Barbara's Random Thoughts

This was ok. That's about it. It filled my need for "more French Revolution!" without getting me a few hundred pages into Les Mis, only to abandon it due to lack of time when getting to South Africa became foremost in my concerns.

This is one of those spin-off books. It imagines the events in the life of Sydney Carton (from Tale of Two Cities) during the parts of the book where he disappears from the narrative. The bits of this novel that of necessity overlap with the action of Tale of Two Cities end up being a bit tedious, because, ok, I had just read Tale of Two Cities. The changed perspective in these parts of the narrative really didn’t add anything for me. I’ve ready plenty of novels & stories where shifting the telling of the same event to a different perspective adds new layers of meaning. This one didn’t really do that for me.

The bulk of the book is taken up with newly invented events, assuming that Carton moved to Paris and established himself in the middle of the political circles of the day. This part of the narrative was most interesting to me because it filled in some details of the political climate of Paris during the French Revolution.

However, I found it a little implausible. If Carton was well-known to such prominent figures as Robespierre, Marat, and Desmoulins, he would have been well-known enough in Paris that his likeness to Darnay would not have gone unnoticed. Kind of throws a wrench into the climax of the story. But (as with many historical novels) this author felt the need to thrust Carton into the middle of the action as far as French politics were concerned. I think this is one of the ways Dickens succeeds in the historical novel genre--he focuses on one group of people caught up in the events of history, rather than making them central to those events, or even adjacent to the people central to those events.

There’s a kind of amusing (to me) afterword/disclaimer at the end, which mildly argues that Dickens sensationalized the Terror and that it wasn’t so bad after all. The author compares the number executed during the Terror to the number killed during one of the Napoleonic battles. Small but important distinction that the author failed to draw out: those executed during the terror were, well... executed. Casualties of war are considerably different from executions carried out over a period of days and weeks. Executions ordered following hasty and dubious trials and convictions, I might add.

What I did enjoy in reading this was learning a bit more about the politics surrounding the time period that’s so central in Dickens’ novel. When I finished Tale of Two Cities, I was curious to read more about the same time period, and this novel did that--filling in some of the political details and context very well. While it was interesting for me to explore some additional fictional narrative focused on this historical time period, I wouldn’t exactly recommend this one heartily.

Labels: book review, fiction, reading

This book has been republished under the title Hearing God (as per the cover image to the left), but I read an earlier edition, as per the title above. You're just gonna have to live with the discrepancy.

This book has long been on my to-read list. I actually procured this particular copy while I was working at GHBC--it was on Bob's reading list for one of his D.Min. classes. I got the book for him, transcribed his dictated notes on it, and edited his subsequent paper. Then I inherited the book when he was clearing out his bookshelves. And now I've finally read it myself.

This was a perhaps too-timely read for me. I started reading it in November, and finished in January--reading it throughout my most confused months of discernment/decision making after returning from South Africa. It did seem a little too obvious to read a book titled "In Search of Guidance" during this time.

I knew from the outset that reading this book wasn't going to answer all my questions or give me some sort of formula that if followed would yield instructions on exactly what steps to take next. But I think I like to look for formulas and instructions regardless. This book (thankfully) isn't that.

When making big life decisions, I consistently go to God asking for directional answers, specific instructions as to what to do. Reading this book was another very needed reminder that God doesn’t generally work that way. No “Hey, Barbara, go back to South Africa” messages came during this time in my life or through my reading of this book. But what I needed far more than specific instructions (though I often frustratedly think specifics would be preferable) was summed up by the book’s subtitle: “Developing a Conversational Relationship with God.”

Ultimately, the message Willard conveys is that guidance comes through relationship. We must place ourselves into a conversational relationship with God and guidance will flow from that. You can’t skip the relationship and expect to hear God’s voice. During these months, I commented more than once that I kept going to God with directional questions, and he kept responding with heart answers: calling me to deeper relationship, to trust, and to stepping out in faith. I’d ask: “Where do I go?” and He would answer: “Be with me.” As frustrating as that can be, that’s exactly what I need. Not just when I’m making huge life decisions, but always.

Labels: book review, reading

I thought I was going to love this book. Halfway through, I was sure I was going to love it. It ended up leaving me with a lot of thoughts, but mixed feelings. The fact that this brief children's book left me thinking quite deeply is a sign of how good the book was, but still. I think I wanted something different out of it in the end.

One of the blurbs on the back of the book describes it as a "new folktale," and that's probably an apt description. The story tells the tale of a boy named Egan as he visits the town of Instep. Instep is situated at the base of Kneeknock Rise--a mountain that is continually shrouded in mist, home to the Megrimum, a fearsome creature that moans frightfully during rainstorms. The town's inhabitants have all kinds of superstitions about how to protect themselves from the Megrimum, and as Kneeknock Rise is the most exciting thing for miles around, there's a certain level of pride mixed in with their fear of the beast on the mountain. Kneeknock Rise acts as somewhat of a tourist attraction each year when Instep puts on a fair and travelers arrive hoping to hear the Megrimum. The reader is introduced to the monster and the legends surrounding it through the eyes of an outsider, as Egan tries to figure out exactly what it is that lurks at the top of Kneeknock Rise.

The book ultimately explores the nature of mystery and belief. Why do we believe? Is it because we need to believe in something, regardless of logic and fact and reason? Or is there something more to it than that?

One of the visitors to Instep describes what draws him to the town and away from his everyday life:

It's the knowing there's something different, something special up there waiting. It's the knowing you could choose to change your days--climb up there and throw yourself right down the throat of the only and last and greatest terrible secret in the world. Except you don't climb up.

I loved that description--the desire for the mystery and the wonder of something utterly unknown. The fear of it, and yet the desire to keep it close, just in case. Because: you could. Or you might. One day.

Labels: book review, children's, reading

I finished this over the weekend, and you know what that means? It means I finally completed that Winter Reading Challenge from 2006. Go, me. Also, I'm jumping ahead a little by saying this is book #5--I'm gonna have to circle back to another one I finished earlier, but I felt like writing about this one now. So I am.

Also also. I feel a little weird writing any kind of review of Tale of Two Cities, since it falls into that category of Books Everyone Else But Me Has Read. So make of this what you will.

Heather and I became obsessed with the card game Guillotine one summer on a mission trip, and a friend told us he was rather disturbed by the game since he was currently reading Tale of Two Cities. Now I know what he meant. The afternoon after I finished reading this book found me sitting in Starbucks, playing Guillotine with a friend and wearing my Les Miserables sweatshirt...and wondering if there might be something wrong with that. Yeah, probably.

Ok, so about the book. I love Dickens, contrary to what Lucinda thought. =) But the reasons I have loved Dickens in the past are not the reasons I found Tale of Two Cities so good. The Dickensian caricatures, the melodrama, the overabundance of completely implausible coincidences...I love it all. But then there's this other thread of seriousness and historical reality that runs throughout his work, and that's what I loved about Tale of Two Cities. I honestly did feel a little weird about playing Guillotine, making light of such serious events...after reading a novel that put me on those streets, in that time, imagining what it would have been like watching the bloodthirsty executions of the Terror.

I'm not quite sure what to make of the combination of these disparate elements. Caricature, melodrama, and serious historical reality dealing with social injustice. And, an author who can give such a good sense of a place that I feel like I was there. This is what I love about Dickens. Now I'm wanting to revisit Hard Times, because it had the same seriousness and social/historical reality that was so good here. Dang, where's that paper I wrote for Dr. Pickett about Hard Times? That was good stuff.

Next up for my fiction reading: A Far Better Rest by Susanne Alleyn--a book that imagines the missing events of Sydney Carton's life. Kristy got this for me ages ago, not realizing that I was the last person on earth over the age of 14 who hadn't read Tale of Two Cities. I'm not usually up for spinoff books, but I'll see how this goes. Either that, or I'll speed through Les Miserables before I leave for South Africa. Heh. =)

Labels: book review, reading

I read Hansen's Mariette in Ecstasy for English Seminar one semester at Biola, and was fascinated with the way it explored an extreme form/manifestation of religious devotion (stigmata) and the reactions that such phenomena can spark. I later picked up this collection of Hansen's essays, intrigued by the title alone (specifically the subtitle: "Essays on Faith and Fiction"), but also because I was interested in what this particular author had to say on the interplay between faith and fiction.

I was a little disappointed that the essays in the volume didn't spend more time examining that faith/fiction relationship. There were a few along that line, but on the whole, the essays were self-contained--some falling under the faith category and some under the fiction category. That said, I very much enjoyed the book once I got the self-contained thing through my head. I found Hansen's essays quietly thoughtful and reflective. Even though they didn't all fit into the topic I was interested in exploring, I really liked his voice and hope to explore more of his writing.

The essays vary fairly widely in topic, and I found myself compiling a list of books, movies, and other stuff I wanted to explore further as I made my way through the collection. That's always a good sign. Hansen discusses Tolstoy's "Master and Man," the movie Babette's Feast, the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, the Biblical story of Cain (from the perspective of a twin), and offers a meditation on the "Anima Christi" prayer--which I was interested to discover is one that appears at the beginning of the Ignatian Exercises.

Mid-year last year, someone recommended the Ignatian exercises to me, and over the past few months, I've come across more and more references to St. Ignatius/Ignatian spirituality/the Ignatian exercises. This book fit right in with this thread--there's an essay on the life of St. Ignatius and the beginning of the Jesuit order, as well as other references to Ignatius scattered throughout the book. Hansen teaches at a Jesuit college, go figure. =) I'm thinking I need to do some more reading on the topic--intentional, rather than the fortuitous convergence of late.

I'm gonna close with a passage I loved, where Hansen describes the moments following his receiving first communion. It's an amazing picture to me of what communion is about--the grace we are given to partake in something both symbolic and thoroughly real, the work Christ has done and is still doing within us, something accomplished and yet still being accomplished...yes, there is sin. But there is also grace.

Then I knelt heedfully upright and mentally prayed as we'd been instructed to do, some scared and scientific part of me assaying myself for chemical reactions or a sudden infusion of wisdom while fancying Christ now sitting dismally in my scoundrel soul, my oh so many sins pooling like sewer water at his sandaled feet. But soon I saw that I was still me; there would be no howls of objection, no immediate correction or condemnation, no hint that I was under new management, just the calming sense that whoever I was was fine with Jesus.

It was a grace I hadn't imagined.

--Ron Hansen, "Eucharist" (p. 234)

Labels: book review, faith, reading

Sarah picked this up at the District Six Museum in Cape Town and lent it to me because of its similarity to the writing project we're working on. (I can say that without guilt because I actually did some writing this afternoon!) It's a collection of personal essays and poetry written by women in prison in South Africa. It's interesting, because Sarah and I toyed with the idea of doing writing workshops or compiling pieces written by the women we talked with. We decided against that idea, and while it was fascinating to read this, I'm glad we decided to do our writing differently.

Autobiographical narratives are tricky. In the preface to Journey to Myself, the editor notes that it's often difficult to separate fact from fiction in the stories these women tell. This is something Sarah and I certainly encountered as we interviewed various women for our project. We had to tackle racial, cultural, and language barriers. Some of our interviews were conducted through interpreters, which added another bias and another level of mediation to the perspective we received. Having women put their own stories down on paper seems less mediated, but the perspective is about as biased as they come. The author can be completely truthful, but it's easy to tell the truth while concealing certain parts and overemphasizing others. These authors especially had a vested interest in how they presented themselves. These stories were interesting for exactly this reason--it was often clear that pieces had been left out, and I wanted more. I wanted to delve more deeply into motivations and history and who these women really were, to find out why they had presented themselves in the ways they did.

While not as satisfying on a literary level, I found this collection fascinating. Partly for personal reasons, as it prompted a lot of thought for me on how I'm approaching telling the stories I collected last year. But also because I'm always interested in first person narratives and in figuring out the speaker--why did they choose to tell what they did? What did they leave out, and why?

As Sarah and I navigated truthfulness with one woman in particular this year, someone suggested it was just as important to hear the story she wanted to tell--the version of herself she wanted to believe--as it was to know what really happened. I was reminded of that comment as I wondered about the women whose writings appear in this collection. The title of the book reflects that idea--the writing of a personal story is a journey to the self, and whether the writing portrays a factual or imagined self, or a mixture of the two, all of these portrayals are significant in reaching a fuller understanding of the whole person.

This ended up being more about me and this writing project than the book I'm discussing. But somehow that seems fitting.

Labels: book review, reading

I want to get this review written so I can give the book to Heather & Aaron this afternoon. Motivation!

I got a free Advance Reading Copy of this book a few years back, and never got around to reading it. It's the first in a trilogy, and as of now, not only has this one been officially released, the other two books have also been published. So much for my advance reading.

Basic plot: Reason (yes, that's her name) and her mother have been on the run from her evil grandmother for most of Reason's life. When Reason's mother is hospitalized for mental illness, Reason is sent to live with said evil grandmother. Reason discovers a doorway that's a portal from her grandmother's house in Sydney to New York City. It's in NYC that she is befriended by a girl named Jay-Tee (why do you have to lamely spell out the initials? Why not just "J.T."? This annoyed me), and subsequently: discovers she's "magic," finds out a bit more about her mother and grandmother, encounters people who want to manipulate her because of her magic...and no doubt this plot sounds a bit familiar. I liked this quite a bit, for what it was--young adult fantasy, kid finds out she's "magic," learns to navigate new worlds encountered because of magic, finds fellow magic friends, etc. I was craving this type of thing around Christmas/January, so this was good.

One thing that intrigued me was the way the author describes the kids' magical abilities. Each kid had a unique way of experiencing/describing their own abilities--Jay-Tee's magic builds more from personal interactions; she gains energy from being in crowds. Reason's magic is based more on logic, numbers, and patterns. It was interesting to me that magic was personalized like this; it became a more realistic personality trait rather than some kind of super power or skill to be learned. It's still something to be learned, but has to be more personally navigated, making the whole thing more of a personal journey of self-discovery. Now I sound like I'm describing a teen problem novel. Sorry.

I also appreciated that the characters were fairly ambiguously portrayed--there was a stock villain type, but there were hints of more complexity to the grandmother. I'd be interested to see where the author takes the characters in the next two books.

Labels: book review, fantasy, reading, YA

This isn't as put-together as I'd like it to be, but it's what I've got, and things are gonna get pretty busy for me these next couple of weeks. So here you go.

First book of the year. I started it in Oxford, because it seemed like a good one to read there (sadly, I never got to read any of it while sitting in The Eagle and Child), and I finished it on the train to Scotland...just minutes before our train pulled into Glasgow. I love it when timing works out like that.

The story begins with Gabriel Syme, a "philosophical policeman" who is hunting anarchists, being invited to attend a secret meeting with the promise of it being an entertaining evening. By the end of the meeting, he has been elected to the General Council of the Anarchists of Europe. No, really.

The Council is plotting to destroy the world, or wreak as much havoc as they can along the way. Each member takes the name of a day of the week--the Council is headed by the mysterious and intimidating Sunday, and Syme replaces the recently-deceased Thursday. The bulk of the book follows Syme as he chases and is chased by the other anarchists and finally Sunday himself.

Though the book never seems to take itself seriously--mistaken identities, rather un-anarchic anarchists, a very comic duel, a lot of madcap rushing about the French countryside, and a chase scene which features several hansom cabs chasing a man riding an elephant--in the end, the story prompted some rather deep thought for me about the nature of God and my perception of him. One of my favorite passages:

"Shall I tell you the secret of the whole world? It is that we have only known the back of the world. We see everything from behind, and it looks brutal. That is not a tree, but the back of a tree. That is not a cloud, but the back of a cloud. Cannot you see that everything is stooping and hiding a face? If we could only get round in front--"

So, nothing is as it seems. It's that whole literary theme of appearance vs. reality that so often fascinates me. But here, for me, the theme got tied into man's perception of God vs. who he really is. And that was an interesting idea to kick around in my head for a bit.

As far as the plot went, I kinda did see the unmasking and suddenly-revealed identities coming, but I felt like the point of the book wasn't really to surprise in that arena. It surprised me in leaving me with questions I hadn't anticipated but greatly enjoyed mulling over.

More to come...three more already-read books to write about...

Labels: book review, reading