I recently reread Tremendous Trifles, a collection of essays by Gilbert K. Chesterton from the early part of the last century. And when I say recently, what I actually mean is that I would read an essay when I wanted to take a break from something else I was reading. So, all in all, it took me about five months to read the whole thing and I only stopped because I ran out of essays.
Tremendous Trifles wouldn't make my top ten books by Chesterton. Which doesn't mean it isn't worth reading. It just means that I would recommend you read some of his other works and only pick up Tremendous Trifles if you decided that you wanted to become a Chesterton fan.
I also realized that reading the book stretched out the way I did this time was actually a better way to do it. Because if I had read the whole thing in a day or two, it all would have blurred together and I'd have only really remembered or been struck by one or two things. However, treating each essay as its own little standalone bit. (Although I can accept the argument that reading it all at once and only taking a couple gems away means you singled out the best of it)
Two aspects of Chesterton (who is a complex literary figure and if you hate him, I think there are valid reasons for doing that) that really struck me over my months of casually reading this collection. One is his charming, almost twee way of presenting the world as a more simple, more innocent place than I have any reason to think that it is. Showing the world as a literal fairy tale.
And then there are the single sentences that hit me right between the eyes with their brutal and accurate cynicism. Something that makes me think "That's true. That's still so true'
Just picking one essay, the Riddle of the Ivy had 'And the American has become so idealistic that he even idealises money' and 'In a cold, scientific sense, of course, Mr. Balfour knows that nearly all the Lords who are not Lords by accident are Lords by bribery'
Lord knows I don't agree with everything that Chesterton wrote (Don't even get me started on The Flying Inn) However, he sometimes writes something that I feel cuts right to the bone of a topic and I didn't even know he was holding the knife. A thought that seems so relevant that I feel like it ought to have been written last week, not over a hundred years ago.
I have many friends who despair over the state of the world and the sky is falling. Chesterton, I suspect, would say that the sky has always been falling. At the same time, I think he would also say that doesn't mean we should be complacent. That the fact that we are still here doesn't mean we will always be here but that we need to always be struggling.