The Editors' best of 2023
We never know, when we start reading, listening to, or watching a work of literature, music, or film (or something in between) what will strike us the most, sit with us the longest—and, perhaps, shape us most deeply. In 2023, Fare Forward’s editors found inspiration in a wide variety of places, and we hope you’ll find something to pique your interest too. Do let us know.
By the Editors
Poetry and Theology in the Modernist Period by Anthony Domestico
I had the great pleasure of auditing a poetry class offered by Dartmouth’s Religion Department this summer, and though I enjoyed everything we read for the class (I must pause to heartily recommend both J.L. Carr’s brief novel A Month in the Country and Catherine Randall’s lovely, accessible Hopkins biography, A Heart Lost in Wonder), I was surprised to find that what I’ve been thinking about the most since the class ended is Anthony Domestico’s volume of literary criticism. It is one of the best-written academic books I’ve read in a long time, and I read it cover to cover even though only asked to cover two chapters for class. Domestico’s deep knowledge of both poetry and theology is impressive, and his argument for the real, serious influence of contemporary theological thinkers on the poets T.S. Eliot, David Jones, and W.H. Auden was thorough, lively, and convincing. Finally, reading Poetry and Theology in the Modernist Period has led me to pick up the works of Jones and Jacques Maritain, and to delve into Eliot’s prose, over the last several months. It is delightful to finish a book feeling both better informed and invited to continue further up and further in. —Sarah Clark, Editor-in-Chief
Get a copy here.
I have long been interested in different media and what it means for content to be native—or adapted—to a particular medium.
Miracle and Wonder: Conversations with Paul Simon by Malcolm Gladwell
I have long been interested in different media and what it means for content to be native—or adapted—to a particular medium, and I found Malcolm Gladwell’s Miracle and Wonder: Conversations with Paul Simon wholly unique. Not quite an audio book (adapted from print) but neither a podcast (native to audio), Gladwell’s interview with Paul Simon couldn’t exist in any other form. He weaves his voice-over sections with clips from his recorded sessions with Simon, capturing both the formal, organized reflections and the casual, intimate back and forth with the subject. More importantly, the recordings capture the riffs and snippets of music Simon intersperses in their conversation—a pivotal part of understanding Simon’s process. Moreover, hearing Simon play as he speaks about the evolution of his work elevates the exploration of creative genius in general and the musical artform specifically, because, rather than simply reading about it, you experience how that creativity manifests in Simon’s particular medium. Ultimately, Miracle and Wonder offers a window into the inner workings of creativity and innovation, through the eyes—and in the voice—of one of the 20th and 21st century’s greatest artistic talents. —Sara Holston, Managing Editor
Listen along here.
I wasn’t going to find the book I personally needed on a systematic theology shelf.
The Third Renunciation by Matthew E. Henry
“Henry’s poems articulate the thoughts we’re afraid to chase and the prayers we dare not pray. Moreover, his language, imagery, and music are as riveting as the questions he asks. This book gripped me from the first page and will still not let me go.”
I wrote that blurb for The Third Renunciation last year, when I was blessed to read the manuscript before its publication. Here we are almost eighteen months later, and I remain captivated by this book. In a year filled with mass shootings, hate crimes, and wars, I craved a book on theodicy. But I wasn’t going to find the book I personally needed on a systematic theology shelf. Instead, I reread Henry’s poems. This year, I waffled between screams and silence in the face of evil, and these poems manage to articulate both responses. They continue to haunt me in the best way; they challenge, bolster, and confound me all at once. Most importantly, their beauty echoes the grace that can wrestle my soul through its dark night. —Whitney Rio-Ross, Poetry Editor
Get a copy here.
I’m a sucker for narratives that center on friendship.
Close, directed by Lucas Dhont
I’m a sucker for narratives that center on friendship. Bonus points if we get a realistic portrayal of how and why friendships can fracture, without headache-inducing plot contrivance as the instigating factor. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I don’t get many opportunities to dole those points out, but when I saw Lucas Dhont’s Close in theaters, I wanted to throw an Oscar’s worth at the screen. Set in rural, French-speaking Belgium, the film chronicles how an intimate friendship between two thirteen-year-old boys slowly disintegrates in the face of subtle social pressures. Dhont’s naturalistic and immersive filmmaking refracts the conflicted inner worlds of his adolescent characters, giving an incisive language to the pain and confusion of innocence lost. Even when a midpoint story development thrusts the film into a heightened darkness that partially overwhelms its grounded emotional throughline, the questions that Close raises—about socioemotional development, about why society nurtures some relationships and erodes others—remain powerfully stated. —Jake Casale, Editor
Find it here.
