Elemental Flash Fiction

The Clarity of Night Contest, “Elemental,” has all the stories it’s going to get now, 102 in all. Styles, skill, and genres vary. Mine is #62, but here are my favorites of what I’ve read of the others.

There are other good ones too, so feel free to scan the list and bad mouth the authors here where they probably won’t read it. No, don’t do that. I’m shocked you would even think about it.

Scaramouche, by Rafael Sabatini

When writing a review of Rafael Sabatini’s Scaramouche, it’s almost obligatory to quote the first line, often considered one of the best in English literature:

He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. And that was all his patrimony.

(I added the second line as a bonus, because I’m in a generous mood.)

Rafael Sabatini is chiefly remembered today as the author of Captain Blood and The Sea Hawk, which had the good fortune to be turned into classic movies starring Errol Flynn. Scaramouche has been filmed twice, once as a silent with Ramon Navarro, and once in sound and technicolor with Stewart Granger. Granger isn’t quite up to Flynn’s standards as a swashbuckler, and the film is pretty radically telescoped from the book’s plot, but I understand it’s not bad. Haven’t seen it myself in a while.

“Scaramouche” is not the hero’s real name, but the name he takes on when he joins a traveling comedy troupe. Stage comedy in those days, only slightly evolved from the Italian Commedia del Arte, was kind of like a TV situation comedy, if there were many networks and they all broadcast the same series, just with different casts playing the roles. The stock characters, recycled from plot to plot, became familiar types. We still speak of Harlequin and Pantaloon today, and occasionally you may even dig up a reference to Peirrot and Columbine. Scaramouche was another such character, a shifty, black-clad figure who was constantly devising plots and conspiracies. The trick of this novel (and Sabatini carries it off very well) is that his hero, Andre-Louis Moreau of Brittany, is a Scaramouche in real life as well as on stage. And the book’s plot is clearly based on a standard comedy plot of the time. Even the climax is technically right out of the Comedie Francais, except that it’s handled with far greater restraint and ambiguity.

Andre-Louis becomes an actor in order to hide from the law, after he delivers a revolutionary speech in the city of Nantes which (to his own surprise) becomes one of the sparks that sets off the French Revolution. He gives the speech, not because he’s a revolutionary himself, but as a sort of tribute to a friend who has just been murdered in duel by a nobleman, the arrogant Marquis de la Tour d’Azyr. Andre-Louis has vowed to promote his friend’s ideas and to kill the Marquis.

He finds that he has a natural gift for acting, and before long becomes not only the star, but the business manager, of the theater company. But a disappointing romantic interlude with the other manager’s daughter, plus a further brush with the Marquis de la Tour d’Azyr, causes him to leave the theater and become a fencing master’s assistant. Eventually, once he has perfected his swordsmanship, he goes into politics, sitting on the left side of the National Assembly, in order to get his final revenge on his mortal enemy.

The whole thing is rather preposterous, in the best tradition of the picaresque novel, but Sabatini carries it off with great style. As old books are wont to do, Scaramouche starts a little slow, but the longer I read the more fascinated I grew. This is a classic adventure story, well worth re-discovering.

Recommended for anyone old enough to understand the grammar.

Some divisions are longer than others

Further thoughts on the matters I discussed last night.



The issue of religious cooperation between groups that differ theologically is a velcro-ish one. I have come to a view of my own, which I’ll outline here. Use it if you find it helpful. If not, no big deal.

Cooperation looks very different today than it did when I was young. In those easy times (easy from a social point of view), Christians had the luxury of being stand-offish with each other. A Lutheran church might very reasonably refuse to participate in, say, a community event where a Baptist preacher spoke (though my own people were pretty tolerant of Billy Graham). Even the Baptists understood that. In its way, it was a statement of respect for Baptist exceptionalism.

And cooperating with Catholics? Well, that would only happen in the face of something very big. A community tragedy, perhaps. And even then the Lutherans would take some steps to make it clear they weren’t giving tacit assent to the idea of the authority of the pope.

It’s different now. Christians who actually believe the historic faith are a small remnant, with our backs to the wall, fighting for survival. In general (there are exceptions), if somebody throws us an ammunition belt or shares his canteen, we don’t ask which division he comes from. We have much greater differences with those guys over there who are trying to kill us.

Still, there are limits. Politics is different from faith. I won’t pray with some people, though I’d vote for them. It would be untrue to my own creed, and condescending to theirs.

In my Bible study some years back, I came across what I judge to be Jesus Christ’s principle in these matters.

First of all, there’s Matthew 12:30, where Jesus says, “He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters.”

A hard statement, beloved of stern sectarians (like me, I suppose). This verse falls like a cleaver, chopping humanity into two segments.

But there’s another statement, similar but intriguingly different, in Mark 9:39-40: “Do not stop him,” Jesus said, “No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad against me, for whoever is not against us is for us.”

“What’s this?” I used to wonder. “Isn’t this a contradiction?”

Then I read closely, and realized it’s not a contradiction at all. Jesus is discussing two different things.

In Matthew, He says that whoever is not with Him is against Him.

In Mark, He says that whoever is not against us is for us.

The difference is in the pronouns.

I think Jesus is setting up a hierarchy of values here. The crucial thing is what someone confesses about Jesus. That’s an in or out matter; faith in Him is central and determinative.

But when it comes to being for or against “us” (our group within the Christian community), the standard is lower. I don’t have to demand that someone else share my group’s every point of theology in order to accept them as brethren.

I need to carefully examine what they say about Jesus—don’t get me wrong on that. But once I’m satisfied that they believe in the Christ of Scripture and the creeds, then I can agree to disagree on other stuff.

This is my own interpretation. I am willing to be corrected by wiser souls.

Civility Online

The Art of Manliness makes good points on “How to Be More Civil Online.” Brett & Kate write, “Being a gentleman online simply involves the application of common sense. But anyone who leaves their home each day knows how uncommon common sense can be.”

Clarity of Night Contest Entry

My short-short for The Clarity of Night contest, “Elemental,” has been posted. It’s called “Wilruf the Plunderer.” Feel free to comment either here or there. I’d love your feedback. Contest parameters and a list of entries are here.

Getting to the bottom of the WELS flap

I’ll come clean. I have to admit it. I am a Lutheran.

And that, at least according to Joshua Green at The Atlantic, would seem to be pretty fringey stuff. Definitely outside the realm of respectable opinion in today’s world. (Which must be a surprise to all those Garrison Keillor fans.)

Or… maybe I’m not a Lutheran at all, really. Continue reading Getting to the bottom of the WELS flap

Writer Hashtags

There are a number of hashtags for writers and book publishing fans on Twitter, and the Christian Science Monitor has a good list of them. A hashtag, btw, is a Twitter tag for the thoughts written there, e.g. #nowyouknow.

Ice Cream and Venom, by Republibot 3.0

I bought Ice Cream and Venom for my Kindle because it was written by the anonymous “Republibot 3.0” who hangs out at Threedonia, as I tend to do. He (I assume he’s a he) participates in this conservative science fiction blog. The book is a collection of seven short stories, diverse in setting and tone.

I have an ambivalent relationship with science fiction. I enjoyed the juvenile stuff when I was young, but as I tasted the more adult variety my interest waned and I shifted to fantasy. I’ve always suspected I never gave science fiction a fair try, although I’ve read a fair (at least representative, I think) selection of stories and books over the years.

Ice Cream and Venom, in my opinion, is pretty good. I liked some stories better than others, as you’d expect, but I thought the quality of the writing was high (marred, as is so often the case nowadays—especially in electronic publishing–by poor proofing). There are lots of confused cognates and wrongly placed apostrophes, and in one story the author lost track of characters’ names, calling two guys by the others’ names for about half a page.

Still the contemporary reader has grown used to such things and learned to work around them. When the author is on his game, his writing is very good indeed.

My favorite story was “The Man Who Would Not Be King,” an oddly heartwarming story of Elvis Presley in an alternate universe.

“Superheroes Are Gay” was a well realized, if disturbing, picture of a world where superherores are real—and it’s not a good thing.

“The Truth About Lions and Lambs” is a dystopic tale, troubling and hard to forget.

Christian readers will find that the themes are generally positive ones, but the details sometimes offensive. A very short story called “Just Moments Before the End of the Age” borders on sacrilege, and will certainly put some Christians off (I think it also betrays a lack of theological understanding on the part of a writer who seems pretty familiar with the faith and the evangelical community).

But if you enjoy that kind of challenging material, it’s only a buck on Kindle, and you could do a lot worse.