This beautiful book on the Benedictine tradition of praying the Divine Hours presents the daily office as a regular cycle of birth and death. The pre-dawn office of vigils, for which monks stumble to find their places in the dark, represents both the miracle of resurrection and the mundane reality that fixed-hour prayer is work. British monk Barrett prays that he might "want to want to pray," acknowledging that at some core part of his being he does not want God in his life at all—particularly before dawn. The rest of the book is peppered with the same frankness and theological insight. As Barrett walks readers through the cycle of a monastic day, he draws upon writers such as W.H. Auden, Dante Alighieri, William Blake, James Joyce and, of course, St. Benedict. He also culls fascinating examples from commercial art films such as American Beauty
and The Talented Mr. Ripley. He's not afraid to venture into shadow; he compares midday prayer, for example, to a labyrinth—a place where experiences repeat, patterns are formed and things can go awry. The closing chapters beautifully address the traditions of vespers and compline (night prayer), which he calls a service of "dispossession." Far from being a sentimental or relaxing nightcap before slipping off into sleep, compline is at its heart "a reminder of the mystery of death that awaits us all." Bold, intelligent and uncompromising, this sensual primer on monastic spirituality should have broad appeal. (Mar.)
