All posts by Phil

A Ruined City in Old England and Some Language

Lars has been talking about poetry this week, which provoked me to consider it for the Saturday post.

A 700 A.D. Anglo-Saxon poem called “The Ruin” speaks of a city that was gorgeous even when destroyed.

Well-wrought this wall-stone which fate has broken
The city bursts, the work of giants crumbles.

In this translation by Michael O’Brien, you can see what is and what once was: frost on the stones, brightly color scraps of wood, bath-houses, and attractive homes. It had been a welcoming, beautiful home–a “haven.” Skilled soldiers lived here “proud and wine-flushed.” The baths were obviously luxurious. Only one wall remained standing.

Many men fell in the days of wrath;
Death took all the valor of earth.

Did invaders sack this city? No, it was the curse on all creation that eventually wore it down. One way or another, we all see the day of wrath. How do we live today in the light of what’s to come?

What else can we get into today?

Poetry: David Oates has a few verses on “farthing” and going too far.

Language: “We are lucky that English is our language because it’s better than, say, French for poetry. All those millions of words and all those different ways of saying the same, or similar, things. And new words all the time.” 

Parting Quotes: Here are a couple of statements pulled from Joseph Addison’s 1716 play The Drummer.

“That is well said, John, an honest man, that is not quite sober, has nothing to fear.”

“I should think myself a very bad woman if I had done what I do for a farthing less.”

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

Sunday Singing: His Eye Is on the Sparrow

Today’s hymn seems less of a hymn to me and more of a song. Civilla D. Martin (1866-1948) of Nova Scotia wrote it in 1906 and set it to a tune by Iowan composer Charles Hutchinson Gabriel (1856-1932). The Methodist musician wrote and edited thousands of gospel songs that were sung at Billy Sunday­ and Homer Rodeheaver urban crusades.

1 Why should I feel discouraged,
Why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely,
And long for heav’n and home;
When Jesus is my portion?
My constant Friend is He:

Refrain:
His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.
I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.

2 “Let not your heart be troubled,”
His tender word I hear,
And resting on His goodness,
I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth,
But one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me; [Refrain]

3 Whenever I am tempted,
Whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing,
When hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him,
From care He sets me free; [Refrain]

Witnessing to Social Media Scammers, Good Novels, and the Legal Power of Music

Social media is something of a minefield. It’s easily misused, partly because it’s easy for people to write poorly and misunderstand what they’ve read. People do that with books, and they misspeak and misheard live conversations. Some of us are astonishingly accomplished at misunderstanding what people say. There ought to be annual awards for that level of skill.

And the socials have another aspect that complicates communication— anonymity.

I had an interaction with a new follow on Twitter/X, which I noticed and returned the follow even though the profile and activity were sparse and a little sus. I played the Benefit of the Doubt card this time—not my usual strategy. She slid into my DMs saying she wanted to be my friend (also sus). I say “she” because that’s how the profile was set up, but I can’t confirm that. I found two other profiles with the same or similar names, images, and profile descriptions, so I figured I wasn’t dealing with an honest individual. But I didn’t ignore her this time.

She DMed me in an overly friendly way, so I asked about the username, which didn’t fit her name or profile. It was like Cindy @kergu_addict. I asked what @kergu_addict referred to. She said it was just something she filled in earlier. I responded by praising the Lord’s mercy and goodness and asking if she knew Him. That question was ignored.

The next day after another DM checking up on me, I told her she needed in-person friends. Online connections can’t keep up with daily living. She responded with one of those statements you see in spam, like it was cut from two separate sentences.

“I’m not sure what you’re saying,” I said. “In person, we have proximity–people in the same room. We can talk with our voices and body language, and that’s a big difference. Online, we can only type and wait for the other person to read our message.”

“So that you wish you could find someone like that?” she asked.

“I have people like that,” I said. “I also have a close relationship with Jesus Christ. Do you have a Bible? Do you know something about Jesus?”

“I’m an atheist. I believe in what I do.”

“You don’t have to stay that way. This life, this world, are not there is. We were made for eternity.”

“Why? Don’t you believe in what you’re doing?”

“Because God, the creator of everything, and Jesus, the incarnation of God, are real. I believe in them because they exist. It’s reality.”

“Of course, I respect you. Faith is a good thing.”

She unfollowed me after that, which is what I expected. I wonder if anything I said will stay with whoever is on the other side.

What else can we look into?

Fantasy: The Queen of Ebenezer is “a dreamlike but intense story of two lost teenagers trying to find their way through a mysterious swamp—and that’s just the beginning of what they’re trying to find.” Gina Dalfonzo talks to author K. B. Hoyle about her latest novel.

Novels: John Wilson reminisces about his early novel reading in light of “Joseph Epstein’s just-published book The Novel, Who Needs It? If, like me, you are an incorrigible reader of novels, you should make haste to acquire it. . . . Most readers besotted with ‘the novel,’ as I am, will get their money’s worth.”

Music: Ted Gioia on how musicians gave the ancient world law, taken from his new book Music to Raise the Dead. The whole story isn’t spelled out and remains unclear, but “it’s indisputable that ancient communities frequently turned to people outside of the ruling class for their laws.”

Photo: Bomber gas station, Milwaukie, Oregon. John Margolies Roadside America photograph archive (1972-2008), Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.

Stanford President Faked Scientific Research

From our Trust the Science desk, respected scientific researchers have had their work called into question by evidence of data manipulation. Last month, the president of Stanford stepped down because the student newspaper asked an expert to review his published neurobiological papers to clear up allegations that had been raised years before. Pete Judo explains in this video.

On November 29, 2022, Theo Baker wrote in The Stanford Daily:

Silvia Bulfone-Paus, a prominent German researcher, was forced to step down as the director of the Borstel Institute in 2011 after image manipulation was found in several of her papers (Bulfone-Paus blamed two of her post-doc researchers). Carlo Croce, an Ohio State University professor, was beset with similar allegations in 2017 — an official review conducted by the university found earlier this year that he had not manipulated imagery himself, but the professor was disciplined over “management problems,” and two of his researchers, who were determined to have made the falsifications, were dismissed. And Gregg Semenza, a Nobel-prize-winning scientist, retracted 17 papers after allegations were made on PubPeer.

. . .

Scientific journals and institutions have historically been reluctant to investigate alleged misconduct, particularly by powerful scientists, experts say.

Sunday Singing: Redeemed, How I Love to Proclaim It

“Redeemed, How I Love to Proclaim It” performed by student in the
Fountainview Academy

Fanny Crosby (1820-1915), a great Methodist hymn composer, gave us today’s song in 1882. She wrote poems before her conversion in 1950 and afterward about 8,000 hymns, many of which have not been set to music.

“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted
and saves the crushed in spirit.
. . .
The LORD redeems the life of his servants;
none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.”
(Psalm 34:18,22 ESV)

1 Redeemed how I love to proclaim it,
Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb;
Redeemed through his infinite mercy
His child and forever I am.

Refrain:
Redeemed, redeeemed,
Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb,
Redeemed, redeemed,
His child and forever I am.

2 Redeemed, and so happy in Jesus,
No language my rapture can tell,
I know that the light of his presence
With me doth continually dwell.
[Refrain]

3 I think of my blessed Redeemer,
I think of him all the day long,
I sing, for I cannot be silent,
His love is the theme of my song.
[Refrain]

4 I know I shall see in his beauty
The King in whose law I delight,
Who lovingly guardeth my footsteps,
And giveth me songs in the night.
[Refrain]

5 I know there’s a crown that is waiting
In yonder bright mansion for me,
And soon, with the spirits made perfect,
At home with the Lord I shall be.
[Refrain]

Tale of the Nine-Tailed: A Well-Written Fantasy TV Series

Recently, a TV adaptation of a popular Marvel comics storyline ended its run by tripping over its feet and kissing the synthetic rubber track. Many superhero fans didn’t even watch, and many others hated their experience (not everyone, just many). The director said he was told not to read the source material and that he didn’t want to make a story that leaned into its own genre, so the show introduced story elements and tone only to set them on the shelf. I don’t know what the producers were expecting. It’s the latest installment of high value entertainment prospects that failed.

If you’d like to watch a fantasy series that is actually well-written and different to most Americans, look up Tale of the Nine-Tailed, a 16-episode Korean series starring Lee Dong Wook and Jo Bo Ah and directed by Kang Shin Hyo. The story focuses on mythological foxes (gumiho), who are traditionally wily and mischievous. The old stories say the nine-tailed fox is seeking to become human by some trial over a thousand years. The main fox of this story was once a mountain god who fell in love with a young woman. When that woman was murdered, he gave up his divine position in hopes of finding her reincarnation one day.

At the beginning of Tale of the Nine-Tailed, Lee Yeon, the fox, is hunting down lesser foxes who are posing as humans and killing them. I forget why he is hunting them, if it’s more than just defending humanity. TV producer Nam Ji Ah is building evidence for her version of X files when she notices Yeon’s distinctive umbrella. Somehow, she ropes him into accompanying her to a remote island village where she hopes to find a clue to her parents’ disappearance (her motive for researching paranormal accounts). In these 3-4 episodes, the show has a horror tone. Traditional Korean shamanism is displayed throughout the series, and you see some of the ugly practices in these episodes. It lightens up after this, leaning first into a romantic storyline and plunging into fantasy for the rest of it. Yeon is plagued by many things, primarily his murderous half-brother Rang, who resembles Loki in attitude and miscreant behavior. The tension between the brothers is compelling to watch.

I mention it here because the writing is strong throughout. Wikipedia credits Han Woo-ri for this. Bravo. Yeon is presented as crafty with great, but not unlimited, knowledge. Many mythological foes come after him, and they never lay a hand on him because he’s an idiot. He works the situation, turning the tables when he can. None of his victories feels forced or as if he has read the script. Once, the irritating trope of loving her so much he can’t tell the truth is used to bridge two episodes, but it’s short lived and nothing else stands out as clichéd.

A second season was released this summer on Amazon. I hope I can find a way to see it.

In other news —

Reviews: Bad reviews can be helpful. “Instead of specialties, we were known by our critical styles: We were the Shredder, the Beheader and the Fredder.”

Funny Stuff: “A sense of humour is just common sense, dancing. Those who lack humour are without judgment and should be trusted with nothing.”

Classic Reading: Kristin Lavransdatter

Joel Miller has been reading classic novels this year and reviewed Sigrid Undset’s Kristin Lavransdatter this week.

“If you peel away the layer of ideas and conceptions that are particular to your own time period,” Undset once said, “then you can step right into the Middle Ages and see life from the medieval point of view—and it will coincide with your own view.”

In Sigrid Undset’s skillful hands, it’s impossible to imagine any other outcome.

Sunday Singing: Loved with Everlasting Love

For the next several weeks, I want to take up the theme of faith in our hymn selections. Many hymns speak of our response to God, the comfort we receive, our gratitude, or our confession, so I want to break our pattern of monthly themes for this continuing topic of our life sustained by faith.

Today’s hymn is originally by Irish Pastor Wade Robinson (1838-1876). The words in the video above may reflect his original. The words I’ve copied below are the ones revised by Edmund Clowney of Westminster Seminary.

1 Loved with everlasting love,
drawn by grace that love to know,
Spirit sent from Christ above,
thou dost witness it is so.
O this full and precious peace
from his presence all divine;
in a love that cannot cease,
I am his and he is mine.

2 Heav’n above is deeper blue,
earth around is sweeter green,
that which glows in ev’ry hue
Christless eyes have never seen.
Birds in song his glories show,
flow’rs with richer beauties shine
since I know, as now I know,
I am his and he is mine.

3 Taste the goodness of the Lord:
welcomed home to his embrace,
all his love, as blood outpoured,
seals the pardon of his grace.
Can I doubt his love for me,
when I trace that love’s design?
By the cross of Calvary
I am his and he is mine.

4 His forever, only his–
who the Lord and me shall part?
Ah, with what a rest of bliss
Christ can fill the loving heart.
Heav’n and earth may fade and flee,
firstborn light in gloom decline,
but while God and I shall be,
I am his and he is mine.

County Highway, a New Magazine Delivered as Newspaper

When I read on Twitter (X) that novelist and editor Walter Kirn, along with David Samuels, had created “a magazine about America in the form of a 19th century newspaper,” I looked up the website, and when I saw it would be for sale at one of my town’s cute local stores, I decided to check it out.

County Highway is meant to represent the heart of America, a place with natural rhythms, relationships, and grassroots sense. It’s written by “actual human beings,” which is more than some websites can say. “We hope to advance the same relationship to America that Bob Dylan had when he wrote his versions of folk songs” or when Neil Young, Gram Parsons, Mark Twain, and Ralph Ellison wrote of their country.

I enjoy the feel of reading this paper, which cheekily touts itself as “America’s only newspaper” and plans to publish six issues a year for a $50 subscription. Kirn’s front page piece is on his visit to The Miracle of America Museum in Polson, Montana, a place where memorabilia, props, and junk attempt to preserve a moral history. Duncan Moench has a report on artificial intelligence and the imminent threat of corporate technocracy.

I was pulled in by a review of Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead (2023 Pulitzer Prize winner for fiction), which says Kingsolver’s skill is clear and subject matter well chosen, but this “protest novel” in the form of Dicken’s David Copperfield is heavy on ranting, light on humanity. Other articles in this first issue include a lengthy piece that circles around Joshua Tree National Park, a front story on an American con man from last century, four pages on music, feature on Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s falconry hobby, and a full page of legit classifieds: Wyoming cabins, bookstores, alpacas for breeding, and ‘shrooms.

I’ve enjoyed reading some of these, and there are a few more I’d like to get to. There’s a little poetry, a few wisecracks tucked in a small column, and attractive illustrations of a vintage sheen. The articles feel like those I’ve seen online and hoped to get back to, but often don’t. The Internet is ethereal; newspapers sit on the desk.

I may buy the next issue to try to balance what I read in the first, but I’m put off by the feel of the whole. Is it cynical? Maybe too secular? There’s a column about fugitives from someone who speaks positively about the Weather Underground. I believe he says he helped a couple of them back in the day. That’s like longing for time when your granddad would tell stories of fighting alongside Che Guevara. And then there’s this in a joke section: “Drag queen story hour — it’s what my pops used to call church on Sundays.” I don’t know what to do with that. Maybe I should untie my laces. (I wrote about the second issue also.)

Alt Culture: To balance the earthiness of America’s newspaper, let me point you to the new season of Doubletake from World News Group. This is a podcast of long features that can get complicated. Today’s episode is on what some people are doing in the Metaverse and a church trying to reach them.

Poetry: John Barr’s “Season of spores”:

“a bric-a-brac of fluke and ruff,
lavender cap, topiary puff.”

Photo by Wolfgang Frick on Unsplash

Murdered Author’s Notebook on Russian Invasion Now Made Public

Ukrainian father and children’s book author Volodymyr Vakulenko took notes as Russian forces rolled into his Kapytolivka village in eastern Ukraine. When he knew they would take him away, he buried his journal in his backyard.

Charlotte Higgins, writing for The Guardian, put together as much of the story as can be known, working with another Ukranian author, Victoria Amelina.

“I never thought that my home village would become the epicentre of the rashist occupation,” wrote Vakulenko in the opening paragraphs of his diary. The word “rashist” is a now widespread Ukrainian portmanteau, a combination of “Russian” and “fascist”, not to be given the dignity of an initial capital. “For me, with my patriotic, pro-Ukrainian views, it was extremely dangerous to find myself surrounded by the enemy.” But, he wrote, he had little choice: moving his son seemed impossible. He added: “You can get used to anything; what matters is what sort of person you are left at the end of it.”

“The manuscript is now in the Kharkiv Literary Museum, and the text of the diary has been recently published in Ukraine, with a foreword by Amelina.”