The next The Chronicles of Narnia movie is coming: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
No feather in his Capp
Stefan Kanfer has a fascinating article over at City Journal about a man who has always been (in an ambivalent sort of way) one of my personal heroes—the cartoonist Al Capp, creator of Li’l Abner (thanks to Daniel Crandall of The American Culture for the tip).
Back in its heyday, during the Great Depression, World War II, and the Fifties, Li’l Abner occupied a place in the American consciousness for which it’s hard to find an analog in today’s world. Back then everybody—except members of the most extreme religious communities—read the daily comics. Comic strips were what network TV used to be (but also is no more). If there were a page on the internet that everybody in the country visited every day, that would be something like what Li’l Abner was back then. When Abner finally gave up his fight to remain a bachelor and married Daisy Mae, the nation rejoiced (or grieved, depending on their point of view). Continue reading No feather in his Capp
Saint Julian, by Walter Wangerin Jr.
The legend of Saint Julian the Hospitaller seems to have risen in the Middle Ages, and is today considered entirely folklore. Possibly inspired by the story of Oedipus, it tells of a young man of noble family cursed to commit an appalling, shameful crime. As with Oedipus, his very efforts to make the crime impossible actually bring it about, but Christians added the element of redemption, a demonstration that no crime is beyond the mercy of God.
Author and clergyman Walter Wangerin Jr. has written Saint Julian
Medieval Christians believed that Julian lived at the beginning of the Christian era, but Wangerin places it in the epoch that produced it—somewhere in the Middle Ages, apparently during the Crusades. His book combines the classic style of the hagiographical tale with the allegory of Pilgrim’s Progress. Julian is a sort of Everyman, or Everychristian. Born to many advantages, blessed with physical beauty and rich natural gifts, he falls—almost innocently, one might say—into the sin of pride, seeing no need to curb his desires. His immoderation leads to a great sin, which brings upon him the curse of the tale. And when he commits his crime, it is again because of his intemperance. What follows is a long journey to discover the miracle of grace, a journey in which God is always guiding, generally unseen, along hard and painful roads.
Saint Julian lacks the emotional peaks and valleys that broke so many of our hearts in Wangerin’s greatest novel, the delightful The Book of the Dun Cow. In his attempt to mimic the style of medieval chroniclers, the author starts the book slowly, and probably loses a lot of readers along the way. The very universality of his themes tends to make the characters one-dimensional, like figures in a Gothic church painting.
Fans of Wangerin will enjoy Saint Julian, but not consider it his finest work. Those new to him would do best to start with The Book of the Dun Cow.
Hearing from the Astronauts
Mrs. Yates’ 3rd Grade Class Receives A New Message From Space, a funny monologue from Christian Lynch.
Natalie Merchant
Poet Natalie Merchant talks poetry and receives praise in this four part video.
God Delights in Himself
A few thoughts on how can Christians appreciate non-Christian art
A weekend without Vikings
It was a quiet weekend at home for me, the first in some time. The rain delayed, giving me a chance to do some of the yard work I haven’t been able to get to before. And I made at least a token effort to clean the house (I might mention that I love the Swiffer Wet Jet. This is the mop I’ve waited for all my life. I’m sure it’s environmentally evil, what with chemicals and throw-away pads and all, but I’ll just keep it as my personal iniquity, until the EPA pries it from my cold, dead hands).
Sunday evening I drove down to Rochester (Minnesota, not New York. The place where the original Mayo Clinic is) to meet some distant relatives. Two shirttail cousins and their wives. One of them comments on this blog, but I’d never met him personally before. He’s here on vacation. We shared family stories, and I slipped into Lecturer Mode, explaining at length about Norwegian history, naming customs, and immigration patterns, among other things. In spite of that, they paid for my dinner.
I got from them yet another version of how our family acquired the British name, Walker. This one says the change was made at the urging of a local banker in Iowa, a relation by marriage. He is said to have told my great-grandfather’s brother he ought to change his name to “get ahead” in America. He then picked out Walker himself, because it sounded vaguely like “Kvalevaag,” the name of the farm this ancestor had come from.
So now I have three different versions. I’m not sure what conclusions to draw from all the disinformation. Maybe the Walker brothers were spies, and this was all deep cover.
We wondered about another odd circumstance, that although the two brothers weren’t many years apart in age (my great-grandfather was the younger), and although these two fellows I had dinner with are roughly in my age range, we have a full generation difference in our genealogies. In other words, while my ancestor is my great-grandfather, their ancestor (his brother) was their grandfather. In fact, their father is still alive. I guess a couple young marriages in my family tree account for the differences.
Anyway, I had a jolly time, and if they read this, here’s my thanks.
Those Cute Little Twilight Readers
Sarah Clarkson has a good take on the attitude some have taken when reviewing Twilight. She says, “Thing is, I know, and rather adore, quite a few teenage girls. I remember being one (and have moments when I feel like one still). And I can guarantee you that most aren’t harboring a dark desire to be worshiped by a man. What they do want very much is to be loved. Are the lot of them boy crazy? Pretty much. And I’m sorry, but isn’t that part of how God made us?”
Dem. Congressman Assaults Cameraman
Bob Etheridge (D-NC) is giving the nuclear test to the idea that no publicity is bad publicity. Having seen the video on “several blogs,” the congressman has released an apology. I know congressmen get away with far worse than this (hiding money in their freezers, prostitution coordination in their houses), but I think Etheridge must be rejected for his district in favor of someone more level-headed. I mean, two congressmen smacking each other around one thing, but grabbing the neck of a college student who asked him a question on the street?
We Were Created to Live
Denise Spencer, wife of Michael Spencer who recently died, has a fiercely beautiful post on life and dying: Sometimes It’s Just Plain Hard.
“Jesse” was another man who had been unconscious as his wife watched his condition deteriorate. She at last whispered to him that she didn’t want him to suffer any more, and she told him to “run to Jesus.” He opened one eye and smiled before dying shortly thereafter. . . .
These are beautiful stories, one and all. Tales of hope in the midst of tragedy. Memories that bring consolation to the bereaved. And I’m getting tired of hearing them. Can I say that out loud? “Why?!” you no doubt gasp in horror. ‘Cause Michael and me, we got nuthin’.