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Winter’s tale

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Winter in Minnesota. Artist’s conception.

It started snowing last night, and it’s still snowing now. It’s supposed to keep snowing till sometime overnight. I’m not even going to shovel the steps tonight. Tomorrow will do. No point doing it twice.

This is the time of year when cabin fever sets in. Winter’s fun right up until Christmas. After Christmas it becomes a thing to endure, except for the hearty Nordic types who love to tug on their multiple layers and strap on their skis and make for the blustery, aerobic slopes. They exude a moral and physical superiority that annoys me, frankly. The fact that they are in fact morally and physically superior to me is beside the point.

But by mid-February, even the Chilblain Brigade starts dreaming of beaches and barbecues. No, thank you, we won’t have another helping. We’ve enjoyed as much of this as we can stand. Wake us when the robins show up.

Yesterday I had a day without translation work, but I’d been told more was coming, so I figured relaxing a bit was okay, as I’ll be at it pretty hard in the days to come. At this point, it feels as if people are clamoring for me to take their money. I like this. It makes me feel morally and physically superior.

But I didn’t loaf all day. I went back to working on the new novel, and I made a fateful determination – my work habits have grown shoddy.

I’ve often mentioned that I like to write with the TV on. And I do. It works fine when I’m on a first draft, because first drafts are mostly sitting and thinking anyway. A TV distracts my mind just enough to keep it sparking. Or so I tell myself.

But when I’m doing revisions, as I have been for some time now, I need to concentrate more. Instead, I’ve been doing it over TV, and I think that’s why I’ve been moving so slowly.

So last night I put on music (Bach, mainly), and yes, it works better.

Maybe there’ll be progress now.

If I have any time free from translating.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Wanderer, by Michael Ridpath

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From time to time I run across a mystery related to the Vikings or the sagas. Usually I am disappointed. The research tends to be cursory, and I find many historical nits to pick.

Michael Ridpath’s The Wanderer was different. I have a few criticisms, but they don’t fall on the research side.

The book is part of a series about an Icelandic-American detective named Magnus (one of the things you need to get used to – accurately – is the general use of first names where we’d use last names. This is due to Icelandic patronymic naming conventions. Our hero’s full name is Magnus Jonson, but the Jonson part is rarely used. Magnus was born in Iceland but raised in the US, where he was a policeman in Boston for some years. But now he’s home in Iceland and is a police detective there. He doesn’t really feel at home in either place.

There’s a young female historian named Eyglo, who made an international name for herself with a documentary about Viking women. Now she’s working with a British crew on a documentary about Gudrid the Far-Traveled, Erik the Red’s daughter-in-law who made it both to America and to Rome during her lifetime. They’re particularly excited about a couple new discoveries they’ll be highlighting. One is a letter from Columbus himself, recently discovered in the Vatican library, that details a trip to Iceland where he acquired sailing directions for a land to the west. The other is a string of wampum – shells used by Native Americans for money – found in an archaeological dig at Gudrid’s farm in Iceland. The shells have been sourced to Nantucket, which indicates that Nantucket must have been the site of a Viking settlement.

Then a young Italian woman, also an archaeologist, is murdered near Gudrid’s farm. Murder is rare in Iceland, and Magnus is assigned to this important case. He will learn that archaeologists don’t just dig things up – sometimes they bury them.

First of all, The Wanderer was well-written. The dialogue was good; the story moved right along. My main quibble was a flavor of political correctness, which is not surprising in our time. It wasn’t preachy, just present in the background. Some of the characters’ actions, it seemed to me, were only plausible on the basis of pop gender dogma.

I wouldn’t call this book Scandinavian Noir. It lacked that suicidal, Kierkegaardian tang. Which is all to the good, in my opinion.

All in all, I found The Wanderer surprisingly good, and I recommend it.

Music

Origin of anthem “Hail to the Chief”

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U.S. Presidential favorite “Hail to the Chief” has its origin in Sir Walter Scott’s popular narrative poem, The Lady of the Lake. Here’s an image of the page with words put to song by James Sanderson for a 1812 stage adaptation of the book.

Posted to YourClassical.com, “Given its sheer availability and rousing pomp, it was only a matter of time before U.S. presidents became the ‘chief’ in the title. ‘Hail to the Chief’ was first associated with a chief executive on Feb. 22, 1815, … to honor George Washington.”

Music

Sunday Singing: The God of Abraham Praise

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“The God of Abraham Praise” is attributed to 14th century Italian poet Daniel ben Judah. The Trinity Psalter Hymnal adds two more verses (#4-5) that I haven’t seen before and are not recorded above.

1 The God of Abraham praise, who reigns enthroned above,
Ancient of everlasting days and God of love.
Jehovah! Great I AM! by earth and heav’n confessed;
I bow and bless the sacred name, forever blest.

2 The God of Abraham praise, at whose supreme command
from earth I rise and seek the joys at his right hand.
I all on earth forsake, its wisdom, fame, and pow’r,
and him my only portion make, my shield and tow’r.

Continue reading Sunday Singing: The God of Abraham Praise →
Authors, Blogs, Socials, Religion

Normal Christian Living, Giving Cover Credit to Translators, and Blogroll

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When people give detailed definitions of the normal Christian life, I feel something like bumping into a soapbox. Not standing on it yet, but kicking it as if accidentally, not knowing it was next to my foot. When we say all Christians should be doing something, like Bible reading and prayer, we should consider how our recommendations would be applied by different people past and present.

If you take a verse like Psalm 5:3, “O Lord, in the morning you hear my voice; in the morning I prepare a sacrifice for you and watch,” and recommend a morning routine to all believers, consider how the field hand and the factory worker would be able to apply it. How would it work for the tired, young mother or the single mother with a couple jobs?

If our view of the normal Christian life fits mainly a middle class, white-collar lifestyle, we need to broaden our scope, so that our intended encouragement comes through and we don’t drive away those believers who aren’t like us. This goes for our definitions of manhood, womanhood, and modesty, to name a few hot topics.

Let me scurry on to other things.

Translation: There’s a move to add the names of translators to the covers of the books they brought into another language.

Ordinary Life: Matt Rhoades writes about the Holy Spirit working in ordinary life. “We live day to day, not miracle to miracle. And there’s something wonderful about these ordinary days and years spent between the high points. “

Kindness: Jared Wilson says kindness promotes the Gospel. “When was the last time you classified preaching as kind? Do you think, by and large, preaching today could be characterized by kindness?”

Generations: Min Jin Lee talks about many things in this New Yorker interview, including generational differences particularly among immigrants. “The real disconnect is between the first and second or third generation, especially if the second or third generation has done sufficiently well. We’re not interested in just survival anymore. We’re interested in meaning, and that quest for meaning has just as many difficulties, if not more intangible difficulties, than just survival.”

Photo: Post Office, New Ulm, Minnesota. 1981. John Margolies Roadside America photograph archive (1972-2008), Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.

Non-fiction, Religion

‘Marked by Miracles,’ by Dixey Behnken

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I’d like to plug a new book written by a friend of mine, retired Army Chaplain Dixey R. Behnken. Dixey was my first college roommate, and I was there when he was born again. I reviewed the manuscript of Marked by Miracles at his request before publication, so I have some fingerprints on it.

Dixey is one of the more colorful Christians I’ve ever met. He’s been through a lot and seen a lot. He’s a Pentecostal, so we have some theological differences, but he’s a good guy with a faithful story to tell. He wrote the book after suffering a devastating stroke, so it’s a kind of a miracle in its own right.

Have a great weekend.

Fiction, Reviews

‘City of the Dead,’ by Jonathan Kellerman

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At this point in time, one doesn’t go to Jonathan Kellerman’s Alex Delaware novels for novelty. A pile of them have been published over the years, and in a non-fictional world both the main characters would be long retired.

But there are other reading pleasures in the world than novelty. Psychologist Alex Delaware and his L.A. police lieutenant friend Milo Sturgis are old buddies to fans, and you don’t need a new experience every time you get together with old buddies. So we have City of the Dead, the latest in the series.

This time out, Milo asks Alex to accompany him to view a body in an exclusive neighborhood. A naked man has been hit by a moving van. The cop on the scene notices a blood trail leading to a nearby house. Inside he found a woman murdered. When Alex views that corpse, he realizes he knows her.

She is a sometime model, now an “internet influencer.” She poses as a psychological counselor, which is how Alex encountered her, pretending to a doctorate she doesn’t possess. She seems to have been a charlatan, but she didn’t deserve to have her throat cut.

A deep dive into her background, and that of the male victim, leads into sad stories of family dysfunction and personal “reinvention.” But it’s harder to find anyone who had reason or opportunity to kill them. The true solution will be far more bizarre than anyone imagined.

I found the plot of City of the Dead a bit disappointing, to be honest. The solution depended on a coincidence rather than detective work.

But it was an opportunity to spend time with a couple of my favorite literary characters. I’m not complaining.

Authors

Conservative Humorist P. J. O’Rourke Has Died

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“Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.”

— P. J. O’Rourke

Author P. J. O’Rourke died yesterday evening. John Podhoretz called him possibly “the nicest man I’ve ever known.”

“It isn’t an exaggeration to say that P.J. was, for a long time, the only cool conservative writer in America.”

Our friend (I say perhaps too presumptively, as if we are actual friends or that I have friends at all), and in case you missed it, let me repeat, our friend Anthony Sacramone points to an awakening moment for him in the pages of O’Rourke’s Republican Party Reptile. “I’m not alone! You can be an anti-communist and funny!”

Music, Religion

‘Eg Veit i Himmerik ei Borg’

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Another day in between reviews, and I’ve been at work translating. Also I didn’t leave the house today, except for my a.m. gym visit. So what shall I post?

I’ve had Norway on my mind lately (to the surprise of nobody, I know), so a hymn from Sissel is indicated (again to the surprise of… you know). I’m not sure if I’ve used this song here before. It’s an old hymn – Eg Veit i Himmerik ei Borg (I Know a Castle in Heaven). The text is German, from the 16th Century. But the music is traditional Norwegian – in fact it survived as a folk song rather than as a formal church hymn.

Translation, via Wikipedia:

I know of a heavenly stronghold
shining as bright as the sun;
there are neither sin nor sorrow
and never a tear is shed.

I am a weary traveller;
may my path lead me
from here to the land of my father;
God, protect me on my way.

We thank you for eternity
God the Father, one in three.
For you are gentle and mild to us
in Jesus Christ! Amen.

James Cameron heard a recording of Sissel doing this one, and decided to hire her for the backup vocals in Titanic.

It’s the most medieval-sounding Norwegian hymn I know, which makes me particularly fond of it. I may have news about myself and Norway coming up soon. I’ll keep you posted.

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Please don’t Include me, thank you very much

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So I took myself out for lunch yesterday. Went somewhere I hadn’t been in a while. It’s a diner called “The 50s Grill.” Not far from where I live. Excellent food and tremendous desserts. Kind of expensive for a diner, but really worth it.

They do the best hamburger I know of in town (no doubt I’ve missed some; don’t look to me as an authority). But I didn’t want a burger that day, so I got the meatloaf lunch. Very nice. And then they were advertising this Black Forest Cake with cherries in it, and I couldn’t resist that. My only complaint was that it was too large. (I skipped supper to make up for it.)

The waitress, an older later, was very nice. When I was done, as she was passing, she patted my shoulder and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I was, frankly, surprised. I hadn’t even been thinking about the holiday. I suddenly saw myself through her eyes. Old man, eating alone on Valentine’s Day, orders a fancy dessert. Probably a widower, reliving past happiness.

But no, really, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to eat out somewhere different. I had no intention of horning in on someone else’s holiday.

On Facebook, I saw a couple instances yesterday of single people trying to redefine the holiday to include them. Give it a new name. Make it Inclusive.

I’m frankly sick of the word “Inclusive.” When I happen to see a couple I know out on a date, I don’t sit down at the table with them, “including” myself in their night out. It belongs to them. If I want a date, I should get my own girlfriend. If I want a holiday, I should start one. Nobody’s stopping me. I’d be celebrating by myself, but that would kind of be the point, wouldn’t it?

One of P.G. Wodehouse’s great characters is Uncle Galahad Threepwood. Uncle Gally is the brother of Clarence, Earl of Emsworth, and shows up periodically in the Blandings Castle stories. It’s often said of him that it’s unfair that anyone should have had so much fun for so many years and still look so youthful and healthy. His chief function in the stories is to smooth the way for young couples whose parents are trying to keep them apart for one stuffy reason or another.

Occasionally Uncle Gally’s back story is mentioned. He once fell in love with a music hall performer, and his parents prevented their marriage. He has taken his revenge in the best way, by doing for others what no one was there to do for him.

As I’ve frequently mentioned, I don’t believe in the religion of True Love as understood in our culture (though The Princess Bride is great). But I think old single people ought to have Uncle Gally for a role model, rather than trying to Include Themselves in everybody else’s happiness.

Book Reviews, Creative Culture