Saints and Sinners

In Macbeth and similar plays that show lust for power, characters act selfishly and we’re glad when they die. In some historical works, such as The Forbidden Garden (Scribner publication three days from now, on Oct. 15, 2024), tragic heroes act selflessly and their sacrifice moves us. Simon Parkin’s subtitle, The Botanists of Besieged Leningrad and Their Impossible Choice, shows what happened during the 872 days Germans besieged the Russian city of Leningrad (now St. Petersburg).

From 1941 to 1944 about 700,000 Russians died, mostly of starvation. Among the sufferers were scientists who had developed seeds that would produce heartier and disease-resistant crops suited for harsh climates: Feed themselves and others now, or save the seeds that would feed future generations.

Once, when a small escape hatch opened, plant researcher Grigori Rubtsov and several colleagues gained permission to evacuate. They “trudged across the Liteinly Bridge with heavy bags. Every man and woman walked on swollen feet, a painful symptom of edema, caused by malnutrition…. Rubtsov, like the others, carried packets of seeds under his clothing tied to his body with string.”

The escape was long and miserable. When they finally reached a field hospital, “Rubtsov could not stop shivering. A nurse brought him a bowl of food, every evacuee’s long-promised, long-imagined first hot meal. Rubtsov managed only two spoonfuls, then turned on his side. This, the first meal of freedom, turned out to be his last. Within a few hours, Rubtsov was dead. As the nurse unbuttoned his shirt, she found a package with four pounds of grain tied to his chest. As a Rubtsov colleague explained, ʻHe was carrying seeds. He was keeping them warm.’”

Sönke Johnsen’s Into the Great Wide Ocean: Life in the Least Known Habitat on Earth (Princeton, 2024) also shows appreciation for what God has created. I did not expect it to be engrossing—but here’s an example of the vivid writing that made me read on: “We were surrounded by translucent beings of all kinds, shapes, and sizes, ranging from 30-foot-long trains… to pinkish moon jellies that were a foot across…. It was as if gravity didn’t exist at all. As if we were in outer space, between the galaxies, but everything was lit with blue light…. Its memory still sits with me like a first kiss or the birth of a child.”

Ah, the birth of a child! Anastasia Berg and Rachel Wiseman, in What Are Children For?: On Ambivalence and Choice (St. Martin’s, 2024), say, “People stand to gain many things from parenting a child—some will enjoy ethical growth, others artistic inspiration and intellectual insights…. At the same time, children can take away from us as much or more, turning us haggard, bitter, and resentful.” Isn’t all that a selfish way to approach the subject? Not long ago having children was viewed as an essential experience of life—Why miss out?—as well as something we owe our parents and previous ancestors: Keep the chain moving.

If you prefer livelier writing and the assumption that life is worthwhile, Abigail Shrier’s Bad Therapy: Why the Kids Aren’t Growing Up (Sentinel, 2024) is a better choice for bedtime reading. Shrier says the problem isn’t life but mental health experts who advocate “gentle parenting” that leads some children to lash out, desperate for a parent to take charge. Never spank, never say “knock it off” or “shake it off,” always engage a small child in reasoned discussion: That’s some of the purported expertise wise parents will disregard unless they’re ready to fall into the ultimate wisdom of “spare the rod, drug the child.”

Shrier asks and answers an important question: “Shouldn’t flowers bloom in powdered sugar? Turns out, they grow best in dirt.” 

Briefly Noted

Daniel Handler’s And Then? And Then? What Else? (Liveright, 2024) is an interestingly weird memoir by the author of stereotype-overturning Lemony Snicket books for children and ironic adults. Hansen Shi’s The Expat (Pegasus, 2024) is an espionage novel that doubles as advice: If a Chinese government official offers you an exalted title and lots of money for stealing intellectual property, don’t do it.

Another page-turner, Harriet Crawley’s The Translator (Bitter Lemon Press, 2023), takes us inside the Russian government. Power in Beijing and Moscow grows out of the barrel of a gun, as Mao taught, but in a deeper sense the origin is in Darwinistic materialism—and that doctrine also contributes to what Richard Weikart describes in Unnatural Death: Medicine’s Descent from Healing to Killing (Discovery Institute Press, 2024).