Then do not follow this link to an article on warning labels and their intent to save us from ourselves.
David Carradine: Dead at 72
Actor David Carradine, best known for the “Kung Fu” TV series and the “Kill Bill” movies, has been found dead in a hotel room in Bangkok, apparently by his own hand.
Tiptoe through the tunics
How in the name of Helge Ingstad did it get to be the beginning of June already?
It feels like it was winter a couple weeks ago.
Actually, that’s not far from correct. It’s been a hard-fought spring.
Deborah asked for pictures of my tunic project.
Encouraging me is the first mistake. Continue reading Tiptoe through the tunics
When I’m a celebrity, I won’t forget the little people, however contemptible they may be
What a day it’s been in blogdom!
First, the immortal Hunter Baker (author of the soon-to-be-released The End of Secularism), plugs West Oversea over at Mere Comments.
Then “Mike” at Threedonia (one of the best blogs in the world for sheer fun) posted about Hunter Baker’s post.
If we can just keep this momentum going, I’ll soon be hobnobbing with Jonah Goldberg and refusing to return Ann Coulter’s calls.
(Just a joke, Ann. Call me anytime.)
The June Smithsonian includes a light piece entitled “Words to Remember,” by Miles Corwin, about Amanda McKittrick Ros, generally considered the worst novelist in history.
If I didn’t recall, from C. S. Lewis’ Collected Letters, that he and the other Inklings used to wile away the evenings reading passages from Ros’s novels, to see how long they could last before breaking up in laughter, I’d be tempted to suspect her whole story was a hoax.
What price prose like this:
“Speak! Irene! Wife! Woman! Do not sit in silence and allow the blood that now boils in my veins to ooze through cavities of unrestrained passion and trickle down to drench me with its crimson hue!”
Sure, it’s bad. But is it really worse than Dan Brown?
I’m working on my new linen Viking tunic. Cut it out last night. Tonight I think I’ll tackle the neck hole, always one of the trickiest parts of a tunic.
There’s nothing intrinsically unmasculine about sewing (he insisted, his face nevertheless revealing his profound shame and ambivalence). A sewing project is essentially an engineering job. There’s lots of measuring and fitting stuff together, with (one hopes) the solid satisfaction of a well-constructed product at the end of the process.
I think the problem is that clothes just don’t matter as much to guys as they do to women.
Reenactors are different, though. We compare our trousseaus like debutantes.
In a manly, virile way, of course.
The Cure, by Athol Dickson
A while back I made an attempt to write a novel in which one main character was someone who (like me) suffered from Avoidant Personality Disorder.
I wrestled with that book for months before finally giving up on it. I realized at last that the character was so timid and passive that even I—who was him, more or less—didn’t care what happened to him.
That was kind of my problem with The Cure, too. I’m not saying it’s a bad book. I recommend it, especially as compared to most Christian Booksellers Association fare. But I had trouble, especially with the main character.
The Cure concerns the town of Dublin, Maine. Homeless people have been collecting in Dublin in unusual numbers, because of a rumor that’s gotten around that somebody—no one is sure who—in Dublin has a cure for alcoholism. The town’s economy is bad, and an influx of non-productive visitors is the last thing it needs.
Among these homeless is Riley Keep, who grew up in Dublin. Once he was a pastor here. Once he taught at a nearby college. From here he went to Brazil as a missionary.
But a tragedy in Brazil (explained to us gradually, in flashbacks) broke his heart and most of his faith. He became an alcoholic, abandoned his wife and daughter, and went on the road. He’s only come back now because he has a friend who won’t last much longer without the Cure.
Riley’s ex-wife is mayor of Dublin now. But nobody recognizes him at first.
Then one day he wakes up in an alley, his hunger for alcohol completely vanished. In his pocket he finds a small packet of powder, along with a note explaining its use, and a chemical formula.
He gives the powder to some others, and they are immediately healed. Then everybody finds out about it, and the others want the Cure too, and Riley is attacked by a mob. That’s only the beginning of the trouble, as the army of the homeless becomes a genuine civil threat, and powerful people who want the Cure start pressuring Riley and everyone he cares about.
It’s a good idea for a story, but (in my opinion) the execution here could have been better. Riley Keep is essentially a passive guy, and he deals with all crises by taking the line of least resistance. This provides an excellent moral object lesson, but makes a story that might have been very gripping, just irritating in places. A better protagonist, I think, would have been the mayor, Riley’s ex-wife, who has some spirit. It would have called for some re-plotting, but I think it would have made for a more compelling narrative.
Another flaw is that what is supposed to be a big revelation toward the end was telegraphed miles off, because the author falls into a much-overused character stereotype.
Dickson is Dickson, and he’s not capable of producing a really bad book.
But I wanted to like The Cure more than I did.
Ignoring the Truths of the Past
Andrée Seu writes about laodicean and other curious words.
The Incomprehensible Terror of Stalin
What’s Wrong with the American Musical?
Terry Teachout gives us four points where modern-day musicals need great improvement. Gratuitous glitz is only one of them: “When a show disappears beneath its production values, you can bet that there wasn’t much to it in the first place.” (via Books, Inq.)
Our weapons are not of this world
As I understand it, we’re still waiting for a final word on the motives of the man who murdered Dr. George Tiller, the noted late-term abortionist. But indications seem to be that the killer was motivated by his anti-abortion (I won’t say pro-life) beliefs.
I’m appalled by this wicked, perverse and un-Christian act. The perpetrator, if and when convicted, should be punished to the full extent of the law.
I don’t know what else there is to say.