Weekend reading

The word from Our Beloved Supervisors in the Twin Cities today is, “Stay inside. Do not attempt any strenuous work out of doors. The temperature is too high; the ozone level up in the Oh! Zone.”

I defied that advice, rebel that I am. In the first place the temperature was lower than expected, only a little over 80. Also my walking schedule has finally gotten me to the level where my body (like a dog) actually expects and wants its daily walk, and is disappointed if it misses it.

The humidity level was in Jacques Cousteau territory. I thought breathing was a little difficult too, but that was likely psychosomatic. Is ozone really dangerous to breathe, like cigarette smoke or something? Am I going to die now? Maybe I should just take up tobacco.

It says much about my psychological disorder(s) that, although I’m essentially very lazy, I judge a good or bad weekend by what I’ve accomplished. By that standard, it was a pretty good weekend. I mowed the lawn. I mopped the bathroom. I waxed Mrs. Hermanson, my car. And that was all on Saturday. On Sunday I did precisely nothing, as is my preference, except for church and reading. I shall now tell you about my reading.

No full reviews on these, just observations.

I finished Michael Connelly’s Echo Park. It’s another Harry Bosch novel, and a strong book in a dynasty of strong books. Harry is back with the L.A. police department now, working the Cold Case unit. A serial killer is arrested with human body parts in his van, and he confesses to a series of murders, including one that Harry worked on back in 1993, when it was new, and has been revisiting from time to time ever since. The problem is that Harry has been certain from the first that somebody else murdered that particular victim. And Harry is told that he missed a vital clue back in ’93, one that could have saved a number of lives if he’d followed it up. There’s an escape, cops are murdered, and Harry works two puzzles at once.

There’s nothing cheerful in a Harry Bosch book. Harry lives in a dark, confused world, where doing right (and Harry always tries to do right—that’s part of his problem) isn’t always the same thing as following the rules. Harry gets the job done, but there’s always a cost.

I also read an oldie, Robert Crais’ Lullaby Town. I like Crais better with each book of his I read. In this story, L.A. private eye Elvis Cole is hired by Peter Alan Nelson, a powerful Hollywood producer (whose characterization is deftly kept just this side of parody) to locate his ex-wife and son, who left him years before and simply dropped out of sight.

Elvis has to travel far from home to find the two, and when he does he discovers a desperate situation that calls for swift and forceful action. Needless to say, he brings in his dangerous partner, Joe Pike, but the real delight of Lullaby Town is the character arc traced by Nelson, the movie producer, as his family’s danger gradually forces him into a strange new territory known as The Real World, and how he begins to grow up as a man.

I think we lose a lot in contemporary storytelling through the abandonment of belief in objective truth. When you believe that there is an actual “thing” out there called Truth (or Goodness), then you can believe that everyone has an obligation to it, and you can root for them as they approach it, or sorrow for them as they move away from it.

When you believe that everybody makes his own truth, your rooting for a character is only a function of your personal taste (and his). It’s a game without a fixed goal. It’s pointless.

I don’t know if Crais had that kind of lesson in mind, but that’s what I drew from Lullaby Town, and it was very satisfactory to me.

Unread First Edition, First Issue

If you catch any Harry Potter news this weekend, you may not catch this detail: sold “an unread first edition, first issue from the 500 original copies published before anyone knew JK Rowling’s name” for $37,000. That’s the most expensive book they have sold.

Today, a similar book can be purchased for a mere $68785.62. The London-based seller of this edition describes it, saying, “This copy inscribed to the lady who ran the Edinburgh restaurant (Nicolson’s on Clarke Street) where J.K.Rowling wrote the majority of ‘Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone’ ;nursing a single cup of coffee and rocking her daughter to sleep with one hand, writing Harry’s adventures with the other: ‘For Grainne, With best wishes. J.K.Rowling.'”

Rowling is using this latest book buzz to promote awareness of missing and exploited children by having posters of Madeleine McCann, a girl who has been missing for two months, distributed to booksellers for display with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

God is All Satisfying

following Jesus will make you rich and trouble-free. That’s a lie, as the book of Acts proves on its own.

Ripping Off Austen Without Notice

David Lassman, the director of the Jane Austen Festival in Bath, England, decided to slightly alter the first paragraphs of a few of Jane Austen’s classic works for submission to today’s publishers. In the Guardian:

After making only minor changes, he sent off opening chapters and plot synopses to 18 of the UK’s biggest publishers and agents. He was amazed when they all sent the manuscripts back with polite but firm “no-thank-you’s” and almost all failed to spot that he was ripping off one of the world’s most famous literary figures.

Mr Lassman said: “I was staggered. Here is one of the greatest writers that has lived, with her oeuvre securely fixed in the English canon and yet only one recipient recognised them as Austen’s work.”

The one who recognised it said, “I suggest you reach for your copy of Pride and Prejudice, which I’d guess lives in close proximity to your typewriter, and make sure that your opening pages don’t too closely mimic that book’s opening.”

I love this kind of experiment, but hasn’t this been done before with another classic author? I don’t remember the specifics, but I think I’ve heard about someone doing this very thing a few years ago.

Spoiling my Inner Child

I’ve been making a serious attempt to listen to my Inner Child today.

And my Inner Child has a definite opinion. My mention of Davy Crockett in a recent post was a good start, he says, but it was not enough. He wants more. I suspect he’s gotten overexcited due to the fact that last night I won an eBay auction for a copy of that old Davy Crockett Golden Book I posted about, the one I remember from childhood. That’s what my Inner Child is like. Give him an inch… Bad Child! Down! Down!

Anyway, I checked out “Davy Crockett” on YouTube, and got some interesting videos.

One is the classic Bill Hayes recording of the theme song. I think (but am not sure) this was the version I heard most often on the radio. The lyrics were a little different from what they used on the show.

For you Motown fans, here’s something extremely weird: The Supremes doing “The Ballad.” Why, I have no idea.

And finally, some kids at a camp in Taiwan sing the song. My Inner Child insisted I include it.

And now I have to send him to bed. I’ve got chores for him to do tomorrow.

Have a good weekend.

Now This Is Good Writing

Harrison Scott Key writes, “This is not from The Onion. I repeat, (re-read previous sentence).”

I love it. Here’s what he’s referring to. The hypothetical questions they should ask at the presidential debates.

More on Auralia’s Colors

If you check the “View Recent Comments” in the sidebar, then you probably saw that author Jeffery Overstreet replied to my criticism of his opening sentences. That conversation has carried over to the Arts and Faith forum.

Also here’s a bit from the Publishers Weekly review:

Overstreet creates a world with not only its own geography but its own vocabulary—it is haunted by beastmen, home to cloudgrasper trees, vawns (something like dinosaurs) and twister fish. There are Christian bones to the story—particularly in the mystery of the beast called the Keeper, who is “always moving about, but he likes to hide just to see who’ll come seeking”—which may be too obvious to some and not at all clear to others. Overstreet’s writing is precise and beautiful, and the story is masterfully told.

Looks like a good one.

Star Tracts?

Here’s a post from Roy Jacobsen’s Writing, Clear and Simple blog, explaining an actual physiological reason why active verbs are better than passive verbs. So use active verbs, already!

Oh yes, he also has a blog called Dispatches from Outland.

I had an IM conversation last night with a friend who is an agnostic.

He talked about the idea of missionaries in space travel stories. He was assuming that if we found intelligent life on other planets, missionaries from various religions would go to them.

I suppose that’s probably true.

But I said that, for my own part, I’d never been certain whether the Atonement had anything to do with people on other planets (assuming there are any).

He had trouble understanding that.

I said that from a biblical perspective, sin is passed down from Adam, and the Redemption pays for that sin. But space aliens are not descended from Adam. So either a) they would not require redemption at all, or b) they might require an entirely different sort of remedy for whatever problem they might have gotten themselves into.

He said that that was a new thought to him.

It occurred to me that this might be a common problem of perception, and a sign that we Christians haven’t been making our case clearly.

He assumed (I take it. Could be wrong) that believers in proselytizing religions spread their messages out of a simple desire to make people agree with them. A conviction that “I’m right, and I won’t rest until I’ve convinced everybody else that I’m right.” A sort of intellectual bullying impulse.

While from my point of view, the central question is a purely practical one. I believe that there is something radically wrong with the human heart. It is literally “sick unto death.” And I have been entrusted with the medicine that cures that sickness. If I didn’t believe people were perishing, I wouldn’t be greatly troubled that people in Madagascar have a different world view than I do.

Context matters. A man running down a city street shouting, “Follow me to the exit!” is a nut. A man shouting “Follow me to the exit!” in a burning theater is very probably a hero.

BBC Faked Charity Contest Winners

The BBC has canceled phone-in contests after confessing some of their previous contests had phony winners. During the contests, apparently technical problems arose which prevented callers from getting through. Instead of postponing the contest, employees of the faked a winner. The Telegraph lists some specific shows.

Updating a earlier story on the BBC, the production company responsible for depicting the Queen as storming out of a photo shoot, when she did nothing of the kind, has apologized for embarrassing the BBC and essentially lying about the Queen.