Learning to Walk in the Dark

On the cover of Taylor’s well-wrought guidebook, the light of the moon gives trees slim shadows, poppies bleed on the ground, and an owl gazes, as the book’s title laces itself among the trees. Taylor (An Altar in the World) observes these moonlit elements well: “I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light...,” she writes. Ever the teacher (Piedmont College and Columbia Theological Seminary), she passes on her knowledge, whether purposefully studied or accidentally absorbed, of living with loss. Among these lunar lessons are antipathy to “full solar spirituality,” that is, seeing God as light alone, leaving dark to the devil; and sympathy toward the ever-changing moon (imagined as a Sabbath bride, she mirrors the soul better than does the steady sun). Taylor considers “endarkenment,” light bulbs, blotted stars, and Our Lady of the Underground beneath Chartres Cathedral. Taylor’s intimate voice makes good points and asks good questions, especially in the last chapter’s dialogue. She writes exemplars of exposition (narration, description, argumentation), and pens poetry in her similes and metaphors. Agent: Tom Grady. (Apr.)