The Beacon at Alexandria by Gillian Bradshaw

One of my favorite things about Amazon is the lists compiled by readers on any given subject. I have found some of my favorite books by typing in an author I like, then looking at what other people read in the same genre. It was in this way that I stumbled upon The Beacon at Alexandria by Gillian Bradshaw.
Charis of Ephesus is not your typical 4th century maiden. When we first meet her, she is not occupied with sewing, makeup, or polite conversation. Oh no, she is busy dissecting a bird to see how it died. Instead of worrying about romance, poetry, or entertainment, she is busy avoiding charges of alchemy, borrowing her brother’s medical books, and taking any chance she can get to play doctor. Unfortunately for Charis, playing is all she’ll ever be able to do. The life of a wealthy young woman does not include the study of medicine.
Unlike so many strong heroines, Charis is not overly rebellious. She has a strong mind, and is completely absorbed in the study of (well, desire to study) medicine, but she is not the annoying and anachronistic modern girl simply placed in an ancient setting. While the path she takes is unusual for her time, it does not interrupt the historical tone and place. But I digress.
When her father comes under the suspicion of the new governor Festinus, the household is thrown into disorder. Charis’ quick thinking helps smooth the situation over, but not without drawing Festinus’ attention to her. With his social position at the mercy of Festinus, her father submits to his wish to marry Charis. Charis and her brother are both outraged, for they are aware of Festinus’ less than savory reputation.
Enlisting the help of her brother, Charis decides to flee. And while she’s at it, she decides she might as well go to Alexandria to study medicine. Except for that one small problem: women aren’t allowed to study at the great Alexandrian schools. Ever resourceful, Charis disguises herself as a eunuch and (having money makes it easier) contrives to make her way secretly to Alexandria.
But Charis quickly learns that no doctor wants to bother to train a eunuch (known throughout the empire for their cupidity and social climbing). Discouraged and dejected, she is unsure what to do—until she meets a Jewish doctor with sympathy for outcasts. As Charis becomes part of his family, she fashions for herself a hard but rewarding life of friendship, learning, and the satisfaction of helping others. As her reputation grows, she is pulled into the political and religious strife of Alexandria when she becomes physician to Bishop Athanasius. From the high society of Ephesus, to the erudite traditions of Alexandria, and finally the untamed edges of the empire, Charis’ determination lends her the strength necessary to find her own calling in life. But while she’s happily building a life for herself, the foundation of lies on which she’s founded it are crumbling, threatening to destroy everything she’s worked for. A completely wonderful and engaging read; now one of my favorite historical fiction books.

Sex and the Supremacy of Christ

John Piper and Justin Taylor (two Reformed Baptist fellows I greatly respect) have put together (and written some of) this book of essays on a proper Christian view of sexuality. Now, before you say, "Right, right, we've heard this all before; stay a virgin until you're married and you'll be fine, etc." But marriage is more than a license for moral sex, and, I would argue, sexuality involves a heck of a lot more than staying chaste. (Unless, of course, you define "chaste" in the old way--quite simply, it means staying sexually pure, whether you're married or not. But I digress.)

The first two chapters, written by Piper, start with the point that God created sex as a way for us to know Him. In other words, it's meant to be about HIM, not us; it's a God-glorifying, God-knowing activity. And that makes a lot of sense, after all--sexual and marital metaphors are used throughout the Bible to describe the relationship between God and His people. This knowledge in turn is the starting point for sexual purity; without Him, after all, all our attempts and efforts at staying chaste are pointless. The gospel and the supremacy of Christ, Piper argues, is to be at the center of all things, and "all things" of course includes our sexuality.

Ben Patterson, another pastor, writes on the beauty of sex within marriage--it's beautiful, he writes, because the God who created it and sheltered it for between a husband and wife is good and beautiful. Pleasure belongs to Him; the world can only distort it. (He goes on this fantastic riff about Song of Solomon--who says exegesis can't be pretty?) He tops it off with an exploration of the theological and spiritual ideas found in sex, one of the most interesting (to me, anyway) being that we lose ourselves in the other in order to find ourselves.

The next section of the book deals with spiritual and emotional healing for those who have been either sexually promiscuous or sexually violated. David Powlison, in the first chapter of this section, begins with some honesty; as fallen people, we all have some dark places in our sexuality. For the believer, though, God brings light to those darknesses--in our desires, in our pain, in our guilt, He shows mercy. He fights our wars and He sanctifies us (even though it takes a while). Powlison shows different areas where that war is fought (in fact, most of the time it isn't even just about sex). There's a lot of practical stuff in this chapter, and a lot of it can probably be applied to other sins, too.

(A side point: I love that he mentions that women struggle with lust, too, not just men, and that sexual sins can happen in marriage, too. Those issues aren't addressed nearly enough in the church, and it shows.)

Al Mohler switches gears a bit and brings us a chapter on homosexual marriage. While he makes a lot of excellent points, including some on gender and sola scriptura, a lot of it feels like stuff we've heard before, and it's sort of out of place in the context of the rest of the book (not quite, but sort of). It still has quite a bit of good to say

The next two sections are about male and female sexuality. Each section contains a chapter for singles and a chapter for married people, and a lot of it is full of fairly practical (if somewhat repetitive) advice and thoughts, including some nifty charts! (Don't ask; read it for yourself and you'll see what I mean.) And a lot of it works for both genders, if only to get inside the head of the opposite sex.

The book concludes with a section called "History and Sex", composed of thoughts from Martin Luther and the Puritans on sex and marriage.

Overall, this isn't just a book about sex, but its place in the drama of redemption and the glory of God. Highly recommended by this reader (and it might even be required reading for my fiance before we get married).

Magical Thinking, by Augusten Burroughs (upon request)

In Magical Thinking, the fourth book by Augusten Burroughs, readers are taken on an eclectic ride through “true stories” from the life of the author. Though occasionally funny and often boring (with attention to minutia bordering on obsession), and even at times raw with honesty; nevertheless, the book reads more like the pre-pubescent tales of a child who never grew past the point of self-absorption.

The opening pages set the tone of the book, wherein Burroughs uses expletives and profanity to such degrees that readers are (intentionally) numbed. Burroughs choice of raw vulgarity in expression and description loses all effectiveness by page three, leaving little in the way to indicate change in tone, manner, ethos, or disposition. Even his graphic descriptions of “remembered” events—true, if they are to be believed—sound more like an adult reinterpretation of childhood events—intuition sprinkled with imagination—than history.

In the brightest moments, the book reads like a tabloid, full of tales about “volunteer” (e.g. charity) sex. In the dullest moments, it reads like “Seinfield meets Prairie Home Companion” through the eyes of a man lost: lost to himself, to dignity, and to honest introspection. Not that there isn’t introspection. The book is ripe with it, but Burroughs “honesty” is so dressed up in homosexual encounters and the monotony of a life fixated on male AOL personals that one can’t help but be tempted to skip large sections.

Throughout the book, Burroughs dresses up his life as best as possible. But at key moments, the façade falls away to reveal a life disorganized: piled with papers, empty beer cans, and longing that goes unfulfilled from one sexual encounter to another. Usually he hides his longing in sarcasm and sex. When it becomes visible, the longing is poignant and bitterly hopeless. The utter indifference he experienced from his mother would have warped anyone. The belittlement he suffered from his brother in childhood stings even my heart: “…my brother treated me as not just his younger brother, but his ‘borderline retarded’ younger brother. In fact, this is exactly how he introduced me to his friends: ‘This is my younger brother. You can just ignore him: he’s basically retarded’” (172).

Burroughs is most honest about his human condition—the suffering, the hurt, the rejection, and the childhood longing to be loved of parents and peers—when not trying. Honesty: “It wasn’t so much that I wanted to be a girl. It was that I wanted to make a dramatic change in my life… I was in the midst of an unhappy childhood (emphasis mine).” (26) Honesty: “When I turned thirty, I briefly flirted with the notion of undergoing sexual reassignment surgery. Once again, I was ready for a big change in my life… (emphasis mine)” (29). [I]t wasn’t like I was unhappy being a guy. I really liked being a guy. It’s just I was bored with my life and wanted a change (emphasis mine)” (30).

Burroughs’ (often) rose-colored memories stand in sharp contrast to the earthy grit of the images that flow from between the boisterous language. His descriptions of the world are a throwback to elementary school ideals and pubescent descriptors: everything exists only in relationship to the sexual parts of his (or other people’s) bodies. It is almost as though Burroughs never grew past that point in childhood where the world revolved around him, and every sentence began with “I”. Self accolades are not rare, and a picture of Burroughs takes shape—a picture, that is, as much self-absorbed (e.g. as in the utterly pointless twaddle in the chapter titled “Roof Work”) as it is obsessive-compulsive and a hypochondriac.

The term Magical Thinking “is used by historians of religion to describe one kind of non-scientific causal reasoning” (Wikipedia). In the chapter by the same name, Burroughs makes himself the “Superman meets God” of causation: “I believe I control the world with my mind” (234). “…I can manipulate the external influence in my life as surely as I can make a baby cry just by grinning” (238). His description of God is sad at best and foolhardy at worst: “I believe in the baby Jesus. And I believe he is handsome and lives in the sky with his pet cow. I believe that it is essential the cow likes you. And if you pet the cow with your mind, it will lick your hand and give you cash. But if you make the cow angry, it will turn away from you, forget you exist, and your life will fall into shambles. I believe as long as the cow likes you, you can get what you want” (239). One should not be surprised by the casualness and preposterousness of such claims. The pride of any man has always been the road of his greatest defeat and indignity, a gnawing fact that chews at Burroughs’ thoughts at the base of his brain: “I myself am made entirely of flaws stitched together with good intentions” (110).

Magical Thinking is not even an uncommon voice (and far from outstanding) among the tomes about the glorious ruin of man’s endeavors. Better written and more honest engagements with the modern tone of suffering and brokenness is easily found in the best sellers of Amazon’s book lists: a sad fact that reduces Magical Thinking to just another book by another author drunk on the wine of his own narration.

Blankets by Craig Thompson

Comic books have come a long way, but I'm not sure I ever thought they would come to this: 592-page graphic novels that are both compelling reads and artistic gems. I probably wouldn't buy them for myself, but I'm open to reading more for their unique contribution to the literary world.

The story is semi-autobiographical, utilizing the author's first name and (presumedly) those of his brother and other family members. Apparently, Thompson's childhood experience with Christianity was a fairly legalistic one, complete with trite cliches, shallow teaching, and "do as I say, not as I do" behavior. This had a big effect on Thompson's youth, and it manifested itself as he grew older, despite his desire to walk with God as best he knew.

As with many of us, who we're around (particularly in our teen years) tends to influence us for better or for worse. Craig's problem wasn't so much that he was around the wrong people; it was that he wasn't really around anyone; thus, his actions, thoughts, and behaviors went relatively unchecked and unexamined.

That is, until he meets Raina. Because of her, Craig begins to re-evaluate his existence, taking into consideration anew his abilities (obviously, he has quite a gift for illustration), and beginning to ask bigger questions about why and what to do with who he is. In the midst of this new awakening, he falls in love, wrestles with his lust, and works through more of his insecurities that have accumulated over the years.

The thing I liked most about Blankets was its painful honesty and powerful storytelling (having the narrative wrapped up in brilliant illustrations really is a helpful way to make a message come to life). The characters are interesting, the storyline believeable, and the questions raised real and hard to answer. Best (and worst) of all (like everyone else, I like a good ending), the book doesn't wrap up in a nice, neat little package, but instead ends rather agnostically, but still with enough hope that with another round of evaluation, Craig will come to see and embrace truth again.

Perhaps my only real critique about Thompson's work is that I would have called the book something else. While I understand how it got called Blankets, it didn't seem the best connecting point. But as a whole (and as my first illustrated novel/comic - whichever), Thompson's efforts served as a good introduction to an interesting (and powerful) genre.

Evening in the Palace of Reason by James R. Gaines

One night in 1747, by way of an invitation with mockery as its intent, Prussian king Frederick the Great invited composer Johann Sebastian Bach to his palace for a cruel practical joke. Frederick had planned to ask Bach, the king of counterpoint, to improvise a six-part fugue on a musical theme so difficult that many believe only Bach's son could have devised it (ironic, as one of Bach's sons was the court musician for Frederick).

Bach, not exactly your mild-mannered musician, took on the challenge by composing "A Musical Offering," an elaborate and coded composition that, as longtime journalist James R. Gaines writes, was "as stark a rebuke of his beliefs and worldview as an absolute monarch has ever received." Gaines goes on to use this meeting of Bach and Frederick as argument for this Evening in the Palace of Reason being "the tipping point between the ancient and modern world," with Bach and Frederick the respective representatives.

"Bach was a father of the late Baroque, and Frederick was a son of the early enlightenment, and no father-son conflict has ever been more pointed. Put all too simply, as any one-sentence description of the Enlightenment must be, myth and mysticism were giving way to empiricism and reason, the belief in the necessity of divine grace to a confidence in human perfectibility, the descendants of Pythagoras and Plato to those of Newton. In music, as in virtually every other intellectual pursuit, the intuitions, attitudes, and ideas of a thousand years were being exchanged for principles and habits of thought that are still evolving and in question three centuries later."

While Gaines's research was fair and balanced for both men and their backgrounds, probably for reasons of shared ideology, I enjoyed reading more about Bach than about Frederick. This passage (and surrounding chapter) was especially interesting:

"As with Luther, God and Satan were vividly alive for Bach, and his own life was their battleground. It is difficult to listen to his music ­ by turns gruesome and angelic, tormented and enraptured, mournful and exuberant ­ without hearing the warfare raging inside him, just as it had raged in Martin Luther; and in that respect his sacred and secular music were the same. Bach did not separate them even in his filing system, and both alike bore the epigram S.D.G. (Soli Deo Gloria, 'All Glory to God')."

Regarding Frederick, one of the more interesting quotes Gaines includes is from William Reddaway's biography of the man in 1904, in which Reddaway concludes that, "Through all his life ­ in his councils, in his despair, in his triumph, and in his death ­ Frederick, almost beyond parallel in the record of human history, was alone." This observation serves as a powerful illustration of the difference between the warm belief of Bach and the cold reason of Frederick.

I confess that to some degree I buy Gaines's thesis that ancient and modern were in the same room that night in 1747; that is, I'm not sure I could come up with two better representatives of each who were once in the same room together. An interesting look at history, especially if you were to break out those old Bach albums as a soundtrack (Gaines provides a "recommended listens" list at the back of the book).

Writing to Change the World by Mary Pipher

I've read a lot of books on writing, and most of them are pretty good. Some, like Stephen King's On Writing, are a cut above the rest. Mary Pipher's book Writing to Change the World is one of these.

My first introduction to Mary Pipher was her book Reviving Ophelia, which I reviewed in March. In addition to that title-- which discusses how to help teenaged girls face the adjustments of life without losing their souls-- Pipher, who has advanced degrees in Psychology and Anthropology, has also written books on helping refugees enter the American society, dealing with the emotional struggles of the elderly, understanding the allure of thinness, and recapturing the value of family life. In short, Pipher is a case-study of "writing to change the world."

She delivers what she promises in Writing to Change the World. While some of the elements of the book will be familiar to those who have read other books on writing, Pipher takes these topics in the "change the world" direction, to good effect.

For example, in the section entitled "The Writing Process" Pipher discusses point of view, just as many others do. But Pipher goes further, covering the nuances of point of view from the perspective of what will effectively change others' views as well. When it comes to pronouns, for example, Pipher explains how "we" will carry change farther than "you"-- but she also talks through the danger of including yourself through "we".

Pipher also includes a handful of other sections that are new, and that focus on becoming an agent of change through writing. The first section, "What We Alone Can Say," is a group of chapters that uncover what each writer has the potential to effect change about-- and how to begin writing in that direction. And the last section, "Calls to Action," discusses many of the venues that writers have-- including letters, speeches, essays, blogs, music, and poetry-- and how they may be used to advance change.

In many ways, Writing to Change the World is not like other books on writing. Books like Zinnser's On Writing Well and Gerard's Creative Non-Fiction are foundational books on the craft of writing; Pipher's Writing to Change the World is a complement to these, a successor to them, that focuses on a purpose (or, perhaps, THE purpose) of writing.

Creating Customer Evangelists by Ben McConnell and Jackie Huba

I bought Guy Kawasaki's book Selling the Dream in 1991, after falling in love with the Apple Macintosh computer. Kawasaki, who had been instrumental in getting Macintosh off the ground, had written an earlier book called The Macintosh Way, and while I wanted to buy that one, it wasn't in the bookstore. Selling the Dream was. (Remember, this was before the Internet was available beyond governmental usage, so ordering it "online" wasn't an option.)

Kawasaki's Selling the Dream introduced me to a marketing concept that I have been sold on ever since: customer evangelism. The principle is basic: borrowing from the Church's concept of evangelism as "telling of good news," customer evangelists tell the good news about whatever they really believe in as a product or service. In short, if we evangelize when we tell others what we believe, then the idea carries pretty well-- if you believe that a product, service, or store is the latest great thing, you will share this belief with your friends and family.

Flash forward over a decade, and Ben McConnell and Jackie Huba take the baton from Kawasaki with Creating Customer Evangelists (Kawasaki even wrote the foreward). Looking at the contemporary world of marketing, retail, service, and corporate competition, McConnell and Huba lay out a case for customer evangelism as the paradigm to embrace as you market your product, service, or business.

The authors do a great job of dissecting modern customer evangelism into key parts (again, picking up where Kawasaki left off-- his book outlined the steps in building an evangelistic model in the corporate world too, but McConnell and Huba bring a freshness to this rubric). They walk you through the ideas of:

• the "Customer Plus-Delta" in listening to feedback from your customers
• Napsterizing your knowledge by giving it away
• Building the buzz by getting the word out
• Creating community through bringing customers together
• using "Bite-Size Chunks" to more from sampling to evangelism
• Creating a cause by making your company more than just a business

Through these steps (with a chapter dedicated to each) McConnell and Huba define how a company moves from a traditional marketing approach to the customer evangelism model.

Then the fun really begins: the authors take seven amazing companies of different sizes and talk through how each utilizes the different principles of creating customer evangelism they described. The seven companies-- Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, SolutionPeople, O'Reilly & Associates, the Dallas Mavericks, Build-A-Bear Worshop, Southwest Airlines, and IBM-- each apply them differently, but it is clear that they are all present in each case.

The authors are good writers, and the material they discuss is fun to read about. Since I was already sold on the concept, I was easily won over; however, I loaned the book to a friend who was skeptical (and, as a Christian, a little bit offended by the appropriation of the concept of evangelism), and she reported that she, too, was sold on the concepts. And the statistics tell why the idea is so compelling: from McConnell and Huba's research, they found that one study revealed that, when asked what "generated excitement" about a particular product or service, the responses were: 0% from radio, 1% from billboards, 4% from TV ads, 4% from print ads, 15% from magazines, and 46% from referrals by colleagues or family (pp. 8-9, emphasis mine). Clearly, the idea of customer evangelism is alive and active already.

What is more, I think the Church has a lot to learn from Creating Customer Evangelists. Ironically, what McConnell and Huba describe is much closer to the evangelism prescribed in the Bible than much of what is practiced today. So much "evangelism" in the Church is ineffective and awkward, because it feels like a sales pitch rather than genuine evangelism. McConnell and Huba describe something more like New Testament evangelism, yet they manage to do it in a rubric that is easy to follow and measurable. The Church would do well to read Creating Customer Evangelists as a new training manual for Christian evangelism.

Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie

The thing I liked about Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress is its powerful illustration of how important books and ideas are in the midst of the toughest of physical and political situations. This story of two young friends being "re-educated" in newly-Communist China as part of Chairman Mao's Cultural Revolution (circa 1968) is a simple but stirring tribute to literature and love, two of the most influential, impacting forces the world has known.

Dai Sijie (himself "re-educated" between 1971 and 1974) writes a supposedly true story told from the perspective of the narrator who, with his friend Luo and his girlfriend (known only as the Little Seamstress), live in a village of imposed isolation away from all forms of civilization and culture.

As the story progresses, the boys discover that one of their young acquaintances somehow has come into possession of the most forbidden of contraband - books! - and they become enamored with this opportunity to read and be transfered to entirely new and transcending realities as a result. An excerpt:

"We crept up to the suitcase. It was tied with a thick rope of plaited straw, knotted crosses. We removed the rope and raised the lid in silence. Inside, piles of books shone in the light of our torch: a company of great Western writers welcomed us with open arms. On top was our old friend Balzac, Stendhal, Dumas, Falubert, Baudelaire, Romain Rolland, Rousseau, Tolstoy, Gogol, Dostoyevsky, and some English writers, too: Dickens, Kipling, Emily Bronte...

We were beside ourselves. My head reeled, as if I'd had too much to drink. I took the novels out of the suitcase one by one, opened them, studied the portraits of the authors, and passed them on to Luo. Brushing them with the tips of my fingers made me feel as if my pale hands were in touch with human lives."

It takes reading a story like this to really appreciate how little of an excuse we have in our free and modern society not to fill our heads with the thoughts of others, especially when these ideas are so accessible and within our reach. Good book. You will be inspired.

The Fourth Turning by William Strauss and Neil Howe

I've spent the better part of this summer digesting this historical and sociological survey, a receommendation to me by our fearless leader and fellow Writers-read-er, Ed Eubanks.

Strauss and Howe's basic idea is that in the modern world, human history runs cyclically. Each cycle, or saeculum, runs roughly 80-100 years, following the same basic pattern. The cycle starts with a culture quaking Crisis -- not just an ordinary challenge, but a complete re-organization of societal structure, clearly differentiating the old era from the new. When the Crisis is resolved, society enters into a golden age or High. In the High, victors are celebrated, structures cohere anew, and values are commonly held. However, the High eventually creates a hollowness that gives birth to a spiritual crisis or Awakening. In this season, people focus on the interior life (not just spiritually, but also self-fulfillment). Such a protracted time of self-focus ushers in the next phase, called the Unravelling, in which society fragments, everyone doing what is right in their own eyes. Finally, the unravelling precipitates a new Crisis that reshapes society, thus the cycle begins anew.

Driving this cycle, say Strauss and Howe, are the dynamics of generations. Every 20 years or so, a new generation is born and shaped by the times in which they are reared. These generations, as they mature and come into their own, respond to cultural events in in ways that advance the cycle. For instance, a confident Hero generation is needed to resolve a crisis. However the children who are old enough to live through the crisis, but not participate in the resolution, are not part of that Hero generation. They are sheltered and cherished, but also know to keep their place while the adults are about serious business. They learn how to compromise, get along, and be clever and creative -- they are called the Artist generation. The Artists are more subtle and nuanced -- when they come into their own, the Crisis has been resolved to a High, and the Artists take on the role of building the new golden society with all the subtlety, deference to elders, and nuance that they've learned. Their children are safe, nurtured, cherished, and have never experienced the bone shaking Crisis. These children grow up believing they can do anything and that they're entitled to just about everything -- thus becoming a new generation of Prophets proclaiming the self and the inner life. When the Prophet generation comes into their own, they usher in the Awakening period -- but they are often so busy doing so that they leave their children unprotected and on their own. The price of self-fulfillment is the nurture of their children. These children become a Nomad generation who must be tough, clever, and self-reliant -- but they never earn the respect of their Prophet antecedents. As these Nomad children come into their own, they drive the fragmentation as they take care of themselves in the chaotic world that has been engendered.

Crisis, High, Awakening, Unravelling. Hero, Artist, Prophet, Nomad. It all looks good on paper -- but the most valuable part of the text is where Strauss and Howe trace the pattern as it re-occurs in Anglo-American history going all the way back to the Wars of the Roses. They break down history into 20-30 year chunks showing the generations as they rise in each. It's quite eerie to see the pattern in America -- particularly as it leads up to the last two great Crises (the Civil War and the Great Depression/World War 2).

Even more chilling is their prediction that we are entering a new season of Crisis -- the 60s and 70s were our Awakening period followed by the Unravelling of the 80s and 90s (anyone remember the me decades?). This book was authored in 1997, and they predict that sometime in the middle of the 00 decade, we will see a precipitating event that will tip us toward a crisis that will shake our culture to its roots. Think 9/11 and look at the escalating tensions in the world, and this prediction will strike you as a bit spooky.

Strauss and Howe offer a few suggestions as to how society and individuals can weather the crisis ahead. Christians should welcome these suggestions as returns to basic spiritual disciplines: simplicity, community, honesty, being good to those around you. Some readers might find the concept of the turning of generations to be a bit objectionable -- a kind of warmed over Stoicism that doesn't allow the Holy Spirit free reign. However this is not entirely the case -- a historic pattern is not future destiny nor is it authoritative prediction. Rather, it is but a record of how fallen humanity has historically functioned. God, in His sovereignty continues to work through the cycles of history -- Christians shouldn't get too disturbed by the idea of the turning of history.

Simply said, this is an interesting read, particularly for history buffs. It should challenge us to examine our life practices while we have liesure to do so.

Soli Deo Gloria
Russell

Bel Canto by Ann Patchett

It takes a really good writer to set an entire 300-page novel in one house occupied by 58 hostages and a handful of terrorists for a five-month period of time and still make it interesting. And, while at times I as the reader felt like one of those in custody reading it, I made it through to the end, somehow even glad I had done so. Ann Patchett's Bel Canto is a character-driven story of displaced persons and their battle not with out-of-control circumstances, but instead with familiar tedium.

The story opens with a special international birthday party in South America for one Mr. Hokosawa, a Japanese businessman whom his South American acquaintances have invited for a party to try to woo him and his company into investing in their struggling economy. The entertainment for the evening is an American named Roxanne Coss, a world-reknowned soprano, of whom Mr. Hokosawa is an enormous fan. The party begins, Miss Coss sings, and Mr. Hokosawa is quite enthralled. All seems to be going well enough.

But then the unexpected happens: terrorists crash the party, ransom demands are made, and the angst of an all-too-routine existence begins to transpire in the passing days and nights, spent at first as terrorist and hostage, later as overseer and occupant, and finally as friend and even lover. It's an interesting progression of relationships, made all the more so by a variety of characters of different nationalities, backgrounds, and experiences and their interactions with each other.

Tying all the drama together is Patchett's writing - truthful, detailed, and observant. If the mark of a good story is one that seems told as truth rather than written as fiction, Patchett earns her stripes with her narrative description of all going on within the house:

"The crowd on the floor pulsed with needs. Some had to go to the bathroom again. There were murmurings about medications. People wanted to stand up, to be fed, to have a drink of water to wash the taste from their mouths. Their restlessness emboldended them, but there was this as well: nearly eighteen hours had passed and still no one was dead. The hostages had begun to believe that they might not be killed. If what a person wants is his life, he tends to be quiet about wanting anything else. Once the life begins to seem secure, one feels the freedom to complain."

Matching her elegant style and earthy sense of observation to the qualities and quirks created in each of her characters, one gets a sense of the tension created in such small surroundings with such big implications of those characters clashing. Her writing is uncomfortable and yet irrestible as she unfolds the realities of her fiction. Not a fast read by any means, Bel Canto is a rich one to be savored.

Postville by Stephen G. Bloom

Stephen G. Bloom's Postville: A Clash of Cultures in Heartland America was an all too familiar reminder of the pluses (and minuses) of the uniqueness of rural culture with regard to anything or anyone different from it. But rural cultures are not the only ones that struggle with differences. Postville details this cultural collision in the early 1990's of Hasidic Jews from Brooklyn and rural farmers in Postville, IA, illustrating that city folk can project racism and ostracizing overtones in the name of unfamiliarity as well.

"The journalist in me had come out in full force," writes Bloom, a non-practicing Jew himself and recent arrival to Iowa as a journalism professor. He continues:

"I had barely scratched the surface, but clearly there was a culture clash of the strongest magnitude between two groups, both born-and-bred Americans, who rarely had the opportunity to clash. Here was a kind of experiment in the limits of diversity and community, the nature of community, the meaning of prejudice, even what it means to be an American. Postville seemed like a social laboratory, perhaps a metaphor for America."

The main debate between the Jews and farmers centered on the formerly defunct meat-packing plant, which the Hasidim had purchased and subsequently relocated their families to the Midwest to run as a kosher plant. This creation of new jobs in the town for both Jews and non-Jews was initially a boost to the local economy, which was, of course, a good thing.

But more than economy, differing cultural practices including Sabbath observances, manner of dress, and overall fiscal faithfulness ensued, and the town experienced division between the ultra-orthodox Jews and the good-old-boy Protestant farmers. Yet despite their differences, Bloom describes similarities as well:

"Both farmer and Jew would never go anywhere without their heads covered. The skullcaps were something like what the farmers wore on their heads. Yarmulkes were symbolic badges of honor, a constant reminder that the wearer pays homage to the Lord's continual presence. The farmers' caps shielded them from the scorching sun or from the rain when the heavens opened up and let loose a downpour. In a sense, the caps, too, were homage to the power of nature, the power of the Lord...neither would ever think of going anywhere without wearing a head covering, whether it was a hand-stitched yarmulke or a cap with John Deere green colors."

As one might expect, Postville is an interesting read...for about 150-200 pages; after that, this 362-page book (complete with updated afterword) quickly becomes redundant and unneccesarily repetitive (how many different ways can two different peoples really offend each other, after all?).

Still, if one is not too familiar with either the Hasidic or farming lifestyles, Postville would enable the killing of two birds with one stone. The question then, of course, would be whether or not it's kosher to eat.

Lucky Man by Michael J. Fox

Like most people who grew up in the 80's, I feel an attachment to Michael J. Fox that continues, even though he effectively left the public eye several years ago. So when a copy of his memoir, Lucky Man, appeared on a "free books" table at my church, I gladly grabbed it.

The memoir focuses on the time between his diagnosis of Parkinson's Disease and the effective "end" of his career-- that point when he retired from regular work on TV and in the movies and retreated from public life. Along the way, however, Fox recaps most of the rest of his life: we learn about his childhood and family, read of his early experience in acting and performance, and trace his acting career from the earliest success through the difficult years and into the stretch of success that most of us remember him the most for: Family Ties, the Back to the Future series, and a handful of other early movies.

I first realized the true star-potential and acting prowess of Michael J. Fox when I saw him in the movie Light of Day, an obscure and relatively unsuccessful endeavor with, of all people, Joan Jett; Fox was both believable and moving as a struggling musician with a blue-collar day job who was trying to keep his sister out of trouble and his nephew from being parent-less. "If he can pull that role off," I thought then, "he can play about anything." Fox's career is impressive from my memory alone, but reading about it in detail made it that much more impressive. There were a handful of movies (and even a couple of TV appearances) that I had forgotten, didn't remember him having a part in, or simply didn't know about. These, added to the many that I DID remember,

These parts of the book-- tracing the life and times of Michael J. Fox-- were interesting and fun, both because of the intrigue of celebrity that is, in spite of my fighting against it, inherent to me because I am an American, and because Fox is a surprisingly great writer. He is both an accomplished storyteller and a master of the English language, and these combine to full effect in
Lucky Man.

If that were all that the book is about, it would simply be another celebrity biography, albeit a well-written one. But the focus of the book is more intense, more important, and more promising than that: Fox wants to tell us about his struggles with the diagnosis of Parkinson's. The rest is simply context.

Lucky Man is also well written in this way. It would be easy for Fox to write a "pity me" tale or a "why are you an activist?" brow-beater. But this book is neither. What is does do is represent the real struggles that everyone has as they wrestle with this diagnosis-- and by telling that story truthfully, Fox makes it a little easier for the rest of the Parkinson's world to face it honestly as well. By his example, leadership, and influence, the Parkinson's community can follow him "out of the closet" in toward genuine progress.

Another worthy side-effect of the book is that Fox gives a peek inside the reality of being a high-profile celebrity. Through his accounts we learn of the benefits that celebrity brings-- those things that the rest of us, assuming that they would be glorious, sniff about, saying, "it must be nice." It is nice, Fox says, but let me tell you the rest of it: the fantasy world that I live in will end, either by my choice or by force of nature. Through Fox's vulnerability, it is easy to understand why so many celebrities struggle with problems of alcoholism, drug addiction, and simple relational ineptness. And he successfully debunks many of the myths of celebrity in the process.

In the end, Fox considers himself to be the true Lucky Man-- not because of his success, however, but in spite of it, and because of the realities he has learned since diagnosis. He says:

"The ten years since my diagnosis have been the best ten years of my life, and I consider myself a lucky man."

I agree.