Fallen Leaves, by Will Durant

My parents didn't argue much when I was growing up, but I do seem to remember some contention on bookshelf space.  Dad, a voracious reader, had shelves full of books.  Mom, who loves a neat, aesthetically pleasing home, thinks bookshelves should look nice.  So they jockeyed for space, with nick-knacks and decorative items competing with Dad's library for shelf space.  On more than one occasion, I remember those conversations ending with Dad taking boxes of books to donate to the Corpus Christi Public Library.

A large percentage of that portion of the shelf space reserved for books was taken up by a multi-volume set which I never read, but I always felt smarter just looking at those books.  The set in question was Will and Ariel Durant's 11 volume The Story of Civilization.  This popular and widely published (if not widely read) history, covering ancient times up to the Napoleonic Era, earned the Durants a Pulitzer and a Presidential Medal of Freedom.

The Durants both died in the 1980s, but a Durant scholar uncovered a decades-old manuscript for a final book at which Will Durant had only hinted.  Fallen Leaves: Last Words on Life, Love, God, and War contains the reflections of a very smart and very opinionated writer who knows he's on his last lap in life.  Covering the stages of life, religion and morality, social issues, politics and war, art and education, the essays are at times rambling, often come across as a bit archaic, and are written, for the most part, in beautiful prose.

Like I said, I never read The Story of Civilization or any of his other works, but based on what I know about Durant, I think he let his hair down with Fallen Leaves, writing a much more personal book.  I had the feeling of sitting on the back porch with him while he, finally, told me what he really thought about these topics.  But unlike your stereotypical cranky old man, Durant has a vast knowledge of history, philosophy, and culture, along with the broad perspective that knowledge brings.

However, like cranky old men everywhere, he is set in his ways. He criticizes modern, abstract art ("empty vanity of an undisciplined mind"). He bemoans youthful ignorance (Life "gives us wisdom only when it has stolen youth."). He upholds traditional morality ("I still believe it advisable to discourage extramarital relations, just as it is useful to  inculcate honesty, though we know that there will be many lies.").  He has the amusingly endearing attitude of an old man who still enjoys the sight of a beautiful woman ("I think the architecture of woman is superb from whatever angle seen.")

I was most interested in Durant's views on morality and religion. Raised a Catholic and, for a short time, a seminary student, Durant has a good working knowledge of Christianity. But early on, he was led astray by Darwinism and other influences. He still admires Christ and his ethics, and calls for "a great union of creeds and sects preaching the ethics of Christ."  He makes a "persistent effort to behave like a Christian" but he "reluctantly abandoned belief in a personal and loving God."

So he finally turned toward a sort of utopian fantasy. At this point I began to wonder about this historian's grasp of human nature and human society. As a Christian, I am inclined to believe that without a personal, loving God, the ethics of Christ are unsustainable. It seems to me that the twentieth century taught us the hazards of separating morality from God.

Durant wasn't too concerned about religious views of eternal life and salvation. "I am quite content with mortality. I should be appalled at the thought of living forever, in whatever paradise."  I don't know about his soul, but he achieved some measure of immortality through his books, as shown by the several feet of shelf space my mother somewhat reluctantly yielded for him.


Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!