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nattynatchan's review against another edition
5.0
"I was born to rock the boat
Some may sink but we will float
Grab your coat, let's get out of here
You're my witness
I'm your mutineer"
- Warren Zevon
Some may sink but we will float
Grab your coat, let's get out of here
You're my witness
I'm your mutineer"
- Warren Zevon
davidsteinsaltz's review against another edition
4.0
An extraordinary accomplishment: a steadfastly negative portrayal of extremist religious upbringing that never abandons sympathy for the parents who imposed it upon him. This account of the intersection of science and Puritanism at the dawn of the Darwinian era is fascinating, and it is one of the most impressive accounts of the power of literature to free the spirit.
silvej01's review against another edition
5.0
An emerging genre of memoirs describes the breaking away of a young person who has been raised in some extreme and/or esoteric religious tradition. Three recent examples of this are Educated by Tara Westover (leaving an extreme Mormon sect), Unorthodox by Deborah Feldman (a Hasidic Jewish sect), and Unfollow, by Megan Phelps-Roper (a violently reactionary Baptist sect). (It seems fitting that some of these memoir titles describing breaking away from the learned religious traditions of their family should begin with the "un" prefix.) Father and Son, first published in 1907, can be regarded as a sort of grandparent to this genre.
In stunningly beautiful prose, Gosse – an English poet, author, and critic – describes his childhood in the 1850s and early ‘60s in an ultra-religious, fundamentalist Christian sect, the Plymouth Brethren. Both his parents were unwavering and outspoken adherents. Edmund was 7 years old, when his mother died at age 50 of cancer. His father and he then moved from London to rural Devon where his father led a congregation of devout followers (“saints”). Gosse’s father was a well-known marine biologist and naturalist and, owing to his fundamentalist beliefs, an adversary of Charles Lyell (who proposed that the Earth was vastly older than any calculations based on the Bible) and Darwin. As his father’s religious life was all-encompassing, so Edmund’s early life was made to be as well. His childhood was almost wholly devoted to the study of and observance to a literal understanding of the Bible. He had required hours of daily Bible study, unending recitations of testaments of his faith, and virtually no contact with peers. In keeping with his father’s fieldwork and studies, Edmund was allowed to take an interest in the natural world, but his early education precluded many secular subjects. A particular prohibition was exposure to fictional prose of any variety – after all, such made-up descriptions of the world might lead one astray from the singular veracity of the Bible.
The father’s strong expectation was not only that Edmund would remain a strident member of the Brethren, but that he would be a shining leader of it. Owing to his precocious aptitude and apparent religious zeal, he was given the status of a full-fledged “saint” at age 10, an unprecedented young age for such a weighty status, and it came with even more burdensome religious responsibilities. That he might never assume this leadership for which he was being groomed was possible however, since the final ascension of the Plymouth Brethren saints to heaven was believed to be imminent (but salvation would not be given even to those sincere Christian souls who, however devout and full of faith, made the unfortunate intellectual mistake to subscribe to a different Protestant theology). Starting in his pre-teen years and intertwined with his sincerely effortful but never quite heartfelt faith, Edmund finds himself straying. He begins an internal, unspoken, and almost unconscious questioning of the inviolable religious tenets it is his responsibility to truly believe and uphold. Slowly and rather gently, he begins to discover literature, art, and the outside world, and emerge from the religious straitjacket imposed on him by his father.
From Wikipedia I learned that a recent study of Gosse’s father’s works* found that the author's portrait of his father is “riddled with error, distortion, contradictions, unwarranted claims, misrepresentation, abuse of the written record, and unfamiliarity with the subject." Perhaps so, but despite his ultimate and definitive rejection of his father’s religious beliefs and parental methods, I was moved by the obvious continuing love and even respect the author, at age 60 or so, still had for his then deceased father (he died in 1888), despite their divergent ideas and, as Gosse puts it, temperaments.
Of course, I wouldn’t have turned to this (audio)book had I not had some hopes of finding it interesting, but it greatly exceeded all my expectations. I quite loved it. Gosse’s language is elegant. He conveys a wide range of complex feelings with eloquence, subtlety, and exquisite precision. He is also very funny. There were many moments when his dry wit had me laughing at loud. It probably didn’t hurt that the late Geoffrey Palmer was outstanding as the reader of this first-person narrative. I found myself experiencing the book as if the now elderly and scholarly Mr. Edmund Gosse was sitting comfortably in the House of Lords library, where he was in fact the librarian, and with great erudition, telling me about his unusual religious upbringing and his finding his way out.
*D. Wertheimer, "A Son and His Father: Edmund Gosse's Comments and Portraits, 1875-1910," Nineteenth-Century Prose 48 [Spring/Fall 2021], 45-92
In stunningly beautiful prose, Gosse – an English poet, author, and critic – describes his childhood in the 1850s and early ‘60s in an ultra-religious, fundamentalist Christian sect, the Plymouth Brethren. Both his parents were unwavering and outspoken adherents. Edmund was 7 years old, when his mother died at age 50 of cancer. His father and he then moved from London to rural Devon where his father led a congregation of devout followers (“saints”). Gosse’s father was a well-known marine biologist and naturalist and, owing to his fundamentalist beliefs, an adversary of Charles Lyell (who proposed that the Earth was vastly older than any calculations based on the Bible) and Darwin. As his father’s religious life was all-encompassing, so Edmund’s early life was made to be as well. His childhood was almost wholly devoted to the study of and observance to a literal understanding of the Bible. He had required hours of daily Bible study, unending recitations of testaments of his faith, and virtually no contact with peers. In keeping with his father’s fieldwork and studies, Edmund was allowed to take an interest in the natural world, but his early education precluded many secular subjects. A particular prohibition was exposure to fictional prose of any variety – after all, such made-up descriptions of the world might lead one astray from the singular veracity of the Bible.
The father’s strong expectation was not only that Edmund would remain a strident member of the Brethren, but that he would be a shining leader of it. Owing to his precocious aptitude and apparent religious zeal, he was given the status of a full-fledged “saint” at age 10, an unprecedented young age for such a weighty status, and it came with even more burdensome religious responsibilities. That he might never assume this leadership for which he was being groomed was possible however, since the final ascension of the Plymouth Brethren saints to heaven was believed to be imminent (but salvation would not be given even to those sincere Christian souls who, however devout and full of faith, made the unfortunate intellectual mistake to subscribe to a different Protestant theology). Starting in his pre-teen years and intertwined with his sincerely effortful but never quite heartfelt faith, Edmund finds himself straying. He begins an internal, unspoken, and almost unconscious questioning of the inviolable religious tenets it is his responsibility to truly believe and uphold. Slowly and rather gently, he begins to discover literature, art, and the outside world, and emerge from the religious straitjacket imposed on him by his father.
From Wikipedia I learned that a recent study of Gosse’s father’s works* found that the author's portrait of his father is “riddled with error, distortion, contradictions, unwarranted claims, misrepresentation, abuse of the written record, and unfamiliarity with the subject." Perhaps so, but despite his ultimate and definitive rejection of his father’s religious beliefs and parental methods, I was moved by the obvious continuing love and even respect the author, at age 60 or so, still had for his then deceased father (he died in 1888), despite their divergent ideas and, as Gosse puts it, temperaments.
Of course, I wouldn’t have turned to this (audio)book had I not had some hopes of finding it interesting, but it greatly exceeded all my expectations. I quite loved it. Gosse’s language is elegant. He conveys a wide range of complex feelings with eloquence, subtlety, and exquisite precision. He is also very funny. There were many moments when his dry wit had me laughing at loud. It probably didn’t hurt that the late Geoffrey Palmer was outstanding as the reader of this first-person narrative. I found myself experiencing the book as if the now elderly and scholarly Mr. Edmund Gosse was sitting comfortably in the House of Lords library, where he was in fact the librarian, and with great erudition, telling me about his unusual religious upbringing and his finding his way out.
*D. Wertheimer, "A Son and His Father: Edmund Gosse's Comments and Portraits, 1875-1910," Nineteenth-Century Prose 48 [Spring/Fall 2021], 45-92
dimmie's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
malinda_nevitt's review against another edition
4.0
I had to read this for my Darwin class, I'm not sure if I liked it or if it I liked it because it wasn't Darwin. But I enjoyed it.
temsu's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
slow-paced
4.25
febyidrus's review against another edition
4.0
Well written in the Victorian manner, and a fascinating double portrait of Gosse and his Puritan scientist father.
flippanta's review against another edition
3.0
Book Riot 2020 Read Harder Challenge:
Task #12. Read a memoir by someone from a religious tradition (or lack of religious tradition) that is not your own
Task #12. Read a memoir by someone from a religious tradition (or lack of religious tradition) that is not your own