Review: The Confessions of St. Augustine

The Confessions of St. Augustine by Augustine of Hippo
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

From across fifteen centuries, Augustine's voice is vibrant and alive as he tries to navigate a Mediterranean world in political and spiritual transition. Drawn to a life of piety, he describes the temptations of the flesh in vivid, poetic metaphor:

Toys and trifles, utter vanities had been my mistresses, and now they were holding me back, pulling me by the garment of my flesh and softly murmuring in my ear: "Are you getting rid of us?" (p. 180)

Much of this reads in a "dear diary" tone as he talks directly to God in review of his life and struggles.

What I actually like the most is the incidental glimpses into daily life in antiquity. As a teacher myself, this vision of an unruly classroom jumped out to me:

At Carthage, on the other hand, the students are disgracefully out of control. They come breaking into a class in the most unmannerly way and, behaving almost like madmen, disturb the order which the master has established for the good of his pupils. (p. 100)

Preparing to marry, the old goat finds losing his bed-buddy to be an emotional loss more than a physical one:

The woman with whom I was in the habit of sleeping was torn from my side on the grounds of being an impediment to my marriage, and my heart, which clung to her, was broken and wounded and dropping blood. (p. 133)

Even this casual, urban encounter jumps off the page with life:

I was going along one of the streets of Milan when I noticed a poor beggar; he was fairly drunk, I suppose, and was laughing and enjoying himself. It was a sight which depressed me, and I spoke to the friends who were with me about all the sorrows which come to us because of our own madness. (p. 119)

Even back then, bar snacks were salty:

There is no pleasure in eating or drinking, unless the discomfort of hunger and thirst come before. Drunkards eat salty things to develop a thirst so great as to be painful, and pleasure arises when the liquor quenches the pain of the thirst. (p. 165)

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