All posts by Lars Walker

The first tycoon

Adventures in web searches: At some point this week I pondered, as I’ve often done before, the word tycoon. It always sounded vaguely Oriental to me (like typhoon), and it didn’t seem to have any relations or cognates that would hint at the usual Germanic or Latin origins.

So I did something I never bothered to do before. I looked it up on Wikipedia. And discovered my suspicion was correct.

The word tycoon is derived from the Japanese word taikun (大君), which means “great lord”, and it was used as a title for the shogun. The word entered the English language in 1857 with the return of Commodore Perry to the United States. U.S. President Abraham Lincoln was humorously referred to as the Tycoon by his aides John Nicolay and John Hay. The term spread to the business community, where it has been used ever since.

I find it interesting that the word originally just meant “ruler,” and got applied to a president, but then migrated to the business world. The reason seems obvious. We already had plenty of good words for powerful men and rulers, but we needed a new term for a distinctively American phenomenon – the driving, dynamic, successful businessman, especially of the self-made kind. Tycoon fit the bill, and it had a good sound to it.

Two views of Joy

Over at ChristianityToday.com, Gina Dalfonzo addresses a problem with Alistair McGrath’s new biography, C. S. Lewis: A Life. In contrast to Lewis’ own account in A Grief Observed, other biographies, and the movie Shadowlands, McGrath inclines more to the view of most of Lewis’ friends, who found the unvarnished divorcee from New York abrasive, unladylike, and possibly devious.

McGrath objects to what he sees as our culture’s “romanticised reading” of Lewis’s marriage, spurred by the 1993 movie Shadowlands, starring Anthony Hopkins and Debra Winger. McGrath seems intent on debunking that image—even though, according to those who knew them closely, the marriage was romantic before Hollywood ever got hold of it. McGrath finds the circumstances of Lewis’s marriage not quite to his taste, but it’s not Lewis himself that he blames for them….

Whatever the reason, McGrath’s attitude toward her is very negative indeed. He admits that she brought Lewis great happiness, but anyone who had known nothing of her before reading his portrayal would have trouble understanding why. McGrath paints her as an unlikable, determined seducer and money-grubber.

Some time back (I don’t have the magazine handy) the Journal of the C. S. Lewis Society reported a lecture on Joy Davidman, which the speaker began with a sentence on the lines of, “Tonight Joy Davidman will be portrayed, not by Debra Winger, but by Bea Arthur.” I’m assuming she drew material from the McGrath book (which I understand to be generally excellent. Haven’t read it).

I suspect we’re dealing with culture shock here – the effect of a New York Jew on a group of semi-cloistered English scholars raised in the Edwardian Age. It’s too bad they generally found no way to bridge that gap. But I have no doubt, personally, that Joy and Jack loved each other sincerely and worked at their marriage as a true Christian union.

Tip: Frank Wilson at booksinq.

Something rotten in Sweden

Someone posted this on Facebook this morning, and I re-posted it there, because it epitomizes everything I’ve been saying about the course of liberal Christianity. A new archbishop has been elected for the Church of Sweden – its first woman archbishop, Antje Jackelén. At another time I might have had something to say about women’s ordination, but that issue is least of the problems here. Dispatch-International’s story says:

Like kings, all bishops have their own motto and Jackelén chose ”God is greater”. If that sounds familiar, it may be due to the fact that an Arabic translation renders it as ”Allahu akbar”. There are those who believe that her choice is far from random – but very deliberate.

Many have been taken aback by the theological opinions Jackelén revealed during a questioning in Uppsala on October 1. The candidates for the highest position in the Swedish church were asked if they thought Jesus presented a truer picture of God than Muhammed. With her evasive answer Jackelén suddenly emerged as the bishop who couldn’t choose between Jesus and Muhammed. This provoked strong reactions on some editorial pages.

Kyrkans Tidning thought that the bishop’s answer might indicate that Christ is being relegated to the margins of the Church of Sweden and Dagens Nyheter encouraged the candidates to show some theological backbone. The editorial writer at the newspaper Dagen wrote that it is time to accept the idea of a split within the church – between Christians and those who think all religions are equally good.

Now let me say that this article seems just a little sensationalist to me. Its title, “Swedish Archbishop Prefers Allah,” for instance, is an exaggeration of the actual content of the text. Judging by this account, Archbishop Jackelén hasn’t said she prefers Allah to Jesus. She just refuses to make the choice.

I am fairly certain that, in the historical Christian church at all times up till the 20th Century, one thing that would always have disqualified any candidate for a bishopric is a refusal to confess Jesus Christ as Lord. That’s just basic, like failing an eye test for an airline pilot.

Which means that, as far as I can see, the Swedish church has apostasized in electing this woman. Anyone who holds to the faith of the creeds ought to leave that church. At a full run.

And don’t think it’s not happening here. I am confident, on the basis of a lifetime working in churches both liberal and conservative, that there are many church leaders and seminary professors in America (Ms. Jackelén in fact taught at the Lutheran seminary at the University of Chicago for a time) who believe – or disbelieve – in pretty much the same way.

At the risk of sounding like somebody from Left Behind, I declare ours the day of the Great Apostasy.

Bolt, by Dick Francis


Dick Francis’ character Kit Fielding is the hero of two of his novels, Break In, which I reviewed here, and the present volume, Bolt.
In Break In, steeplechase jockey Kit Fielding defeated the machinations of businessman Maynard Allardeck, who inherited a long family feud with the Fieldings, and is just insane enough to attempt murder to get his way. Now Kit is engaged to Danielle, the American niece of the most important horse owner he rides for, Princess Cassilia. The Princess is married to an expatriate French nobleman, Roland de Brescou, who has very strict ideas about honor. So when the inheriting son of his old business partner suggests that their company branch out into gun manufacturing, M. de Brescou stoutly refuses. Such an enterprise is unthinkable to a Frenchman of his class.
That’s when the new partner, Nanterre, corners the Princess in her box at the races and threatens violence unless she can persuade her husband to change his mind. Then he goes so far as to actually barge into their home and threaten them all with a gun.
And then two of her horses are murdered with a “killing bolt,” a device for humanely putting animals down.
This is a job for Kit. He moves in with them and alternates fending off Nanterre’s attacks with his regular racing duties. He’s helped by Prince Litsi, a distant relation of the Princess’s who’s discreetly courting Danielle, who seems to be having second thoughts about the engagement. Still he’s a decent fellow and good ally. And he’s hindered by Cousin Beatrice, an egregious snob from Florida who’s leaking information to Nanterre. And Maynard Allardeck paces on the sidelines, venomous as ever.
Lots of fun. Kit is as stalwart as before, and the other characters are well drawn and interesting. There is the inevitable pre-marital sex, but the language is fairly mild and the violence restrained. The book does communicate a typically English aversion to firearms, excessive in the eyes of this American. And Kit seems to have bad luck running into a surprising number of sociopathic tycoons. Still, recommended, like most of Dick Francis’ books.

The Unrequited, by Mark Goldblatt


The taste of the cheeseburger lingered in my mouth. Not the ketchup or the onion or even the “world famous” curly fries of the Elizabethtown Diner, just the red meat. I’d asked for it well done; it came rare—but I never send food back. It’s bad form, as far as I’m concerned. Fate delivered a rare cheeseburger, so I downed it. Now, as the car was coasting, and as my foot was dangling, I was glad for the taste of rare meat in my mouth. It tasted of open spaces and grazing herds.

I should mention at the outset that author Mark Goldblatt is a Facebook friend of mine. However, I can honestly say that I didn’t receive a free review copy of The Unrequited. So make your own judgment as to whether or not this enthusiastic review is impartial.

Calvin Hooker, the narrator of the story, is a reporter for a supermarket tabloid headquartered in New York City. He’s not proud of the work, but he does it as well as he can, not agonizing over what the editors and headline writers do with it afterwards. He hasn’t been in a relationship for a year and a half, and sometimes gets weepy thinking about his ex-girlfriend’s cats, to which he just lost visitation rights.

In other words, Hooker is not an alpha male. Certainly a beta, maybe a gamma. A central clue to the meaning of this book is that pretty much all the guys here are betas. The one actually forceful man in the story (aside from one who’s just crazy) is the character Hooker is sent up to Elizabethtown, NY to interview. Daniel Lockett has just completed a prison term for rape and the accidental murder of a baby. The great irony is that Daniel actually emasculated himself with an improvised knife while incarcerated. Continue reading The Unrequited, by Mark Goldblatt

"Osteenian"

Today I got an e-mail from super-author Andrew Klavan, directing me to this column on his blog, in which he gives me a nice plug.

Novelist Lars Walker — a friend of this blog and an insightful reviewer of some of my own novels — makes a trenchant comment in the Elizabeth Smart post below. I know it’s trenchant because I was about to make basically the same comment but Lars beat me to it! In the comment, he makes a delightfully concise reference to “the Osteenian view that suffering is always a sign of God’s displeasure.” This, of course, refers to popular preacher Joel Osteen, who has been promoting his new book at the Blaze and other places. He basically preaches that God wants wonderful things for your life and you only have to open yourself to God’s will in order to receive those blessings.

He was particularly pleased, he said, by my use of the adjective “Osteenian,” meaning theological ideas in line with Joel Osteen’s preaching. He seems to think I may have coined it, though I find it hard to believe nobody’s used it before.

In any case, this counts as a good day.

I, bully

News item: This story from CBS Dallas-Fort Worth seems to have surprised a lot of people. But I suspect there were a lot of us for whom it was no surprise at all. The story has to do with a study done at the University of Texas, Arlington which indicates that anti-bullying programs in schools don’t seem to do any good, and indeed may do harm.

The student videos used in many campaigns show examples of bullying and how to intervene. But Jeong says they may actually teach students different bullying techniques — and even educate about new ways to bully through social media and texting.

This is what happens in a post-Wisdom world, where experts have replaced sages, grandmothers, and the Scriptures. Experts believe that children are basically good, and desire to learn how to avoid bullying. Those of us who are familiar with actual children know that the true situation is different. You can’t divide kids up into “bullies” and “victims.” The categories are fluid. Every kid has it in him to bully, by the same kind of instinct which causes chickens to single out a member of the flock who’s been wounded, and peck it to death.

I’ve spoken of being bullied here before. I was bullied a lot, both at home and at school. There were few safe places in my world.

But I was also a bully, now and then, when fate chose to make me the alpha dog in some tiny situation. I never even thought about it. It came naturally. Today I’m hotly ashamed of those incidents, but at the time it just seemed like the obvious thing to do.

We won’t make progress until we recognize human nature for what it is. And we won’t do that until we start reading the Bible seriously again.

The Severance Kill, by Tim Stevens


I reviewed a previous novel by Tim Stevens, Ratcatcher, a while back. I liked it, but thought it went a little over the top, demanding the kind of suspension of disbelief that’s better suited to action movies. Severance Kill dials the improbabilities back a little while remaining a fast, tense, wall-to-wall action story.
Martin Calvary works for a top-secret English intelligence organization called the Chapel (and yes, I’m sure the names are significant). The Chapel specializes in assassinations, deniable by the government. Martin joined up after a military stint in Bosnia, where he spared someone’s life with horrific consequences. For a time he was content to kill the bad guys good and dead.
But recently he’s grown weary of the exercise. Perhaps they deserve to lose their lives, but does he have the right to take them?
So he quits. Only his boss has incriminating evidence on him. He wants one more job out of him. There’s an English traitor, a defector to the old Soviet Union. It’s been decided he has to die. If Martin will just do this one, he can walk away free.
Martin doesn’t trust his handler, but he goes to Prague to do the job. Before long he’s tangling with Russian spies, Czech mobsters, and a group of naïve young activists. Martin gets attacked repeatedly, captured, and tortured, gradually figuring out he’s been lied to, and setting a trap of his own.
Severance Kill is not for the squeamish. There’s lots of violence – the scenes of Martin’s torture are particularly intense. As in Ratcatcher, one wonders how the hero can continue functioning physically, but it’s less of a stretch this time out. The plot doesn’t bear close analysis, but taken as an action romp the book works very well indeed. The characters are especially good. Recommended for those who like this sort of thing (I do). Cautions for the aforementioned violence, some sex, and language.

The Unburied Dead, by Douglas Lindsey

I finished this book before I left for Minot, but a review of The Unburied Dead by Douglas Lindsay didn’t fit my schedule at the time. As a result my memories of details are a little faded. But I’ll give you my general reactions, which remain vivid.

G. K. Chesterton wrote somewhere that there are two meanings of the word “good.” If a man could shoot his grandmother with a rifle at 500 yards, he would call him a good shot, but he wouldn’t necessarily call him a good man.

In the same way, The Unburied Dead is an excellent book in terms of technical achievement. It provides a grim and gritty picture of police life in Glasgow, where Detective Sergeant Thomas Hutton gets involved in a hunt for a serial killer. Thomas is a relatively honest cop, in an indifferently honest department where the police aren’t above “stitching up” a suspect if they know he’s guilty. But some cops have gone over that fuzzy line, and it only serves to muddy the investigational waters. Thomas himself is contemplating a reconciliation with one of his ex-wives, the mother of his daughters, but he can’t resist a dalliance with his sexy boss.

In short, this book is extremely short on sympathetic characters. The violence is horrifying, the language filthy. The Unburied Dead was a masterful piece of contemporary noir, which I was delighted to be done with when I finished it.