Angels are a tricky subject to tackle, being so nebulous and fleetingly glimpsed. I take my hat off to Stanford for having a go. The book has changed my life, as I now think about angels all the time and keep spotting them in paintings, on book jackets and in the verses of hymns. I’ve never read a book with so many winged figures, sudden encounters between humans and strange visions, angel-adorned gates, haloes, gowns, bare feet and moments on mountains when someone sees something dazzling in a dream. If you concentrate, you’ll be taken on a thrilling journey through theological discussion, with a generous helping of art history thrown in.
Stanford opens the book enticingly, telling us how his Catholic mother, who had multiple sclerosis, used to leave her wheelchair outside shops in Liverpool in the 1970s. His father would worry it might be stolen, but she’d reply: ‘Oh Reg, cheer up. My guardian angel is looking after it.’
Back in the USSR
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I’ve just finished reading two books on Russia, well, actually the old
USSR, set 30 years apart — one in the 1960s, and the other in the 1990s
when the USS...
4 years ago
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