Warning: Absolutely packed with spoilers. Though I know this is 100+ years after it was published, most of the major plots twists in this book were ruined for me through the internet. So. I'm warning you.
In the first half of this post, I reviewed the story and more practical elements of Les Mis - in this follow-up, I get into the philosophy. That's code for: this will be boring to everyone but Hannah Long. Also, I am writing this from a Christian perspective, and am critiquing ideas by comparing them to theology, so Prepare Yourself.
Sometimes you run into a book that has to be savored. The Dean's Watch, by Elizabeth Goudge, is such a book. I told my dad, on finishing it, that she must have been a person who deeply loved the beauty of creation. She loved it so much, that when she describes the world, you can feel the joy pulsing just beneath the skin of the words. Like all artists, the creation process is a deeply important part of her view of God, and is intrinsic to the theology of The Dean's Watch.
The setting is a remote mid-nineteenth-century town in England and its grand cathedral. The cathedral Dean, Adam Ayscough, holds a deep love for his parishioners and townspeople, but he is held captive by an irrational shyness and intimidating manner. The Dean and Isaac Peabody, an obscure watchmaker who does not think he or God have anything in common, strike up an unlikely friendship. This leads to an unusual spiritual awakening that touches the entire community.
Elizabeth Goudge's books are hard to find, but well worth the search. The book is, in essence, a small story, about small people, but is contrasted against the majestic looming symbol of the Cathedral which is the city which is faith itself. Goudge has great talent in taking the most unsavory characters and finding something likable - even lovable - about them, furthering the novel's primary theme: Christian charity, to love even the unlovely.
My only complaint about the book would be that it is slowly paced, and sometimes tedious. Pressed by work, I don't have the time to review more fully, but even better, I chose some of the choice quotes.
SO long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation, which, in the face of civilization, artificially creates hells on earth, and complicates a destiny that is divine, with human fatality; so long as the three problems of the age—the degradation of man by poverty, the ruin of women by starvation, and the dwarfing of childhood by physical and spiritual night—are not solved...books like this cannot be useless. ~Preface to Les Miserables
Les Miserables is
a somewhat daunting task. At 959 pages, it’s the longest book I’ve ever read,
barring the Bible. (Fans affectionately call it The Brick.) Settling back after the tedious first few chapters, I
prepared myself for a long haul. To my shock, I finished it in sixteen days. Honestly,
I’m not sure how I did it, though I do know several days I put away a hundred
pages.
Another part of
the mystery is that Victor Hugo had a severe case of verbal diarrhea, so I did a bit of blah-blah-interesting bit!-blah-blah reading. If there
was something to be said of a thing, good old Victor was bound to say it. Large
chunks are devoted to the battle of Waterloo, the operation and ideological
premise of monasteries, and 19th Century French politics—which have
little to do with the story. If you have an encyclopedic knowledge of French
history and politics in the 17-1800s, that’s terrific, but if you don’t, this
can get tedious. Those are the two extremes: terrific and tedious.
We all know that person. They're obnoxious. They ooze arrogance. It's so blatant that their friends have begun to avoid them. But oddly, despite its glaring obviousness, they just can't see it. "What's everybody's problem?" they ask indignantly. We have a furious desire to shove their face to a mirror, screaming "Can't you see?"
In a recent conversation with my friend Elora Shore, we talked about the sins of particular eras. Some, racism in particular, we found hard to pardon. How could anyone be so blind to such an obvious fault? I paused. After all, why shouldn't the entire world, and all of history besides, think like me? I realized that that was precisely what I was thinking, and the arrogance and ethnocentricity of it surprised me. We went on to talk of other things, but the question stuck in the back of my head.
When 24th Century historians look at us, what will they find impossible to understand? With a paranoid conception of the future, I imagined invisible time travelers peering in my window and felt slightly panicky. Will they think I'm old-fashioned? Is it possible to find out now? How can we see ourselves without the skewed lens of what C.S. Lewis called chronological snobbery? I want to be ahead of my time.
My attitude toward progress has passed from antagonism to boredom. I have long ceased to argue with people who prefer Thursday to Wednesday because it is Thursday. ~G.K. Chesterton
In this forward-looking, progressive age, very little attention is paid to the past. Even among Christians, the attitude persists. In general, we prefer the New Testament to the Old. "Well, it's the old covenant. It's all been superseded. Sure, the Ten Commandments, but not all that other stuff. Just a lot of killing and kings and judgment."
Myself, I've always enjoyed the Old Testament, but sometimes, we all need a little help. Of course it isn't necessary to know historical context, geography, languages, culture, but those things flesh out the story and can give a whole new spin on well-known tales.
Did you know the Witch of Endor was a ventriloquist? Did you know Jonah was resurrected from the whale? Did you know that Jephthah didn't kill his daughter? Do you know who Jephthah was?
Is all that true? It could be. I'll bet it never came up in Sunday School. In dozens of podcasts, Dr. Bill Creasy examines the Bible from a unique perspective. As a marine he has knowledge about military maneuvers, he was stationed in Israel, he knows the languages, he knows the land, he knows the culture, he's got a sense of humor. Logos Bible Study really is the "most comprehensive, in-depth Bible study program on the planet." Dr. Creasy really knows how to make it all come to life - the New Testament as well. Are some of his more unusual claims right? I don't know. But he takes Paul's "test everything" seriously. God means us to use our imagination.
I really don't have time to review every book I read, but I couldn't resist sharing some of the tidbits I discovered...I also admit, that part of the reason I didn't want to review this was because I don't think I'm quite up to the task.
Brideshead Revisited:
Charles Ryder's description of his worldview:
The view implicit in my education was that the basic narrative of Christianity had long been exposed as a myth, and that opinion was now divided as to whether its ethical teaching was of present value, a division in which the main weight went against it; religion was a hobby which some people professed and others did not; at the best it was slightly ornamental, at the worst it was the province of "complexes" and "inhibitions" - catchwords of the decade - and of the intolerance, hypocrisy, and sheer stupidity attributed it for centuries. No one had ever suggested to me that these quaint observances expressed a coherent philosophic system and intransigent historical claims; nor, had they done so, would I have been much interested.
Interesting that things have changed so little. I might mention that this phrase only occurs in older editions, it was replaced with a different perspective in the 1960 version.
Music's only purpose should be the glory of God and the recreation of the human spirit. ~J.S. Bach
Many of the Christians I know (and certainly all the atheists) hold the genre of Christian Contemporary Music in contempt. I don't mean that they actively hate it (though some do), but they certainly label it as lame, amateur, or feel-good clap-trap. Unfortunately, the majority of the stuff you'll hear on CCM radio stations is just that: Fluff. Mass-produced and very popular Fluff, but still Fluff. Only a few artists rise from the masses to actually deliver a profound and good song. Even then, it probably only made it to the radio for the sake of its catchy tune. Don't get me wrong - there can be good songs on the radio, but it has to be in a certain format. And it's a format that doesn't allow for much wiggling space. At most, you'll get that one good song.
Whether I will
re-read a book depends on the middle. Having a good beginning and a good end
are just half the battle if the journey between is mediocre. I read and re-read
my favorite trilogy: The Lord of the Rings
because it is about a quest, a battle against evil, and every bit of it is
essential to the ending.
Upon finishing Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities, something unique
happened. I mean, other than the fact that I bawled my eyes out, which rare
enough in itself. But as I turned the last pages, I wanted to sit down and read
the whole thing again. Right there. Right then. Several times. I’ve actually had to force myself not to do so, in the month since,
because I have other things to do.
What about it
appealed so deeply to me? That’s not exactly the best question. The best question is: what about it appeals to hundreds of millions of people worldwide? According to Wikipedia, it’s the number one bestselling fiction book of all time, with
approximately 200 million sales. (Fun fact: Lord
of the Rings takes second places with 150 million – The Hobbit fourth with 100 million.) This book obviously appeals to
more than just one blogger in Appalachia. It caters to more than just Americans.
There is something about this book, and Rings,
that speak to the depths of human desire. It touches on themes that transcend
culture and time.
Those of you who
read my post last week will know that I have high expectations for Jesus. Of
course, it’s not fair to give The Bible’s
producers a break because of the intense levels of scrutiny—they knew they had
to get Jesus just right, if they got anything right. So most of my criticism is
focused on Diogo Morgado’s portrayal of the Son of Man. To be fair, nobody will
ever be able to play Jesus correctly (whether they should even try is another subject), but regardless, there are
some things one should remember if you want to do things by the Book:
Jesus was fully man – this means that, even
if there were times that he was otherworldly, there were other moments
that he was just an ordinary guy. Ordinary does not mean “sinner”,
ordinary means “has a sense of humor” or rather: “doesn’t treat
himself—and everything—with deadly seriousness.”
Jesus was fully God – this means that,
despite his ordinariness, he had a few
raging-holy-God-of-wrath-and-judgment moments. Usually he used this rage
against the self-righteous, and his deep, reckless love, for the poor.
Jesus was not, in fact, an enlightened hippie
– he was from a Podunk country town (almost certainly with
an accent.)
We have no reliable information that Jesus
was drop-dead gorgeous or had cute hair or a perfect nose. It’s rather possible he looked,
y’know, like someone from Fiddler on the Roof, and ordinary, albeit Jewish-looking ordinary guy.
It’s a study in personality
to see how the respective members of my family react to History Channel’s The Bible. Granny’s commentary about the
show was interspersed with news about the neighbors and thoughts concerning the
latest season of Downton Abbey. Baby,
Granny’s red dog, sat and glared at us with You’re
On My Couch writ large on his face. My mom and brother are the nitpickers,
though Mom’s complaints make a lot more sense than Sam’s usual, “Hannah. Hannah. Herod wasn’t that fat, was he?”
Mom’s question – “I can’t believe they didn’t show Nebuchadnezzar’s redemption”
– made a lot more sense.
It’s hard to decide whether I’m biased or not. The thing is, Hollywood is so hard to trust. “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” as one of the CIA dudes from the Bourne movies said, and that’s pretty much my attitude concerning The Bible series. And of course, there are the unconscious mental images of and personal speculations concerning Biblical characters that everyone carries.
But to banish that cynical note, while The Bible did not conform completely to my “best” scenario, it’s much closer to “best” and a long, long shot from “worst.” Admittedly, though, it did get a slow start, and build up to a great end. It started off with Joshua, who had about five minutes of enthusiastic The City is OURS moments, but little else. Like the first episode, this was one of the weaker aspects – over-excited characters who just think God can do no wrong. Which, of course, He can’t. But nobody feels that way all the time. Humans doubt. Humans ask God why. There wasn’t enough human weakness. All the same, the producers shot the violence and divine justice without flinching. There was no heavy-handed commentary about the Israelites taking over Canaan—it was just portrayed for the viewer to decide. (By the way, MSNBC, that’s how journalism should be done).
So why did my
mom, my brother, and I venture into the 20-degree weather after dark, rush down
to my granny’s house and put up with her yapping smelly dog, Baby, who insists
on sitting on our laps for two hours? We’d heard the news that the History
Channel had a new theologically-orthodox Bible series. And it was scored by the awesome Hans Zimmer. We don’t have cable, so
it was time for a pilgrimage. Was it worthwhile?
Let’s face it,
the Bible’s been done so many times that there’s not much you can do to make
sand look different. Everybody expects bearded men, rough robes, camels, and
miracles. The History Channel’s 5-part, 10-hour The Bible series is no exception. When it comes to design, though
the special effects are better than most Bible movies, there several moments
where I was thinking, I’ve Seen This
Before.
But let’s be fair
– part of the problem is that everyone has
seen this before. It’s an enormous challenge to cover a book that’s 1000+ pages
which is as familiar as the night sky. It’s made even harder by the fact that
you have no main characters; everyone gets their bit and moves on. The only
thing connecting the narrative is God and the surroundings. That said, each
part was made memorable. The story of creation and the ark are intercut, with
Noah narrating the tale of the Fall in a strong Scottish brogue (this, I love).
In the wake of
the Sandy Hook tragedy, there’s been a lot of talk about guns. Or rather,
there’s been a lot of shouting about guns. Both sides seem unable to see how
anyone could believe differently, and in general, both act from good motives. On the one side,
you have the Right, who are prepared to fight tooth and nail against increased
gun control. On the other, the Left is pushing for a ban onassault rifles.
I recently
listened to a particularly heated discussion—I should say knock-down, drag-out fight—on the
subject between ultra-liberal Piers Morgan and ultra-conservative Ben Shapiro.
First, kudos to Morgan for having the guts to have Shapiro on there, because
Shapiro obviously came with an ax to grind (or a rifle to prime). Shapiro got
off to a quick start by accusing Morgan of “standing on the graves of the Sandy
Hook victims” to advance his political agenda. He proceeded to not pull any
punches.
Your average Christian is going to know who C.S. Lewis is.
Your slightly less average Christian will know who J.R.R. Tolkien is.
A rather odd Christian will know that Lewis and Tolkien knew one another and were members of an Oxford-based club, the Inklings.
It takes a really weird Christian to know that Tolkien was one of the major influences on Jack Lewis's conversion.
Congratulations, you are now a really weird Christian. And if you want to be a fanatic, C.S. Lewis was nicknamed after a childhood neighbor's dog, Jack. (This calls to mind a certain Indiana Jones).
A bit late to be doing this, but this is a really neat project. DKM is a poet, a poet with a mission. In this article on The Rabbit Room, he explains:
"Several years ago, public spaces painter Jonathan Richter invited me to create pieces with him for a gallery show. Richter spends evenings in public spaces (mostly pubs) painting an ongoing series of off-kilter, spontaneous portraits. These paintings give off a vaguely disturbing, surreal aura, sometimes seeming fraught with a subconscious and archetypal symbolism, other times feeling like fragments from the watery language of dreams. At any rate, Richter is quick to say that the pieces in this series are not created with forethought or planning. Rather they emerge from the process itself, from the layering of paint, the subjects sometimes achieving a definite shape only towards the end of the physical process. Once the paint has dried, Richter turns the paintings over to me. I meditate on the images, mulling the portraits for however long it takes to begin to tease out their secrets such that I can express something of their essence in a line or two of poetic prose. There’s something about this process of filtering a work through two imaginations that seems to put a finer edge on it. Like double-distilling a vodka....
"Some reveal their secrets within a few minutes time. Others take hours, even days before the meaning begins to emerge. I return over and over to the clearing where I sit and wait for something to step into the open and give me a clear line of sight....
"...I can’t help but believe that what I do believe is more wildly and frighteningly and wonderfully romantic than any merely emotional or sensational experience the romantics would have deemed romantic. Is it not more wildly romantic to operate from a premise that every facet, detail, and pattern in creation, even those that we perceive as random, are fraught with meaning far beyond our ability to comprehend? To believe that the stars are singing? To believe that the objective evidence points to the conclusion that we are living in an actual fairy tale?...
"Romanticism is dead. Long live romance."
DKM and Jonathan Richter only have a few more hours to complete their $7,500 goal. If they don't, all the money pledged so far will be returned. There are eight hours left. I've donated thirty dollars, which means I'll be getting a signed copy of the book, unless they don't get funding. I WANT a copy. Go here to help them out.
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty" is a line written by romantic poet John Keats. Being a Christian and having a philosophical bent, I'd always thought he meant the truth is beautiful, but as Doug McKelvey points out in this terrific article over on the Rabbit Room, he meant just the opposite. It means that if a thing is beautiful, it is the truth. If it makes me feel good, it is good.
McKelvey's article challenges the idea that art can be meaningless, an outpouring of pointless emotion. Instead, he declares the Christian belief that there is intrinsic meaning in everything, that that idea extends even to abstract art and stream-of-consciousness writing. It's also harder to do right, but it's worth it. Because, after all, if...
If things meant something, if art incarnated ideas and if ideas had consequences, if truth was not the same as beauty (at least not in the way that Keats believed it), then I was responsible for the impact of the things I made and therefore had need to be sensitive and discerning. It wasn’t enough just to spin evocative, poetic phrases that were fragments of no greater whole. This was a holier vocation than I had imagined.
Meaningless art is just the easy way out. As a writer who spends a lot of time crafting, and, as Hemingway said, "getting the words right", this affirmation of the try-again-and-again-till-it's-just-right approach versus the flash-bang!-inspiration-equals-automatic-product school is refreshing. (Even better, he called it a holy vocation. Cool.)
McKelvey believes that, as Flannery O'Connor said, there are "lines of spiritual motion" in everything, and it is the artist's job to discover them. And it might mean there's a greater romance than the romantics every dreamed. What is it? Read the article to find out.
Over the years, I've had to argue in the favor of The Lord of the Rings as a Christian epic. At first, as a kid, I took it at face value and said, "Look, it's just a fun adventure story." But with the increase of spiritual maturity, I've seen plain Christian themes in the Rings books, and even in the atheist-produced movies. Re-reading the books for the first time in years, God has shown me things I missed for years - the overt themes of humility, trust, providence, love, mercy, hope, and heaven are hard to miss, but then, I always read Rings for the fantasy stuff. Dark Lords, battles, elves, and dwarves were much more interesting to my twelve-year-old, adventure-starved self even when couched in lessons on moral relativism and absolute truth. As a kid, I knew there was some sort of great moral goodness in these books I loved, but I wasn't old enough to understand it. Now, it's like reading them for the first time, and I'm savoring the experience. But I digress. When talking Tolkien, this is prone to happen.
I'm a big fan of A Christmas Carol (we did a podcast on it last week), and my favorite version is easily George C. Scott's. Partly, it's because of this song:
The past of man is cold as ice:
He would not mend his ways.
He strove for silver in his heart
And gold in all his days.
His reason weak, his anger sharp,
And sorrow all his pay,
He went to church but once a year,
And that was Christmas Day.
So grant us all a change of heart,
Rejoice for Mary’s son;
Pray, Peace on earth to all mankind,
God bless us everyone!
The present man is full of flame:
He rushes here and there.
He turns away the orphan child,
The widow in her chair.
He takes from them he merely meets,
Forgets how brief his stay,
And stands a-jingling of his coins
In church on Christmas Day.
So grant us all a change of heart,
Rejoice for Mary’s son;
Pray, Peace on earth to all mankind,
God bless us everyone!
The man to come we do not know:
May he make peace on earth,
And live the glory of the Word,
The message of the birth,
And gather all the children in
To banish their dismay,
Lift up his heart among the bells
In church on Christmas Day.
So grant us all a change of heart,
Rejoice for Mary’s son;
Pray, Peace on earth to all mankind,
God bless us everyone!
Merry Christmas - and may you keep it in your heart all the year,
Longish
It seems like every time I finish an Andrew Klavan book, I’m impressed anew with how easily he can drag me into a story. I like predicting things. I like working things out. After reading his first series: the Homelanders, I thought I’d done that. Well, I thought, undoubtedly, that was great suspense, but he works with a formula. Handsome, strong, Christian patriot dude fights people that don’t agree with him and Gets The Girl.
When I got Klavan’s next book, Crazy Dangerous, I settled myself in for some highbrow criticism. Ah ha! I said. Here’s a cleancut American Christian dude—this is the same thing. But it wasn’t. If Charlie West was Jet Li, Sam Hopkins was Barney Fife. He had no super cool blackbelt skills, and his obstacles were given a quite different flavor. The suspense was nail-bitingly good. But there was a beautiful secondary character who classified as The Girl, and was there to be Got. Phew. I had predicted one thing. Obviously, there was a formula somewhere.
(Thought this was rather appropriate for the holidays, so here's a guest post from our friend Mr. Chesterton)
What has happened to me has been the very reverse of what appears to be the experience of most of my friends. Instead of dwindling to a point, Santa Claus has grown larger and larger in my life until he fills almost the whole of it. It happened in this way.
As a child I was faced with a phenomenon requiring explanation. I hung up at the end of my bed an empty stocking, which in the morning became a full stocking. I had done nothing to produce the things that filled it. I had not worked for them, or made them or helped to make them. I had not even been good–far from it. ...
And the explanation was that a certain being whom people called Santa Claus was benevolently disposed toward me. What we believed was that a certain benevolent agency did give us those toys for nothing. And, as I say, I believe it still.
I have merely extended the idea.
Then I only wondered who put the toys in the stocking; now I wonder who put the stocking by the bed, and the bed in the room, and the room in the house, and the house on the planet, and the great planet in the void.
Once I only thanked Santa Claus for a few dolls and crackers, now, I thank him for stars and street faces and wine and the great sea.
Once I thought it delightful and astonishing to find a present so big that it only went halfway into the stocking. Now I am delighted and astonished every morning to find a present so big that it takes two stockings to hold it, and then leaves a great deal outside; it is the large and preposterous present of myself, as to the origin of which I can offer no suggestion except that Santa Claus gave it to me in a fit of peculiarly fantastic goodwill.
