Authors

Rest in Peace, Jerry Falwell

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Rev. Jerry Falwell has passed away. He wrote Building Dynamic Faith about 12 years ago. He was a critical influence in American religion and politics, though I doubt I am following his lead exactly.

Update: Larry Flint had kind words to say about Falwell yesterday. “My mother always told me that no matter how much you dislike a person, when you meet them face to face you will find characteristics about them that you like. Jerry Falwell was a perfect example of that. I hated everything he stood for, but after meeting him in person, years after the trial, Jerry Falwell and I became good friends. He would visit me in California and we would debate together on college campuses. I always appreciated his sincerity even though I knew what he was selling and he knew what I was selling.”

Poetry

I’m only going over home

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I am a poor wayfaring stranger,

While traveling through this world of woe.

Yet there’s no sickness, toil nor danger

In that bright world to which I go.

I’m going there to see my Father;

I’m going there no more to roam.

I’m only going over Jordan,

I’m only going over home.

I know dark clouds will gather round me;

I know my way is rough and steep.

But golden fields lie out before me

Where God’s redeemed shall ever sleep.

I’m going there to see my mother,

She said she’d meet me when I come.

I’m only going over Jordan,

I’m only going over home.

I’ll soon be free from every trial,

My body sleep in the churchyard;

I’ll drop the cross of self denial

And enter on my great reward.

I’m going there to see my Savior,

To sing His praise forevermore.

I’m only going over Jordan,

I’m only going over home.

Folk spir­it­u­al by Ri­chard W. Ad­ams

Uncategorized

Hooper slam-dunks it

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I have a new disaster to report.

I had my semiannual visit from the AC/Heating guy today. He discovered that my 1984-model air conditioner is down for the count. Dead. Defunct. Gone to join the Choir Invisible. “It had a heart attack,” the service guy said. In technicalese, the condenser blew and it’s not worth replacing in such an old unit.

So now I have to go through the hassle and expense of replacing the thing, through my homeowner’s warranty company. Much mirth to follow, I’m confident.

If you were worried about my Mock Bløtkake last Friday, I’m almost sorry to have to report that it went pretty well. The Cool Whip didn’t slide off the sides of the cake, downward into oblivion like my writing career. It was pretty much a success. So where’s the humor in that?

I noticed something interesting in my reading of Vol. 3 of The Collected Letters of C. S. Lewis, edited by Walter Hooper. Hooper includes biographical sketches of a number of Lewis’ most important or prolific correspondents. Among them is the late Kathryn Lindskoog, who spent much of the later part of her life accusing Hooper of creating fraudulent Lewis stories, which he then passed off as Lewis’ own work.

In the sketch about Kathryn Lindskoog, Hooper says nothing at all of that aspect of her career.

However, in the sketch on scholar Alistair Fowler, he details how Fowler has given personal testimony that Lewis showed him the Dark Tower fragment “as far back as 1962.” The Dark Tower is the document that Lindskoog particularly singled out for attack.

But again here, Hooper is silent about that side of the matter.

I consider this very classy on Hooper’s part. If I’d taken the heat he’s taken, I fear I would have found some way to make the connection explicit, to do a little victory dance.

But I’m a small vindictive man, who relishes petty vengeances.

Hooper has earned even more of my respect.

Bookselling

In Translation

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The Literary Saloon points out the Oxford-Weidenfeld Translation Prize for works translated into English. The Saloon advocates such work, encouraging readers to broaden themselves with literature written outside the U.S., and has some of this prize’s shortlist under review. I think I’ll have to make room for Suite Francaise.

As an interesting parallel, The Saloon also quotes from Alberto Fuguet of Chile who says translated works can be pretty ugly, and for works translated from the original to another language then to Spanish? Forget it!

Bookselling

Christy Award Finalists

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Mr. Bertrand has a post on the Contemporary finalists which he judged for this year’s Christy Awards.

He also passes on a story about and a link to an interesting book site for new book, No One Belongs Here More Than You. Take a look at it. Do you think anyone could follow suit with a promotion of their own book? And do you think color coordinating one’s reading with her outfit will ever catch on?

Authors

Annie Dillard on Rewriting

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Publishers Weekly asks author Annie Dillard, “Isn’t it hard to kill off your own characters and writing?”

I’ve made the decision many times. Of course, I always save them in a file. And then I got to the part that was really interesting: shaving the book by the syllable. If there was a three-syllable word, I’d say, is there a two syllable word for this, etc. That was really fun.

Dillard has a new novel coming in June called, The Maytrees.

Religion

The Truth Endures Forever

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One reason Christians should pray more and argue or fret less is the truth, maybe not exactly as we understand it but the truth nonetheless, will endure. Fools and wicked men may gain the White House and the Kremlin or be promoted to management, but the Lord says to cast our worries on him because he cares for us.

“Something for Sunday”

Religion

So Many Books, So Little Time

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Here’s a sermon out of Luke 10 on the things that matter most. “But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary.” (Link is to MP3.)

Reading

Clipping Reviews

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Wouldn’t there be a market for a national literary supplement, something to go in USA Today maybe? Perhaps the NYTBR holds that place, and yet it is as disgraced its partner paper, is it not?

Grad student Kristen Keckler remembers seeking out book reviews in the Sunday paper, clipping them, and taking a folder of them to the bookstore to help her buy interesting or winning books. “While Amazon suggests books it ‘thinks’ I’ll like,” she says, “newspaper book reviews introduce me to books off my radar, books I wouldn’t encounter otherwise. Print book reviews also offer the authority, depth, and substance that online reviews often lack.”

I feel for her, honestly, and I do wonder about a national book review, The USABR, if you will; but regardless, I can readily imagine a country without newspapers.

Uncategorized

A Bløt on the escutcheon

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Those refreshments I thought I had to prepare for the Viking Age Society last week? Tonight’s the proper night. I just put together a concoction which will doubtless go down in song and story as one of the great tragedies of our time.

The thing is, May 17 is coming up. That’s Syttende Mai, Norwegian Constitution Day. Syttende Mai is the really big national holiday in Norway. Much bigger than their Independence Day, for historical reasons I won’t bore you with now (I’ll bore you with them later).

Anyway, last month when I got roped into providing refreshments, people made it known that they’d really like to have a bløtkake for the May meeting. The bløtkake (cream cake) is a wonderful Norwegian dessert made of sponge cake, cream and fruit.

I did some research and discovered that there doesn’t seem to be anyplace in this area (Tell it not in Gath!) that sells bløtkaker. I looked up recipes, and decided the real thing is beyond my baking skills.

So I’m faking it. No deception is involved. I’ll announce it as “Mock Bløtkake.”

I’m using a (store-bought) angel food cake and Cool Whip. The fruit, at least, is real (strawberries and blueberries). I assembled the thing and now have it keeping cool in a cooler. No doubt the cream will have slid down the sides by the time it’s time to serve it, and I’ll go home covered with shame.

In other news, my former agent, now defunct, e-mailed me the other day to ask if I was all set up with the new agent to whom he’d referred me a few months back.

I replied that I’d gotten no reply at all from the new agent.

He says I should e-mail them again, and then call them.

I think I can work up the nerve to send a second e-mail. The call, I think, is not on.

I’ve heard recordings of me on the phone. It’s not a euphonious phenomenon.

Which is odd, because I’m a good actor, and I can read copy for radio with the best of them. But when I get on the phone, talking to someone whose body language I can’t read, I go all paranoid defensive, and it shows in my voice.

I’ll keep you posted as further milestones are marked on the downward slide of my writing career.