“Humility in the Wrong Place”

Mark Tubbs invokes Screwtape to say Christians entirely misunderstand equality. “[T]hey consider it bad form at best, and supreme, ‘sinful’ arrogance at worst, to evangelize others or even to encourage one another because it suggests they may be possessors of a superior spiritual experience!” he says. As long as we are more concerned with our reputations than the truth, we will avoid talking to others, even believers, about real life (meaning spiritual truths).

face-down on the cobbles

The post refers to Chesterton’s thoughts on humility. Here is part of the man said about that:

… what we suffer from to-day is humility in the wrong place. Modesty has moved from the organ of ambition. Modesty has settled upon the organ of conviction; where it was never meant to be. A man was meant to be doubtful about himself, but undoubting about the truth; this has been exactly reversed. Nowadays the part of a man that a man does assert is exactly the part he ought not to assert himself. The part he doubts is exactly the part he ought not to doubt — the Divine Reason. Huxley preached a humility content to learn from Nature. But the new sceptic is so humble that he doubts if he can even learn. Thus we should be wrong if we had said hastily that there is no humility typical of our time. The truth is that there is a real humility typical of our time; but it so happens that it is practically a more poisonous humility than the wildest prostrations of the ascetic. The old humility was a spur that prevented a man from stopping; not a nail in his boot that prevented him from going on. For the old humility made a man doubtful about his efforts, which might make him work harder. But the new humility makes a man doubtful about his aims, which will make him stop working altogether.

Irony of Academic Distance

Mindy Withrow talks about Poet Billy Collins:

He delights in paradoxes. In “Table Talk,” a dinner companion “asked if anyone had ever considered / applying the paradoxes of Zeno to the maryrdom of St. Sebastian.” All during the meal, pondering Zeno’s theory that no moment ever really arrives but only draws closer by half, Collins “kept thinking of the arrows forever nearing / the pale, quivering flesh of St. Sebastian, / a fleet of them forever halving the tiny distances / to his body, tied to a post with rope, / even after the archers had packed it in and gone home.” But then he wryly observes that “my fork continued to arrive at my mouth / delivering morsels of asparagus and crusted fish.”

Chekhov Writes about Nicole Kidman, Eminem, etc.

Ryan Britt praises Ben Greenman’s efforts in his short story collection, Celebrity Chekhov: Stories by Anton Chekhov (P.S.). Ryan says, “Speculative fiction should not only push the boundaries of what is possible in the various dimensions of existence, but also what is possible within the boundaries of creative expression itself. In this way, Celebrity Chekhov is no laughing matter, but actually quite profound. However, you’ll probably laugh out loud anyway.”

The Shakespeare Manuscript, by Stewart Buettner

This disappointing novel is another book I can bury in my “not very good, but at least I got the e-book free” file.

I was drawn to Stewart Buettner’s The Shakespeare Manuscript because of the remarkable (though surely coincidental) parallels between it and my own novel, Blood and Judgment.

Both books deal with the discovery of a lost Hamlet manuscript—in my story an original draft, in this one an original of a lost prequel, “Hamlet Part I”.

Both involve the relationships and frictions involved in the production of a play—in my case an amateur company, in this case a professional one.

My book, however, was a fantasy. This book is… I’m not sure. It seems to be a sort of mystery, but the stakes are never raised high enough to build much tension, and the only death that occurs turns out to be natural.

And that’s the problem with The Shakespeare Manuscript. A lot of people run about doing things and irritating each other, but there’s no real dramatic arc.

The book starts with a New York rare books dealer, Miles Oliphant, on a trip to England, being mugged. While he’s unconscious in hospital and still unidentified by the police, a box of manuscripts he sent home is opened by his daughter, April. She finds a manuscript among the papers which, she soon realizes, looks very like a lost play of Shakespeare’s, in his own hand. Continue reading The Shakespeare Manuscript, by Stewart Buettner

Our Self-swindling Hearts

Burk Parsons on whether trials are meant to make us stronger:

When we as a human race fell into sin, our affections changed, and we who once had the ability not to sin became a people who could not help but sin and even found pleasure in sin, albeit fleeting pleasure. Sin ravaged our hearts and minds, and, like Tolkien’s Gollum, we began to wallow in the mire of sin-dependent idolatry all the while maintaining our autonomy from God and our supreme, though perceived, control over any and all our precious little idols, each of which possessed an uncanny resemblance to ourselves. . . .

Both the enemy within us and the enemies outside us exist as a natural result of the Fall, and in their natural course of existence they fight daily to gain our affection, allegiance, and dependence. Like Gollum’s precious little idol that seemed to want to be found, our self-swindling hearts seem to want us to find our immediate and ultimate fulfillment in anything that lures our dependence away from God. Meanwhile, our Enemy is content simply to draw our affections to anything but the one true God, and thus to make us less dependent on God and increasingly dependent on ourselves and on our hearts’ precious idols, which will come alive and do our bidding.

Multiple Falsehood Disorder


Back when I was in college, there was a TV miniseries (I never actually saw it myself) called “Sybil,” starring Sally Field. It told the story of a woman who suffered from Multiple Personality Disorder, induced by horrendous childhood abuse. It was based on a “fact-based” book, with names and locations disguised.
Still, the word got around as to what the (supposed) facts were. The real Sybil was a woman named Shirley Mason, and she’d grown up in the little town of Dodge Center, Minnesota. Dodge Center is a neighboring town to my own home town, Kenyon. I remember riding through Dodge Center around that time, thinking, “It all happened here.”
Only it didn’t. Continue reading Multiple Falsehood Disorder

Flagging enthusiasm



This article by Soeren Kern at The Brussels Journal reports on an effort by the growing Swiss Muslim community to remove the famous white cross from that country’s red flag.

An immigrant group based in Bern has called for the emblematic white cross to be removed from the Swiss national flag because as a Christian symbol it “no longer corresponds to today’s multicultural Switzerland.” Ivica Petrusic, the vice president of Second@s Plus, a lobbying group that represents mostly Muslim second-generation foreigners in Switzerland (who colloquially are known as secondos) says the group will launch a nationwide campaign in October to ask Swiss citizens to consider adopting a flag that is less offensive to Muslim immigrants.

Here we have, in a nutshell (it seems to me) Europe’s current cultural problem. They’re desperately trying to find a continental identity, and just as desperately attempting to keep their distance from the one and only thing that historically united them in a cultural sense—the Christian religion. If Europe is not identical with Western Christendom (excluding the Americas), then what in heaven’s name is it?

No one seems to have any idea. Continue reading Flagging enthusiasm

Inability

Novelist Geoff Dyer talks about the craft in The Guardian. “Writers are defined, in large measure, by what they can’t do. The mass of things that lie beyond their abilities force them to concentrate on the things they can,” he says. You can’t practice through your weaknesses like a tennis player, but neither is your work as defined as tennis is. One thing’s for certain: “it’s far easier to give advice about writing than it is to do it.” (via Andy Crouch and Alan Jacobs)

Publishing update



The Gunderson House, Kenyon, Minnesota, which I borrowed for my new book.

[Thousand Ills That Flesh Is Heir To Dept.: My cold continues pretty much unchanged, like a visitor you expected to come for dinner, who means to stay a month. I still have no voice. It’s a little disturbing to realize that I can actually get through 99% of my day without needing a voice.]

Some of you seem to be interested in the new book, which I’m planning to publish digitally. I thought the process would take a while, but I sent the document file to Ori Pomerantz one day, and he got it back to me, tentatively formatted for Kindle, the following night. I think he’s formatted it for Nook too. The big slow-down may be the read-through I’m doing now myself, and the time it takes for me to whip some cover art together.

I can’t promise a release date, and no doubt there will be delays, but as far as I understand what’s going on (not much), it looks to be available soon.

Eventually, if I sell enough electronic copies, I may be able to get some dead tree books printed.

What’s the novel about?

Well, it’s called Troll Valley (you may recall the name of the place from Wolf Time). It’s set at the turn of the twentieth century, in my default literary locality of Epsom, Minnesota, a small town based on my home town.

The main character is Christian Anderson, a boy from a wealthy family, who has a deformed arm and a fairy godmother.

Major themes include Lutheran pietism, the goodness of God, grace, and the Evangelical-Progressive political alliance of that time.

I’m rather surprised to find, doing my read-through, that I quite like the book. I’m prejudiced, of course, but I think it holds together pretty well.

More as the situation unfolds.