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brice_mo's review
4.0
Christian Wiman’s Zero at the Bone: Fifty Entries Against Despairis a worthwhile and overwhelming follow-up to the themes of My Bright Abyss and He Held Radical Light.
The book’s title begs to be misread—I anticipated these pieces forming a dam-like barrier “against despair,” but it’s more accurate to say that they are bumping “against” it the way one bumps against a person in a crowd. They are about learning how to make room and take room in equal measure, offering complication where readers may crave simplicity.
Simplicity is not Christian Wiman’s style.
His understanding of faith is not so much the affirmation of God as it is the acceptance of loss. It is unconcerned with belief because, if there is a God, their self-belief is presumably sufficient for everyone. As such, Wiman’s flavor of Christianity is disinterested in avoiding or explaining the human condition; instead, it is eternally preoccupied with becoming unconditionally human. This is an apophatic, companionable nihilism without the corresponding cynicism one might expect. This is Nietzsche and Weil walking hand-in-hand. It’s quite a cathartic read, particularly in a religious climate that seems interested in the world only insomuch as it can procure sociopolitical power. If Wiman’s Christianity had its way, there would be no Christendom—this is religion whose primary goal is to be free of religion.
I love Wiman’s work, but I can’t deny that it’s occasionally exhausting. Readers will be swept away in some of these sentences as they spiral beyond meaning and into feeling. It’s to be expected, as the author’s theology is profoundly bored by “meaning” in a traditional sense, but it can still read as self-indulgent. His editorial strengths are in synthesizing ideas from different authors and artists but not necessarily in economy of language. Likewise, as much as I admire Wiman as an essayist, his poetry always strikes me as needlessly esoteric, and the poetic entries in this book feel disruptive. They feel like an attempt to escape what the rest of the book endeavors to explore.
Even so, I think Zero at the Bone has something to offer for all readers, regardless of religious background. Christian Wiman invites us to parse out whether contentment in our beliefs is merely veneered complacency, but he is just as skeptical of those who console themselves with devout skepticism (@me). Readers looking for some sort of oasis in their existential wasteland will not find it here, but they may be better prepared to inhabit the desert a while longer.
The book’s title begs to be misread—I anticipated these pieces forming a dam-like barrier “against despair,” but it’s more accurate to say that they are bumping “against” it the way one bumps against a person in a crowd. They are about learning how to make room and take room in equal measure, offering complication where readers may crave simplicity.
Simplicity is not Christian Wiman’s style.
His understanding of faith is not so much the affirmation of God as it is the acceptance of loss. It is unconcerned with belief because, if there is a God, their self-belief is presumably sufficient for everyone. As such, Wiman’s flavor of Christianity is disinterested in avoiding or explaining the human condition; instead, it is eternally preoccupied with becoming unconditionally human. This is an apophatic, companionable nihilism without the corresponding cynicism one might expect. This is Nietzsche and Weil walking hand-in-hand. It’s quite a cathartic read, particularly in a religious climate that seems interested in the world only insomuch as it can procure sociopolitical power. If Wiman’s Christianity had its way, there would be no Christendom—this is religion whose primary goal is to be free of religion.
I love Wiman’s work, but I can’t deny that it’s occasionally exhausting. Readers will be swept away in some of these sentences as they spiral beyond meaning and into feeling. It’s to be expected, as the author’s theology is profoundly bored by “meaning” in a traditional sense, but it can still read as self-indulgent. His editorial strengths are in synthesizing ideas from different authors and artists but not necessarily in economy of language. Likewise, as much as I admire Wiman as an essayist, his poetry always strikes me as needlessly esoteric, and the poetic entries in this book feel disruptive. They feel like an attempt to escape what the rest of the book endeavors to explore.
Even so, I think Zero at the Bone has something to offer for all readers, regardless of religious background. Christian Wiman invites us to parse out whether contentment in our beliefs is merely veneered complacency, but he is just as skeptical of those who console themselves with devout skepticism (@me). Readers looking for some sort of oasis in their existential wasteland will not find it here, but they may be better prepared to inhabit the desert a while longer.
catherineofalx's review
i also live in this genre of “essay-poem-annotated bibliography-intense relationship with God-wow trauma” and it’s good here actually
bibliocyclist's review
challenging
informative
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
4.5
How is suffering akin to joy? What is progress, and how do we render it visible? What are the textures of time? Does art pursue not so much the physical world as the force that forces the pursuit itself? Is a successful poem one that contains “imaginary gardens with real toads in them”? To join the pursuit, to commune with the toads, to sink your hands into time and knead it, to suffer and finally to rejoice, check out Zero at the Bone: Fifty Entries Against Despair, a trans-genre work of poetry, memoir and criticism by Yale Divinity School professor of religion and literature Christian Wiman. Through Wiman’s own words and those of the giants upon whose shoulders he’s hoist, inhabit a hunger that “only an endless commitment to emptiness can feed,” “assent to the invisible” in order to see it, and cast off the “causal heap” of memories that constitute the self. Is the abstract somehow realer than the real? Is the negation of any deep truth equally deep and equally true? Is eternity “escape from time,” “all time redeemed,” or both? If you read this book to reflect, you may “write to remain silent.” Some say bees have a concept of zero. Do you?
billyjepma's review
reflective
slow-paced
I’ve long claimed Christian Wiman to be one of my favorite writers, if not for his incisive poetry, then for his prose, which gave voice to the dizzying emotions I used to feel toward Christianity and its beliefs. Reading this book—and enjoying it very much, despite going through it at an intentional snail’s pace—has made it clear that my emotions about spirituality are very different now than they were when I was a wide-eyed college student. His writing—especially in the memoir sections—is as affecting as ever, and I’m glad Wiman is writing books like this one, even (especially?) if they’re not entirely for me anymore.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Medical content, Addiction, and Cancer
Moderate: Alcoholism, Chronic illness, Terminal illness, and Toxic relationship
Minor: Vomit
shhh_tamis_reading's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
4.0
stephe's review
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
reflective
relaxing
sad
slow-paced
5.0
Christian Wiman is one of those rare authors who make me feel less alone in the world, especially as it relates to the agony and meaningfulness of faith.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Cancer
Minor: Violence, Suicide, Drug use, Racism, Animal death, Drug abuse, and Animal cruelty
Wiman writes extensively about his experience with cancer and his tumultuous relationships with his family of origin, which includes details of mental health issues and drug addiction.