Stacked

Another day, another failure to finish a book to review. So you’re condemned to a personal update. Unless you choose to just surf on. Which might be the way of wisdom.

Today was another example of what I call “temporal stacking.” (Did I invent that term? Or did I borrow it in a moment of absentmindedness, which is what most of my moments are these days?) Today is one of those earmarked for specified chores – on Thursdays I pay my bills. And I take the garbage out.

But I also had to go to the doctor today. (Warning: old fart’s repulsive health talk ahead.) I noticed a spot on my nose that I thought my dermatologist (never thought I’d have a personal dermatologist, but all the cool kids are getting them nowadays) should look at. He, of course, was not available at the office that’s located a mere fifteen minutes away. He was at the office that’s a half hour away. So I drove out to Excelsior (we have a town called Excelsior. So there) and showed it to him. He said no, it was nothing. However, that other spot on my cheek over there looked sketchy. I then received the Deadly Touch of the Frost Giant, and was sent home clothed and in my right mind.

All this was capped (and pleasantly so) by a new batch of paying translation work. It won’t pay my mortgage off, but it’s work and I’m grateful. I’ve put in 2.5 hours on it so far; more is to come.

Meanwhile, I’ve been making slow progress on the new Erling novel. The work is like punching my way through a room full of oatmeal – I can move ahead, but it’s an effort. I’m on the cusp of what ought to be a pretty nifty supernatural scene, but it will probably have to wait for realization.

Amazon Prime review: ‘One Touch of Venus’

I’m reading Tolkien’s Beren and Luthien right now, and haven’t finished it yet. So I must find something else to post about. (Note to bloggers: Try to have interesting lives, because if you haven’t got a book review handy every day, you need something more interesting to write about than dentist visits and plumbing emergencies. Unless you’re James Lileks. Addendum to self: I’m not James Lileks.)

I think I mentioned that I’ve been watching old TV and movies on Amazon Prime. One thing that popped up in my suggestions the other day, which I selected, I’m not sure why, was an old 1940s musical called One Touch of Venus. It was a reasonable hit on Broadway, starring Mary Martin, and was made into a movie with Ava Gardner in 1948 – though they reportedly cut a lot of the songs (I’ve never seen it). The version I saw was a different one, done live on NBC TV in 1955, performed, according to the credits, by the Texas State Fair Musical Theater organization. The cast, most of whom are trying too hard in the tradition of live theater, features actress Janet Blair as Venus. The only other familiar face was Louis Nye in a small role.

It’s got a silly premise – a feckless barber named Rodney Hatch gets into an argument with an art collector over an ancient Greek statue. The collector declares the statue (which is surprisingly non-nude, and also bears a suspicious resemblance to a department store mannequin painted white) the image of female physical perfection. Indignantly, Rodney slips onto the statue’s finger the engagement ring he recently bought for his girlfriend – to prove that her hands are just as well-proportioned as a goddess’s. This action brings the statue to life, and Venus proceeds to ensnare Rodney in her charms, break his engagement, and (SPOILER ALERT) abandon him in the end to return to her worshipers (who appear, oddly, to be Hindu or Muslim). Rodney ends up with an entirely different girl from his original girlfriend, which strikes me as an odd plot resolution. I kind of felt sorry for the original girl. I probably dozed off during a scene where we learn why she’s unworthy of a barber.

A fact I missed going in dawned on me suddenly as Rodney was singing one of the production’s comic numbers – “How Much I Love You.”

“More than a catbird hates a cat, or a criminal hates a clue –

“As the high court loathes perjurious oaths, that’s how much I love you.”

 I tried to figure out where I’d heard this before. Finally I realized that I hadn’t heard it, I’d read it. It was published as a poem, and its writer was the great Ogden Nash. Then I remembered that Nash had written the lyrics for a Broadway production called “One Touch of Venus.” (The music, you may be surprised to learn, was by Kurt Weill, better known for “Mack the Knife.”)

My major reaction to the whole thing was, “Wow, culture sure has changed since the 1950s. They’d never do this play today.” Then I looked and found that it’s been revived several times recently. Judging by the sexual (or gender, if you prefer) norms portrayed in the original show, I have to assume considerable revision has been done.

I found a YouTube video of somebody singing “How Much I Love You,” but the actor was so annoying I refuse to post it. You can look it up yourself if you’re curious. They changed some of the lyrics too.

Piranesi and the Big House

Susanna Clarke, author of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell and The Ladies of Grace Adieu, has just released a new novel, named after the Italian artist of architecture and imagination Piranesi. An example of his work is the feature image in this post.

Piranesi lives almost alone in a labyrinthian house with flooded basements, countless statues, and skeletons lying about. He moves about observing everything and occasionally talking to the one other man in the house, who isn’t as interested in the things he is.

The Idle Woman finds it thrilling. “Susanna Clarke’s long-awaited new novel transports us to an extraordinary world and poses a question: How can we understand and rationalise our world when we can’t escape it? Dream, reality and perception tremble on the brink in one of the most original novels I’ve ever read.”

Read a excerpt from chapter 3 at Tor.com.

Reading report: ‘The Hobbit,’ by J.R.R. Tolkien

It was a terrible battle. The most dreadful of all Bilbo’s experiences, and the one which at the time he hated most—which is to say it was the one he was the most proud of, and most fond of recalling long afterwards, although he was quite unimportant in it.

Recently I watched the Lord of the Rings movies (extended versions, of course; not the Hobbit films). And whenever I do that, it comes into my mind that I need to read the books again. Christopher Lee read them once a year, after all. I’m far behind that tally. So I pulled out The Hobbit, to begin the journey.

I’ll confess that at first I thought it kind of elementary. It is a children’s book, after all, and sometimes the author talks down to his audience.

However, it grew on my mind as I read that this book (along with the Trilogy) can be viewed from the perspective of veteran’s literature (I’m not a veteran, I hasten to note; but it’s something I can be aware of). When Tolkien tells us, again and again, that Bilbo wished himself back in his cozy hobbit hole, “not for the last time,” he’s conveying the feelings of the soldier at war. Not long ago, he was comfortable in his rooms at Oxford, eating well, cared for by servants, keeping regular hours. Now he’s slogging through mud or crouched in a flooded trench, struggling with boredom or dreading going “over the top.” Thoughts of home flood in; they are a torment and a comfort all at once.

And by the end of the book, I must confess, I had to blink back manly tears. I was moved.

The Hobbit is a great book. But you knew that.

‘Lucky Draw,’ by Mark Stone

When I reviewed Mark Stone’s novel Lucky Break, first in his “Lucky John” series, the other day, I said (in so many words) that the book was slight, inconsistent, but rather fun. Having read book number two, Lucky Draw, I think I’ve had enough. It’s possible to be too slight.

“Lucky John,” the hero, is John Lucky, a former soldier and trucker who won the lottery and moved to Bonita Springs, Florida. He gets involved in investigating crimes, largely to keep himself occupied. In Lucky Draw, he’s hired to board a casino ship and participate in the world’s top poker tournament, in order to recover sensitive data that’s a threat to national security. He goes in accompanied by the girl who bought his winning lottery ticket, and they are soon surrounded by danger and betrayal.

The Lucky John books show strong signs of being written fast and not proofed for consistency. For instance, in the first book we were told John won the lottery in Iowa, and then he went on to tell people it wasn’t Iowa, but Indiana. Now we’re told it was in Illinois. I don’t think the author cares much.

The action is frequent and implausible, and in one scene I had no idea what was going on – the description didn’t make any sense to me. There was a nice moment when John counsels a young man to avoid pornography, but overall the story was long on fistfights and shootouts, and short on characterization.

It was fun for a while, but I think I’ve had enough now.

Consensus of Depravity, Eager to Neglect

I believed, therefore I spoke,
“I am greatly afflicted.”
I said in my haste,
“All men are liars.” (Psalm 116:10-11)

I felt a bit triggered today when I saw someone casually mention the 9/11 attacks were an inside job. Were Bin Laden and his disciples bought and paid for by U.S. government officials? How does that explain anything better than the attack being their best effort to harm the country they hate? It doesn’t, but it is more tantalizing, more sensational, more of the prideful vein of being able to see through the lies powerful men sell us.

Earlier this week we said conspiracy theories were attempts at better explanations and they seem to ignore human neglect that causes all kinds of trouble. They also seem to ignore the common pride and self-interest that easily allow or actively pursue exploitation and hatred. We don’t need evil puppet masters pulling our strings to put our comfort or success over everyone around us.

Many people say prejudice isn’t natural, that people have to be taught who to dislike. I think prejudice is the most natural thing we do. It’s the easiest thing in the world to notice a difference in someone else and believe that difference makes you better than them. And it only takes the right flow of circumstances, rumors, and actual injuries to turn prejudice into hate.

I’ve read this is how the civil war in Rwanda was seeded. Belgian colonialists sowed racism among Rwandans a century ago, dividing them into ethnic groups in order to keep them under control. The people accepted this division and after a few decades began to hate each other. You could call that a conspiracy, but the colonial powers only wanted control; after they left, the hatred they sowed bore fruit in genocide.

Our own civil war was arguably worse, because we mostly wanted to exploit the labor of enslaved foreigners. Along comes General Lee to say, “What we wanted was the right to govern our lands by our own judgement.” But our judgement was an economy of exploitive labor, which many people both North and South supported. As long as we weren’t doing the hard work, we supported it. And along comes the Marxists to say, “All labor is criminally exploitive! We will lead a revolution to overthrow the current exploitation so that we can exploit the workers the right way–to our benefit!”

The Lord tells us to love him with all of our heart, soul, and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves, and if ever a commandment demonstrated our depravity, it’s this one. Who among us doesn’t want our neighbor to simply keep to himself? How many of us are willing to allow risks for people who are removed from us and not for those close to us?

This week, a friend on Twitter described his neighborhood as being on the wrong side of the tracks. When the city scheduled a day for big item pickup in the nice parts of town, it sent several trucks, and teams of people volunteered to help. For his neighborhood, it sent one truck at a time with one driver to clear off the things his neighbors set out on the sidewalk. Some of those things couldn’t be picked up for various reasons; the city felt no compulsion to get them completely cleared away. And so the poor are further impoverished by the carelessness of the privileged.

I’ve heard that pharmaceutical companies run drug trials in African nations, where people have less ability to push back when things go wrong. People are complaining that their neighbors are being experimented on. This, dear believer of conspiracies, is the way of the world. No evil society with mythical power to command presidents and CEOs. Just regular people seeking their own interest and likely not thinking too long about the best interests of their neighbors.

‘Nothing But the Blood,’ by S. D. Thames

Recently, a friend reminded me of my review, some years ago, of A Mighty Fortress, the first book in the Milo Porter mystery series by S. D. Thames. I had lost track of this author, so I checked to see if there were more books. And there is one. Nothing But the Blood was published in 2017. I note that there have been no further Milo Porter books. I hope the author hasn’t given up, because he writes my kind of story.

Milo Porter is a Gulf War veteran who now lives in Tampa and works as a private investigator and process server. He suffers from PTSD, which expresses itself in bad dreams, (possible) hallucinations, and risk taking. He’s a Christian, as are most of his friends, who are also (including his girlfriend) mostly weight lifters. Milo is a pretty good lifter himself, and has just set a record. During the big lift, he sees a vision of blood and of his personal guardian angel.

That vision motivates him to take a job he’s offered the same day. A representative of a major league football team hires him to watch a young player whom they plan to select in the upcoming draft. Milo encounters surprising hostility from the player and his entourage. But then the player dies in a highly suspicious weight lifting accident, and Milo finds a new client and a new challenge – to unravel a complicated, ruthless conspiracy of fraud.

I enjoyed Nothing But the Blood a little less than A Mighty Fortress, probably because the pro football world doesn’t interest me a lot. But I was again impressed with the author’s professional prose, good characterization and plotting, and skillful manner of incorporating Christian faith into a (mostly) realistic story. I recommend Nothing But the Blood, with the caution that this isn’t a Frank Peretti book. Which, from my point of view, is a good thing.

R.I.P. Diana Rigg

Dame Diana Rigg (1938-2020) died today in London. An accomplished actress whose intelligence always shone through the camera lens, she first became famous playing Emma Peel in the classic English TV series, “The Avengers” (not to be confused with the Marvel franchise; see the intro and outro credits above). She had a long and successful career, playing the only Bond girl to actually marry the spy in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” and most recently carrying a role on “Game of Thrones.”

I was desperately in love with her in her “Avengers” days. According to my reading, she was a practicing member of the Anglican Church.

‘Lucky Break,’ by Mark Stone

I sometimes joke about the infinite number of fictional detectives today who live on a Florida beach, in emulation of John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee. And yet they never do seem to run out. My latest discovery is the Lucky John series by Mark Stone, of which the first installment is Lucky Break. “Lucky John” is actually (if improbably) named John Lucky. A former soldier and over the road truck driver, he rescued a girl in a truck stop from a robber one night. In gratitude, she made out a lottery ticket for him using her phone number. The number was drawn, and John Lucky suddenly had more money than he’ll ever spend. (He did give the girl a piece of the prize.)

Having no real roots or family of his own, John decides to move to the place he liked best of all the places he’s ever visited – Florida. He buys a house in Bonita Springs, with his amiable buddy Davey, who seems to have been born to be a sidekick. Before long they’ve found a new favorite bar together, and shortly thereafter John defends the attractive bartender from her angry ex-husband. This leads to a complicated (and implausible) adventure in which John finds himself suspected of murder before uncovering and thwarting a diabolical revenge plot.

Believability isn’t a big consideration in Lucky Break. Details are contradictory, and extreme, movie-style dangers come at our hero rapid-fire. There is little time for meditation on life. The book is a fast read that probably didn’t take long to write.

But I kind of enjoyed it. Lucky John is a likeable hero, and the general mood is sunny, which is nice for a change. I bought the second book.

Evil is a Grassroots Experience

A little sleep, a little slumber,
A little folding of the hands to sleep—
So shall your poverty come on you like a prowler,
And your need like an armed man. (Proverbs 6:10-11)

Yesterday, I talked about what conspiracies are in light of the World cover story on QAnon claims taking hold within the church. Why people believe unproven and often outlandish theories about select people or the world at large is hard to pin down.

One idea is that the theory of evil conspirators pressing toward world government flattens all the bad news into a single problem, drawing a battle line between the light and the night. One cultural commentator said the QAnon theories resemble the rumors of Satanic rituals circulating among believers in the 80s. In a way this makes sense. Who is the biggest corrupter of our world, if not Satan himself?

But if you’re inclined to agree with that, think about why creation is under a curse to begin with. In Adam’s fall sinned we all. Sure, the devil fed us a line, but we bought it and rejected what our Lord told us. It wasn’t his rebellion that brought down the curse; we earned that ourselves.

This is the big reason world conspiracies fall short. Humanity isn’t a flock of sheep, many of whom falling victim to a few evil goats who are themselves being manipulated by the devil. A strain of evil runs through every one of us.

“For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do” (Rom 7:19).

It is Christ’s work in us that keeps us from grassroots sin: pride, selfishness, and seeking our own interests. It is Christ’s work in the world that keeps unrepentant sinners from ruining themselves and those around them. We don’t need a secret society to pressure us into sin. We do it willing, even as we tell ourselves to stop.

Many great evils occur throughout the world as a result of normal people making choices. The explosion of 2750 tons of ammonium nitrate last month in Beirut, killing over 200 people, ruining a vital port that will harm countless civilians for months, and shutting down the government completely, was the result of neglectful politicians who saw no reason to clean up a mess. What harm was it doing to anyone two months ago?

A scientist who was nearby said, “I heard a terrible wheeze, a sinister noise. I saw a huge cloud flashing in my direction. I lived through the civil war in Lebanon, but this was the moment I was sure I was going to die.”

Unintended consequences and unforeseen events have caused wide ranging damage from ruined birthday parties to ruined lives. A famished president ate a pile of fresh fruit that killed him with cholera. Poorly designed o-rings allowed a spaceship to explode. And that thing you said to your friend at work? That’s why you’re meeting with the boss in the morning. We don’t often go looking for harm; we just run into it along the way.

Neglect is only one form of grassroots sin. We’ll talk about another form in another post.

Photo by Sigurdur Fjalar Jonsson, Unsplash