Readers expecting a tour de force of church history shouldn't. The question for Wills is this: Why do we need the church or Pope Francis to remind us of God’s love?
Through the eyes of a middle-aged alcoholic grandson of an Auschwitz survivor, Michel Raub's fifth novel contemplates the infinite ways humans torment each other.
Wendell Berry and Gary Snyder's correspondence narrates the tension between a place-based way of life and the travel schedule of a prominent writer, beautifully.
Samet’s memoir has a bone to pick with American society and the Army itself—both, she believes, failed her former West Point cadets, soldiers who never returned.
In Matthiessen's final book, a professor spends a week at Auschwitz with aggrieved Jews, guilt-ridden Christians, observant Buddhists, and analytical secularists.
If you can’t choose to have a child the way you choose dessert, how can you choose rationally? L.A. Paul reveals the problem of foresight and modern decision-making.
Through exposing Pope Francis's accomplishments, Ivereigh lovingly presents “the concrete Catholic thing” as something that has the power to create true solidarity.
Tushnet's memoir illuminates a theology of friendship, the outward-looking call to love and serve, devotions to troubled saints, and a healthy anti-clericalism.
How can it be true both that a person can be virtuous regardless of faith, and that faith is crucial for how we live? David Decosimo presents "prophetic Thomism."
In Pfau's account, when 13th century Franciscan theologian William of Ockham separated reason from will, it was the beginning of the modern evacuation of the self.
The Catholic painter Peter Paul Rubens presents a particular challenge to classification—decorative, theatrical, busy, pagan, and only superficially Christian.
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