One thing Anna Burns, author of the prizewinning 2018 novel Milkman, does astonishingly well in the book is to portray the scary, unsettling realities of being young.

So many novels glamorize youth. One can find so many confident youngsters in books. They know how to make tough decisions, they know how to make and keep friends, and they know how to relax while alone. And they never, ever have an awkward conversation—unless of course it’s perfectly staged and thus not awkward at all.

One might argue that all of these well-adjusted kids should serve as good role models for all the less-adjusted kids of the real world. But this will only be true if those real-world kids don’t see through the farce. And this will only be true if the less-adjusted kids are not actually all that different from the well-adjusted ones. For the kid who’s mainly adjusted, but needs a few tweaks, sure. Such lucky kids might be able to see a better version of themselves in the heroic kids in books. But for the kid with big issues—and what kid has no big issues?!—even the most realistic novels can seem like farfetched fantasies.

I am probably biased in this matter, having grown up as one of those less-adjusted kids myself. Not to mention one of those less-adjusted adults. So for me, it is a relief to read a novel that keeps it real in the areas of social awareness, personal awareness, and level of mutual affinity to one’s world when one hasn’t been in it for all that long.

The protagonist of Milkman is an adult, but only barely so. I could very much identify with her social-emotional state at that age, as described in this passage:

“At eighteen I had no proper understanding of the ways that constituted encroachment. I had a feeling for them, an intuition, a sense of repugnance for some situations and some people, but I did not know intuition and repugnance counted, did not know I had a right not to like, not to have to put up with, anybody and everybody coming near.”

(Yes, she is referring to the man who appeared and drove up in one of his cars, as mentioned in my last blog post.)

Before closing today, I would like to mention that the author keeps it real in other ways, as well—most notably as regards politics. While the terms “Ireland” and “Catholic” are not used even once in the book, Burns is brilliant about making her setting clear. The protagonist, against her will, for she’d rather hide within her nineteenth-century novels, is embroiled in all the politics of her place and time. Burns does not sugarcoat the hard truths of this place and time. Additionally, she tells her story with great respect for humanity, in all its strangeness and variety.

How well adjusted were you as a kid? How well adjusted were you as an adult?

Folks, I have discovered a perfect novel.

Others apparently agree that it’s really great, because it won the 2018 Man Booker Prize. This prize is awarded, according to the Booker Prizes website, to “the best novel of the year written in English and published in the UK or Ireland.” This novel is certainly that . . . or anyway, it is the best of those I have personally read (an admittedly small percentage!).

But I would also argue that it’s one of the best novels of all time: especially as regards flawlessness. Since I was a kid, I have had something of an obsession with perfection. I’m always on the lookout for the perfect can opener, the perfect hybrid bicycle, the perfect cutting board, the perfect pair of running shoes. And the perfect novel.

Those last are few and far between. There are many great, classic novels; but a lot of them are flawed. Huckleberry Finn is one of the best novels ever written in the English language; but its ending is a travesty (see the more in-depth discussion of this and other of the book’s flaws in this article I wrote about books to read before college). The Scarlet Letter is brilliant; but its long sentences and abstruse language can be difficult to ingest. Other great, classic works of literature have powerful components and sections that one can arrive at only by wading through a whole lot of monotonous drivel. Many novels, moreover, are saddled with a boring or gimmicky or inappropriate title, or a cover image that doesn’t quite fit.

The 2018 novel Milkman, by Anna Burns, has none of these defects. This is a novel that feeds the reader a steady diet of insights and delights, from beginning to end.

Let me count this novel’s virtues! The language is wildly original, and yet not too difficult to comfortably read. There are no monotonous segments to wade through: just one fascinating sequence after the next. At one incredible point, the cover image becomes fully and astoundingly clear to the reader; at another, the title becomes so. The ending manages to keep things simultaneously fascinating and real—a technically difficult feat that few authors can pull off.

How did she do it? I don’t know; but I’m excited to share this idea with you today: the idea of adding this one to your reading list. To pique your interest, here’s the gist of the opening setup. This passage is from page 3 of the novel:

“He appeared one day, driving up in one of his cars as I was walking along reading Ivanhoe. Often I would walk along reading books. I didn’t see anything wrong with this but it became something else to be added as further proof against me. ‘Reading-while-walking’ was definitely on the list.”

The novel is propelled ever forward from this seemingly innocuous scene. She is reading-while-walking. What could come of that? He is appearing, driving up in one of his cars. What could come of that?

Both nothing and everything.

In my careless youth, I regularly read while walking, but I do not anymore . . . largely because of what could come of it.

Did you read while walking when you were younger? Do you read while walking nowadays? Why or why not?

At the heart of the book Under the Banner of Heaven, by Jon Krakauer, is a philosophical problem. Coincidentally, it’s the same philosophical problem I encountered earlier this year, when deciding whether to travel to London and Paris.

Revelations

In 1984, as Krakauer explains, brothers Ron and Dan Lafferty worked together to murder another brother’s wife and daughter. They took this action because Ron had received a revelation. He had been taking a class on how to receive revelations from God. He typed out the revelations he received. One of them focused on the importance of murdering several people, among them the two that were soon murdered by him and his brother.

The philosophical problem is this. When you get very silent and pay attention to your mind, or when you pray and listen for a response, or when you wake from an interesting dream, you may receive a revelation. The secular definition of revelation on dictionary.com is “something revealed or disclosed, especially a striking disclosure, as of something not before realized.” Call it the unconscious mind, or call it a god or spirit, or call it the dream world—it’s all the same thing. Perhaps the revelation appears in your mind due to the workings of a higher power, or perhaps it’s a biological process, or perhaps it’s both. In any case, you receive a new perspective on the world and your duties in it, one heretofore unfamiliar to your conscious mind. If you receive a revelation, take it seriously, and act upon it, does that mean you are crazy?

Dreams

I wrote about some of my experiences with dreams in this post about profound dreams that taught me something new about myself. I argued that dreams are worth listening to because, to quote myself, “the unconscious mind often has access to knowledge that the conscious mind does not.”

I elaborated on this topic in this more recent post on a dream about traveling to London and Paris and my decision to act upon that dream. Somehow, as I explained in this post, my unconscious mind synthesized a great deal of information, which meanwhile my conscious mind had not yet synthesized, and presented to me in a dream an unexpectedly original and fascinating idea. Upon waking, I realized that events in my life had aligned. It the perfect year for me to travel solo to Europe. (Under the Banner of Heaven was the book I referred to in that post: the one I finished on the airplane to London.)

The Philosophical Problem

This brings me back to our philosophical problem. Is there any difference between me listening to a particularly powerful dream and acting upon it (thereby vacationing in Europe), and Ron Lafferty listening to a revelation from God and acting upon it (thereby murdering two people)? Here’s how Krakauer presents the problem:

“If Ron Lafferty were declared mentally ill because he obeyed the voice of his God, isn’t everyone who believes in God and seeks guidance through prayer mentally ill as well?”

I would add to that everyone who meditates and dreams and uses insights gained therefrom to navigate their lives.

The conclusion that Krakauer and other experts came to is no, Ron Lafferty is not mentally ill . . . with the possible exception of him exhibiting a diagnosable case of narcissistic personality disorder. However, as Krakauer explains, a large percentage of the population could be properly diagnosed in this way—many of them highly successful in their careers, and the vast majority of them not murderers.

So where did the Lafferty brothers go wrong?

Decisions

I’m going to have to go beyond the analysis in Under the Banner of Heaven to answer this question, because Krakauer leaves the final analysis and judgment up to the reader. But here’s what I think.

If you receive a revelation—no matter whether through meditation, prayer, or dreaming, and no matter whether you attribute it to a higher power or to your unconscious mind—remember that it is just an idea. A revelation is a creative synthesis of a lot of different facts that you are aware of, but have not yet synthesized consciously. It is a new way of looking upon your world and your future.

Your job at that point, as a conscious, thinking individual, is to make a judgement call about that idea. It’s a new idea! It opens up possibilities that you had not seen before! But not every possibility can or should be realized. Some possibilities are not practical, and some possibilities are downright horrific.

And the truth is, revelations can always be interpreted in multiple ways. Your job is not to try to guess, like a slave, what some hidden master wants to passive-aggressively communicate to you, so that you won’t be beaten hereafter. No. Your job is to assess the revelation like you would assess any other idea that you happen to come up with, or that someone else happens to share with you. You can choose to take the idea and live it out in full, or you can choose to change the idea and do something similar yet different, or you can choose to ignore the idea entirely. But the important thing is that you are in control, thinking about the consequences of your actions, and hopefully always striving to make the world a better place.

I am thinking now of the saying “God helps those who help themselves.” There is no instruction manual for life. Not even the most scientific or holy books can tell you what to wear tomorrow evening and whom to meet for dinner. No revelation can tell you that, either.

But books and revelations can give you ideas. And you, with all the power of your conscious mind, can assess those ideas and make the best decisions you can.

While I was preparing to travel to Europe and actually traveling, I did not try to recreate everything that happened in my dream. That would have been ridiculous and probably impossible, and I would have had a miserable time! Instead, I took ideas from my dream that I liked and discarded the rest. In fact, most ideas I gain from dreams I discard immediately. It’s only occasionally that a really good idea comes to me in a dream.

So it’s not crazy to listen to revelations that you receive. What’s crazy—or at least deeply unwise—is to abdicate your natural-born decision-making abilities.

Have you stumbled across any original ideas lately? What do you think of them?

Have you had one of those crazy weeks? Are you toiling for an income? Are there kids to feed and ferry around and read fantastical books to? Did something break and need immediate repair? Did you experience an emotional up-and-down ride? Did a long-lost friend suddenly appear in your life? Did your sock get a hole in it? Did you throw it away, or did you keep it? Was that an emotionally draining decision for you? Is the world and national news bad, or is it worse? Are you looking for space? Space to think, and space to breathe?

I could use some of that, too. I think a short blog post might just be what we all need today. TGIF, and enjoy your weekend, friends.

The inquisitive one was sitting with a group of friends who had gathered to read books together. Some of the friends were old, some were new, some were happy, and some were blue. And one of them was starting to get red in the face. This was a new friend, who had forgotten to bring a book with her.

“Oh no,” she said. “This is embarrassing. Reading silently amidst friends is not going to be very fun without a book.”

“That’s okay, because I brought two books with me,” said the inquisitive one. “I was going to read this red one. Do you want to borrow this blue one?”

“Oh, yes, thank you!” said the new friend.

Soon after that, the group of friends read silently together. When they had stopped reading, the inquisitive one spoke up:

“I’m really enjoying this red book! How do you like that blue book?”

“Oh, this blue book is so good!” exclaimed the new friend. “In fact, this blue book is amazing. I am enjoying it so much. I hate to give it back to you!”

“You can borrow it!” said the inquisitive one. “Just come read with us again and return it to me. I received it as a birthday present and am very excited to read it, as I have never read that one before; but you can read it first.”

“Oh, thank you. You are so kind!” said the new friend.

And when the group of friends parted, the new friend took the blue book with her.

Many months passed, during which the inquisitive one saw no sign or trace of the new friend or the blue book. The inquisitive one thought often of that blue book. It was a trade paperback. Its cover was pristine and the color of the deep sea. Its pages lay flat and crisply together. It was a twentieth-century masterpiece known for its beautiful language and harrowing subject matter. It seemed like the type of book one could fall into and have trouble escaping from.

Alternate Ending #1

The new friend carried the blue book with her everywhere she went. She read a few pages every day. She read in the pool as the grandkids splashed beside her, and she read while walking through a morning mist that turned to drizzle. She read while drinking coffee and accidentally spilling it, and she read while eating those deliciously crumbly butter cookies, the kind that you should never eat in bed unless it’s laundry day and you have not yet done the sheets. She read while riding a Ferris wheel with the grandkids, and she accidentally dropped it while at the highest point. (She had to ask the attendants to retrieve it from the thorny bushes where it had fallen.) She read in the kitchen as her boyfriend cut up a pomegranate and then chopped up some beets, using a macho knife with maximum flourishes and pizza-dough-like tosses for effect. She folded down many of the pages, and she took copious notes in the margins. She tore out the least interesting pages, to teach the grandkids how to make origami cranes.

And finally, after months of reading, she finished the book!

Sometime after that, the new friend showed up at a meeting of the group of friends and handed the blue book to the inquisitive one.

“It was really good,” she said. “Thank you!”

The inquisitive one stared at the book in disbelief.

The inquisitive one opened the mouth, but nothing came out.

“But listen,” said the friend, “I actually ended up with two of these. Would you like this one instead?” And she slid a brand new copy of the book from her purse.

“Oh, haha, sure!” said the inquisitive one, in joy and relief.

And they had a long talk about the grandkids over two glasses of very red wine.

Alternate Ending #2

Unbeknownst to the inquisitive one and the new friend, the spine of the blue book was infested with microscopic worms. As the new friend was reading the book, some of the microscopic worms inched their way up her arms and into her ears. They began feeding on the new friend’s brain cells. The new friend soon lost the memory of ever having gone to the reading group.

“Where did I get this book?” she wondered, while pouring boiling water into the flowerpot instead of her mug.

“What happened at the beginning of this book?” she wondered later on, while reading the book on a Metro train that was quickly moving farther away from her intended destination.

“What is a book?” she wondered even later on, while wandering through a bookstore, looking for the dairy section.

The new friend took very good care of the blue book, but sadly never finished it.

Alternate Ending #3

The new friend finished the blue book within 24 hours. It was that good! Indeed, it was such a powerful novel that it changed the new friend’s life forever. The new friend realized, through the reading of the book, that major life changes must be made, and must be made right now. The new friend had several epiphanies, all prompted by the blue book, within those 24 hours, one of which was that she was living in the wrong country and engaging in the wrong activities. So she packed up the suitcases, grandkids, and boyfriend, and moved to Tonga in the South Pacific. Once there, she enrolled in college courses in real estate law, and signed up for lessons in snowboarding.

The new friend was so engrossed in all of this life upheaval that she was unable to make it back to the reading group in the Washington, D.C., area. Instead, she put a note in a bottle thanking the inquisitive one for introducing her to such a wonderful and powerful and truly life-changing book. She set the bottle off to sea, confident that it would have its own special adventures, too.

Alternate Ending #4

Many months after attending the reading group, the new friend showed up at the reading group again.

“Hi, do you remember me? Here’s your book back,” said the new friend to the inquisitive one. The inquisitive one took the gently used and obviously well-taken-care-of book from her hands, delighted to see that beautiful blue cover again.

“Hi, thanks so much!” said the inquisitive one.

“Sorry I haven’t come to the reading group until now. I finished it long ago, but I got so busy with the grandkids and everything else. I have been meaning to come and return the book to you.”

“It’s okay, no worries! Was it a good book?”

“It started out great! But the ending was kind of blah. Nothing really happened. It just seemed like ordinary life, nothing very exciting or interesting, you know?”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said the inquisitive one.

“It made me wonder, couldn’t the author have written something more entertaining? Why am I reading this? This is putting me to sleep, and it’s not even teaching me anything, either.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said the inquisitive one.

And then they started talking about the new friend’s grandkids.

Their personalities didn’t mesh, and the conversation was somewhat awkward.