It’s been a month since we returned from the mountains. They are the only thing I know that so perfectly represents the treasured familiar and the fair unknown. My mountains are the backdrop to most of my childhood, cozy, welcoming, mysterious and a bit terrifying. A bit like a romp with Aslan.
Speaking of the fair unknown, I read about it in the mountains-The Quest for the Fair Unknown, that is by (of course) Gerald Morris. Ok. I can’t even write all I want to about this, mostly because I no longer have the book. Two things.
1) Morris creates a thoroughly lovely character in the protagonist, a you man grown up in isolation, whose innocence is both a source of hilarity and insight. Unfamiliar with customs and structures most take for granted, his simple, straightforward perceptions usually reveal how silly these things can be. This kid isn’t stupid.
2) Oh my. Morris pokes so much fun at religious legalism and more. Not true religion, mind; like his protagonist, the author cuts through the frivolous to show the true center of charity and faith. I both laughed out loud and winced several times.
(As usual) I feel like I didn’t get to fully digest everything before the book went home. I’d love to find out how much of the characters and storyline originate in Arthurian legend. Morris has a knack for pulling and weaving some serious messages from out of and into these tales.