James Wood

A witty and poignant family memoir – the acclaimed literary critic unravels the mystery of his father, and, in the process, anatomises post-war English class, faith and ambition ‘He had been, in all the important ways, an impeccable father. And he had been, in all the important ways, a terrible son.’ James Wood grew up in a household shaped by evangelical fervour, social ambition and the peculiar faultlines of English class. His mother, Sheila, was anxious, aspirational and determined to elevate her family, whatever the cost. His father, Dennis, was mild, generous and so selfless that his son sometimes wondered whether he possessed a self at all. And yet Dennis had a secret. An atheist turned Anglican vicar, devoted husband and generous father, he had left his own family behind and never spoke of them. In this piercing, funny memoir, Wood reflects on the story of his childhood in 1970s Durham and sets out to uncover the hidden life that preceded it, asking how a loving family man could refuse his past. The result is a tender portrait of a complicated household – and a richly observed story of faith, shame, ambition and the English post-war consciousness.

Gone are the flat-earth days of scientific rationalism. Humans, it turns out, are naturally hungry for mystery, magic, faith. There have been laments about disenchantment and calls for re-enchantment. Many who forsake traditional religion are drawn to spiritualism and pagan beliefs and practices. Christians, meanwhile, have always affirmed that there is more than meets our eyes, that our world is teeming with angels and demons, powers and principalities, signs and wonders. The “supernatural” is real; in fact, it’s entirely natural. Whether you believe it or not, there are powers you should rightly fear, and one you should serve. On this theme: Joy Marie Clarkson debunks the idea that our world needs re-enchantment. Andrew Davison surveys the unseen world’s place in our cosmology. Alison Milbank considers the matter of angels as creatures like and unlike us. Carlos Eire talks about what drew him to accounts of flying saints. Fleming Rutledge says true preaching is letting the Holy Spirit speak through you. Rachel Pieh Jones recounts dreams of Jesus that changed two lives continents apart. Charles E. Moore tells a story of demon possession, revival, and miraculous healings that weren’t coincidental. Benjamin Crosby asks what “gifts of the spirit” should mark the follower of Jesus. Also in this issue: André Trocmé tells how his town offered sanctuary to thousands of Jews facing deportation. Anti-Nazi theologian Henri de Lubac has a message for today’s Christian nationalists. Mary Townsend gives up her smartphone and starts noticing things. Hannah Rose Thomas paints portraits of mothers who survived the Srebrenica massacre. The winning poems in Plough’s fifth annual Rhina Espaillat Poetry Award. Plough Quarterly features stories, ideas, and culture for people eager to apply their faith to the challenges we face. Each issue includes in-depth articles, interviews, poetry, book reviews, and art.

A tortured young boy navigates his life through emotional and physical turmoil. He leans not into his own understanding of the circumstances. He gains courage to appreciate all the adventures life has dealt him. Forming a community base, strong love, true faith, and a friendship with God, he now can express and share compassion, love, care, hope, and forgiveness.

Reprint of the original, first published in 1859. The publishing house Anatiposi publishes historical books as reprints. Due to their age, these books may have missing pages or inferior quality. Our aim is to preserve these books and make them available to the public so that they do not get lost.

Reprint of the original, first published in 1859. The publishing house Anatiposi publishes historical books as reprints. Due to their age, these books may have missing pages or inferior quality. Our aim is to preserve these books and make them available to the public so that they do not get lost.

Reprint of the original, first published in 1874.