The most recommended books about saints

Talk about sacrilege. Although my dad’s side of the family is Irish Catholic, he had nothing to do with the Church once he went to college, where he met my mom. Several years later, they split up. I was raised Southern Baptist by my mom, New Age/Buddhism/Unitarianism on alternating weekends from my dad, and rosary prayers and Virgin Mary sightings shared with me from my grandmother. The point is, to read a superb novel about Jesus having a relationship with Mary Magdalene, is something that would have shocked my Baptist Sunday School teacher. What does this have to do with Ireland? Cunningham describes Maeve aka Mary, as a woman raised by witches on a druid isle—where she first meets Jesus who was there for a bit of druid training—and is kidnapped and sold into Roman slavery. From there, she faces numerous challenges before finding the man she knew… show more.

Helena is Evelyn Waugh’s most overlooked novel but it is my favourite. I love it for how Waugh depicts Helena, the mother of the Emperor Constatine, but what raises it to a place in any best-of list is a passage of writing that ranks as Waugh’s best - and he sets a very high bar for himself. Towards the end of the book Helena prays for her salvation but, reading it, we realise that Waugh is praying for his own salvation too, for those “who have had a tedious journey to make to the truth, of all who are confused with knowledge and speculation… of all who stand in danger by reason of their talents.” 

We all think we know the story of Joan of Arc – she’s possibly one of the world’s most famous women. But what Kelly Devries’ book does is to put Joan’s military accomplishments into the spotlight.

By focusing on Joan as a military leader, the book reminds us that women’s military experience was often dismissed. In Joan’s case, the only explanation people had for the military capacity of a teenage girl was magic. The British thought Joan was a witch, the French that she was divinely inspired – but no one thought that she may just have been a good fighter and a good leader.

Devries unpacks some of the more prosaic explanations behind Joan’s military success, explanations that indicate that Joan (like other women) may have had military talents rather than magical ones. 

Let’s take things in a different direction with Story of a Soul, the spiritual autobiography of a French nun who died in cloistered obscurity in 1897 at the age of 24. Like a lot of people, I was initially skeptical about what wisdom this sheltered, middle-class young woman would have to offer; at first blush, her piety seemed conventional and old-fashioned. But the more I read, the more she won me over: underneath the sometimes-flowery language I discovered a fierce passion (all those exclamation marks!), a refreshing forthrightness, and cunning wisdom that actually subverts conventional piety with its “littleness.” Story of a Soul isn’t an instruction manual; rather, it’s the very personal, joyful account of one young woman’s “little way” to Jesus—a way so simple, anyone can follow it.

I love all of Peek’s Saint stories, but this one really speaks to me. It’s an action-packed story that starts strong—with great tragedy—and goes deep. While the saints inspire me, biographies don’t suck me in and keep me turning the pages late into the night. This story does, and it brings the saint to life. In some ways, Cloud is an ordinary man. He struggles with grief, fear, anger, doubt, and even jealousy, making him easy to relate to. But he does not rely on his strength alone. He turns to God, grows in his love for God, and rises above his faults, becoming what we are all called to become: a saint! And that’s what inspires me.

This book explores post-Reformation attitudes to the medieval past, which was continuously debated and rewritten according to the shifting religious landscape of the sixteenth century and beyond.

Helen Parish’s work helped me to see the merits and benefits of crossing the rather arbitrary divide between the medieval and early modern periods, since it so deftly places medieval and Reformation sources in dialogue.

Her book also makes fascinating reading for anyone wanting to better understand reformed Protestantism as a culture of adaptation and accommodation, as much as of destruction and the outright rejection of the Catholic past. 

True confession, I love just about everything Amy Harmon writes, but this book blew my socks off. Not only did it stand out as unique among the typical fantasies, but it was exquisitely well written. Ms. Harmon has a way with the English language that made me fall in love with reading in a way I hadn’t in a long, long time. While it is true that the heroine was a pretty morally upright character, Ms. Harmon never comes across as preachy, and the character’s choices were well thought out.

This is primarily a novel about the life of Saint Benedict. Several minor miracles occur through his acts of faith; he becomes convinced that he is to establish an alternative society in the form of a chain of monasteries – Citadels of God; he despises the rampant political intrigues and the lures of worldly success; and he has a significant influence on several important historical characters. Secondary plots somewhat distract from the main theme.

This book gave me very helpful insights into the political and religious life in the Roman Empire in the first half of the sixth century and paints a very impressive picture of the saint and his passion to serve God wholeheartedly.

Like for Aristotle, this is no easy read, but Augustine must be credited with planting in the clearest and most dramatic way the central doubt: cannot we want and do something merely for the sake of the evil or wrong we would commit?

His story of the pear theft is bound to leave an impression on anyone, regardless of one’s religious background. Later Christian philosophers will try to get around Augustine’s doubts, with more or less success.

This brand-new, prize-winning book is a gorgeous synthesis of some of the most important trends in current Iberian studies. Early modern empire-building, missionary efforts, and the African slave trade fostered a new cult of black saints, which Rowe documents through stunning photography from tiny and forgotten churches across the peninsula. In focusing on black saints and their devotees—a largely understudied part of early modern Catholic culture—Rowe not only centers and elevates the diverse and often marginalized individuals who shaped global Catholicism, but also emphasizes important conversations about race and inclusion in early modern society.