Tag: reading

Fresh White Linen

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This grey Sunday, a few thoughts on my latest.

44. Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner. A monumental book. I remain supremely impressed at the mastery of the craft Stegner shows in his writing. This book took me a little while to sink into, but once I did? I was very much absorbed in the story of Susan Beecher Ward and of her marriage to Oliver Ward. For truly as much as her story is central to this tale, so too the story of the marriage of Susan and Oliver is that which holds center stage and providing a through-line around which all else rotates. I am of two minds about this book and in some ways find myself incapable of conclusively saying I love this book. While I can most certainly acknowledge the greatness of the prose in this one (so many individual lines and paragraphs were pure poetry, words simply leaping off the page in their unadorned beauty), I’m not quite sure if I entirely appreciate the framing device Stegner uses. Unfortunately I can’t entirely recommend it removed either, as I understand Stegner is attempting to analyze a character from a distance and he well uses the character of the narrator (Lyman Ward) to contrast and highlight both the alienness and beauty of Susan Ward and I am not sure the story of Susan would work quite as well in isolation. Yet, I did find myself quickly turning the pages whenever we were back to the present day. Capping it off, I found the grotesquerie and hazy dream space of Lyman’s own moment of truth a bit too pat in the light of the grandeur and tragedy of what we’ve just experienced in the life of Susan Ward. Yes, the last line of this book was perfect, I will acknowledge that. And the themes of forgiveness and reconciliation are such strong ones!! That last line, for real. So perhaps this book is truly a great one, as much as parts of it break my heart. Tragedy looms over much of this book and one wonders when the storm will break. It is near the end when finally all is revealed and it is worse than I could have imagined. Still though. Despite the tears and sadness, I did love witnessing in such intimacy the lives and marriage of Susan and Oliver. Oh what flawed beacons of humanity are they! This is a book that I’m very glad I read, although there are some parts that were difficult to read. This is a book that made me think about myself and my own choices and my own life and inward turn to reflect on the path I’ve walked that’s led me to the brink of this present day and the future horizon over which I look. I could also wonder if the bulk of the magic of this book comes from the letters excerpted throughout, which I’ve now discovered were the letters of a real woman whose real story mirrors so much of Susan’s life. Did that take away some of admiration of Stegner perhaps, to realise that he is simply crafting his story around a life that was already lived so brilliantly in the flesh? Perhaps. Still though, this was a story wonderfully told. Well worth the read.

Remember Fall

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A few book reviews this Saturday afternoon.

33. Gentle and Lowly by Dane Ortlund. An encouraging and wonderful book meditating on the heart of Christ and the wonderful mercies of God towards those sinners who he calls into communion with himself. There are many thoughts I have on this one. In some ways, it is a very simple book, focusing on the unique bent of God’s heart towards compassion and mercy (particularly brought to light in the chapter on God’s natural work of mercy and his strange work of wrath). In other ways, this book is quite a difficult one to read and understand, precisely because it is a book seeking to dig deep into the nature of God and to comprehend his attributes and very heart. And God is God. And we are not God. And to fully and completely understand God is beyond us. Hence there are times when my mind fuzzed as I sought to grasp the realities of God the author was attempting to unveil. And there are times when I was slightly wary of some of the concepts laid forth, especially as I was worried that a focus on the “gentle and lowly” nature of Christ’s heart would undermine the divine simplicity of God. I still fear I am not quite intellectually equipped to grasp all that I read. Yet? This book was wonderful at pointing towards Scripture (and other authors) and what they reveal about the nature of God. I simply loved all the authors (predominately Puritans – and Jonathan Edwards!) quoted and I will confess that probably most of my favourite parts of this book was reading these quotes. The author did do a good job of pulling these quotes into a cohesive whole and bringing to my mind thoughts about God that aided in my understanding and worship of Him!

I will need to read this one again. It is one of those uniquely wonderful books that combines both devotional thought and deep theological study. The chapters are short enough that one can read one in a few minutes and spend time meditating on what has been read. Yet there is enough deep theology packed within that I never felt the author was being overly simplistic or trite. If anything, this book undid some of my expectations (that this was just a light fluffy book about the love of Christ) and I’m most grateful I read it. I still believe there are some theological implications that I haven’t fully understood and I worry there are some who could read this book and come away confused about the nature of God, yet is that not the danger in any book written of God? I appreciate this book as being one that encourages us to think more on the heart of God.

34. A Severed Wasp by Madeleine L’Engle. A book that left me feeling conflicted. L’Engle writes gorgeously and to read this book of hers is to be swept up into a story of numerous characters that feel, act and speak like real people. Yet there are also parts of this book that simply irked me and felt a bit artificial at times. I love L’Engle usually so it pains me that this book just didn’t work quite as well for me (and I seem to remember I liked it more when I first read it!). Possibly reading it right after A Small Rain was not a good idea, as now that first book seems unmistakably superior to this one. I do appreciate this but do not think I’d read it again if it were not a sequel to A Small Rain. That book felt fresh and artless whereas this one feels a bit…overdone. I will echo thoughts I remember having the first time, that it does feel a bit as if Katherine Forrester (a remarkable character!) is almost too above reproach in this one. This book almost feels hagiographic at times! Indeed, she becomes a confessor to practically every character in this book, which felt a bit odd, but I think was a deliberate choice by the author. This read, I also realized some of the flashback sequences that revealed Katherine’s life post Small Rain had parts in them that bothered me much more this time. Surely this is just L’Engle sharing realities of life and attempting to show the costs of suffering, yet still…there were choices made that made me sad. No more said of that now.

Anyways, it seems like I’m being entirely negative and I feel a bit sad for that. There were elements of this book that I loved. L’Engle as always is remarkably good at showing the small everyday parts of life that so many people gloss over. I love the friendship between Katherine and Emily and how Katherine does such a good job of caring for Emily in her pain. I did love the large cast of characters, even if there are some broadly drawn ones that do not perhaps survive closer look. And of course, I love the reflections and meditation on both music and religion, and what it means to worship God. I do not think I fully agree with all of L’Engle’s conclusions, but I did appreciate her attempting to explore her theology in a bit more depth. Also – there is a cynicism and world-weariness in this book that I perhaps did not catch the first time – maybe it is just what comes with being a more mature author, yet still I did not appreciate as much on this read. Is this a bad book? No, it’s not. But definitely one that is nearer the bottom of my personal ranking of L’Engle’s works.

What is this Feeling

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A little book review this rainy Sunday afternoon.

32. Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange. A book that’s simultaneously an easy read while also being very likely the most depressing book I’ll read all year. And yes before everyone chimes in, I’m well aware that depressing books can and often are worthwhile in how they point out the horror of all that’s been and was and still is right under our noses. Still though? Doesn’t mean these books – or this one in particular – are quite the type of books I love to read. This book is a rough one. It frankly unveils the horrors of both addiction and loss of cultural identity as it explores the aftershocks and still reverberating effects of the systemic erasure of Native American life and culture throughout the United States. Sometimes one would wish that we lived in a world where such horrors were not perpetrated by those in power, yet we cannot close our mind to history or deny that such events ever existed. And so I’m grateful for books like this that seek to show through the sweep of history and might-have-been personal narrative that the brokenness of this world is not so easily fixed as some might believe. I also found reading it a troubling experience, a lot of content warnings here, as the saying goes. I really do hate reading books with addiction themes. And…pretty much every single main character in this book struggles with such. I don’t think I could read this book again. Yet still – I did breathe a sigh of relief to see signs of hope at the very end of this tale, a hope that points to something better beyond the curve of the road ahead. As much as addiction and loss are all over this book, there is also just a bit of recovery.

And beyond the addiction themes, there are many discussions of identity and what it means to have a certain cultural identity. What is cultural identity and what brings such? Is it blood, is it cultural heritage, is it geographical longevity and ties to a certain piece of land? Is it familial connections or is it merely knowledge and being connected to that which came before? We all long for an identity as such – we wish to be known and valued for who we are – but who are we? It is difficult for me to overmuch critically analyse this book as I’m aware there are many questions that I am ill qualified to answer. This is a book written from a cultural minority viewpoint and thus questions are raised that I have never had to face sheerly due to the – at least outward – fact that I am in a cultural majority position. Does this mean I have the luxury of not thinking or caring about my cultural and/or ethnographic identity? I would argue part of my apathy in regards to such lies with my belief in Christ and that my true identity is found in being a Christian. Such tags as “race/colour/nation” are not ones I resonate with and find them less than helpful at times. Yet still I must and do recognize it is easier for me to shelve those labels as I don’t have to live in a society in which I am a minority. I must remember this. I don’t think this is a book I shall revisit and likely one I will not keep on my shelf. Yet. This book spawned a lot of thought and I am grateful for such, as much as I did not always agree with the author on some of the answers he pointed towards. I am grateful for the author sharing his perspectives and yes, even a piece of his story.

Lions and Cloudscapes

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I am a bit too far behind on logging books so decided I really should get to work on that. Hope this doesn’t take too long, but no promises!!

28. Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. I have now read the penultimate unread Austen that I will ever read. And that strikes me with sadness, but it would not do to let that impede me from reading these last two (this one and Mansfield) – for is it not terrible to think of me hoarding unread books indefinitely? And thus it happened this past month that I finally lifted this book off the shelf and turned to the first page and started a delightful journey. For in truth this book was a delight. Does it bear the marks of a first work? Which – upon further research – I discovered this was the first of her books that she completed, even though it wasn’t published until after her death. And yes, to answer my above. This book definitely is a bit less mature and full than her later works. It’s absurd in many ways and definitely the least “Austen” Austen I’ve ever read, but still I kind of love it? This book is humorous, ironic, playful in all the right ways. Her writing is quite arch and ridiculous and I love it. And even though the main character – one Catherine Morland – is quite silly and preposterous at times, I only need to remember that she is in actuality only seventeen for it to all make sense again. There is lots in this one to love and I shall certainly return to it for re-reads in future.

29. Evangelism in a Skeptical World by Sam Chan. A solid book helping me to understand that evangelism may – and should – look different in different cultural contexts, including generational ones. I’ve been thinking on this subject recently, especially after reading the biography of John Paton a few months back, and so this book came at the right time for me. Too often I feel it’s easy to think of “evangelism” or “sharing the gospel” as something that must be done in a certain way or following a certain method, and Chan does a great job of refuting that mindset. In truth, sharing the gospel is simply telling someone the truth of how God has made a way to have real relationship with Him and why this is something utterly existentially necessary to every person on this earth. In stating the previous sentence as I have, I have already made choices in how to present this truth and there are leanings and perspectives that I have unwittingly betrayed as I attempted to state the good news of God’s gospel in as simple a fashion as possible. Chan helps us understand some generational shifts that have taken place and how we (at least those of us in the West, for he speaks to predominately a Western audience here) have moved perhaps past the point where a strictly apologetical and fact-based approach resonates with the majority of people. I was intrigued reading about the shifts that have taken place and how Chan has in his own ministry noted that people respond to gospel presentations very differently now than even twenty years ago. Maybe we in the West now respond to more of a story-based approach than the old more structured gospel presentations (such as the Four Laws, bridge diagram, etc, etc). I am very much simplifying this book but what I’m saying here is what stuck with me. Chan attempts to go much deeper and to highlight and give examples for different methods of sharing God’s gospel with others that may be more effective. In all of this, the part of me that hates pragmatic Christianity and tactical discussions cringed a bit. Surely, it is not us who can change the hearts of man? May it never be thought. And Chan rightfully affirms that only God can truly change the hearts of men and women and draw them to Himself. But does God not use such mean instruments as ourselves? And give us wisdom to understand different ways of communicating and approaching others with the greatest story ever told? And so I appreciate this book as one that makes one think more on how we might be lights and witnesses in this modern age. Perhaps I do need to consider more carefully my friend groups and how I might live my life in such a way to more clearly and boldly proclaim Christ. Maybe I do need to think on how I present Christ to others and how the stories I tell can be used by God. Part of me winces a bit at how much Chan loves the story or example method in his talks and speeches. I don’t think I will ever love the leaning on such. Yet I do understand that there are times when stories and parables are brutally effective and useful. Did not Jesus tell stories? Did not Jesus give examples from real life to indicate spiritual truths? So might I too not get too defensive when I hear of preachers and pastors using stories to point to the truths of God. This has been a bit of a rambling review and I apologise for that. I will say this book was worthwhile and made me think a lot about evangelism and how I approach it. Very worthwhile read for that.

30. An Experiment in Criticism by C.S. Lewis. As anything written by Lewis, a very worthwhile read. I much enjoyed this little book (or really almost an essay) sharing Lewis’s thoughts on literary criticism and the desired result of reading a truly good book. As always with Lewis, he makes some firm statements that really cannot quite be backed up, yet I did chuckle as I felt very validated on my stances on re-reading (very very pro) and also enjoyed Lewis making quite clear that reading a work is not simply about the imparting of information for its own sake but that in actuality the reader when reading enters into an actual transformative experience – i.e., the reader cannot get the same effect simply by reading the summary of a work, but that a work is the sum of its parts – content, prose, structure all, and if one truly engages with it will reap a corresponding reward.

I feel as if my mind doesn’t quite work at the same level as Lewis’s (shocking I know), and so it’s challenging for me to truly grapple with this book as I feel it deserves. Yet if anything, I think it made me revisit and think on why I love the books I do. And it also made me desirous to continue to seek better books and to read the truly excellent. Lewis is a bit much sometimes when he attempts to classify the types of books and types of readers that fill the earth. Maybe a bit dogmatic yes and in this day and age, he can even strike one as strident. Yet also I think we could use a bit more of Lewis in this modern age. It is bracing to remember and be reminded of the fact of objective beauty and truth. Yes, almost transgressive no? What does that say about us? And Lewis does not deny the usefulness and delight of different types of works. He is anything but haughtily pretentious in his discussions of literature. He sees the value in works that critics would sneer at, and for that I love him.

31. The Small Rain by Madeleine L’Engle. I still love this one. It is passionate and dreamy in all the best ways. It is a tale of a girl who has yet to truly understand the world or herself. It is the tale of a girl who sees with the maturity of one beyond her years because she has already seen so much and been through so much yet you’re often reminded that she is really just a girl. Katherine Forrester is one of my favourite characters to revisit – as I’ve been reminded as I read this one – and though at times she seems almost alien in the way she hovers above the text, there are brutal moments when all crashes down to earth and Katherine is revealed as oh so human. For a first book, this is revelatory. If only I could write like L’Engle. There are some of her quirks that will be further utilized in later books, but there is also a freshness here. Yes, it’s an adult book and thus some heavy themes – do not read this if you want a light read! – yet this book does not delight in the darkness. There are some descriptive passages that made me almost want to weep for beauty. Yes yes, I know I’m biased because I love L’Engle’s writing so, yet I truly believe this is a wonderful book. This is a book that just works as a late-night read, good for being curled up on the couch with a candle burning as one’s mind slips into a state suspended between the waking world and the world of dreams.

oh Winter where is thy sting?

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17. Song of Spheres by Walker Larson. Well, this book was definitely interesting. It was a book that I was hoping to love – elements of science, space travel, philosophical questions all. Yet at the end of the day, I found it wanting. Several reasons and I’ll be brief because I don’t really want to spend all that much time writing about this one. Spoilers follow so please be warned if you care for that sort of thing. Firstly, the scientific concepts at the core of this one threw me for a bit of a loop and I’m not quite sure if the author believes in a geocentric model of the universe or not, but I’m left puzzled. I suppose from a conspiracy theory perspective, it’s fascinating to believe it might be true. But for a whole book centered on it? Oh wow. Oh dear. I will give this book some points since I now want to read some actual non-fiction books on astronomy and the earth since this book annoyed me with so much of its science. So yeah, if you want a thriller about a bunch of scientists proving that the sun revolves around the earth? This is your book. Secondly, the prose and craft in this book were…lacking. Thirdly, as much as the book hints and suggestively raises its eyebrow at philosophical questions and the place of man in the world, it never quite goes there. That frustrated me. Either go there or don’t. If you want a book discussing the meaning of life and and the place and purpose of mankind and the possibility of God…well, then, dive in!! This book dances around the edges and never quite commits. All that said? It did keep my attention! I read it in only 2 nights because I really did want to see how the author would wrap up this story. There are certainly thrilling moments! I slightly apologize for being so harsh here, especially as I’m sure this author is still learning his craft and I can certainly not confess I could write anything better. But poor storytelling and wonky science annoys me. What can I say?

of lights we sing frantically

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A few little book reviews this night. At least I hope they’re little. We shall see.

13. And Once More Saw the Stars – Four Poems for Two Voices by P.K. Page & Philip Stratford. A strange and wonderful poetry paperback I stumbled across in a random second hand bookshop in B.C. a few years past. Finally picked it up off my shelf and I’m glad I did. This is a strange example of genre that I don’t quite know how to classify, even though I’m sure it’s been done before. It’s two artists writing poetry together – a renga, you may say – and it’s slightly offbeat but yet still beautiful the way the voices weave together. The poetry isn’t always exactly my style or to my liking, but yet I still fell under the spell of this book and perhaps that for a meta reason. Page put together this book following the death of Mr. Stratford who died before finishing their lyric dance. The poems are interspersed with the written correspondence enclosed with each succeeding stanza (sent via the trusty mail service – not quite the internet days!) and to be honest? I think I enjoyed this book primarily just to see the way these two poets talked about their poetry and the process and the struggle and the little quirky asides they tossed out as they cobbled together these whispers of the heart. Like I said, if this was just a book of poetry, I may have found myself most unimpressed. But instead…this is a book that is a bit of a window into two artists, showing the collaboration and writing process in a way I’ve not seen it done before. Even my copy has another meta layer on top, with a previous owner making random corrections and comments throughout! I appreciated the tribute to Stratford here and the vulnerability it takes to publicize this correspondence between writers. Grateful for a window into the creative process and it’s made me think more about why and how I write what I do. And some of the sonnets really are quite good! Especially Wilderness I & II – those burst with greater magic and unveiled greater wonders to my soul. This was a worthwhile book and I shall return to it. I came for the poems. I left with the story of two writers whose hearts yearned yet to write of beauty.

14. The Overstory by Richard Powers. There were some things in this book I really loved and there were some things in this book that I really…did not love. And I walked away from this book wondering if maybe Richard Powers is just not the author for me. This is Powers’ magnum opus, the book that won him the Pulitzer and so I assumed that this book would properly wow me. Yet. And. Still. Something in me just doesn’t respond to the way Powers writes and I fully confess it may be my inability to grasp entirely what Powers is attempting to communicate. If anything, it puzzles me because I had a similar reaction when I finished Playground (his most recent book and maybe not the right Powers to start with!). When I finished that book, my ending thought was “Hm.” Same here. I will definitely say one thing though, this book is better than Playground!

Yet I’m already writing too many words and to prevent myself from going overly long, let me say a few of the thoughts I had on this one in more details. Spoilers may follow, be warned if you care about that sort of thing. This book is the tree book. Anyone that’s heard of this book or glances at the title can guess that. And one of the strongest recommendations I can make for this book is that this book definitely makes me want to know more about trees!! As I walk around my neighborhood and my city, I have found myself looking at trees and noticing them in ways I certainly didn’t before. What tree is that? Is it good that there are that many young trees planted close together? Why is half the tree flowering and the other half not? So many questions that I want answers to! I am shamed (though I hope I’m not alone) in realizing how many trees I walk past every day that I can’t name. I am too Olivia (though not Maidenhair, as we’ll get to). If anything, this book made me wish this book was simply a science book about trees and all the wondrous fascinating facts about them. I need to source such a book. But instead…well, and this gets to one of my issues with the book, I struggled to know which was truth and which was fanciful imagery and which was anthropomorphic language and which was possibly some magic realism. There is so much going on with trees here. Yet as much as Powers continually makes it clear the sins humankind is committing against the planet and the trees that inhabit it (and ourselves and our descendants), I was left much fuzzier on what Powers was attempting to communicating about the true essence and reality of trees. Are trees sentient and attempting to communicate to us in a way we simply can’t understand yet? If we had sufficiently advanced computing power and the eyes to see, could we understand the many whispers of the winds that bear the wisdom of countless living, flowering arboreal wonders? In a way, I think Powers may be too clever for me and that the messages he seeks to communicate are cloaked in ways I struggle to grasp. I had the same issue with Playground.

I did much enjoy the early parts of this book – I loved all the individual short stories that told of the lives of so many different people. I initially thought this book was to be entirely a collection of short stories and their connection to trees and the trees’ connection to them and I was here for it. I was so psyched for that book. And I think I was mildly disappointed when those expectations were dashed and I realized all the characters would all interact in their various ways (some more obvious than others). The second part of the book was the weakest by far. Yes, I suppose it was a bit interesting in some ways to see the futile warring of the few against the apathetic selfish tyranny of the many and the attempts of the so-called “eco-terrorists” to save mankind from itself. Yet for some reason the characters in this section all felt a bit caricaturized, a bit plastic. I lost the thread of who was who and what their motivations were. I did really like Dr. Patty Westerford’s sections and though profoundly depressing for multiple reasons, I thought Neelay’s sections were fascinating as well. Yet the rest? They all tended to blend together a bit and I found myself pushing through the brutal horror of it all just to see where Powers was taking us.

I also think I struggled with Powers’ writing style. The metaphors and analogies he uses so often threw me out of the story in their odd juxtaposition to what was occurring on the page. Too often the phrases and imagery felt just a bit too carefully-constructed and artful instead of beautiful and true. This may just be personal taste on my part, but I think I just don’t resonate with his writing style – a bit too much crudity and even a tending towards voyeuristic tendency at times.

Though I struggled with the middle of this book, the end definitely got better and I’m glad I finished this one. I still don’t quite understand what Powers is trying to say – but I appreciated the fact that the ending tone seemed a bit hopeful and optimistic despite the cynical undertone running throughout. Powers is not leaving us in despair – he believes there is reason to hope for good things for the future of this world. Though I’m not quite sure computers and their ilk are the answer, it is fascinating to think of such. Is our incapacity to love each other and our world a product of our own innate selfishness and apathy or simply an inability to understand the messages written in every corner of this world? Do we have an excuse to enable us to continue our way without considering the fact there may be greater truths in this world than we now consider? Perhaps. I’m sure myself and Powers would disagree on what these greater truths are, but I appreciate that he is seeking to use his skills as a writer to tell a story that makes a difference. For true stories have the power of change. But only true stories can do such. This story contains kernels of truth and though I do think Powers’ style simply isn’t for me, I’m grateful this book is in the world.

Target Bridge is Falling Down Falling Down

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All the books all the books!!

10. Books in Black or Red by Edmund Lester Pearson. Ok so this book was not what I was expecting. It’s more of a hodgepodge of essays on bookish matters than a cohesive narrative and well…I am warned straight up in the author’s note of such. So really it is my own issue that I was a bit caught off guard with how random this book is. But there are some gems here, for sure! If you like books and/or reading and want to read about attitudes towards books in the early twentieth century, well then – you may like this! It is very random though, be warned. Some of the chapters are great, particularly the chapter on the Cary Girls and the Book Shop chapters. Other than that, I think this book is of value primarily for its historical value – we peek from a window into early 1920s America (specifically New York City) and smile as we see the author’s thoughts on dime novels, nonsense tales, literary personae and modern trends. We see sly asides here and there (Prohibition has begun!) and we get a flavor of this author’s very firmly cynical attitudes toward modern ideas of progress. I enjoyed this less than I thought I would, simply because there is much in this book that sailed over my head, as so many of the books and tales he references are…much less known now. Maybe this book hit harder back in the 1920s, I know not. Still though, grateful to have read this and contrary to all the eye-rolling the author would send my way for doing this, I’m likely to keep this book on my shelf purely because of its 1923 print date. Hey, at least I don’t organize my books by colour.

11. The Narrow Road Between Desires by Patrick Rothfuss. I just don’t know anymore, Mr. Rothfuss. I really was excited to read this one – it has been far too long since I’ve read any new material from your pen and I recently discovered this on the shelves of a bookstore in Paris. What! New Rothfuss?!? I must read. Clearly I have been out of the loop and didn’t realize this had dropped. Everything Rothfuss has written, I’ve loved. Slow Regard of Silent Things – purely fantastic and delightful and fully of whimsy and joy and melancholy all. I really must revisit it, now that I think so fondly of my memory of it. And of course the first two books of the Kingkiller Chronicle are superb. Not without flaws, no. But fantastic books in their own right and even if the third book never comes out, I’m ok with just those two on my shelf and I shall re-read every now and again. But…what is up with this Bast novella? Where is the magic, where is the joy? I found the prose strangely wooden and affected. It didn’t have the wonder and joy I remember from the previous works from Rothfuss’ pen. Maybe I have just changed? Maybe if I re-read Name of the Wind I’ll find myself similarly left cold? I think not, but now I shudder at the small possibility. But this book did not do it for me. Honestly as much as I complain about the lacking prose (compared to what I know Rothfuss can do), I think the real problem here is the protagonist. I don’t like Bast. I didn’t realize how much his character irked me until now, but this book did him no favours. I suppose Rothfuss intends to show the wild fae nature of Bast in all his sly glory, yet…honestly? Bast is a creeper. The majority of this book is him hanging around with small children and setting up a situation to spy on a young woman in her bath. Um ok, cool. And maybe this is just me being hyper sensitive and modern in my sensibilities but…I didn’t enjoy witnessing Bast in all his prancing, prying and creepy ways. Not sure if the author entirely realizes it or not. I feel a bit bad because I really do appreciate Rothfuss’ other works. And writing these harsh words feels a bit of a betrayal. But…something is off about this one. And reading his author’s note at the end didn’t help much. Instead of smiling at him providing a touchingly intimate tale about his children and his desire to write a “good” story for them, I just noticed the way he compared the themes in this one to the inferior themes in books such as Narnia, Lord of the Rings, etc. I’m sorry but…no? The truth and beauty in those books are so far above anything this novella could hope to dream of.

Snowdrifts

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A book review this Monday afternoon.

4. Surprised by Oxford by Carolyn Weber. A worthy read, this book both encouraged my soul and delighted my heart. I came into this book expecting something I would resonate with, and indeed I did. It is a possibility that I had my expectations for this book set perhaps too high (expecting something similar to “A Severe Mercy” or “Surprised by Joy” – really, the title is asking for such!) and so I was initially a bit disappointed at how this book played out. Not quite the beautiful thoughtfulness of Vanauken or the bracing clarity and wit of Lewis, but well…there are few books that can compare with those. As I’ve considered this book more as I’ve finished it over these last few days, I’ve come to appreciate this book for what it is – a beautifully honest telling of one woman’s journey to faith in Jesus Christ. Yes, the Oxford bits are a delight to read (and if you are at all similar to me and have a wistful longing to go to Oxford and wander the streets and even perhaps study there, then this book will simply increase that desire – be warned!!) and yes all the discussions of art and poetry and music made me smile (as much as I got a bit tired of all the U2 references!). But at the end of the day, my favourite part of this book was seeing the unashamed joy the author has in the knowledge and peace of Christ. This book felt a bit disjointed at times and I wished for maybe a more prolonged prologue explaining the book and setting forth the author’s purpose. And the premise of the book left no doubt as to the outcome, so there is very little tension in the author’s journey. We know she will end up a Christian! But how will she get there? And that’s what this book is about.

It is not perfect and like I said, some of the episodes felt a bit superfluous. But this book demands a re-read and to be read more slowly I think. There are some truly lovely moments and some of the wordplay is simply fantastic. The literary references will make you smile and think (when you catch them). And yes, probably I would enjoy this book much more if I liked U2 and understood all the author’s song references. The more I slowed down as I read this, the more I enjoyed it. There are moments where I felt a bit uncomfortable or annoyed at some of the characters’ interactions. Not sure if that was entirely intentional by the author, but I had to remind myself that this book was placed almost thirty years ago now, when standards and norms were a bit different. I wished the secondary love story in this one (the author and her TDH – “tall, dark & handsome”) hadn’t had quite as much screen time. But regardless of all my little quibbles, I did enjoy this book. It encouraged my soul and I found my eyes watering near the end as the author professed her faith and got baptized. It is remarkable and always a joy anew reading of a person’s encounter with the God that is real. The author is vulnerable and not telling this story to proclaim her own virtues and talents. No, the author here tells the raw and messy story of her journey to God and the real and persistent joy she now finds in a real and vibrant relationship with Him.

James HoganLeave a comment

Well, not a lot has been going on lately…except I’ve finished HP7…the last Harry Potter book. And it was AMAZING. It’s interesting because I haven’t been involved with HP the whole time like some people…my first exposure was watching the 4th movie. After that, I read the whole series thus far and realized what I was missing…so this was my first time reading the book as soon as it came out. I just have to give props to JKR for such a storytelling masterpiece. I’m not going to say HP is “great literature”, but you know what? I love it anyway. Most “great literature” is depressing and contains much I’d rather not read about anyway.
So part of the reason I loved this book so much was that it DID have a happy ending…Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all lived…and the ending, with all of them married and with children was SO happy and awesome, that I was very pleased. I just have to say, her whole series was a beautifully crafted tale that while not on the level of Crime and Punishment maybe, is sure a whole lot more fun to read. And I must admit, as Voldemort killed himself and the wand flew into Harry’s hand at the end…I almost got teary-eyed. Almost. And believe me, that NEVER happens to me…especially not when reading. So I have to give credit to JKR for that.
I’m just very pleased and satisfied with HP7 and must say that it is, hands down, my favorite of the series, with Half-Blood Prince close behind. If anyone hasn’t read any of the series yet, give it a try. I did, and her amazingly created characters and alternate world made me sorry I’d missed it for so long. My sister’s reading it now, but I can’t wait until they’re done with it so I can read it again…