Well, I managed to finish of the last of my summer books at the start of the month and then I dove into Wittgenstein. Expect to see a lot more of him, as well as Barth and Paul, over the next little while. Sorry that some of these reviews are so obtuse and that most of them are altogether too brief. This is the best I can do for now.
1. Colossians Remixed: Subverting the Empire by Brian J. Walsh and Sylvia C. Keesmaat.
Within this book Walsh and Keesmaat read Colossians in light of postmodern philosophy and counter-cultural voices and practices. In essence they wrote a whole new kind of commentary. Consequently they focus on issues of empire (then and now), truth (and truth as it relates to imagination, improvisation, and performance), and ethics (in particulare the ethics of secession, community, liberation, and suffering). For those within the sphere of biblical studies who are unfamiliar with counter-cultural voices, well, this book is nothing short of explosive. And for those within the realm of biblical studies who are familiar with the counter-culture, well, we find ourselves thinking, “It’s about damn time.”
2. The Bible in Politics: How to Read the Bible Politically by Richard Bauckham.
Although a little more dated than the book by Walsh and Keesmaat (1989 vs. 2004), and although Bauckham’s perspective is quite different, this book is an important read because it gives the biblical voice priority over all other voices. Instead of reading the bible through the lenses of various other political paradigms, Bauckham tries to let the bible speak on its own terms (of course, the extent to which Bauckham succeeds in this effort will be left to the discerning mind of the reader). Because of his desire to give the biblical texts priority Bauckham ends up espousing positions that end up making both ends up the spectrum uncomfortable. Too radical to be wholeheartedly accepted by mainstream Christianity, and too conservative to be wholeheartedly accepted by the radicals, Bauckham’s is a voice that deserves to be heard.
3. Evil and the Justice of God by N. T. Wright.
Another work of biblical, political theology (or, better yet, theopolitical exegesis), this is Wright’s latest offering within which he begins to wrestle with issues of evil in light of the cross of Christ. Wright begins by critiquing the efforts that the Western philosophical tradition have made to resolve the problem of evil. Instead of treating evil as some sort of epistemological puzzle, Wright argues that it is better to examine what God does about evil. Thus, he traces the biblical narrative in light of this theme and settles on the cross as the point where evil (of all sorts) hits rock bottom. Thus, stressing the Christus Victor model of the atonement, Wright argues that God decisively defeats evil on the cross of Jesus (as the resurrection so powerfully reveals). Therefore, Christians are those called to be shaped by the cross of Christ and thereby “implement the victory of God in the world through suffering love.” This implementation is one that must take place at a corporate, political level and (somewhat secondarily) at an individual level. Consequently, Wright explores issues relating to empire, war, the criminal justice system, and art. Wright argues for a Christian approach rooted in prayer, holiness, reconciliation, restorative justice, and education of the imagination. Ultimately, Wright argues the people of God should be a people defined by forgiveness (and here he draws heavily from Miroslav Volf’s Exclusion and Embrace, L. Gregory Jones’ Embodying Forgiveness, and Desmond Tutu’s No Future Without Forgiveness — and, IMHO, these three books are exceptional, some of the best written on the topic of forgiveness).
4. Sex, Economy, Freedom & Community by Wendell Berry.
This is my first time actually reading Berry (I was lead to this book by some references made in Colossians Remixed) and I must say that I quite enjoyed him. There is a great blend of poetry and academics, gentleness and force, and humour and brokenheartedness in his writings. I especially enjoyed two essays: the first on the joys of sales resistance (his comments on education and the trajectory of Western culture were both hilarious and bang-on) and the last on sex and economics in which he argued that sex and economics are intimately related to one another and one cannot be discussed, or addressed, apart from the other.
5. Civilization and Its Discontents by Sigmund Freud.
This was Freud’s follow-up to The Future of an Illusion and this is the place where Freud’s reflections on agression and the opposition between the death drive and Eros really come to the fore. Really it’s a summary of Freud’s reflection on culture from his rather interesting psychoanalytical perspective. Freud continues to posit the opposition of the individual’s desires with the demands of civilization. This opposition leaves us all trapped in an unresolved (and unresolvable) tension. Hence the batle between the culturally influenced “superego” and the radically independent “id.” This battle is what occurs when the conflict between the individual and civilization is internalized. This book was quite fun to read and it is good to read Freud in light of his (lasting?) influence on Western civilization.
6. On Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness by Jacques Derrida.
This book is composed of two separate essays by Derrida, the first on cosmopolitanism and the second on forgiveness (surprise, surprise). Within the first essay, Derrida wrestles with the immigrantion issues that France, along with much of Europe, faces. He explore the notion of establishing “cities of refuge” that are independent of nation-states, and thus he revisits the role that the city places within the (inter)national realm of politics. I found this essay to be interesting, although the topics explored were pretty much completely off my radar right now. The second essay, however, was one that I found quite interesting. Within the second essay, Derrida argues that forgiveness really only applies to that which is unforgivable. Over against corporate and political functions that cheapen forgiveness (i.e. Korea forgiving Japan for War Crimes… as if a State can forgive another State for crimes certain individuals committed against certain other individuals), and over against other (related) approaches to forgiveness that simply make forgiveness the appropriate and required response within an economic exchange (i.e. when a person repents and performs the appropriate penance they are said to merit forgiveness), Derrida argues that “forgiveness forgives only the unforgivable… It can only be possible in doing the impossible.” Thus true forgiveness must be unconditional, which really means that forgiveness is a form of “madness” (this is not a term that Derrida uses perjoratively, for he embraces this model of forgiveness) that cannot be reduced to any of these other forms or to “the therapy of reconciliation” (i.e. any way of expressing the approach that treats forgiveness as a means to an end). However, in the day to day reality of life one must deal seriously with issues of penance, repentance, and reconciliation and thus Derrida finds himself with two indissociable, irreconcilable poles: unconditional forgiveness, and conditional “forgiveness.”
7. Wittgenstein by G. H. von Wright.
This is a collection of essays that von Wright put together based upon his research and his friendship with Wittgenstein. I found his biographical reflections (“Ludwig Wittgenstein: A Biographical Sketch” and “Wittgenstein in Relation to his Times”) to be both useful and interesting, and I found his essay entitled “Wittgenstein on Certainty” to be the most useful academic essay within the book. The two essay tracing the origins of the Tractatus and the origins of the Philosophical Investigations (along with the essay that documents Wittgenstein’s papers) were extraordinarily boring, and I had a helluva time understanding the essay entitled “Wittgenstein on Probability.” So this book was a real mix, but when it was good it was really good.
8. Wittgenstein’s Tractatus: An Introduction by Alfred Nordmann.
Nordmann’s purpose in writing this book is to resolve the most basic and lasting problem of the TLP: how can it be both nonsensical and persuasive? If philosophy is nonsense, and if the TLP is nonsense (which it admits to being) then why should we be persuaded by its argument? Well, we should be convinced because the TLP actually identifies four types of language. Over against those who only see three types of language in the TLP (descriptive language that is both grammatical and significant [Sinnvoll]; logical language that is grammatical but senseless [Sinnlos]; and philosophical language [ungrammatical/nonsensical and senseless]), Nordmann adds a fourth type: language that is ungrammatical/nonsensical but significant. It is this fourth type of language that is used by the TLP. Thus, employing the subjunctive mood (which is the definitive form of this fourth type of language since it uses hypothetical terms [i.e. “if this is the case then this…”) the TLP follows a reductio ad absurdum argument (which is itself a form of argumentation that is nonsensical and yet not senseless). Of course, in order to make this claim Nordmann must posit an hypothesis that must exist before the first statement of the TLP. This hypothesis is that “anything whatsoever is expressible in speech” and this is precisely what is denied at the end of the reductio ad absurdum argument when Wittgenstein concludes that “there is indeed the inexpressible in speech.” Along the way, Wittgenstein limits language to the descriptive mode — language is a contingent picture of contingent reality, and it is true or false if its various elements align with one another in the same way in which the various elements of reality align with one another — any attempt to do anything else with language is nonsense (although there is useful, and un-useful nonsense, as should now be clear). Because the TLP is a useful form of nonsense (i.e. because it makes sense) it is best to undestand it as a thought experiment which is itself a gesture — precisely like the other gestures which cause other nonsensical expressions like “I love you” to make sense. In this way we prompt expressions to show what they cannot say. Consequently the final words of the TLP are not a command to say nothing, rather they require us to speak acknowledged nonsense, realizing that speaking nonsense it a way of staying silent. This, then, is how Nordmann reads the TLP. I find his reading to be quite intriguing.
9. Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations: An Introduction by David G. Stern.
Well, I knew reading some secondary lit on the PI would be useful… but I didn’t realize how much of the PI I really didn’t get (at all) until I got into this book. Stern basically deals with the first 268 sections of the PI and argues that Wittgenstein’s argument traces a number of paradoxes: the paradox of ostension (an ostensive definition can be variously interpreted in every case) which reveals that ostension presupposes knowledge of how language games work, and it thus cannot be the foundation for learning a first language, although it is quite useful for learning any second or third languages; the paradox of explanation (an explanation can be variously interpreted in every case) which reveals itself because every explanation requires another explanation; the rule-following paradox (a rule can be variously interpreted in every case) which is basically the sum of the first two paradoxes; the paradox of intentionality (a sign can be variously interpreted in every case) which follows from the previous paradox; the paradox of rule-following (which argues that a rule, taken in isolation, can never determine all its future applications because a change in the context in which the rule is given will create a change in the application) which then leads one to examine the circumstances within which the experience of “understanding” occurs, and not examine the experience itself, in order to say whether or not a person understands how to follow a rule or system — this then makes Wittgenstein a “holist” about rule-following: rules can only be understood aright if we place them within their proper whole; in particular this is a “pratical holism” which argues that understanding “involves explicit beliefs and hypotheses [that] can only be meaningful in specific contexts and against a background of shared practices”; and the paradox of private ostension (a private ostensive definition can be variously interpreted in every case) that Wittgenstein uses to deconstruct the notion of a “private language” because there is no such thing as a truly “private” language. As Wittgenstein traces these paradoxes he also refuses to allow the reader to escape by “subliming” names, logic, or rules (this fits well with what Wittgenstein does with the linguistic limits set by the Tractatus). Thus, throughout all of this, Wittgenstein develops his theory of “language games” which are the interweaving of human life and language — the term highlights the fact that speaking itself is an activity, a part of a form of life. What is especially interesting about Stern’s reading of the PI is that he refuses to identify Wittgenstein’s position with the position of any of the voices found within the text (the PI exists as a dialogue between [at least] two voices: the narrator and the interlocutor). Commentators have traditionally identified Wittgenstein with the narrator but Stern urges the reader not to do so, and thus argues that the tension between the Pyrrhonian approach to philosophy (which argues that all philosophy is nonsense) and the non-Phyrrhonian approach to philosophy (which argues that much of traditional philosophy is nonsense but philosophy itself can be saved) must remain [holy hell, writing some if these reviews is draining… does this make sense to anybody?].
10. The First to Throw The Stone: Take Responsibility for Prostitution a Policy Paper by Samaritana Transformation Ministries, Inc.
Samaritana is an agency that works with prostitutes in the Philippines. Within this policy paper its members (very briefly) sketch out the situation of prostitutes in the Philippines, the conditions of women in prostitution, the factors the reinforce prostitution, and then they provide their own perspective along with some recommendations. Although the situation may seem rather different from the North American context (for example, the airing of public ads that search for GROs [Guest Relation Officers!]) I am struck not by the differences but by the similarities. Perhaps prostitution is “the world’s oldest profession” because many of the conditions for prostitution are universal (i.e. the vulnerability of women and children, the vulnerability of the poor, the stigmatization of prostitutes which adds to the economic exploitation and psychological distress they experience [by the way, post-traumatic stress is more common in prostitutes than in Vietnam war veterans!], the inadequte government response, and the corruption that exists within governments, businesses, and law enforcement agencies).
Book Reviews
There are 75 posts filed in Book Reviews (this is page 8 of 8).
June Books
Well, this last month was a pretty good one for reading. Seeing as I have a few looming papers due in July, I suspect that I won’t get much book reading done over the next few weeks. Regardless, here are my woefully inadequate June book “reviews” (if you can even call them that).
1. Mysterium Paschale: The Mystery of Easter by Hans Urs von Balthasar. I always find von Balthasar to be a little mind-blowing and this book that focuses on Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday is certainly a seminal work on the Easter-event. I find von Balthasar’s reflections on Holy Saturday and Christ’s identification with those in hell to be especially intriguing (von Balthasar has been especially influenced by von Speyr in this regard). Although this book is regularly mentioned as a hugely influential book within theological reflections on Easter, I have a nagging suspicion that the implications of this book for daily Christian living have largely been neglected (I am currently working on a piece called “Becoming the Father through a Spirit-Empowered Cruciformity: Prolegomena to a Narrative Spirituality of Mission” where I begin to explore some of the quite radical implications of von Balthasar’s reflections).
2. Jesus and Empire: The Kingdom of God and the New World Disorder by Richard A. Horsley. It is exciting reading Horsley. He has a good understanding of the culture of Jesus’ day and the culture of our day, and so when he discuses the implications Jesus’ ministry might have for us, the results are quite revolutionary and explosive. Because I believe that Christianity exists as a counter-culture to all our human cultures and a counter-polis to all our human states, I think Horsley is a voice that deserves a wide audience. However, the gross reductionism within Horsley’s work always disappoints me. He completely disregards a large amount of the New Testament and chooses to focus almost solely upon Mark and Q. Furthermore, Horsley is so concerned to make Jesus a part of an egalitarian grass-roots socio-political revolutionary movement that he throws out large parts of Jesus’ message, ministry and identity. And it’s really quite too bad. If Horsley had a fuller view of Scripture and of Jesus, his position would actually be strengthened, not weakened.
3. Who’s Afraid of Postmodernism? Taking Derrida, Lyotard, and Foucault to Church by James K. A. Smith. This is an excellent, exciting, and very readable little book that engages with the major theses of France’s “unholy trinity” — Derrida, Lyotard, and Foucault. Smith argues that, properly understood, the arguments of these postmodern philosophers are actually quite beneficial to contemporary Christianity. Thus, he argues that Derrida’s thesis that “there is nothing outside the text” helps the Church to recover the centrality of Scripture, and the role the faith community plays in hermeneutics. From Lyotard’s thesis that postmodernity is “incredulity toward metanarratives,” Smith argues that the Church recovers both the narrative character and the confessional character of Christian faith; and from Foucault’s thesis that “power is knowledge” the Church realises the cultural power of formation and discipline and therefore also realises the necessity of enacting counter-formation and counter-discipline. Smith also concludes this book with an excellent critique of the Emergent movement in light of the Radical Orthodoxy movement. Of the books I read this month, this one was probably the most exciting.
4. In Good Company: The Church as Polis by Stanley Hauerwas. This is a collection of addresses and articles written by Hauerwas in the early 1990s. It is divided into three parts: reflections on being in Protestant (including, surprise, Anabaptist) company, reflections on being in Catholic company, and reflections on ecclesial ethics. I always enjoy reading Hauerwas, and there were a few things he said in these essays that really caught my eye but, for the most part, he has already said everything in this book better elsewhere. Of course, there is not necessarily anything wrong with a Christian theologian repeating himself (as Hauerwas is quick to point out). If we are to be a community of discipline, and a community formed by the Christian story, and the Christian liturgy, then repetition must be seen as valuable, and even essential.
5. finding naasicaa: letters of hope in an age of anxiety by Charles R. Ringma. I had the privilege of taking a few courses with Charles before he retired from teaching at my school, and so I was delighted to see that he had written another book (this one). Charles is something of a Protestant Jesuit — a Protestant contemplative in action. He is a scholar (having taught in Australia, the Phillipines, and Canada), he is an activist (having founded intentional Christian communities in various ghettos in Queensland, Manilla, and Vancouver), and he is an incredibly prayerful man as well. This book is a gentle, pastoral, dialectical reflection on the various threads of Christian life, and thought, given the context we find ourselves in today. It is written as a series of letters from Charles to his 19 year old granddaughter, Naasicaa.
6. The Scandal of the Evangelical Conscience by Ronald J. Sider. In this book, Sider, a long-time Christian social activist, well-known for his book Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger, tries to do for the Evangelical conscience, what Mark Noll did for the Evangelical mind. Unfortunately, Sider’s book doesn’t come close to the quality of Noll’s writing, nor does it come close to the writings of other Christians who have sought to call the Church back to journeying intimately with the poor and the marginalised. The only people who might find this book helpful are those who are deeply immersed in North American Conservative Evangelicalism. As far as I’m concerned Jim Wallis’ book The Call to Conversion is far more successful in addressing the things Sider wants to address.
7. We Say No: Chronicles 1963-1991 by Eduardo Galeano. Galeano is a journalist from Uruguay who writes stories that are so true that the are dangerously subversive to Latin American political powers and the Western nations and corporations that fund and undergird those powers. Born in 1940, he lived in exile (i.e. fled for his life) from 1973-1984 before returning to Uruguay. This collection of essays has everything from encounters with Pele, el Che, General Peron, and the last emperor of China, to reflections on history from the side of the poor and the indigenous people of Latin America, to stories about diamond mining camps in Venezuala, ghettos in Rio de Janeiro, smuggling in Bolivia, and much more. Galeano does for journalism what Gutierrez (and others) did (and do) for theology.
8. Palm Sunday: An Autobiographical Collage by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. This is a collection of letters, essays, and speeches given by Vonnegut throughout the 1970s. I enjoy Vonnegut’s voice a great deal, and in a way, in both his writings on technology and religion, I feel he anticipated certain postmodern philosophers and their approach to ethics. Thus, for example, Vonnegut is for more concerned with civility than he is with love. There is always a strange blend of humour and sorrow, resistance and resignation, in Vonnegut and I think that’s a large part of the reason why I keep going back to him.
9. The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon. Well, after arguing with some literary friends, I decided to try Pynchon one more time. This book was incomparably better than Gravity’s Rainbow, but that’s not saying much. It was much more coherent, and much less sexual. Of course, it was still very “postmodern”: full of paranoia, lacking resolution, and highlighting the supposed arbitrariness of all things. Speaking of books full of paranoia, I really think Umberto Eco does it better than Pynchon — although I might feel that way since Eco is less radical in his approach to postmodern literature, so that’s probably just my own biases coming through. All in all, this book was mostly ho-hum. Books that don’t say much throughout, and that don’t come to any sort of resolution, don’t really interest me all that much, regardless of how well they are written.
10. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. This is a great, poignant, and heart-breaking without being sentimental, story. Plath writes a largely autobiographical piece about a young woman who spirals down into mental illness and depression. There are suicide attempts, institutionalisation, and shock-therapy present in the novel — because those things were present in Plath’s own life. As a insider to those things, Plath helps the reader to share the helplessness, confusion, and lostness of her protagonist. Sadly, this is Plath’s only major novel — she ended up taking her own life one month after this novel was published. She was 31 years old and only gained significant fame (mostly for her poems) posthumously.
11. The Bluest Eyes by Toni Morrison. Morrison’s first novel, this book is about a poor black girl with a longing for love (expressed in her ongoing wish to have blue eyes) that leads her to tragedy. Like Morrison’s other books, there is a brutal honesty here, but there is also mystery, magic, and even wonder and strength found in the most unlikely of places.
January Books
Well now, an interesting month. Lots of reading for class but I’m still managing to read a few books.
1. The Last Word: Beyond the Bible Wars to a New Understanding of the Authority of Scripture by N.T. Wright. This is a great, short, and very readable work. Tom traces the history of hermeneutics, re-examines the Wesleyan quadrilateral (which argues that interpretation takes places through four elements: Scripture, tradition, reason, and experience), and argues for an understanding of Scripture’s authority rooted in a narrative approach. Scripture is authoritative because it tells us the story that shapes our identity. It reveals the previous acts of the play, and also tells us the ending of the play, thereby providing the bookends of our improvisation within this act of the play. Bravo, Tom! This book is excellent.
2. Enchiridion on Faith, Hope, and Love by St. Augustine. This little handbook is Augustine’s attempt to explain Christian worship through the lenses of the three central virtues of (surprise, surprise) faith, hope, and love. It is in this work that Augustine lays out his view of evil as the absence of good — a view that I have found to be especially convincing over the years. This approach allows good to exist apart from evil but requires goodness to always be present for evil to exist. I like it! I actually really enjoyed this book and Augustine has been growing on me lately. I used to associate him with Constantinianism but, thanks to some other authors, I’m beginning to see him in a new light.
3. After Christendom: How the Church is to Behave If Freedom, Justice, and a Christian Nation Are Bad Ideas by Stanley Hauerwas. I love Hauerwas, I love his books, and this one is no exception. Here he provides some of the rational for his argument in Resident Aliens, and he argues that true transformation is created through the disciplines of the Church, which is the only locus of salvation.
4. Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology by Neil Postman. This is my second time reading this book (I have to review it for class) and I must say that I like Postman quite a lot. Within this book he argues that technology has come to play such a role in our society that all other things that used to provide us with meaning (politics, religion, philosophy) have become subservient to technology or have just disappeared from the picture altogether. Postman examines how all technologies have certain implicit biases that impact our culture, our ways of thinking, and our world-views.
5. Bobos in Paradise: The New Upper Class and How They Got There by David Brooks. This is a great book, an excellent examination of contemporary North American culture. Brooks examines how the bourgeoisie have blended with the bohemians to create a new ruling class — the bobos. These bobos now guide society and set the boundaries for appropriate language, behaviour, and attitudes. This has serious implications for business life, intellectual life, pleasure, spiritual life, and politics — and Brooks examines all of these. This book is recommended reading.
6. Dialogue with God: Opening the door to two-way prayer by Mark and Patti Virkler. This was one of the worst books I’ve read in a long time (I had to read it for class). While there is some useful, basic, practical ideas here to aid in one’s prayer life, much of what the author says borders on Montanism, and some of it is just plain idiocy (like his section on authority). Sigh. I really want to embrace more of the charismatic movement but it’s hard to when these are the books they are writing. Don’t read this book.
7. The Way to Language by Martin Heidegger. Well, a dense little booklet but quite intriguing since I’m getting more and more into linguistics. Heidegger argues that the essence of man [sic] consists in language, which is a form of presencing. Presencing is “saying” [Sagen] not just “speaking” for sometimes it is accomplished through silences. Thus saying is showing [Zeigen] , or letting something appear. Language as saying is pointing, and this pointing is, therefore, preceded by a thing’s letting itself be shown. Thus, we do not only speak language, but we speak out of it, and are only capable of doing so because we have listened to it. Thus, speech, as listening to language, is reiterating the saying we have heard. That means that we can only say as much as our own essence has been granted into the saying. Therefore, the showing of saying is owning — propriating. Yet we only understand if we too are propriated by language. Therefore, our saying is always relational. So is that all clear as mud? I actually think this essay, coupled with Lindbeck’s work on religion as language, has huge implications for theology and the revelation of God in the Word. For example, if Heidegger is right, this would be a strong support for the argument that only Christians can do Christian theology. Of course, there are several other implications but I want to sit on this for awhile.
8. Foucault’s Pendulum by Umberto Eco. This was quite a fun book, and I actually enjoyed it more than In the Name of the Rose. Foucault has the ability to reveal the playful nature of serious subjects and I rather enjoy that — just like I enjoy his quest for meaning, even if I have a very different approach.
9. Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. This was my first time reading Hesse and I rather enjoyed his stark, basic style of writing. Nothing too profound in this book — sort of a stock story of Buddhist Enlightenment, but it was decent enough to make me want to read another of his books… perhaps Narcissus and Goldmund…
10. Postsecret: Extraordinary Confessions from Ordinary Lives compiled by Frank Warren. This is a compilation of postcards that Warren has received from strangers who have decided to tell him secrets that they have told nobody else. Poignant, beautiful, heart-breaking, and humourous. Check out the website which is updated weekly — www.postsecret.blogspot.com.
Hmmm, looks like my reviews are getting a little better. Hooray!
November Books
Alas, I have been neglecting my blog. Lots of things going on these days with school, work, and my new non-profit. Hopefully I can start writing more faithfully after the next two weeks are over. I’m writing a paper on narrative criticism, which explains two of the books on my reading this month. I also couldn’t resist the urge to read some fiction. It keeps me sane.
1. The Art of Biblical Narrative by Robert Alter. This is basically the classic work on narrative criticism. Although others like Frei and Auerbach had paved the way this book (published in 1981) was the one the really launched narrative criticism back into the contemporary scene.
2. Reading Biblical Narrative: An Introductory Guide by J.P. Fokkelman. This was the only other book I read cover-to-cover in my research. It’s a pretty basic, and pretty handy guide.
3. Either Or: The Gospel or Neopaganism edited by Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson. A thought-provoking collection of essay from a symposium of scholars. They examine various elements of contemporary culture (neopaganism, the psychological captivity of the church, agenda-setting, etc.) and attempt to formulate a way forward.
4 A Man Without a Country by Kurt Vonnegut. Thanks to my old tree-planting foreman I’m developing an increasing appreciation for Vonnegut. This is a semiautobiographical collection of rambling thoughts on everything from politics, marriage, and creative writing. It’s a quick read but thoroughly enjoyable.
5. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. I’ve been reading about Eco all over the place — he pops up in the journals I read fairly regularly and he is also mentioned by literary critics and authors concerned with hermeneutical methodologies. So, I thought I’d pick up his (perhaps) most famous work. I can’t say I loved it, but it was a good read, and I’ll probably continue to work through his writings.
6. The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene. This was definitely my favourite book this month. Greene tells a story about a Latin American priest fleeing from persecution. Too scared to be a martyr and under no illusion that he is a saint (the priest enjoys his alcohol, and also fathered a child), the priest wrestles with the fact that the common people are suffering for sheltering him. He constantly prays that God would provide someone more worthy so that the peoples’ suffering would not be wasted. But, that someone never appears, and the priest is slowly lead down the road of the cross.
So, as usual, my book reviews are horribly insufficient and half-assed. Sorry!
June Books
Well, another month has come and gone and it’s time to comment on June’s books. Sorry the reviews are so brief and vague, it’s five in the morning, I’m in the middle of a set of night shifts, and I think my brain died two shifts ago.
1. Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy by Walter Brueggemann. Simply put, this book blew my mind. Read it. Were I to teach a biblical survey course, this book would be the companion to NT Wright’s The New Testament and the People of God (of course both books weigh in at around 750 pages so nobody would take the course). Brueggemann is the Tom Wright of the Old Testament.
2. Paul for Everyone: 1 Corinthians by Tom Wright. I decided to work through 1 Corinthians in the Greek text this month. It was heavy slugging and so I picked up Wright’s easy access commentary for some light reading while I waded through the Greek. I’ve got mixed feelings about the “Paul for Everyone” series. I suppose it’s great for those who don’t have a background in biblical studies but, if you’re looking for something with more substance — and less anecdotal sermon elements — I’d look elsewhere.
3. God, Medicine, and Suffering by Stanley Hauerwas. This is now the fourth(?) book I’ve read by Hauerwas and he is quickly becoming one of my favourite and most respected theologians. I already commented on this one in a previous post.
4. Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. Lamott writes her story in this book — her upbringing in a wealthy, liberal Californian home, her battle with various addictions, and the struggle she has with her faith and raising a child alone. This book was deeply moving, the sort that makes you laugh but also brings tears to your eyes. A lot of her friends die. It sort of reminded me of a lot of my friends…
5. Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. This is the sequel to Traveling Mercies. Enjoyable but not quite as good as the previous book.
6. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce. I thought I’d give Joyce another chance, I hated Ulysses but I’d heard this book was quite different. Granted it was different, but I still think Joyce writes aweful literature. I don’t have a whole lot of respect for stream of consciousness writers like Joyce (or Faulkner).
7. Persuasion by Jane Austen. My first stab into Austen’s writing, an enjoyable read with a well-developed central character. I’m looking forward to reading more by her.
8. A Pair of Blue Eyes by Thomas Hardy. Quite a simple story but I love Hardy and I love the way he writes female characters.
9. The Immoralist by Andre Gide. A short French novel that sparked quite a bit of controversy some time after it was published. The prose is pretty stark and I can’t say that I was able to empathise too deeply with the protagonist.
10. Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi. Finally, I find an illustrated novel that is close in caliber to Blankets (well, perhaps it is closer to Art Spiegelman’s Maus). The art isn’t as good (it’s much more influenced by the French style — it was, after all, originally published France) but the story is great. Marjane talks about what it was like growing up in Iran in the 1970s and 80s. A great work that challenges the stereotypes that dominate Western discourse about Iran.