Today’s advent hymn was originally “Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme,” written by German Lutheran Philipp Nicolai (1556-1608). He is noted in our source as having “fled from the Spanish army, sparred with Roman Catholic and Calvinist opponents, and ministered to plague-stricken congregations.” So a real salt of the earth kind of guy.
Catherine Winkworth translated the piece into English (as was with last week’s hymn).
1 “Wake, awake, for night is flying,” the watchmen on the heights are crying, “awake, Jerusalem, at last!” Midnight hears the welcome voices, and at the thrilling cry rejoices: “Come forth, ye maidens, night is past! The Bridegroom comes; awake, your lamps with gladness take; alleluia! And for his marriage feast prepare, for you must go to meet him there.”
2 Zion hears the watchmen singing, and all her heart with joy is springing; she wakes, she rises from her gloom, for her Lord comes down all-glorious, the strong in grace, in truth victorious; her Star is ris’n, her Light is come! Ah, come, thou blessed Lord, O Jesus, Son of God, alleluia! We follow ’til the halls we see where thou hast bid us sup with thee.
3 Now let all the heav’ns adore thee, and men and angels sing before thee, with harp and cymbal’s clearest tone; of one pearl each shining portal, where we are with the choir immortal of angels round thy dazzling throne; nor eye hath seen, nor ear hath yet attained to hear what there is ours; but we rejoice, and sing to thee our hymn of joy eternally.
Day was breaking. The dawn
Swept the last stars, bits of ashes, from the sky.
Of the vast rabble, Mary allowed
Only the Magi to enter the cleft in the rock.
He slept, all luminous, in the oak manager,
Like a moonbeam in the hollow of a tree.
Books and Meals: “I cannot remember the books I’ve read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me.” Many attribute this to Ralph Waldo Emerson but the best source a version of this statement could also be attributed to another man also named Emerson.
I watched an interesting movie, on a friend’s recommendation, and I think it’s worth reviewing.
The Outfit, which I watched on Amazon Prime, is a production that looks as if it was adapted from a stage play, because pretty much everything happens on just one set. But it’s not; it’s just an extremely focused drama, and it works effectively that way.
Leonard Burling (Mark Rylance) is an Englishman who runs a tailor shop in Chicago in 1956 – though he insists he’s not a tailor, but a “cutter.” Tailors, he says, just mend clothing.
His shop is located in the territory of an Irish criminal gang. The big boss is his most important customer. Although some of the people he makes suits for are anything but savory, Leonard is a complete professional, treating them all as gentlemen, studiously ignoring what they do for a living.
But what they do for a living doesn’t ignore him. They’ve installed a sealed drop box in his shop, and from time to time they leave letters and packages there for retrieval. Leonard pretends it’s not there. A worse intrusion is the attention the big boss’s son Richie (Dylan O’Brien) has been paying to Leonard’s young receptionist, Mable (Zoe Deutsch). Leonard has paternal feelings for her, and is concerned.
Then one night one of the other gangsters, Francis (Johnny Flynn) shows up with a wounded Richie. Richie has been shot by a rival gang, and he needs to lay low until their enemies have gone away. Francis demands Leonard stitch Richie’s wound up, and demands he hide a briefcase. He says the briefcase contains a tape recording made by some “rat” who’s betrayed them all. He leaves Richie there with Leonard, and the two talk.
That’s all I’ll tell you about the plot. Speaking as a writer, I wasn’t entirely happy with the plot. It’s one of those stories where a character creates an intricate plan that fools both their opponents and the audience. However, just one small miscalculation here would have been fatal, and in real life something always does go wrong. Too tight a battle plan is a recipe for disaster, as any good general knows.
Nevertheless, if you suspend your disbelief on that point, The Outfit is very impressive. Ryland is pitch-perfect as the cutter – one of those quiet men who’s got a lot more going on under the surface than anybody guesses. All the performances are excellent, though.
I was busy translating today, and then I was busy catching up on things I neglected so I could do the translating. So what to post tonight?
My latest default seems to be finding Andrew Klavan videos, because nobody does the writing job better in our time.
The clip above concerns his novel Another Kingdom, so it’s a few years old. I remember the period when he was writing it particularly, because at the time I was enjoying a brief period of personal contact with him. I’d written a glowing review of the Weiss-Bishop novels for The American Spectator, and he e-mailed me to thank me. About the same time he made a request, on the blog he was doing at the time, for recommendations on good Christian fantasies to read, saying he was writing his own first Christian fantasy and wanted to check the field out. I sent him a file of my e-book, Troll Valley.
I never heard another word from him. Ah, well. Maybe I should have sent him Death’s Doors. Or The Year of the Warrior. Or just kept silent. One never knows.
Joss Ackland and Claire Bloom in the 1985 “Shadowlands”
My metaphorical Advent calendar opened today and dispensed paying translating work. This is excellent. I’ve been idle for a couple months, and I can use the income. An interesting project, too.
So, little time for reading and no book to review today. Of what shall I write?
I watched the Most Reluctant Convert movie, as I said. Then I watched it again. And last night I thought, “Might as well watch Shadowlands too, and close the circuit.” And when I say Shadowlands, I mean, of course, the original 1985 BBC production with Joss Ackland and Claire Bloom. The 1993 version, with Anthony Hopkins and Debra Winger, isn’t even on my radar. I watched it once and was unimpressed (except by Winger, who is much closer to the real Joy Davidman than the refined Claire Bloom. But otherwise the 1985 version is more authentic and more concerned with the characters’ Christian faith. My impression of the 1993 movie is that it portrays Lewis as an immature man rescued by True Love. And his Christianity is regarded as one of his immature traits).
Anyway, you get a pretty good overview of Lewis’ life by watching the two movies in sequence. The Most Reluctant Convert offers a fairly authentic (though necessarily incomplete) picture of Lewis’ life up to his conversion. Shadowlands (if you watch the right version) gives a broadly decent impression of what happened in his later years, when he got married and suffered bereavement and a crisis of faith.
Of course, it’s an incomplete picture, as any cinematic portrayals must be. The Most Reluctant Convert leaves out much of the story, notably Lewis’ unhappy time in English public schools (what we’d call private academies in this country). And the book it’s based on, Surprised by Joy, omits much in the first place. In particular, Lewis’ domestic life with Mrs. Moore, the mother of a friend killed in the Great War, whom Lewis cared for in fulfillment of a promise to that friend. He wouldn’t have liked that story re-told; it began in infatuation in his atheist days and was transformed into voluntary servanthood after his conversion.
Shadowlands is a moving story, but heavily tailored to its dramatic form. Jack’s and Joy’s marriage actually lasted four years – her sons were nearly grown and away at school when she died. The affecting scene at the end where Jack and the boy Douglas Gresham grieve together never happened – sadly.
Most of all I was wondering what Jack himself would have thought about all this bother. And I thought I’d ponder that tonight in this post, to see if I could figure out what I think. I’m pretty sure Jack would have been mortified by the whole business. Aside from his personal modesty, there’s the fact that he deplored any examination of a writer’s life in order to interpret his work. The work, he frequently insisted, must stand on its own. It’s not for the critic to poke around in the author’s history and personality, hunting for repressions and obsessions.
Although I’m pretty sure he didn’t object to Boswell’s Life of Johnson. Because that’s a work of literature in its own right.
However, the two films I’m discussing are works of art in their own rights too. So does that make it OK?
Well, we have to deal with things as they are, I suppose. Whether he liked it or not, Jack Lewis was an interesting man. And people who love his books frequently want to know more about the man who wrote them.
This interest, surprisingly, even generally survives their first exposure to a picture of Lewis, something he himself described as a “most undecorative object.”
Maybe – and I’m very likely projecting here – it’s the fact that people experience Lewis’ writings as letters from a friend. We’d very much like to have a friend like that. Friendship is an experience that’s fallen on hard times in our evil world. Lewis had a splendid gift for friendship, as we know from his life story.
I know what he’d say to that, though – “Do you live on a deserted island? Is there no church in your community? You might be surprised what qualities lie concealed in the people in the next pew.”
The blurb says,“You’ve never met a spy like this before!” That’s false advertising. Charles Bishop, hero of Kiss My Assassin (apologies for the title), is almost indistinguishable from James Bond. He does the same job, has the same way with women, and gets into the same kind of scrapes as Bond (at least the movie Bond). I suppose the author’s attempts at witty dialogue are intended to make the atmosphere a little lighter than a Bond story, but I didn’t find the wit very sharp, myself.
When the Turkish ambassador to Great Britain is arrested on Westminster Bridge after a naked male body flies out of his car trunk, Bishop is sent to talk to him at his residence (diplomatic complications have delayed his being detained by police). The ambassador tells Bishop that it doesn’t matter what he does – he’s going to be dead by the end of the day. He says he got an opportunity to participate in a highly secret illegal arms auction, but since the dead man, the sellers’ agent, died – accidentally – the arms brokers, who are not understanding sorts, will certainly kill him and his family.
Fireworks ensue, and soon Bishop is off to Marrakech, where he meets a seductive woman and a brutish Russian agent, who turns into an unlikely ally. In the honored tradition of movie action heroes, Bishop will kill an improbable number of enemy agents, and though he’ll suffer several traumatic injuries, including gunshot wounds, he’ll still drag himself out his hospital bed to give it one more go.
I’ve read a lot of improbable action thrillers, so I could have gone happily along for the ride if I’d liked the main character. But I took a dislike to Charles Bishop almost from the start. The dialogue, I think, was meant to be clever, but it didn’t amuse me. An attempt at one point to make Bishop sensitive to male sexism struck me as both false and a little prissy.
The writing isn’t awful, but I don’t recommend Kiss My Assassin. As you might expect, there was quite a lot of sex, some of it pretty kinky.
I finally saw it. I touted the film, The Most Reluctant Convert when it first appeared in theaters, but didn’t get around to going myself. Because I’m old, and there’s Covid, and it would have been a long drive, etc., etc. But now I’ve got the DVD, and I must say I was impressed. Better even than I expected.
Essentially, this production is a dramatization of Lewis’ memoir, Surprised by Joy, with some The Weight of Glory thrown in. Originally a stage play, the film adaptation takes an interesting approach. We start with the filming preparations, as makeup people finish their work on the actor Max McLean. Then he seems to nod off, and when he lifts his head he’s Lewis. He walks out of the studio and directly into the Museum of Natural History at Oxford, all the while discussing how he moved from atheism to Christianity. As we follow, the film alternates between the “present” – Lewis talking to the camera – and recreations of dramatic scenes from his life. Often Lewis sits on the sidelines, watching his younger self, a dramatic element I rather like.
The production is really very well done all around. It has an authentic look; the acting is excellent. Good costumes and sets. The actors even vaguely resemble the people they’re playing. And the story is presented with what I think is considerable power. Some memorable parts of Surprised, like Lewis’ miserable time in public school, are skipped over as the narrative sticks with the main topic.
Max McLean is good – I won’t say great – as Lewis. In makeup he resembles the man, in a sort of rubber-faced way. Having never met Lewis, I can’t really say more with any authority, but I still think the definitive portrayal is Joss Ackland’s in the original BBC version of Shadowlands (which had the same director as this film). Ackland looked less like Lewis, but had the physical bulk and booming voice. And he’d clearly studied Lewis’ mannerisms. He also wore his hat with the brim turned down all the way around, which McLean neglects to do for some reason. (Somebody must have told him about this, I would think.)
But these are quibbles. All in all, The Most Reluctant Convert is a highly successful and impressive adaptation. I’m glad I bought it.
“Comfort, Comfort Ye My People” performed by the choir of First Plymouth Church of Lincoln, Nebraska
This marvelous advent hymn comes from the German Lutheran Johannes Olearius (1611-1684), originally as Tröstet, tröstet meine Lieben for St. John Baptist’s Day (June 24). John Julian notes, “He was also the compiler of one of the largest and most important German hymn-books of the 17th century.”
Our words come from Catherine Winkworth’s English translation in 1863. I’ve copied the Trinity Hymnal version here. The performance above skips verse two, but it captures the festival spirit of this song.
1 Comfort, comfort ye my people, speak ye peace, thus saith our God; comfort those who sit in darkness, mourning ‘neath their sorrow’s load. Speak ye to Jerusalem of the peace that waits for them; tell her that her sins I cover, and her warfare now is over.
2 Yea, her sins our God will pardon, blotting out each dark misdeed; all that well deserved his anger he no more will see or heed. She hath suffered many a day, now her griefs have passed away; God will change her pining sadness into ever-springing gladness.
3 For the herald’s voice is crying in the desert far and near, bidding all men to repentance, since the kingdom now is here. O that warning cry obey! Now prepare for God a way; let the valleys rise to meet him, and the hills bow down to greet him.
4 Make ye straight what long was crooked, make the rougher places plain; let your hearts be true and humble, as befits his holy reign. For the glory of the Lord now o’er earth is shed abroad; and all flesh shall see the token that his word is never broken.
I’m almost done reading Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory, and last night I thought, “Everyone should read this. They should assign it in schools or colleges. It should be something that young people should be expected to read before they are thirty.” Hundreds of churches would benefit from reading of the unmerited grace God shows the whisky priest, his duty and that of the lieutenant, and sparks of faith you can see here and there. It would stir up the pious in a way they need to be stirred.
Patrick Kurp’s son may have a better idea. He suggests making The Gulag Archipelago required reading in high school. Kurp replies, “This simple idea is too commonsensical ever to be adopted. The historical memory of many Americans has almost evaporated, leaving it eminently inflatable with hogwash.” Education, he says, is being trivialized.
Thanksgiving: In Barry Levinson’s Avalon (1990), Titus Techera writes, “Thanksgiving has a double character. On the one hand, it’s a kind of nonreligious expression of gratitude—ultimately, a form of patriotism. These are not religious people, and it seems that, without religion, Americans don’t know who is especially deserving of their thanks. They love America, but it seems no different than loving themselves. . . . On the other hand, Thanksgiving is supposed to save Americans from this individualism by forcing them at least to stop busybodying and rekindling the love of their own family.”
Paperbacks: “Around about the 1950s, the American literary establishment—never exactly nimble on its feet—noticed its world had changed a decade earlier.” And somewhat related, here are 30 fantasy book series with brief introductions.
Rings of Power: Still joking about convoluted story mess in the first season of Rings of Power. There’s a lot of material there. I’ve watched several of Ryan George’s Pitch Meetings skits and feel there’s a cumulative effect to several of the jokes. If this is the first one you see, you may that watching a few more adds to the humor of the whole.
Faithful: Pastors remain in Ukraine, leaning on the Almighty every day.
This is Pastor Mykola Savchuk of Salvation Church in Kyiv. 2nd day of war, he drove his wife & 2 kids to western Ukraine. By 3rd day, he was back in Kyiv to preach. He worried no one would show up. 10% of his church did— the others all fled— and he was pleasantly surprised. pic.twitter.com/AWiPa788SC
In the second tweet, Lee writes, “The 5th day, he woke up alone in bed at 5 am, and began weeping for an hour, for no obvious reason other than a sudden realization of his new reality. 9 months have passed. What did he learn? ‘God is good, all the time. It’s not just a slogan for me— it’s a deep conviction.'”
God have mercy on us and string Ukrainian streets with peace.
I’m reading a very long book right now, and so it’ll be a while yet before I have a review ready. Instead I share the picture above.
This photo was taken way back in the last century, in June of 1994. That young, thin, dark-bearded figure on the ship’s bridge is your obedient servant. The ship is the Fram, the arctic exploration vessel designed for Fridtjof Nansen and later used by Roald Amundsen as well. It’s in a museum all its own in Oslo, not far from the Viking Ship Museum. When I reviewed Nansen’s book Farthest North in January, almost a year ago, I vaguely remembered having this picture, and looked around for it. Couldn’t find it. Today I happened to open a photo album in the basement, and there it was. So I share it with you now, to your wonder and amazement, I have no doubt.
“Fram” means “forward.” It’s Norway’s traditional motto, based on the reported war cry of St. Olaf’s men at the battle of Stiklestad: “Forward, forward, Christ-men, cross-men, king’s men!”
This was my first trip to Norway, and I took it with my dad. My mother had died recently, and Dad proposed that we go together. “I’ll pay for the travel; you cover the rest of your own costs,” he said. Couldn’t say no to that. That was when I first met my relatives over there. It was the first of five delightful journeys.
