The Phantom Tollbooth opened up author Michael Chabon and infected his entire circulatory system. He says, “It was while reading The Phantom Tollbooth that I began to realize, not that I wanted to be a writer (that came a little later, at the mercy of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle), but something simpler: I had a crush on the English language, one that was every bit as intense, if less advanced, as that from which the augustly named author, Mr. Norton Juster, himself evidently suffered.” (via Books, Inq.)
Writing for Profit (And Maybe Fun)
Brevity comments on a New York Review of Books essay which criticizes memoir-writing. The complaint comes out: “Are you coming into the house of narrative through the back door because the back door is where the money is?” While Brevity gives its own argument against this complaint, I have to ask why a talented writer who can make money from a book shouldn’t try to? If it’s true that memoirs is just money-making non-fiction, why shouldn’t a good writer work on one? (via Books, Inq.)
My weekend among the Vikings
For many years I’ve been a little disappointed with Norwegians in Norway, because their “traditional” Easter observance in contemporary times has nothing to do with church, but rather involves taking a last ski trip to the mountains, and reading mystery novels.
This year I went away for Easter myself, on a strictly non-religious errand, so I stand self-condemned. I think if I’d realized the Return of the Sun event in Missouri was Easter weekend, I wouldn’t have done it. But I didn’t catch the subtle signs, like words on a calendar. And once I promised I’d go, I figured I’d better follow through.
On top of that, I really wanted to film some footage in an authentic setting for my book trailer. So I sacrificed Easter both to my Viking avocation and to my business concerns. Which makes me a hypocrite. I think there’s a lesson there.
I now know what Vikings smelled like. They smelled like smoke. Spend any amount of time in a building heated by an open hearth, and your clothes will be permeated with smoke. I don’t object to this. It’s actually rather pleasant (I’ve smelled a whole lot worse in my time). It’s just a point of information, based on experience.
It’s a long drive to northeastern Missouri from Minneapolis, but Mrs. Hermanson made it in good form, even getting pretty reasonable gas mileage, considering all my baggage. Her newly restored four wheel drive came in handy in rural Missouri, where it’s been raining a lot. Although I lived in Missouri for a year long ago, I’d forgotten the particular slippery quality of that state’s clay-based topsoil.
Ravensborg, “Viking Sam” Shoults’ as yet unfinished Viking fort, is located near Knox City, Missouri. The web site is here. And here’s a Picasso album of photos of the weekend. You’ll see me in picture number five, along with Sam’s son John.
Library Given Money for "Popular Books That Circulate"
In the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, a woman has given the Hennepin County Library $646,000 for books the public is reading. The late Lillian Wallis worked in the Minneapolis library system for many years as well as other libraries since graduating in 1950.
Big Box Bookstores Not the Way Of the Future
In this article on New York City bookstores, the closing of three Borders stores (two remain) may be another sign that independent or smaller bookstores are gaining appeal among readers. Some of these stores have turned to print-on-demand services as a side business.
Lifting Monday (Go Heave That Girl)
Today, I must warn you of a old tradition you will not encounter, not even if you were in the few British counties where it was practiced for many years. Today is Lifting Monday or Heaving Day.
In a letter by author Elizabeth Gaskell, she comments that Lifting Monday and Lifting Tuesday are in full swing where she is and that her husband has had to run hard to avoid the revelers. From what I can gather, men on Monday and women on Tuesday went into homes and lifted the lady or master of the house in a chair three times with loud cheers, and for this merry feat they were allowed to kiss her or him or be paid off a shilling. Some fun-going bands waylaid strangers in the streets. When the women tried this on Tuesday, it raised more of a ruckus because many would try to lift or heave men up without success. You can imagine how the mousey clerk from the Chershire Bank on Oakchest Rd would be a favorite target for roving bands of girls. If he wouldn’t let you kiss him, he’d have to give you a shilling. And on Monday, the barkeep at The Olde Red Lion could lift any woman he pleased even in a chair.
Mrs. Gaskell says there’s a story that on Easter Monday, 1290, seven maids of honor rushed into the room where King Edward I was sitting and lifted him in his chair until he paid them 14 pounds to put him down. That’s some history, but they stopped this tradition over 100 years ago, and of course, we wouldn’t do it today. We’re too busy superpoking friends on Facebook to do silly stuff like this.
Where Did We Get the Word Robot?
Naturally, the right answer to give the inquisitive child who asks this is to say, “They gave it to us.” When asked who they are, you are free to elaborate however you wish to build your psychological domination of the nasty child. But if you are interested in the truth about this word origin, Howard Markel gives it to us. Robot was the creation of Czech playwright Karel Čapek in his 1920s play R.U.R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots). Of course, it’s a play about mechanized men who break their labor union contracts and try to take over the world. File that under The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same (via Books, Inq.)
Staggering Separation
Marcia Segelstein writes about the true nature of God and what made the cross so difficult for Jesus. Quoting Tim Keller, she notes, “Jesus began to experience the spiritual, cosmic, infinite disintegration that would happen when he became separated from his Father on the cross. Jesus began to experience merely a foretaste of that, and he staggered.”
Beholding the Lord's Face
I write emails for a prayer list about once a week, and since it’s the Easter season, I wanted to share one with you.
“As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness;
when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness.” (Psalm 17:15 ESV)
You know, asking what is life about may miss the mark. The better question is who is life about, and though it doesn’t flatter our pride at all, the answer to that question is Yahweh, the Lover of our Souls. Every good thing comes from him, but is not independent of him. That’s the reason Scripture calls us to give him our worries and find in him joy and peace. It doesn’t tell us to be satisfied in what the Lord can give us. Though the flooding river may destroy our current livelihood or careless men shatter the health of those we love, the Lord will take care of us. Today and in the life to come, we will behold his holy face in the righteousness he gives us and find satisfaction.
This week, we celebrate Christ Jesus wrestling death to the ground and breaking its back, so that we would live forever. He stood between us and the hatred of the world, so that when we face persecution we will know it cannot overwhelm us because someone on our side who has dealt with it before. He is the hero who accomplished what we could not do for ourselves; he absorbed God’s holy wrath so that we could be righteous.
“Keep me as the apple of your eye;
hide me in the shadow of your wings,
from the wicked who do me violence,
my deadly enemies who surround me.” (Psalm 17:8-9)
Oh, Lord, do not let us wander out from under your shelter. Wean us from those things that distract us or worry us, so that we will be completely satisfied with you alone. (Photo by Alex Scarcella, on Flickr)