For the record, I am not now, nor have I ever been, the Mystery Viking



“Hi! Where are you from?”



I hate the “Mystery Viking.”



The Mystery Viking is an ancient tradition at the annual Norsk Høstfest in Minot, North Dakota.

The idea is that when you’ve got a bunch of Scandinavians all together, there’s likely to be little or no actual social interaction going on, unless money is to be had.

So somebody is designated “the Mystery Viking.” This unidentified volunteer wanders the halls, waiting for someone to walk up to him (or her) and say, “Hi! Where are you from?” Those are the magic words. The Mystery Viking is authorized to award this person 100 dollars.

That’s how it’s supposed to work.

But in fact, of course, since you’re dealing with Scandinavians, comprehension comes slowly, if at all. People hear about the “Mystery Viking” and think, “I need to go up to someone dressed as a Viking, and ask him where he’s from.” So we Vikings get approached by scores of strangers every day, drawn to us solely by their keen love of… money.

This is only one of the soul-searing trials that face me as I venture out to Høstfest again this year. I’ll be gone all next week. I’ll be doing limited posts, if any, depending on how the WiFi’s working in Copenhagen Hall.

We don’t know how the festival will go this year, in the wake of the devastating flooding the city has seen. A friend who lives in Minot told me the people are pretty exhausted, but he also thinks they need some diversion. Accommodations look to be a challenge (though we Vikings are taken care of).

So if you’re in the area, stop in and say hello. Just remember not to ask where I’m from.

I’m generally armed when playing Viking at Høstfest.

Book Reviews from The Christian Manifesto

We got a bit of praise on Twitter today when The Christian Manifesto (tagline “Jesus. Culture. Sarcasm.”) asked its over 1,400 followers where they would go to read honest reviews of Christian materials, if they didn’t have The Christian Manifesto to read? Thank you very much, Tim Motte and Dr. Hunter Baker, for recommending us.

I hadn’t heard of The Christian Manifesto before, and they appear to have a number of music, film, and book reviews. Take for example this negative double-take on Dekker and Lee’s joint novel, Forbidden. “For those of you who thought that Ted Dekker could do no wrong, I urge you to stay away from this book. Live in your land of bliss and read the other countless books he’s put out. If you are a fan of fantasy fiction, this message goes double for you,” one reviewer writes. The second reviewer observes, “Telling but not showing was a problem throughout this novel. I was told Saric was evil, but I didn’t feel his evil. The people lived in fear, but they didn’t seem to be motivated by that fear.”

Here’s another double-take on Robert Whitlow’s Water’s Edge. Sara says, “I have mixed feelings about this book. For the most part, it was very well written. The characters developed at a good pace, with only one major exception.” Fernando notes, “It’s a fairly solid mystery premise, hindered some by having too many uninteresting characters and embracing melodrama too often. It doesn’t help that it chooses the wrong things to be melodramatic about.”

This site appears to be another good reading resource. I should add it to our sidebar.

Ripping Yarns in Highgate

Here’s a nice review with photos of Ripping Yarns, a bookshop of the type every city should have. Jen Campbell, the shop manager, is the one with that book, you know, that book about things folks say in shops like her’s. It’s not yet available in the States, but I’m sure President Obama will work out that diplomatic offense.

Elocution lesson from Mr. Silver

As noted by Phil below, today is Talk Like a Pirate Day.

But if you want to do your yarnin’ ship-shape, you need to go back to the source material. Here’s Long John Silver himself, from Treasure Island, as ever was, in the parley scene, which has always, for some reason, delighted me.

“Now,” resumed Silver, “here it is. You give us the chart to get the treasure by, and drop shooting poor seamen and stoving of their heads in while asleep. You do that, and we’ll offer you a choice. Either you come aboard along of us, once the treasure shipped, and then I’ll give you my affy-davy, upon my word of honour, to clap you somewhere safe ashore. Or if that ain’t to your fancy, some of my hands being rough and having old scores on account of hazing, then you can stay here, you can. We’ll divide stores with you, man for man; and I’ll give my affy-davy, as before to speak the first ship I sight, and send ’em here to pick you up. Now, you’ll own that’s talking. Handsomer you couldn’t look to get, now you. And I hope” — raising his voice — “that all hands in this here block house will overhaul my words, for what is spoke to one is spoke to all.”

When I think back over a lifetime of reading, I can recall very few books that delivered more sheer pleasure of reading to me than Treasure Island. Nearly a perfect adventure story.

Innerst I Sjelen

Today, dear readers, is International Talk Like A Pirate Day, which I’m sure you have been celebrating since midnight. Because ruthless pirates are truly misunderstood dreamers who have poorly chosen ways to work out their pain over dashed hopes, I post the following beautiful Norwegian song by a little known but incredibly gorgeous singer (do we know who this is?) as a way of soothing the savage pirate in us all.

Writing, Creating Through the Fear

“The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it,” writes Steven Pressfield. This is one of the thoughts noted in this list of five principles on fear in the creative process.

Guess These First Lines

Here’s a list of opening lines from various novels. The potential titles follow. There will be no prize, except the satisfaction of a job well done. I will suggest that I would score well on a quiz like this, but I’m not taking it, am I?

  1. “Who is John Galt?” The light was ebbing, and Eddie Willers could not distinguish the bum’s face.
  2. “I have been here before,” I said; I had been there before; first with Sebastian more than twenty years ago on a cloudless day in June, when the ditches were white with fool’s-parsley and meadowsweet and the air heavy with all the scents of summer; it was a day of peculiar splendor, such as our climate affords once or twice a year, when leaf and flower and bird and sun-lit stone and shadow seem all to proclaim the glory of God; and though I had been there so often, in so many moods, is was to that first visit that my heart returned on this, my latest.
  3. It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
  4. Hazel Motes sat at a forward angle on the green plush train seat, looking one minute at the window as if he might want to jump out of it, and the next down the aisle at the other end of the car. The train was racing through tree tops that fell away at intervals and showed the sun standing, very red, on the edge of the farthest woods.
  5. It was Wang Lung’s marriage day. At first, opening his eyes in the blackness of the curtains about his bed, he could not think why the dawn seemed different from any other. The house was still except for the faint, gasping cough of his old father, who room was opposite to his own across the middle room.

Choose from these titles:

  • Catch-22, by Joseph Heller
  • Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand
  • Absalom, Absalom, by William Faulkner
  • 1984, by George Orwell
  • The Good Earth, by Pearl Buck
  • Wise Blood, by Flannery O’Connor
  • Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh

A Cry For Justice, by Shelley Hundley

As you’re aware if you’ve been following my posts for a while, I have a personal interest in the subject of child abuse and recovery. I got Shelley’s Hundley’s A Cry For Justice because it was free for Kindle. I won’t say it wasn’t worth the price. It might even have left some ideas behind in my head that someday could be of use to me. But all in all I was disappointed with it.

Shelley Hundley grew up as a missionary kid in Colombia. If it wasn’t bad enough to be exposed to the daily violence of Medellin, where her family lived, she was also the victim of sexual abuse at the hands of a minister, a trusted family friend.

She repressed all memory of the abuse for some years, she tells us, until she was about to go away to college in the U.S. Then everything flooded back, and she angrily rejected God and became a vocal atheist on a Methodist college campus. She suffered from depression and suicidal thoughts, and it was only by what seems like a miracle that she was prevented from throwing herself from the roof of her dormitory one night. After that followed a period of institutionalization, culminating in a dramatic encounter with Jesus which began her process of spiritual and psychological healing.

There are some good insights here. I was particularly impressed when she pointed out that Peter, James, and John, the “inner circle” of Jesus’ disciples, are distinguished by being the ones about whom we know the most embarrassing stories. Apparently Jesus appreciated followers who weren’t afraid to jump in with both feet and make fools of themselves. That’s a tremendous truth, but much as I appreciate it, it doesn’t help someone like me much.

Hundley’s message of healing centers on seeing Christ as both Bridgroom and Judge, as Lover and Avenger. This, I think, is entirely sound and useful.

The bulk of the book, though, is not actually about dealing with the scars of abuse, but with what Hundley (who works with the International House of Prayer in Kansas City) considers her prophetic calling to turn America back to Christ. She lost a great deal of my interest in that part of the story, as I’m very leery of people who claim to have prophetic words for the church. I can believe that God may give someone a word for an individual or a congregation, from time to time, but claiming to have a prophetic message on a par with Scripture is something my church body does not believe in, and I (based on some experiences in my youth) agree wholeheartedly.

So while A Cry For Justice has some value, I can’t really recommend it.

Teachout on Middle-Brow Culture

Here’s a short podcast with critic and playwright Terry Teachout talking about American mid-century middlebrow culture and his new play, Satchmo at the Waldorf, among other interesting things. (via Books, Inq.)

The Church of Christ: Weak, Helpless, Blood-Spattered

Russell Moore has hard words for many Americans who claim the name of Christ:

But Jesus didn’t die for a Christian Coalition; he died for a church. And the church, across the ages, isn’t significant because of her size or influence. She is weak, helpless, and spattered in blood. He is faithful to us anyway.

If our churches are to survive, we must repudiate this Canaanite mammonocracy that so often speaks for us. But, beyond that, we must train up a new generation to see the gospel embedded in fidelity, a fidelity that is cruciform.

Sadly, many of our neighbors assume that when they hear the parade of cartoon characters we allow to speak for us, that they are hearing the gospel. They assume that when they see the giggling evangelist on the television screen, that they see Jesus. They assume that when they see the stadium political rallies to “take back America for Christ,” that they see Jesus. But Jesus isn’t there.