Books

E. E. Cummings and James Laughlin didn’t write with metaphysical or philosophical ambition. But that doesn’t mean their poetry doesn’t matter.

The feast  of resources on discipleship, faith and work, and theologies of vocation continues to grow. Doug Koskela provides another serving, this one intended for young adults.

In many books, the Jim Crow era is mediated through the sensibilities of white people. Jim Auchmutey shrewdly avoids this.

The setup sounds like a medieval soap opera. But Robyn Cadwallader knows far too much about the 13th century to write an anachronistic romance.

“I am fascinated by the war between what is best in our natures and what is worst.”

Ron Rash’s stories emerge from the Smoky Mountains, where his protagonists often reach for a mystery beyond their own understanding.

There are no heroes in Alex Beam’s tale of the killing of Mormon founder Joseph Smith.

Many people have an intuition that the natural world shows purpose, order, or providence. Benjamin Jantzen does a marvelous job analyzing the attempts to turn that intuition into arguments.

For nonbelievers, John Philip Newell's new book might serve as an introduction to Christianity at its mildest and least challenging.

Whatever its connotations, medieval represents half the Christian story to date. Kevin Madigan provides an excellent look at these long centuries.

Jamie Smith has written a string of smart books that explain the significance of contemporary theory for Christian life and ministry. His new field guide to Charles Taylor may be his best.

The essays in this volume provide an accessible and comprehensive introduction to Max Stackhouse's thought, and they raise provocative questions about how we are constructing public theology today.

Richard Rohr and Jon Sweeney, authors of two new books on St. Francis, would be united in their advice to us: forget the statue with the birds.

As Lawrence Wright nicely chronicles, Jimmy Carter faced a daunting task at Camp David in 1978. Carter, Menachem Begin, and Anwar el-Sadat each had much at stake.

Penelope Fitzgerald wrote her first novel at 60 and became famous at 80. "How does she do it?" asked A. S. Byatt. Hermione Lee tries to answer.