Edoras

A few little book thoughts this lovely Wednesday evening.

65. Scott Pilgrim vs the Universe by Bryan Lee O’Malley. Another rousing Pilgrim adventure! This one got a little sad and depressing (bit of melancholy always helps with flavouring the whole) but probably necessary to set up the finale. I loved all the Ramona and Kim interactions and also seeing Scott continue to grow. I realised while reading this that one of the things I love the most about the author’s storytelling is his willingness to be random and cut from moment to moment without feeling obligated to explain in detail the narrative. So many little moments that just set the scene so well and then…cut! Next scene and we’re off. So many little slices of life as Scott continues to figure out what’s going on with Ramona. I love it. Also appreciated all the background Scott vs robot combat while the more important conversations happen in the foreground. O’Malley is a superb storyteller.

66. The Story of Christianity – Volume II: The Reformation to the Present Day by Justo L. Gonzalez. For the most part, I enjoyed reading this one and thought it was a decent high level overview of church history from the Reformation to the present day. Still though, even with the high page count, it felt like we were flying through events with barely a space to breathe and attempt to understand the years we were wading through. I’m aware this is really meant to be an introductory work to church history, but I still felt the method seemed a bit scattershot at times. For the first volume which of historical necessity covers a smaller population and land area, the high-level approach worked for the most part. Here, it feels that with such a large amount of history to get through, the choice of the author on which bits to focus on looms large over one’s comprehension of the whole. And sometimes I felt like the author spent time on political or historical events which really were not necessary to the story of Christianity and perhaps the words could have been spent better on other topics. I guess I’m just trying to say that the author has to focus on certain topics and personages to keep the page count manageable, but the selective nature of such feels that there is much that is brushed by. Some prominent theologians are of course mentioned and focused on, others ignored entirely. The author’s perspective of course necessitates such. The first half of this book was fairly good and even-handed, but the last quarter or so (mainly 19th/20th century) was a bit weaker. I would even argue the author’s focus on the liberation and ecumenical movements of the 20th century detract from other theological movements which are ignored almost in total. Still though, this book is still worthwhile in giving a fairly high-level overview of the institutional church. At times I feel a bit annoyed the author doesn’t seem to write from a Christian perspective (i.e., acknowledging work of the Holy Spirit or show passion for the gospel) but I freely admit that’s my own issue – obviously this writer is writing a scholarly look without the apparent bias of personal faith. I understand that! Still though, there’s a reason I love reading Iain Murray’s biographies and histories! Anyways, I’m grateful I read this, just would caution that there is much that is left out of this work and certainly a bit of a bias towards certain perspectives.

67. Anne of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery. A lovely book. I confess once I picked this one up, I groaned a bit inside. My memory informed me that this book and the following one were my two least favourite books of the Anne series. And so it may yet prove to be upon re-read. Yet still. I found myself enjoying this one more than expected, perhaps because of low expectations! Yes, this is a different kind of Anne book. Anne is a wife and mother of a large family and honestly she is not at all the main character in this one. And…well, she seems a bit off and different at times! But is that not fair enough? She after all cannot still be the young lady studying at Patty’s Place with her college chums. Yes, this book mainly focuses on Anne’s children and moves in very episodic fashion. Yes, it relies at times overmuch on random dialogues and conversations that really are a bit much – oh the quilting chapter!! – but still? I found myself reading the last page with a smile and almost a tear. Perhaps helped by the bit that the last few chapters are some of the best of the book and really made me realize anew how much I love Montgomery’s work. Perhaps my perspective is also shaped a tad by the fact that I am now married (which I wasn’t the last time I read this!). I wonder how I’ll react to this one five (or ten!) years from now. Because yes, I will certainly read this again.

Parking Lot

I sat with my hands folded in my lap
Waiting for you to make a move
But you didn’t
Because you couldn’t
Even though you wanted to

Perhaps your doubts or your
Self loathing
Or perhaps uncertainty that all our checks
And superficial chemistry amounted
To much

I don’t know
I don’t care
I wish my eyes showed the pain I felt
All I wanted is for our hands
To touch

Unseen

It was a grey day. Grey seas sang under grey skies as grey birds soared and swooped low over the quayside. The quayside and its surroundings were also rather grey, nary a pop of colour to be found in the piles of gear and containers that lay here and there. Even the people that scurried about in the casual confidence that comes with being where they belonged could be said to wear faces set in shades of grey. Now to describe a face as grey seems to call for a bit of radical interpretation, but I believe you know what I mean. We have all seen those faces set in the default mode whereupon we decide we won’t smile and ask how’s their day. So yes. To sum up, an air of general grey-ness seemed to dominate the landscape at the shore and it would not be a stretch to say that this grey-ness seemed to stretch further than the eye could see. Ever a soul has strayed near an area where in the process of quick transit through it is felt that the colour is being leached from it. Now one may quibble with such and feel that we are getting dangerously close to invalid metaphysical applications. I will not argue and simply move on and resume my narrative and let the words stated previously sink into your soul and perhaps when you are a little older you will understand.

So to resume? It was a grey day. And so as John approached the dock and lifted his eyes to the heavens, the sigh that issued forth was an echo of the sadness within as he sought in vain for a glimmer of hope. The grey-ness of the day did not entirely escape him but it also did not startle him, for he was similar enough in mood at the moment to feel as if it was only fitting for the day to shroud itself in mourning in sympathetic communion with his yearning soul. John did not entirely abandon hope. Rather, he abandoned the idea that the hope would be consummated at any near point. It was promised and he believed the promise. But how long until hope’s longing would be fulfilled? He put his hand in his jacket pocket and felt again the letter that contained the words he had already memorized. The weight of the paper in his hand felt good, a reminder that his sanity had not entirely fled. But had it begun to fray? He thought not, but sometimes he wondered. And the doubt gnawed at him. John’s eyes narrowed. Begone, ye foul thoughts. I believe.

And so John’s firm steps took him up to the longest and greatest dock, the one at which the great ships moored. He walked up the steps and then begun the long trek down. At the end of the dock he expected to find the answer. Or if not the answer, at least a reminder of that for which his life was pointed towards. The chill wind picked up as he stepped further away from shore and his mind wandered towards the events of earlier that morning. He would not think further of what had happened to Alex. He would not. Her tears tore at him.

Without realizing, John had navigated down the length of the great dock and was even now nearing the end. He went past the inspection offices and broke again into the open air. The wind plucked at his jacket and he pulled his collar closer. His eyes were wet for more than the shrieking of the wind. The gulls hovered close by, wondering if he had a snack for them. Alas, not today my friends. I have in my pocket crumbs of something more valuable than bread. And then John’s eyes picked out the bench at the end of the dock. Upon it was a girl in a scarf of red. She was there.

The Lighthouse at the Point

A lovely little Sunday afternoon here. Dani and I will shortly be venturing forth and enjoying(?) the unseasonable warmth of this mid-October day. But let me not complain too much about the weather! We still much enjoy getting out and about and walking the trails and seeing all the others that had the same idea as us. I don’t know what it is, but I really am so fascinated by all the little stories I see as I people-watch. So many others having their own little moments in the grand epochs that are their lives. And now I’m just getting ridiculous so let me cease.

I haven’t written a proper journal post in ever so long – not promising one now either, don’t get your hopes up – but in the midst of doing some journal maintenance, was reading a bunch of my posts from back in 2007. Fascinating and wonderful both to read back into the mind of 19/20 year-old James and even reconnect with the emotions from those days as those memories flowed back into my mind. One must be careful to not dwell overmuch on the past, but is it still not a good thing to think back now and again and reflect back on what has been and who one was and consider the many wonders that has led one to the present? I say so. Of course, I am notorious for backwards looking so please keep me honest and gently remind me now and again to face forward and press on to what lies ahead.

And see, I’ve turned from talking about my life into getting a bit ridiculously meta and examining what it is to read one’s past writings. Joy! I can’t wait for the moment eighteen years from now when I come back and re-read this entry! That will be…something.

Forward! I now sit on the couch and enjoy the rest that is only proper on a Sunday, but I think it is soon time to enjoy some of my other favourite Sunday activities, namely…cooking, walking and reading/writing. Hopefully in that order. Burrito prep is needed if Dani and I will have a satisfactory dinner so I suppose I’ll get started that on that shortly. And then of course walk time. Maybe not a long one, but even a 2 mile (our standard of late) will feel glorious even in this dense humidity. And following? There will be some reading, the writing I’m not sure of. I do feel a bit of sadness that I’ve not written lately, but that is my own fault.

My heart does burn within me and soon soon I must write. I’m currently pondering where I want to focus my writing energies. While I do so love writing my little poems and stories and dialogues and metaphysical musings, where am I going with all this? I write what I hope to be beautiful, but is it perhaps possible for me to focus my fire a bit more than it has been of late? We shall see. I’m not certain I’m cut out for long-form fiction, but perhaps I will give it a go. These are my thoughts now, all prayers appreciated.

Now that I’ve written far too much about far too many diverse topics, I shall sign off. If anyone reads this, I hope it doesn’t put them off reading me entirely. I wish I could say I’m usually less scattered than this but well…you know. Peace and love, my friends. Peace and love.

By You I Have Been Sustained

On this beautiful day reminiscent of great glories, allow me to post a bare few thoughts on my latest read.

64. Anne’s House of Dreams by L.M. Montgomery. A beautiful book. Reading this, I am struck by the feeling that this seems as if a labor of love for the author, one that she much enjoyed even as she indulged herself in writing about things of beauty and love and sorrow and loss. I could be wrong in that, but this definitely has the feel of a book the author wrote for herself. The language in this book rises to new heights and there are some passages in it which fairly soar. The colours are vivid, the imagery is soul-achingly beautiful, the emotions are almost more than the heart can bear. It may just be the time and place in which I am writing these words, but I found this book more poignant than ever. I imagine myself now sitting on the rocky shoreline with the sea spray in my face as I watch the sun set slowly over the grey horizon and I breathe deep of the scent of springtime’s bloom. I love this one.

Ketchup Time

A few thoughts on a few books. Happy Wednesday, dear friends, whatsoever this day may find you doing!

61. Scott Pilgrim & The Infinite Sadness by Bryan Lee O’Malley. This is still one of my favourites of the Scott Pilgrim series, I think. It’s melancholy and drama-filled and absurd and I love it so. Some truly lovely drawn panels and wonderfully sketched scenes. Natalie V will always be one of my favourite side characters in the series despite her villainy. And the vegan bits? Some all time moments for sheer ridiculous hilarity.

62. Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together by Bryan Lee O’Malley. I always forget about this volume but that said, it’s still a solid one. Scott is finally (almost) (semi) competent at being an adult (kinda?). He’s growing up before our eyes and it is wonderful to behold. I feel this volume is lighter on the drama than previous ones, which is not a bad thing. A breather before what is to come.

63. Anne of Windy Poplars by L.M. Montgomery. Another fine entry in the Anne series. It’s a bit of an odd duck, what with the conceit of the letter-writing-to-Gilbert and the very nature of the in-betweenness of it all. Yet there is still much charm and beauty to be found in this one as Anne gallivants about and gets in random adventures here and there and wins all to her side with her very Anne-ness. It’s almost too much at times yet the author decently lamp-shades such and provides some lovely complementing characters in Katherine Brooks and Rebecca Dew. Never will this one be my favourite yet it is still a good read.