A North Korean sent to assassinate South Korea’s president back in 1968 failed to achieve his mission, despite remarkable successes along the way, and has since become a South Korean citizen and Presbyterian minister. He comments on his past and recent North Korean aggression.
Allegory and Why Narnia Is Not One
Jared has the goods on how allegory is defined and why Narnia really isn’t one despite what you may have heard.
How then does he define Allegory? Perhaps the clearest definition in the most common language comes via a letter to Mrs. Hook (found in Letters of C.S. Lewis, 12/29/58):
By an allegory I mean a composition (whether pictorial or literary) in which immaterial realities are represented by feigned physical objects, e.g. a pictured Cupid allegorically represents erotic love (which in reality is an experience, not an object occupying a given area of space) or, Bunyan, a giant represents Despair.
"My Heart Always Wanders"
Tonight, another Christmas hymn sung by Sissel. This one probably isn’t familiar to you (I think it’s Swedish), but it’s one of Sissel’s own favorites, and has become one of mine. “Mitt hjerte altid vanker” means “My heart always wanders,” and the song goes on to say that the singer’s heart always wanders back to the place where Christ was born, because all his/her joy is there.
I particularly like the way they use some strains of Grieg for the bridge.
A Corpse In the Koryo, by James Church
I’d never heard of author James Church (a pseudonym for a former western intelligence officer) before someone lent me A Corpse in the Koryo
Inspector O, a police detective in Pyongyang, is a loose cannon in the honored tradition of fictional cops. Of course, a loose cannon in North Korea enjoys a lot less scope than one in, say, Los Angeles. He expresses his individuality through small acts of rebellion, like “forgetting” to wear the uniform badge that bears the portrait of the Dear Leader, and pursuing the solitary (hence suspect) hobby of woodworking, when he can get his hands on wood and supplies.
He’s lucky, too. He’s the grandson of a national hero, and a government minister who was his grandfather’s friend gives him a certain level of protection.
Still, Inspector O is under constant suspicion. But then, everyone is under constant suspicion.
The story, presented as a debriefing given to a British agent, begins with Inspector O sitting on a hill overlooking a highway, with a camera, waiting for a particular car to pass by. He’s supposed to take a picture of the car, but when he tries, the battery in his camera is dead (par for the course). Shortly after returning to his office, he is told that a little boy has been killed near the site where he had been watching. Then he attends a tense meeting with several police and intelligence officers, and is ordered to go to another city for a while and lay low. However, when he gets there, there are messages and clues, and mysterious meetings.
And so it goes. Nothing is what it seems in O’s world, and anyone not known to be a friend is probably an enemy. No one speaks directly. Messages are conveyed by nuances and things left unsaid. The mystery is convoluted, and the normal difficulties of police work are exacerbated by the difficulty of getting things as simple as aspirin, a meal, or notebooks (to say nothing of information).
But for all the subtleties of Korean society, death is brutal, bloody, and unsparing.
A Corpse In the Koryo is an excellent mystery for grown-ups not afraid of sorrow and futility, and anyone interested in a glimpse into the world’s most closed and secretive society. It’s not an easy read, as the reader needs to pay close attention both to spoken words and silences. Recommended.
Books and Bookshelves
Paste Magazine has some beautiful photos of books, bookshelves, books as artwork, bookstores, and alternatively, aisles lined with books. It’s beautiful.
Seraphic Secret, by a roundabout route
Pay attention. Or don’t. This part is background, and really not all that important. And I probably remember parts of it wrong.
Once upon a time, there was a blog called Libertas, run by a conservative movie producer named Jason Apuzzo, and his wife Govindini (it actually still exists, or exists again). It was an entertaining blog on the movie business, and attracted lively discussions in comments. When Jason and Govindini went on hiatus for a while, they turned it over to a commenter (and fellow movie maker) named John Nolte. It became even more popular and interesting under John. Then the Apuzzos came back, there was some kind of unpleasantness, and John moved to his own blog, called Dirty Harry’s Place, and took most of the fun with him. Libertas languished.
Co-bloggers and commenters at Dirty Harry’s Place were three guys who called themselves Rufus T. Firefly, Floyd R. Turbo, and Charles Foster Kane. There was a great synergy at that blog, and it was a delight to read.
Then Andrew Breitbart invited John Nolte to head up his new Big Hollywood blog. Rufus, Floyd, and Charles spun off a new blog of their own, movie-oriented but eclectic, called Threedonia. I hang out there quite a bit, because it’s kind of like Duck Soup every day, and they’ve added my books to their Amazon selection.
Meanwhile, Big Hollywood is a blog I also read quite a bit, but it’s history has been… strange. I won’t speculate on the dynamics between John Nolte and his co-writers, but Big Hollywood isn’t nearly as much fun as Dirty Harry’s Place was, and some of the best writers he started out with are no longer in evidence. My own impression is that Dirty Harry’s Place was a blog for people who loved movies, while Big Hollywood is (mostly, not entirely) a blog for people who hate Hollywood liberals.
I told you all that so I could tell you this.
The chief writer I miss at Big Hollywood is Robert J. Avrech, who wrote with great sensitivity and knowledge about Hollywood history, especially its (frequently—often purposely) neglected Jewish heritage.
But Robert Avrech has his own blog, Seraphic Secret, and I recommend it. Often it deals with Jewish matters that don’t compel me much, but nobody writes about old Hollywood like Avrech. If, like me, you find old Hollywood fascinating, I recommend it.
Sorehead
“Must the artist always be vulnerable to being pushed aside by manipulative phonies?” A poem and a little talk by John Tranter from the current issues of Poetry.
Social Media Doesn't Sell in a Vacuum
Jane Friedman talks about the value of social media and how its critics want it to sell books or merchandise without personal investment.
Breathless, by Dean Koontz
Say what you like about Dean Koontz; he isn’t afraid to experiment and mix it up. Breathless is part spiritual thriller, part science fiction. It’s a book with a clear message, one many readers won’t like. It’s also a very sweet story, and I enjoyed it and was moved by it. For reference, the same spirit that animates the Odd Thomas books is at work here.
Koontz jumps between several characters and story lines, before bringing them together, if not in one place, at least around one theme. A wonderful thing has happened in our world. Each witness to that event responds for the good or the evil, depending on the capacities of their souls.
Because of the multiplicity of story lines, it’s hard to give a synopsis, but the central story involves a man named Grady Adams, who along with his dog Merlin (gratefully, the dog is not a supernatural being this time out) observes the Event while on an evening walk in the woods. Soon he notices strange creatures watching his house. Meanwhile, his friend Camillia Rivers, a veterinarian, is trying to find an explanation for a strange “seizure” experienced by a number of domestic animals, which not only doesn’t seem to have done them any harm, but has done them good.
And nearby a sociopathic murderer is preparing for the collapse of society by building himself a secure compound on a mountain farm.
It all comes together in the end.
If you’re a Koontz fan and a religious believer, you’ll probably enjoy Breathless. If you don’t get the whole religion thing, you may find it offputting.
I don’t recall any very rough language. No sex, and the violence happens early on and is not explicit.
Not Koontz’ best, but recommended, for those with eyes to see.
The Warm Sincerity of Polish Carols
Carols are buried deep in Polish hearts and may reveal a distinctive beauty in Polish poetry. Cynthia Haven makes this connection when writing about the “Slavic Choral Concert Christmas in Kraków” at the Historic Hillside Club in Berkeley, California, quoting that great poet Czesław Miłosz on the charm and freshness of Polish carols. You can hear a snatch of them on this CD site.
Thanks to Patrick Kurp for this link and his additions to the topic and poem quotations.