I've heard it said that one should read good Catholic authors during Lent. Taking this to heart, I headed over to Amazon and ordered Will Mrs. Major Go to Hell?
Many years ago, when I was but a young lass, I used to hide behind the chair in the living room and read National Review.* Though I mostly read the cartoons, The Week, and Notes & Asides, my favorite thing and the only one I can still practically quote from, unlike anything I ever read by her brother Bill, was the annual publication of a Christmas article by Aloise Buckley Heath, a woman with to my young mind an absolutely astounding number of children (10). Who knew then that these formative ventures into reading were not only molding me politically, but also would one day see me a Catholic convert with seven children screaming through the house and climbing the walls?
One might suggest that something that makes you guffaw while still just reading the dust jacket isn't typical Lenten fare, which is probably true, but for now it's what is on the bedside table. I'll just keep snickering along while reading things like this, "Tommy's mother went to Hell/ On the Donkey ticket. / And Now she knows a Johnson vote/ Is very, very wicked." Remember, St. Francis de Sales said that "A sad saint would be a sorry saint."
* This is not to suggest that in my childhood home, one found it necessary to hide whilst reading such magazines as NR. My parents, of course, were the ones with the subscription. I just liked sitting behind the arm chair and flipping through magazines.