‘The Slow Regard of Silent Things,’ by Patrick Rothfuss

She sat down on the floor again beside her bed. She closed her eyes. She almost stayed there, too, all cut-string and tangle-haired and lonely as a button.

Patrick Rothfuss, author of the Kingkiller Chronicles, consisting so far of The Name of the Wind (which I reviewed here) and The Wise Man’s Fear (which I reviewed here), has us waiting for the third novel in the series. But he’s given us a shorter work to fill in the time, a novella called The Slow Regard of Silent Things, about a minor character in the novels.

The minor character is Auri, a little girl who lives in what she calls “the Underthing,” a complex of crumbling utility tunnels and archaeological ruins buried under the University. The hero of the novels, Kvothe, visits her from time to time, bringing her food. She is tiny and beautiful, shy as a deer, and quite mad.

The Slow Regard of Silent Things takes us through several days in Auri’s life, in which she carries on the routines that are so important to her, continues her explorations of her environment, and prepares for an anticipated visit from “him” (who is, we assume, Kvothe).

This is a strange story, in which nothing of significant happens, except in Auri’s mind. It’s deathly important to her that everything in her world be “right.” Every object must be placed where it “wants to be.” She is strict about how things must be done, even at the cost of great discomfort to herself. She suffers, very obviously, from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but hers is a humble lunacy. There is no trace of selfishness in it. Auri sees herself as a servant to all, small and unnoticeable. It’s terribly, terribly important to her not to be noticed. A hint is given, at one point, about the trauma that made her what she is.

Author Rothfuss makes, both at the beginning and the end of the book, personal “apologies” for the kind of story he has provided. “You might not want to buy this book,” he writes in his foreword. He explains that it contains no action, and only one character, so it’s not everybody’s cup of tea.

What it is, of course, is a literary story within the fantasy genre. And it’s a splendid one. Auri is tragic, glorious, and adorable, and the language is lapidary.

Highly recommended though (as Rothfuss tells us) you may have trouble understanding it if you haven’t read the Kingkiller books yet.

Whovians, Coffee Before You Demonstrate?

 

Looks like a Dalek
Ovente Espresso Maker

The Ovente Steam Espresso Maker may be a great gift for someone you love this summer, especially if they would enjoy getting their coffee from a Dalek. With a cup of joe from this baby, you’ll have the strength to fight back against the footless foes who point at you and say, “Procrastinate!”

Flannery O’Connor on Spiritualizing American Life

Nowhere did this spiritualizing of the material become more evident to Flannery O’Connor than in the civic boosterism of the 1950s. An editorial in Henry Luce’s Life magazine angered her because it charged that the nation’s novelists, in their existentialist angst, were failing to celebrate their prosperous and optimistic country. Luce’s editorialists thus summoned American writers to exhibit “the joy of life” and “the redemptive quality of spiritual purpose.” Where was such joyful purpose to be found? For Luce and his barkers, it lay in the nation’s remarkable decade of success: its unprecedented wealth, its world-dominating military power, its virtual achievement of a classless society, at least in comparison with other nations. For Flannery O’Connor, joy and purpose found in such places are gossamer and ephemeral things indeed.

This is not to say that O’Connor was an ingrate concerning her American freedoms. She was critical of her country because she loved it. She regarded the threat of Soviet communism as serious, for instance, even constructing a bomb shelter on her Georgia property. The family of refugees from post-war Poland whom she and her mother welcomed as workers on their dairy farm became the occasion for one of her best stories, “The Displaced Person.” O’Connor also refused, in 1956, to sell her work to Czech and Polish publishers, lest they use it for anti-American propaganda, as they had done with Jack London’s fiction. O’Connor also admired Reinhold Niebuhr for his principled opposition to Stalin’s desire to remake the whole of humanity into homo Sovieticus. For all the limits of American self-congratulation, it was infinitely preferable to the mind-body-soul destroying politics of the Gulag Archipelago.

From Ralph C. Wood’s “Flannery O’Connor: Stamped But Not Cancelled” (via Prufrock)

‘Trulbert!’ by Mitch Berg

“Oh, how did a modest little Presbyterian congregation in South Minneapolis turn into a cohesive guerilla force fighting against the Methodists, the Sharks, the Jets and the Speed Racers? …Well, Presbyterian churches – well, not the ones affiliated with the Presbyterian Church USA, but the more traditional ones – always keep a cache of firearms, ammo, pipes and drums in a locker in a secret room in the basement. The secret scroll kept under the altar of all Presbyterian Churches says they are kept against the day when Edward Longshanks rises from the dead to oppress the people. We figured this was close enough.”

First of all, full disclosure. Mitch Berg, author of Trulbert! A Comic Novella About the End of the World As We Know It, is an acquaintance of mine. He writes the Shot in the Dark blog, and hosts the Saturday Northern Alliance radio program on a Twin Cities talk station – where I’ve been a guest.

But I paid for my copy.

“Trulbert” is not, as you might think, the name of a character in the book (which is not a novella, in my opinion, but long enough to be considered a full novel), but of a Facebook page – “TRU LBRT NOW” – which one of the characters, an anarcho-Libertarian, sets up at the beginning of the story.

Shortly after that, his fondest dreams come true. Due to an error by a Chinese government broker, US bonds are suddenly devalued to zero, and the dollar becomes instantly worthless. All government in America and around the world collapses (with surprisingly little bureaucratic resistance, but we’re dealing with comedy here), and anarchism reigns. The libertarians are very happy for a while, as people quickly figure out ways to provide their own goods and services, and even set up new forms of currency (even the electricity never goes off, conveniently). It looks like Ayn Rand’s dream has come true.

Until a nebbishy, hen-pecked minor state bureaucrat named Myron Ilktost discovers his inner Mussolini and takes control of a progressive Methodist church in Minneapolis, which he soon turns into the baddest street gang in the metropolitan area. And before long he has made himself the dictator of the city and several suburbs. Our protagonist, Paul Hendrickson, an employee of a medical claims company, becomes a leader of the resistance, which takes shape against the backdrop of Vikings-Packers game that turns into a riot.

Trulbert! is a weird comic opera of a book, heavy with satire (it helps to know Minnesota politics, but it’s not necessary), in which author Berg (who once ran for state office on the Libertarian Party ticket, but grew disillusioned with the party’s naivety about human nature) pokes fun at anarchism, statism, public schools, and professional football among other things. I got some genuine guffaws out of it, and I thought it made some excellent points. Mitch isn’t a polished writer, but he shows good promise.

(My main quibble was with a scene where the story flashes back to 13th Century Norway, and a farmer worries about the potatoes. That’s about 500 years too early for potatoes.)

Recommended. Mild cautions for language. Good fun.

‘The Wise Man’s Fear,’ by Patrick Rothfuss

Let me say this. It was worth the whole awful, irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love so light she probably didn’t notice it herself. It wasn’t dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost too fast for you to see. But still, you know it’s there, down where you can’t see it, kindling.

I have already reviewed Patrick Rothfuss’s first novel in the Kingkiller Chronicles, The Name of the Wind. I liked it very much, especially for the masterful writing, but was worried about where the author might take the story.

My fears (wise man that I am) were validated in The Wise Man’s Fear, the second book in the series. The author went some places I didn’t want him to go. And yet he didn’t drive me away, and I want to read more.

Each book in this trilogy involves a single day in which Kote the Innkeeper tells his life story to a character known as the Chronicler. Kote is in actuality Kvothe the Kingkiller, a figure of legend in his own world and time. A poet, a singer, a warrior, a magician. Now he has retired from the world, but he will tell his story for these three days. No more.

The first book told us how Kvothe, born to a family of traveling performers, lost his parents, survived for a time homeless, and finally found entrance to the place he dreamed of – the great institution known as the University.

In The Wise Man’s Fear we follow him as he struggles with poverty, the regulations of the school, and the enmity of a fellow student who uses magic against him. He hones his powers, slowly mastering magic, but eventually finds himself in a place where taking a hiatus from his studies is a good idea. Continue reading ‘The Wise Man’s Fear,’ by Patrick Rothfuss

On Doubt, Piper Says Just the Right Thing

Scholar John Frame reviews Barnabas Piper’s latest, Help My Unbelief: Why Doubt Is Not the Enemy of Faith, saying a book on doubt is suited for “the work of a sophisticated theologian.”

“Searches on Google and Amazon reveal that a number of books have been written on this subject by mature writers like Alister McGrath and Lesslie Newbigin. What does Piper bring to the table?”

“I think Piper often says exactly what needs to be said.”

Elliot on the Purpose of Suffering

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you” (Isaiah 43:2).

Suffering is never for nothing.

Author and teacher Elisabeth Elliot, 88, died yesterday in her sleep. Her legacy will never die.

Do You Give Bigfoot His Might?

Jared Wilson enthuses over the mysteries of God and his creation by hoping Bigfoot exists and isn’t found.

I like that God keeps some things just to himself. It reminds me that he’s God and I’m not. It reminds me that this world he’s created is revealing his glory, not mine. This is part of the reason, I suppose, that when God responds to Job’s inquiries with an epic journey up the dizzying heights of divine sovereignty, he includes some stuff about sea monsters.

The thick of the forest

 

What is among those trees, glorifying the Lord in short, unobserved lives?

‘Spellbound,’ and ‘Warbound,’ by Larry Correia

More than a year ago I reviewed Larry Correia’s fantasy novel, Hard Magic, set in the 1930s in an alternate world where real magicians have appeared in the human population, making the world rather different than the one we know. Germany was defeated magically in World War I, and has ceased to be a serious power; Berlin is a quarantined dead city, full of zombies. Japan decisively defeated Russia in the Russo-Japanese War, and is now the dominant power in the east, under the rule of a ruthless magician.

Meanwhile in the USA, there’s controversy over how magicians (called “Actives”) ought to be treated. There’s a strong movement to round them up and mobilize them for government purposes. In Hard Magic we met the Grimnoir Knights, an international organization of benevolent Actives, devoted to fighting the evil Japanese Imperium, but forced to work underground due to public hostility.

The central characters in the trilogy are two recently recruited Knights. One is Jake Sullivan, a Heavy (he can manipulate gravity) who has proved to be unusually intelligent and is emerging as the effective fighting leader of the Grimnoir. The other is Faye Vierra, a poor “Okie” girl whose gift is Traveling (teleportation). At the end of Hard Magic, it began to be clear that she is perhaps the most powerful Active in the world. And not everyone’s happy about that, because the last time someone like her showed up, it didn’t turn out well.

Spellbound, the next book in the series, involves the arrest of a couple of the Grimnoir leaders by a secretive government agency, and a plot to commit an act of terrorism in Washington, DC, and to blame it on the Grimnoir. An unlikely ally appears in the form of a Japanese Iron Guard, a highly disciplined and arrogant fighter who has come to realize that the Imperium has fallen under the control of evil forces (it’s an interesting complexity in these stories that the main enemy, the Japanese Imperium, exists for the purpose of fighting a cosmic evil even worse than itself).

Warbound, the third novel, involves a journey by Faye into dead Berlin (where she learns things about her own power that terrify her), and a couple of suicide missions (by airship) by Jake and his knights to secure a lost weapon and to use it to prevent a Cthulhu-like evil from outer space from turning the power of the Imperium against human life itself.

Lots of fun. Interesting characters, and pretty good values (author Correia is a Mormon). There’s some mild rough language, and off-stage sex, but nothing very offensive by contemporary standards. I enjoyed the books and recommend them.

10 Ways South Dakota Is Worse than Mars

South Dakota may already be on your Top 50 list of American states you want to visit, but the state’s tourism czar hopes to bump up your expectations by comparing the Mount Rushmore State to Mars–not the maker of little chocolate candies that melt in your mouth instead of your neighbor’s thieving hand, but the red planet, the fourth rock from the sun. “Why die on Mars,” they ask, “when you can live in South Dakota?”

Why? We’ll tell you why.

1. Mars Has Little Snow

Mars is a cold planet with way more carbon-dioxide than South Dakota, and it does have some snow, but it keeps its snowfall in carefully drawn boundaries around the polar caps. Does it fall on the streets and villages of Mars, clogging traffic on Martian highways? Not on your life.

Martian Polar Cap
Mars keeps its snow in neat areas, out of trouble. (Source: NASA)

On the other hand, South Dakota lets the snow fall all over the place—on cars, on vacationing skiers, and even on grade-school children trying to get a bit of work done outdoors. In the city of Lead, the average annual snowfall is almost 200 inches. That’s over 16 feet! You won’t see that on Mars.

Nothing Martian about pushing a shopping cart in the snowContinue reading 10 Ways South Dakota Is Worse than Mars

Book Reviews, Creative Culture