and become a Roman Catholic. Under the Mercy is a vivid record of a then wayward disciple's return to the Obedience—an intensely personal and moving story. What a great book Vanauken has written on plain Christianity! It's a fine work. - Dr. Clyde Kilby Thomas Howard remains one of the most insightful and delightful religious writers today. He combines profundity with genuine style. - James Hitchcock, St. Louis University Sheldon Vanauken, author of the best-seller A Severe Mercy, has been a professor of History and English at Lynchburg College, Virginia, and is also the author of Gateway to Heaven.

    There’s a famous piece of writing advice—offered by Ernest Hemingway, Stephen King, and myriad writers in between—not to use -ly adverbs like “quickly” or “fitfully.” It sounds like solid advice, but can we actually test it? If we were to count all the -ly adverbs these authors used in their careers, do they follow their own advice compared to other celebrated authors? What’s more, do great books in general—the classics and the bestsellers—share this trait?In Nabokov’s Favorite Word Is Mauve, statistician and journalist Ben Blatt brings big data to the literary canon, exploring the wealth of fun findings that remain hidden in the works of the world’s greatest writers. He assembles a database of thousands of books and hundreds of millions of words, and starts asking the questions that have intrigued curious word nerds and book lovers for generations: What are our favorite authors’ favorite words? Do men and women write differently? Are bestsellers getting dumber over time? Which bestselling writer uses the most clichés? What makes a great opening sentence? How can we judge a book by its cover? And which writerly advice is worth following or ignoring?

    For reasons of space, the Weekly must often slightly truncate the pieces and also sees fit to change the name of the piece. So, what you read there isn’t always what I sent them. This is one of the reasons I wanted to put this book out. Also, knowing there are a lot of people out there without the time to go to some website and read something every week, I thought it would be a good idea to have the articles all in one place. I hope you enjoy the book and thank you. - Henry

    Subsequent essays include critical work on Gerard Manley Hopkins, William Wordsworth, John Keats, Robert Lowell, William Butler Yeats, John Montague, Patrick Kavanagh, Ted Hughes, Geoffrey Hill, and Philip Larkin.

    Landmarks is about the power of language to shape our sense of place. It is a field guide to the literature of nature, and a glossary containing thousands of remarkable words used in England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales to describe land, nature and weather. Travelling from Cumbria to the Cairngorms, and exploring the landscapes of Roger Deakin, J. A. Baker, Nan Shepherd and others, Robert Macfarlane shows that language, well used, is a keen way of knowing landscape, and a vital means of coming to love it.

    But no matter what his subject, Mr. White always writes about it in a prose that is a joy to read."--New York Times

    From the essay, Standing by Words, Berry writes, “Two epidemic illnesses of our time—upon both of which virtual industries of cures have been founded—are the disintegration of communities and the disintegration of persons. That these two are related (that private loneliness, for example, will necessarily accompany public confusion) is clear enough. What seems not so well understood, because not so much examined, is the relation between these disintegrations and the disintegration of language. My impression is that we have seen, for perhaps a hundred and fifty years, a gradual increase in language that is either meaningless or destructive of meaning. And I believe that this increasing unreliability of language parallels the increasing disintegration, over the same period, of persons and communities.” Out-of-print for more than fifteen years, Standing by Words offers a masterfully written argument for the literary tradition.