A Handful of Pebbles by Peter Barnes

Publisher: Banner of Truth Trust
Publication Date: 2008
Rating (1-10 scale): 7+

Anytime I hear the term "liberal" these days, I'm not sure what to think. On the one hand, the word can mean a number of things that are threatening to orthodoxy, or it can mean some things that are actually very good. On the other hand, I wonder if the term has served its purpose, and no longer is the broad-sweeping inclusive category that it once was. So when I received my copy of A Handful of Pebbles and saw that it was subtitled, "theological liberalism and the church," I wondered which of these it would be.

Fortunately, author Peter Barnes is quick to define what he means by liberalism, even granting that it can sometimes have good associations-- yet qualifying how the liberalism he intends is that which is a threat and challenge to biblical orthodoxy. What follows is Barnes's summary of what liberalism is, how it came to find its way into the church, and how an orthodox Christian ought to respond.

This small book offers a brief history of the rise of liberalism in the church, and it does a fair job of that. The first half could be an outline to a historical theology class, if that class focused exclusively on the rise of heresy and philosophical departure from orthodoxy. I appreciated some of the discussion about key doctrines, especially, and thought the content in the couple of chapters given to the problem of "what do we do about it?" were helpful, at least in a limited way, to give the reader some idea about why theological liberalism is at odds with orthodox Christian beliefs.

However, at the end I was left with a nagging question about who the intended audience for the book is. If it is for pastors or professors, it is far too thin on history and foundations to be of great use; It clearly is not intended as an academic reference. If, on the other hand, it is intended as an apologetic for liberal thinkers, it is likely too thin on refutation and discussion of problems; only the most willing and self-skeptical liberal would be convinced by this little tome.

The best audience I can think of for this book is the average church member in an evangelical church, who is himself/herself already committed to orthodoxy; for this person, it would be a good introduction to the indicators of liberal theology and their problems. I could see it being especially useful to put in the hands of a "liberal church refugee," stepping into an orthodox church after years of having the edge taken off of his or her beliefs. Or perhaps it might be a good tool for church officers, who may at times encounter mild or vague questions along the lines of what this book answers.

At times the tone of the book is a bit too defensive or even aggressive. While this may be justifiable given the subject matter, it undermines the brief urging at one point of approaching those in error with love and forbearance. I would have liked a bit more gracious attitude in a book like this.

Overall, I appreciated A Handful of Pebbles, even if I felt it was appropriate for only a limited audience.

Give it Up by Mary Carlomagno

Confession time.

I started the book expecting interesting things – but after a few chapters, I found myself wondering why anyone would ever pay for this carnival of the obvious. The book is Give it Up: My Year of Learning to Live Better With Less by Mary Carlomagno. It had caught my eye in the bookstore. While I was at the library the other week picking up another volume, Carlomagno’s book winked at me from the shelf. I couldn’t resist the flirtation, so I picked it up and checked it out.

It’s no surprise the seductive appeal the very title had for me: after reading Crunchy Cons, I hungered to simplify. Indeed, I was putting that desire into practice by making use of the Library rather than the local peddler of pulp paper products. The dust jacket tantalized me with small talk:

“Like most people, Mary Carlomagno was stressed out, overscheduled, and tripping over the clutter of her days – until she decided to take control and simplify her life. Each month she renounced one thing: alcohol, shopping, elevators, newspapers, cell phones, dining out, television, taxis, coffee, cursing, chocolate, and multitasking. During the course of the year, Mary took stock of her life, discovered what was really important, and gained a deeper appreciation for the world around her. Give It Up! chronicles Mary’s life-changing experiences and provides a commonsense blueprint for anyone looking for a fresh start and a new outlook. It’s about simplifying your life, cherishing every moment of it, and celebrating what is truly important.”

Thus I committed. By the end of the first chapter, I realized that this wouldn’t be a relationship, but a one-night stand. Carlomagno described her challenges in giving up alcohol for a month – a challenge because in New York, apparently everyone socializes over alcohol (except, perhaps, when they’re socializing over coffee – as she explores in a later chapter). She describes an over the top drunken New Year’s Eve party and then the social anxiety that her choice to give up alcohol for a month creates. Now this is from a person who’s somewhere close to my age (she describes herself as “mid thirties”). I pretty much gave up that scene, oh, well over a decade ago (well before I went to seminary).

Then we were into shopping. Shopping?? You have to give up shopping? (I looked back at the dust jacket – indeed, shopping was there – I must’ve missed it while I was being seduced by the concept) Wow, for me that’s like giving up …. Flossing. It’s a pain the keyster, but you have to do it every now and again – but you can get by on a lot less than you think you do.

From that chapter, I could only see flaws in this book – giving up television? (again, I checked the dust jacket – yes, it was there. I must’ve been blind to miss it) Sorry, I kicked that one a while back too – without any angst. I just didn’t see my life suffering from not seeing Richard Hatch’s naked behind during the first season of Survivor (and obviously, if it’s such a cultural phenom, I’ll hear about it from other sources anyway). Coffee, cursing and chocolate? Giving these things up brings deprivation? Come on.

I began to believe that this author lives in a parallel universe of hipster Manhattanites running about from meeting to event, their uber-bright teeth flashing as they quite cleverly chatter about vanity. Perhaps this was really never-never land filled with Lost Boys and Girls – refusing ever to really grow up, but wandering about in perpetual self-indulgence. Don’t get me wrong, I have as much issues with self-control as the next guy, but I’m not peddling a book for $14.95 claiming that the story of my little struggles against chips and salsa will give you deep penetrating insights into leading a more fulfilling life!

And there in never-never land, I met the enemy within; my own personal Captain Hook, if you will: Self-control (Calvin tells us that the essence of the Christian life is self-denial). Carlomagno’s little book reminds me that in our land of plenty, the struggle for self-control is the daily struggle for us all. I have no claim to superiority here.

Facing this shadow within, I realized that the mirror was turned about on me; I thought it best to go back and look at Carlomagno’s conclusions again. There’s more there than a pithy “moderation in all things” message. She makes a pretty radical turnabout on Television and Shopping – drastically cutting down on both because they are cruel masters who howl for your soul, and give a happy meal toy in exchange. She extols the virtues of home-prepared meals, wonderfully reminiscing on her grandmothers’ and mother’s cooking lessons. The chapters on Elevators and taxis urged meditation on knowing your surroundings and being prepared for circumstances. The chapter on cussing caused her to think about and be more intentional in all her speech. Finally, the chapter on multitasking led her to the insight about focusing all your energies on the present moment and embracing it fully.

None of these concepts are new. While the book prompted me to self searching, it really only gave me one new idea – the idea of fasting for a month from something that I enjoy that for spiritual reasons I need to lay down for a season. Neither can I commend the book to Writers Read readers. My guess is that if you are here, you have attained a far greater level of maturity and stability than the intended audience of this book.

However, all that means is that the book isn’t really for you. Right now there’s some college graduate who desperately needs to read this book before she gets caught up in the vanity of the offerings of the world. She needs to read this before she racks up a five grand visa bill and before she wastes her life with cardboard people holding semi-diverting conversations over martinis in a hazy bar. There’s a young man who needs to read this book before he posts his expletive laden comments about a drunken adventure on his Myspace page. He needs to read this before he turns 50 and realize that he knows more about the exploits of the characters on Lost than he does about his own wife. If this book exposes, in a somewhat winsome and lighthearted way, the vanities of the world, then all to the good, for our culture glories in vanity.

Perhaps, if nothing else, it may goad us to be more thoughtful and intentional in our words and deeds. And if so, then my hats off to Carlomagno, and my thanks for her efforts.

Soli Deo Gloria
Russell

Crunchy Cons by Rod Dreher

Rod Dreher, a former writer for National Review and current editor at the Dallas Morning News, has shaken the seemingly united front of the conservative movement in America through this timely, thoughtful, yet at times preachy book. Political strategists from both parties should read this text for helpful insight into a great swath of the electorate. As I've discussed this book on my weblog and among friends, I've encountered both negative reaction and the blank looks of those who consider Dreher's ideas to be commonsense. Yet the ideas do stir the mind and provoke conversation.

Dreher began working with this theme when, while working at National Review, he told a co-worker that he was leaving work to pick up food from the neighborhood organic food co-op, to which said co-worker replied "Ewww, that's so lefty."

This reply puzzled Dreher, for he believes that this personal lifestyle choice is congruent, even derivative, from the very conservative principles that he held to. He began to write articles about being politically and philosophically conservative, and yet making lifestyle choices that are traditionally associated with liberalism (organic food, environmentalism, new urbanism, anti-consumerism). As he published his pieces, he received scads of emails, letters, phone calls, and cries of solidarity from conservatives across the country who felt as he did -- thus the book was born.

After defning the mindset, he weaves his way through chapters on topics such as Consumerism, Food, Home, Education, and The Environment. Along the way he introduces us to Rush Limbaugh listening Organic Cattle Ranchers, Slow Food Movement groups, Arts and Crafts principles of architecture and design, highly educated homeschooling mothers who elected to leave power careers to invest in the next generation, and Republican environmentalists who seek both sound economic principles and wise environmental stewardship. It's a dizzying tour of concepts and ideas that drew me to repeated visits to wikipedia for more information.

Dreher writes not as a political theorist, but as a popular "citizen essayist" who is telling stories and sketching a broad trend. Herein lies the real strength and weakness of the book. While telling stories, Dreher writes with an intoxicating flair that draws us into the passion and committment of his subjects. However, to tie the stories together, he must make connections and conclusions -- and at times he sounds annoyingly like an angry bearded social critic. Even so, on the whole, his tour of ideas and people living them out is interesting and thought provoking.

Of particular interest for me was his chapter on religion, in which he posits that a tie that binds this crunchy-con movement is religious commitment, particularly that of a traditional bent. In the interest of full disclosure, he gives his own "testimony" (in a story that is worth the price of the book) and then follows an extended journey through four lives who've been enriched through returning to deep faith traditions. I found this to be a fitting bedrock upon which to build the lifestlye convictions that Dreher presents.

All said, this is a fine read, and could be useful for promoting conversation and reflection in small groups or book clubs.

Russell

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

Margaret Lea lives a quiet life, finding solace and company in the old books she loves and a vocation in helping run her father’s antiquarian bookshop. One day she receives a letter from a stranger she has never met before--the famous and reclusive author, Vida Winter. Margaret has never read Miss Winter’s books, though she knows of her popularity. She also knows that Miss Winter has told a different tale of her life to everyone who has ever interviewed her. She is more adept at spinning stories than some of us are at breathing. My gripe is not with lovers of the truth but with truth herself, Miss Winter writes.
What succor, what consolation is there is truth, compared to a story? What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney? . . .What you need are the plumb comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie.
Yet something is haunting Miss Winters, and the need to Tell the truth is consuming her. She has chosen Margaret to write her biography. Her true biography. Intrigued in spite of herself, Margaret is pulled into a past that is all-consuming, drawn into the warp and weft of Miss Winter’s story. And as Margaret slowly pulls Miss Winter’s story into the light, it becomes a kind of cathartic release for her own secret that is gnawing at her.
Part gothic tale, part detective story, and part biography, this intricate tale pulls together the events of the past with startling revelations for the present. The presence of certain books, like Jane Eyre and The Woman in White, heighten the supernatural overtones and provide insights into the characters’ motivations. Thoroughly engrossing, The Thirteenth Tale is a seductive and thought-provoking read, and the themes and beautiful cover makes it at home on any booklover’s shelf.

(Caution: This book contains intense themes and elements, and I recommend it only for mature readers.)

Life Expectancy by Dean Koontz

For whatever reason, I'd always rolled my eyes at the fact that author Dean Koontz was so popular. Maybe it was the frequency with which his novels came out that bothered me (how can writing so fast be any good?); maybe it was his name that made me wonder (what kind of a name is "Koontz" anyway?). Whatever the reason, I never planned to give him or his books the chance to make their case. However, after finishing my first Koontz novel, the case has been made succinctly: the guy can write, pure and simple.

With a so-simple-it's-brilliant plot, snappy dialogue that would easily transfer well to the big screen, and characters who are as believable as they are likable, Life Expectancy is a literary dramedy with equal parts tension and humor that make for a frantic and fun ride through the blessed/cursed life of Jimmy Tock, pastry chef.

Born at the exact same time as his grandfather's passing (and just after the old man's prediction of five specific future dates that would be "terrible days" for Jimmy), Tock tells the story from the first person perspective (a vantage point I usually don't like in fiction, but Koontz pulls it off well), recounting in detail the aspects leading up to and surrounding each of his particular bad days. The story's peaks and valleys rise and fall with the proximity of the past or next approaching date, and you can almost feel yourself gearing up along with Jimmy and his family in preparation for what might come.

Along the way, Koontz introduces us to a colorful cast of characters - Jimmy's parents, lovable and actually functional, despite their keeping baker's hours and caring for their ultra-opinionated Grandmother Rowena; Konrad Beezo, the killer clown with revenge on the brain, who has much to do with Jimmy's five terrible days; and Lorrie, Jimmy's eventual wife and mother of his children, who comes off as witty, beautiful, and smart as Jimmy repeatedly says she is. (Note: Others are involved, but mentioning them would spoil the plot; rest assured, more personalities means more fun in Koontz's world.)

The story ebbs and flows in all the right places, the surprises (and there are several) are genuine, and the ending is both satisfying and sweet, wrapping up a strange, silly story you'd never believe, except for the fact that Koontz makes you believe it through his storytelling. This is what page-turning bedtime fiction is and should be.

Proper Confidence by Lesslie Newbigin

The first paper I was assigned to write in seminary had to do with Lesslie Newbigin's book, Proper Confidence. A now deceased bishop in the Anglican church in the 20th century, Newbigin's theology and views on biblical innerrancy have been important in academic discussions, and we were to engage them by comparing them with the more conservative evangelical theologian, B.B. Warfield. In reading the book, I postulated that B.B. Warfield and Lesslie Newbigin have more in common than any conservative or liberal evangelicals would be willing to say.

Of course, Warfield and Newbigin wouldn't have agreed on everything, and this doctrinal divergence is not to be minimized. Newbigin's assertion in Proper Confidence that Christian missions were a pawn of Enlightenment thinking or that apostolic knowledge and authority was no different than our knowledge and authority today are just a few examples of what would not have lined up with Warfield's more conservative and positive views of missional and church history. Suffice it to say, there would be others.

Newbigin would not have advocated a fundamentalist mentality of infallibility with regard to the Bible's transcription and translation processes; indeed, miniscule and non-message-changing copyist errors (among others) exist. But is this pursuit of the "affirmation of the factual, objective truth of every statement in the Bible" to prove the authority of the Word of God what Warfield was calling for when he spoke of inerrancy? Upon comparison, it doesn't seem so.

In the midst of the hypothesis-happy Enlightenment times of the 19th century, Warfield maintained a very non-modern call for "a 'presumption' of the truthfulness of Scripture among God's people," contrasting "exactness" with "accuracy" and striking a difference between a statement being a "rendering of details" instead of a "principle intended to be affirmed." In essence for Warfield, study meant nothing without meaning.

One hundred and fifty years (and an enormous postmodern paradigm shift) later, Newbigin declares roughly the same need for the same presumption: "Truth is not a fruit of freedom; it is the precondition for freedom." Newbigin then goes on to say that "demonstrable certainties" are not evidences of faith as much as a relationship with the object of that faith is: "I do not possess the truth, so that I do not need to be open to new truth; rather, I am confident that the one in whom I placed my trust, the one to whom I am committed, is able to bring me to the full grasp of what I now partly understand."

Historically speaking, we must remember that the concept of inerrancy was not an issue in pre-modern times; rather, its quest as a demonstrable quality in the Scriptures came in response to classical liberalism of the Enlightenment. As Warfield's resistance to the modernist argument for objective proof was important then, Newbigin's voice 150 years later was as well, "It is unreasonable to set up an opposition between observation and reason on the one hand, and revelation and faith on the other...The universe is not provided with a spectator's gallery in which we can survey the total scene without being personally involved."

Newbigin stands with Warfield and his call, not for objective rationale or fundamentalist infallibility, but for an accurate and trusting approach to the Bible, in its intention in what it says, and in the Divine Author who spoke it into being. After all, as Newbigin alludes to above, in conducting the experiments of life, we ourselves may be scientists of a sort, but we are also specimens in the Petri dish. And, like it or not, the Creator's given documentation (the Scriptures) is both for and about us. Warfield and Newbigin wouldn't have said it any differently...and, from my vantage point, didn't.

Chronicles, Volume One by Bob Dylan

I'm ashamed to admit it, but Bob Dylan's autobiographical first volume is my first real association with him. I knew he was a good songwriter, having heard enough of his songs (or at least enough covers of his songs) to generally agree; I knew he aspired to be a disciple of Woody Guthrie's (though with the exception of remembering "This Land Is Your Land" from elementary school chorus, I'm not sure I know much about Woody himself); and I knew he was married and had kids (his son, Jakob, is my age and lead singer for The Wallflowers, whom I like).

Here's what I discovered about Dylan: he is well-read in Beat authors like Kerouac and Ginsberg who defined so much of his coming of age, but also in classic and even contemporary authors; he is far more diplomatic in his politics and perspectives than I thought (especially in light of some of his songs, protest and otherwise); he has very much the heart of a family man, relentlessly trying to shield his wife and children from much of the press and publicity his music garnered and recoiling from the limelight whenever possible even today; and he is quite thoughtful and articulate, a real departure from so many of his slurred-lyric live performances and tired-looking appearances.

As a book, Chronicles, Volume One is a quirky, non-linear, amazingly detailed memoir of Dylan's early start, set mostly in New York and with a cast of interesting characters that rivals good fiction. Though the names and gigs get a little redundant after a while, Dylan's passion for songs - lots of them and good ones - is what struck me, as did his passion and teachability to do everything he could to learn more and more before he really ever started writing them.

As a respite from recalling the early years (made difficult as Dylan doesn't do that great of a job recounting any kind of chronology of significant events), the book makes a strange leap ahead to Dylan's late-80's career, including his involvement with Tom Petty and The Traveling Wilburys, but particularly focusing on the recording process of his New Morning album with U2 producer Daniel Lanois. This period of time (at least in this volume) was most interesting, as Dylan's recounting of all that the writing, rehearsing, and recording process is and was illustrates how much this man loves music.

Thankfully, reading Dylan write about his life makes me feel better about my lack of understanding of the person and artist as, according to him, everyone else in the world seems to have been as clueless as well. In essence (and as he has always been called), Dylan is indeed very much an enigma, one I look forward to figuring out a bit more through a new interest in his music and (eventually) his next volume of memoirs.

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.