I am the reconciler

Any author, if he can’t claim to be a commercial success, will find comfort in discovering that he’s got what they call a “cult following.” I’m bemused to discover that I seem to be developing a cult following of my own in an area where I’d never have looked for it—pastors and theologians of the Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod.

Professor Gene Edward Veith and Concordia Publishing House publisher Paul T. McCain were early boosters, for whose support I’m extremely grateful. More recently I’ve added “Aardvark” of Aardvark Alley and Pastor Charles Lehman, who posted the following measured evaluation of Troll Valley on Facebook last night:

Lars Walker is a genius. This is indisputable fact and not up for debate. If you disagree with me then one or more of the following are true:

1. You’ve never read any of his books.

2. You’re an idiot.

3. You are a vampire or some other variety of mythical being that lacks a soul.

4. You are Kristin Cashore or Stephanie Meyer.*

*Yes, I do realize that after writing #3 that #4 is redundant.

A recent addition is theologian Dr. Jack Kilcrease, who blogs at Theologia Crucis.

“And this surprises you, how?” you ask. “They’re Lutherans. You’re Lutheran. Sounds more like incest than Romeo and Juliet.”

Ah, but that’s because you don’t know the history of Lutheranism in America. Between Missouri Lutherans and Free Lutherans like me, a great gulf has historically been fixed. Continue reading I am the reconciler

Blue Like Jazz Movie

Donald Miller’s book, Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality has been praised by a variety of folks for years, and Steve Taylor has adapted it for the big screen. It opens this weekend, though not in my area. It may gain a wider release next weekend. World Magazine as a good review here. Tiffany Owens writes:

While the movie successfully explores themes of forgiveness, authenticity, and the question of God’s existence as it follows one man’s journey to find God, it struggles to offer a clear explanation of the gospel.

I’m sure Blue Like Jazz is funny, and it’s probably uncomfortable. Hopefully, it’s also rewarding. Here’s the trailer.

Donald Miller talks about the themes of the movie and the criticism he’ll probably get on his blog. He says, “I get it. Criticism is hard. And not only this, churches get criticized for stuff that happened hundreds of years ago. I’d venture to say most criticism is unfounded and ill-informed. It can also be spiteful and hateful. So, I don’t want to be lumped in with the haters.”

Thomas McKenzie does One Minutes Reviews (which usually aren’t one minute, but hey!) and he talks lightly about the movie. This puts a positive spin on it for me.

Thread of Hope, by Jeff Shelby


But I was angry. For seven years, I had been angry. Ever since my daughter disappeared, anger was the only real emotion I carried with me and the only way that I got rid of it was through violence. I would hold it in for as long as possible, but when I found an outlet, I let it go. I’d been in more types of fights than I could count and I couldn’t recall losing one. I had yet to meet anyone who carried the kind of anger I did.

What a pleasure it is to discover a new writer who truly delivers the goods! It doesn’t happen very often. Barring unpleasant surprises when I check out his other work, I am for the moment an enthusiastic fan of Jeff Shelby, author of Thread of Hope.

Aside from writing a pretty good mystery, Shelby provides that rare pleasure, a new hero who’s entirely original, complex, human, and sympathetic.

Joe Tyler makes his living searching for lost children. In the seven years he’s been at it, he has never failed to find a child, except for one—his own daughter. She was snatched from his family’s front lawn just before Christmas, virtually under his and his wife’s noses.

The experience changed Joe forever. He left his wife, who still loves him. He left his career as a cop on Coronado Island, near San Diego, California. He looks for lost children, and has no other life. He has no relationships, and does not communicate with old friends. In many ways, he’s a jerk. He cares nothing for tact. He asks the questions that need to be asked, regardless of the feelings of the people he’s talking to. Because it’s not about human relations. It’s about finding the kids.

But when he gets a call telling him that his oldest and best friend back on Coronado has been attacked and left in a coma, and that before the attack the friend was accused of beating up a teenage girl, he sucks it up and goes home. Everything he sees and all the old acquaintances he meets open the wounds for him, but he owes this guy—and before long there’s a kid missing.

I loved this book. Every line was deeply felt. Joe Tyler is a compelling character, tragic and aggravating, yet sympathetic. The other characters are rounded too—many of them prove to be something other than they appear at first glance, always a good thing in a novel.

Highly recommended. Cautions for language and mature material.

In the Blood, by Steve Robinson

I downloaded Steve Robinson’s In the Blood because the Kindle edition was cheap, and because I’ve always been intrigued by the kind of story where a modern investigator digs out an old mystery, through documents and (sometimes) the memories of the old.

I found In the Blood, generally, a satisfying read. It’s not in the first rank, and I have some complaints, but for a first novel it’s promising.

The hero is Jefferson Tayte, an American genealogist. There’s an irony in his career choice that he’s very conscious of—he himself is an orphan, and has no idea who his parents were. But he’s become one of America’s most successful genealogists, and when a wealthy client demands he travel to England and Cornwall to clear up a blank spot in a family tree, he does it, in spite of his terror of flying.

Once in Cornwall, he discovers the reason why information has been lacking. A lot of it doesn’t seem to exist, and he can’t locate even the graves of the highborn people he’s searching for. A noble family who should be able to help him stonewalls him. Then he starts getting beaten up, and then there’s a murder and a kidnapping, and the whole thing gets out of hand.

Parts of the book didn’t work for me. Jefferson is described as tall but a little fat, and he doesn’t give any impression of physical courage. Yet he chooses to keep dangerous facts he learns to himself rather than going to the police, for reasons that seem inadequate to me (hey, I know how cowards think!). And his final act of heroism seems contrived, far-fetched, and too lucky by half.

Also the back-story, the account of the original crime that created the mystery, presented both in the form of old documents and in scenes narrated from the omniscient point of view, struck me as both too neat and too messy. Too neat in the sense that everything is solved by what I call “a Castle Aaaargh document” (hat tip to Monty Python and the Holy Grail), in which someone takes time in the midst of a moment of deathly danger to leave a written record for later investigators to discover. Too messy in that it involves several deaths of innocent children, with more detail than I care to be given.

There was also a moment when Tayte meditated on the causes of good and evil, and confidently ascribed them mostly to genetics. I find that jejune, but others may disagree.

Still, I think Mr. Robinson is a promising novelist, and if this kind of story appeals to you, I recommend it moderately.

Why Do We Crave Stories?

Marilynne Robinson writes, “Two questions I can’t really answer about fiction are (1) where it comes from, and (2) why we need it. But that we do create it and also crave it is beyond dispute. There is a tendency, considered highly rational, to reason from a narrow set of interests, say survival and procreation, which are supposed to govern our lives, and then to treat everything that does not fit this model as anomalous clutter, extraneous to what we are and probably best done without. But all we really know about what we are is what we do. There is a tendency to fit a tight and awkward carapace of definition over humankind, and to try to trim the living creature to fit the dead shell.”

She writes more.

Photos of great authors

A friend on Facebook shared this article from Good Report, featuring several portraits of C.S. Lewis, taken by Life Magazine photographer Hans Wild for a feature they did in 1946. These are great shots. The ones in his study are familiar to hardcore fans like me, but I’d never seen the pictures of him in hat and overcoat, with walking stick, tramping through Oxford. Continue reading Photos of great authors

Savage Run, by C. J. Box



I thought I’d take another run (savage or not) at C. J. Box’s Joe Pickett novels. I didn’t dislike Open Season, the first book in the series, but I wasn’t bowled over by it either. My response to Savage Run is about the same. Entertaining enough, but it never caught me completely. I think there are two reasons. One is the main character, Joe Pickett. Joe is such a nice, easygoing guy that I just hate seeing put through the wringer as these stories do. I generally like my heroes with bigger teeth.

The second reason, I suspect, is just because they’re outdoor books. As you know if you’ve followed this blog, I’m no outdoorsman. I just don’t identify with people who know how to handle themselves in a forest.

Both these objections—if objections they are—are entirely irrelevant, I think. These very elements are probably among the ones that animate Box’s many fans. Very likely you’re one of them.

Anyway, in this story a radical environmentalist, Stewey Woods, is the victim of a booby-trapped cow, which he encounters in a national forest while he’s out on a tree-spiking expedition. Although everyone assumes Woods was the victim of his own clumsiness while sabotaging a private herd grazing on federal land (one of his eco-causes), game warden Joe Pickett is puzzled by the evidence at the scene. Digging deeper, he crosses a powerful local rancher, and finally comes under the gun of a very dangerous man, a “stock detective” in the mold of the legendary Tom Horn.

Author Box squares the circle pretty neatly in this book. There’s a definite critique of environmental extremism here, but while one of the main Green characters is stereotypically vapid and otherworldly, another comes off as rather admirable. The main bad guy is a big rancher, although I don’t think he’s meant to be typical of that class either.

So it’s a pretty good book, though not among my favorites. I’ll probably read another eventually. I’ve heard an interesting supporting character is due to appear somewhere along the line.

Cautions for language and gore.

Easter in Narnia

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“Oh, children,” said the Lion, “I feel my strength coming back to me. Oh, children, catch me if you can!” He stood for a second, his eyes very bright, his limbs quivering, lashing himself with his tail. Then he made a leap high over their heads and landed on the other side of the Table. Laughing, though she didn’t know why, Lucy scrambled over it to reach him. Aslan leaped again. A mad chase began. Round and round the hill-top he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge and beautifully velveted paws and catching them again, and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy laughing heap of fur and arms and legs. It was such a romp as no one has ever had except in Narnia, and whether it was more like playing with a thunderstorm or playing with a kitten Lucy could never make up her mind. And the funny thing was that when all three finally lay together panting in the sun the girls no longer felt in the least tired or hungry or thirsty.

“And now,” said Aslan presently, “to business. I feel I am going to roar. You had better put your fingers in your ears.”