Frank Wilson reviews Charles Williams’ All Hallows’ Eve, written in 1945. He says it focuses on real, cosmic evil in the streets of London. “In Williams’ vision of Halloween,” he says, “we are our own goblins – and not at all cute.”
calon lan (Bonnie) of Dwell in Possibility reviews P.G. Wodehouse’s Piccadilly Jim–not the best. She loves Wodehouse, but this one just doesn’t burn it up, if you see what I mean. The problem? “There’s just too much going on. I couldn’t keep track of the characters, and frankly didn’t find them interesting enough to keep track of.”
Warning on following the link: music automatically plays (but at least the controls are easily found at the top of the page).
J.K. Rowling has been talking about her books lately, and in New York someone asked a question about Professor Dumbledore’s, the headmaster of Rowling’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, love life. The author answered hesitantly, “I always saw Dumbledore as gay.”
According to at least one report, the audience loudly applauded that revelation, to which Rowling responded she would have revealed it earlier had she known it would be well received.
Of course, this doesn’t sit well with me, but I guess we’ll have to live with it. Rowling appears to be in her right mind and not slipping into loony post-story “revelations,” ala George Lucas. When I first heard of this news, I doubted it. Even if she did say Dumbledore is gay and it isn’t an inference drawn from an unclear statement, I thought we may have to wait to hear what other statements she makes about her wildly popular series. If next year we hear her tell readers the hero of her stories is actually Hagrid, then we’ll know she’s flaky. But this appears to be genuine backstory, never before guessed or hinted at in the books. In a few decades if these books are still popular, many readers will probably doubt Rowling ever said this.
In related news, Rowling said the books have Christian inspirations. The Telegraph reports:
At one point Harry visits his parents’ graves and finds two biblical passages inscribed on their tombstones.
“They are very British books, so on a very practical note, Harry was going to find biblical quotations on tombstones,” [Rowling] said.
“But I think those two particular quotations he finds on the tombstones …they sum up, they almost epitomise, the whole series.”
She confessed that she does have doubts about Christianity and the afterlife, but she has not given up on her faith. To the reader who responds to this by asking how she could be Christian and have a major character, admirable in many ways, be a homosexual, I recommend practicing a bit of Christian tolerance. Did the Lord say, “Ye will know my disciples by their stance of current issues?” No, he said his disciples would love each other, even when we disagree.
A while back I meant to link to a review Mr. Holtsberry did on his jolly good blog, which could only be improved by short, coffee-related posts, IMESHO. Since I’ve been making good on my thoughts lately (note the radio interview Dr. Bertrand landed after I thought about suggesting it. (I didn’t know he was a doctor. Did you know he had a doctorate?)) Anyway, I saw this review of Foundling, by D. M. Cornish, and having seen the book before, I have faith it’s a good one.
Kevin says the book is both Dickensesque and Tolkienesque. “The Dickens reference obviously comes from the orphan plot line and the semi-Victorian feel. But also from the strong characters,” he writes. “The Tolkienesque aspect comes from the complexity and detailed nature of Cornish’s creation. The world of the Half-Continent has a depth and level of detail that is rare in YA fantasy.” Very interesting, though the hardback has a scary cover. The website is Monster Blood Tattoo, which has a short excerpt from the book.
World reviews Brock Clarke’s An Arsonist’s Guide to Writers’ Homes in New England.
Sherry reviews N.D. Wilson’a Leepike Ridge.
In First Things, Mark Shea writes:
The magic of Harry is, as John Granger points out, “incantational,” not “invocational,” exactly like the magic of Gandalf. Born with the talent for magic, Gandalf says the magic words and fire leaps forth from his staff, just as from Harry’s wand. No principalities or powers are invoked in HP. Indeed, if any words are “invocational” they are the prayer to Elbereth and Gilthoniel uttered in Middle Earth. Yet nobody accuses Tolkien of promoting the worship of false gods. That’s because we understand Tolkien’s fictional subcreation and its rootedness in Christian thought. I suggest Christian critics try to extend Rowling the same charity.
Spoiler warning. [via Mars Hills Audio]
The Scott Stein, who teaches a course on humorous writing at University of Pennsylvania, said that he read P.G. Wodehouse’s The Code of the Woosters before any other Bertie and Jeeves novel. “It was one of the funniest, most entertaining novels I’d ever read,” he said. He read three more and “each has been less entertaining than the previous one. The last one I read, just recently (Jeeves and the Tie that Binds), was even a bit tedious.”
Frank Wilson pointed out Scott’s post and has yet to say whether he agrees with Scott. Not that it really matters, but hey, it’s a detail to point out, and Scott–that is, The Scott Stein–discussed his thoughts further on Frank’s blog.
I haven’t read the books Scott read. Of the Bertie and Jeeves stories, I’ve read Carry On, Jeeves, Very Good, Jeeves, Right-Ho, Jeeves, and The Inimitable Jeeves (I think). Each were hilarious. The story of Aunt Agatha and the Pearls was ripping funny, in part, because we knew about Bertie’s relationship with his aunt, “the one who chews broken bottles and kills rats with her teeth.” I haven’t gotten to The Code yet, but what do you think of Scott’s premise? Do these stories get old after a while?
Who are the top three most influential fictitious characters in your life? They are probably listed in a new book, The 101 Most Influential People Who Never Lived: How Characters of Fiction, Myth, Legends, Television, and Movies Have Shaped Our Society, Changed Our Behavior, and Set the Course of History. Three scientific authors wrote up their subjective list, including Frankenstein, Mr. Hyde, Prometheus, Jim Crow, Siegfried, and J.R. Ewing. Their top three are The Marlboro Man, Big Brother, and King Arthur. (No, no, the legend of Arthur which transcends whatever the reality was. No, I’m not going to argue over it, because you’re probably right.)
I think my personal list would be:
- Bilbo Baggins, who left his comfortable home to apply his skills in ways he could never have foreseen
- Winnie the Pooh, who is fun and compassionate if nothing else (I should learn more from him)
- Wolverine, an angry man who has been a bad influence on me. I should work to replace him with The Man who was Thursday, who strove after God.
Who are the characters on your list?
For his first novel, accomplished German author and playwright Robert Löhr spins a remarkable yarn from an obscure historical incident. In 1770, Baron Wolfgang von Kempelen revealed a clockwork device called the Mechanical Turk. It was a chess-playing automaton or at least was presented as such. In reality, it was a clever bit of gears and controls beneath the wooden façade of a stern Turkish chess master (about which Edgar Allen Poe writes in this essay, having witnessed the Turk many years later).
In The Chess Machine, Löhr uses that stone to produce a 300-page soup of deception, ambition, lust, loyalty, prejudice, and faith—with a touch of murder. The lead character is the man within the machine, the brilliant Tibor Scardanelli. Tibor’s religious worldview frames most the drama. When he is first offered a job as the automaton’s mind, he refuses it, citing the commandment to avoid false witness. Within a day his circumstances become so desperate that he runs to find Kempelen to accept the offer. From that point on, Tibor, a dwarf who had lived as an outcast of society, has to become non-existent, because no one can know that Kempelen has been associating with a man who could fit inside his new chess machine.
When he arrives at the workshop which is to be his entire world for several months, Tibor meets another outcast working with Kempelen, a Jew named Jakob whose woodcarving gives the Turk its mystic aura. The three men are a wild success everywhere they perform, which stirs up envy among the mechanicians who know it can’t be done and fear from priests and parishioners who believe it’s of the devil. The deception grows dangerous when a beautiful woman dies while alone with the machine. That’s more of a teaser than you’ll get from the video created by the book’s Dutch publisher.
Tibor causes the most trouble for himself when he sneaks away from Kempelen’s in-house arrest to breathe the wild air of the world. One time he gets caught up in a Viennese masquerade party. Another time he takes refuge with a somewhat deranged sculptor. In both cases, he is carried away by the lust of the flesh and deeply troubled by his sin. This is the most realistic conflict Löhr describes. Tibor is powerless over his sin, and he pleads for God’s absolution. Yet even while he prays, one time, his thoughts turn salacious. Horrified at himself, he stabs his legs with carving tools, hoping to pay for God’s forgiveness. I wish I could say he learned that forgiveness was already bought for him through Jesus Christ, but the story ends ambivalent on this point—perhaps leaving his faith at an altar, perhaps only leaving one faith tradition for another.
The Chess Machine winds up slowly and spins a dramatic finish. It isn’t a safe book (thinking of Association of Christian Retailer guidelines), but it is enjoyable and smart. Translator Anthea Bell did an excellent job bringing this work to English.
Hal G. P. Colebatch wrote a great essay on Christian themes in Tolkien, Star Wars and Harry Potter for The American Spectator Online today.
C. S. Lewis is also involved (as a subject).
Mark Bertrand can make zombie movies sound sophisticated. He blogs, “I felt a little bit like I did that first time I read ‘The Call of Cthulhu’ and realized how much the coolest parts of Close Encounters of the Third Kind were ripped off from Lovecraft.”
Novelist Natalie Danford has written her first novel, a psych-thriller, about secret family histories. In an interview on Nextbook, she talks a little about her own family.
My paternal grandfather created this whole story that he had come over here when he was 12 and that he didn’t speak any English and pulled himself up by his bootstraps. Many years ago, after the Ellis Island records went online, my father idly punched in his own father’s name and it turns out that my grandfather came here when he was three with his entire family. He had come from Austria and the family name was Deutsche. Later he changed our name to Danford. My father asked a relative about it. It turns out in reality that my grandfather was part of a blended family. His mother died when he was an infant. His father, a widower, had remarried and between the two of them they had something like 15 children together.
It’s not the story that was so important as the idea that there was this family member who was not honest about his own past.
On my mother’s side, we always thought that my great-grandfather left Russia because he didn’t want to be conscripted into the Czar’s army, obviously a pretty bad deal if you were Jewish. One of my mother’s cousins did genealogical research in the late 1970s; it turned out that he actually killed somebody and hopped a boat.
Her novel, Inheritance, was released early this year.
Frank Wilson says Out Stealing Horses is well-worth it.
A lesser novel would gather up all the dangling threads of narrative – there are plenty more besides those mentioned – and tie them into a nice neat bow of an ending. Not this one. It is, in fact, Petterson’s refusal to do precisely this that makes his novel so lifelike. After all, life boasts far more loose ends than pat endings.
Kevin Holtsberry discusses the close of Olen Steinhauer’s Eastern European Series with his book, Victory Square. He writes, “I have to admit that the expectations are high for this one as his last book, Liberation Movements, was one of, if not THE, book of the year for me last year. But so far, Olen has never let me down.”