Chesterton on Art

“A man wandering about a race-course, making bets that nobody took seriously, would be merely a bore. And so the hero wandering through a novel, making vows of love that nobody took seriously, is merely a bore. The point here is not so much that morally it cannot be a creditable story, but that artistically it cannot be a story at all. Art is born when the temporary touches the eternal; the shock of beauty is when the irresistible force hits the immovable post.”  --G.K. Chesterton

Chesterton, G.K. Fancies Versus Fads. 1923. Accessed 9 April 2012 <http://www.cse.dmu.ac.uk/~mward/gkc/books/Fancies_Versis_Fads.txt>

The Man Behind the Monster: An Interview with Grendel.

By Kate Corrnie, special to Forbode Magazine.

Today I had the unique opportunity to interview Grendel, a well-known literary figure, and someone who was just named to Forbode Magazine's list of 10 most ruthless characters. I caught up with Grendel at one of his favorite haunts: a desolate pond in Scandinavia near where he was raised. The place is a cross between those two iconic bodies of water: Walden Pond and the planet Dagobad. When I met him, Grendel was applying a fresh bandage to a wound he had recently received, so I asked him about it.

Kate: How did you lose your arm?

Grendel: I got in a fight with a big guy who ripped it off.

Kate: I'm so sorry! That sounds terrible. Can you describe what that experience was like?

Grendel: It was the worst day of my life, believe me. I was feeling down and out that day to begin with, real angry at the world, and all that. You know the feeling—well, maybe you don't.... Anyway I decided to take it out on some of old Hrothgar's folks, same as I've done many-a-time. It always makes me feel better to knock some heads. I get there and everybody's sleeping, and all that, so I grab a guy and show him who's boss, when all of a sudden this big guy jumps me and we have a real go at it. He has this incredibly strong grip. We're wrestling together for a while and I just can't shake him off. Finally he grabs hold of my arm—and by this time I'm thinking: “this place is hell, I need to get outa here”—and he literally pulls my bloody arm off!

Kate: Horrible! What did you do then?

Grendel: Well, he was holding my arm, not me, at that point so I got outa there in a hurry.

Kate: How do you feel towards the man who disabled you?

Grendel: How do you think?! How would you feel if somebody pulled your bloody arm off! That guy should be drawn and quartered! I talked to a lawyer but he acted like there was nothing to do. It was self defense he said. Self defense to pull somebody's arm off?! How wrong is that? My livelihood is gone!

Kate: Since you bring up your livelihood, why don't you tell me a little about your business?

Grendel: Basically, I'm a pirate. I take what I need and then some. It's not a bad business to be in in this economy, actually.

Kate: Clearly not, since you were recently named to Forbode Magazine's list of 10 most ruthless businessmen. It's been said that you don't just make a living, you make a killing. Is that an accurate characterization?

Grendel [chuckling]: Yeah, you could say that.

Kate: What was the pinnacle of your pillaging career?

Grendel: Well, I've been in the business a little over 12 years, so there have been a lot of good hauls, but I would have to say the best was the time I carried off 30 of Hrothgar's men in one night. I do everything on a graveyard shift, it just makes my work so much easier.

Kate: In your dealings with others you have often been compared to Cain. Do you think the comparison is accurate?

Grendel: Well... Sure. We're both kinda loners. Kinda outcasts from society. People don't like us, and we don't like people!

Kate: You say you are a loner. Did you have any friends growing up, Grendel? Why don't you tell us about your childhood?

Grendel: My life as a kid was hard. I grow up without a father: my mother was a single parent. The only place we could afford to live was little better than a swamp. No electricity. We had running water, but, unfortunately, it was running through the roof. I would have to say my childhood wasn't typical. I was always a loner; didn't have any friends growing up. I was always jealous when I saw the other kids having fun together. I tried to steal their toys and scare them. I guess I just wanted to make their life miserable because I was miserable.

Kate: Were you—forgive me if this sounds crude—were you a bully growing up?

Grendel: Yeah, you could probably say that.

Kate: How would you characterize your relationship with your mother?

Grendel: She taught me everything I know. Always stuck up for me. Still does. In fact, as we speak she's on her way to pay back the fellow who did this to my arm. Pity the poor wretches she gets her hands on. Raising me alone like she did taught her to be every bit as tough as I am myself.

Kate: We're running out of time, and I can see that shoulder is giving you a lot of pain. One more question: who's your hero?

Grendel: That's a hard one... Frankenstein's Creature is someone I really look up to, but on the other hand, there's a lot I admire in Gollum as well...

Editor's Note: Shortly after this interview with Forbode Magazine, Grendel passed away due to complications from the injury to his arm. Correspondent Kate Corrnie was the last person to interview him before his death.

Not Surprised

 The hostage standoff at the Discovery Channel building in Maryland should not come as any surprise. James Jay Lee wants to "save the planet" after watching An Inconvenient Truth by Al Gore and reading extremist environmental books. But we should not think it is only extremists who want to stop all human population growth and consider babies a blight on mother nature. In a blog post from December 2009, I wrote about this very indoctrination going on wholesale in American colleges. This is an excerpt:

"Convince people that the earth is overpopulated and they will freely give up their right to reproduce; convince people that humanity is a parasite sucking life out of “mother earth” and they will rejoice when whole segments of this parasite are “eliminated” through holocaust, euthanasia, or abortion."

We reap what we sow. The only thing that is surprising is that more wackos indoctrinated in our schools haven't done something similar yet.

Lord and Thane

The relationship of the Christian to Christ is often portrayed as that of a servant to a master. The parallel is good and true, but for those who find the metaphor of slaves either stale or repellent, consider this description of old Germanic kings and their followers taken from The Norton Anthology of English Literature:

When a warrior vowed loyalty to his lord, he became not so much his servant as his voluntary companion, one who would take pride in defending him and fighting in his wars. In return, the lord was expected to take care of his thanes and to reward them richly for their valor; a good king, one like Hrothgar or Beowulf, is referred to by such poetic epithets as “ring-giver” and as the “helmet” and “shield” of his people (25).

Abrams, M.H. The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Major Authors 7th. ed. W.W.Norton and Co. 2001

Scrabble Update

Scrabble records are amazing. Guess what score a guy got with the word "quixotry?" Okay, okay, I'll tell you: 365. During the same game the carpenter who set this record also set the 830 point game record

Check out this article for a harrowing blow by blow of the game and the controversy around the amateur competitor who set these records in 2006 with a couple lucky "triple-triples" and a 239 point word like "flatfish."

The Fine Art of Making Up Scrabble Words

In the cut-throat world of Scrabble competition, having an edge on the competition can be the difference between spelling success and spelling failure. This edge can be gained one of two ways (not both):

1. By acquiring a large vocabulary.

2. By making up words and their definitions so adroitly that the other players accept them without protest.

Now I prefer the second method. The reasons are these: Acquiring a large vocabulary can take years of study; a typical Scrabble game does not. Also, the letters available may simply not fit the pattern of any known word. This is where the advantages of the second method may be seen: whatever letters are available can be used to create the words ex nihilo. (if you don't know what ex nihilo means just make up a definition that makes sense with the rest of the sentence, that's what I do when I see Latin phrases.) The few tips that follow on how to validate newly minted words can help you when your word is challenged by another player.

First, when challenged it is often good to ask the challenging player, with just a hint of shocked surprise in one's voice, if they have really never heard the word before. This will put them on the defensive and leave them wondering how they could have missed learning this word in 5^th grade vocabulary class. Then it is best to use the word in a sentence since using a word in a sentence immediately lends credibility to it. Sometimes this example is enough to quiet dissent since many people don't like to show their ignorance about something so seemingly self-evident.

Take, for example, one of my favorite Scrabble words: pinaforte (pronounced: pin-a-for-TAY). “You've never heard of a person's pinaforte bursting amid a multi-colored cloud of feathers?” If they continue to assert that they haven't, you should begin patiently explaining that a pinaforte is a large purse or handbag used by nobility during the Renaissance as a symbol of status. They were made by sewing together the feathers of brightly-colored birds, but sometimes the threads would break and the feathers separate from one another with an effect somewhat similar to a pillow bursting during a pillow-fight. Of course, you can make the description as elaborate as time and your audience allows by adding details of how the purses were lined with burlap so the feather ends wouldn't poke through or how the popularity of these bags contributed to feather mites infesting humans and the subsequent practice of both men and women of shaving their legs in an effort to get rid of the little bugs. This explains all those paintings of an effeminate king Louis with shaved legs. All of these little details make the word sound more authentic and usually your work is done.

If, however, your fellow players still resist the idea, and demand to see it in the dictionary you should be quick to lay hold of the dictionary before them. This will give you the chance of, first, complaining that the dictionary is a highly abridged American version that could hardly be expected to contain obsolete words of European origin; and second, you can begin looking up the word's “roots.” Looking up a word's “roots” can be one of the most difficult parts of the whole affair and could make or break it. The worst problem to be encountered is if your word has no likely “roots” in the dictionary and you must simply claim that, like the word “Google,” it just came into being around the year __A.D. when it was first recorded in the anonymous Medieval “Codex Deceivius.”

Luckily, with a word like “pinaforte” there are two easily imagined “roots:” “pina” and “forte.” “Pina” conjures up images of pineapples which are colorful and so could easily be compared to colorful South American bird feathers like those used to decorate the pinaforte bags. However, since South America wasn't discovered till after the Renaissance setting of the earlier definition you gave, it is best to dig a little deeper for a more convincing “root.” Quickly scanning the dictionary you notice that a “pinnacle” is part of a fortress or battlement. People put valuable things in a fortress; people also put valuable things in a purse. But better yet, you notice that the Latin root “pinna” actually means a feather. The word is bomb-proof now. All that is required is to show how “forte” (meaning strong or powerful) can apply to either the strong influence a person with a big purse can have or the metaphorical sense in which having a lot of money makes one feel safer as if one were protected by a “strong battlement,” the literal meaning of the two roots “pinna” and “forte.”

Of course, having made these “discoveries” you could go on ad nauseam (yep, means just what it sounds like) about the word's earlier meanings in ancient architecture dealing with castle fortifications, etc. But the case is made sufficiently for the other players to accept the word “pinaforte” as legitimate and return to the game. Any newly minted word can be handled in this way and such a lengthy argument as above may not always be necessary. Another favorite word of mine, “streth,” may need no more than to be used in a sentence to validate it. To “streth oneself with worry” is literally to “wear oneself ragged” with worry. Or again, to “streth one's mouth” is literally to wear it dry and hoarse with an overabundance of talk.

Well, I've almost strethed my fingertips to the bone from all this typing, so I think I'll leave the rest up to you. Next time you pack up your pinaforte bag for the trip over to a Scrabble tournament, be sure to carry with you these important tips about getting that winning edge. Let your next Scrabble game spell success.

Some Reflections On Bad Writing and Imperfect Churches

The artistic black and gilt designs flowing over the green cover of a volume published in 1869, led more than anything to my reading of Westbrook Parsonage. This appalling Christian romance novel by Harriet B. McKeever confirms the old warning not to judge a book by its cover. The writing was atrocious.

The ho-hum story follows the entire history of a family at Westbrook Parsonage. The plot (if it had one; I don't remember) was boring. I don't usually disparage writing styles—one monkey should not deride another monkey's fleas—but this was painful to read. Here is a specimen of the author's abrupt, present tense style (if style it can be called):

“Warren is impetuous and self-willed, daring in his nature... He is standing at the gate, with Alice, his darling pet: she is a beautiful child, with deep blue eyes, and a profusion of golden curls; she is a sparkling little girl, very fond of brother Warren, who is proud of his lovely sister.”

Imagine an entire book that goes on like that. The world would be a better place if some of those punctuation marks were omitted, a few periods substituted, and lastly, a wholesale alteration of tense and syntax were effected. The character's conversations are little better. They too are abrupt and and contain none of that small talk expected in a normal exchange. Take this artist's rendering of a typical dialogue:

Question. (Serious and troubled).

Answer. (Compassionate and fatherly).

Reply. (Relieved and at peace).

End of conversation. As can be seen, such dialogues are short and to the point.

As if this defect in writing were not enough, the heated defense of protestantism is enough to make one cringe. While it claims to defend Protestant freedom from Roman Catholic ritualism, what it really does is defend one type of ritualism from another type. I was rolling with laughter when one of the heroines asked where such popish formality was to be found—no, not in the Bible—in the Book of Common Prayer! After thus repeatedly invoking the authority of the Book of Common Prayer and Protestant church tradition (not Biblical tradition), I lost all remaining respect for the book.

Why did I waste time reading the entire thing? I have no idea. Sadistic curiosity I suppose. But here is the thing, this author, unknowingly, is a very great teacher. Looking at a long forgotten doctrinal conflict about ritual from a 150 years away can shed light on the dubious traditions of our own churches. McKeever has her fictional characters react to the obviously unspiritual practices of her time but is strangely blinded to her own extra-biblical additions to the faith. It is worth pondering what there is in our Christianity that is merely inanity and not Christ. Even though it looks different from 19^th century ritual, we are not exempt from extra-biblical tradition either. We may take pride in boasting we are not like Rome or like the unknowingly hypocritical characters in a 19^th century didactic novel, but have we really reached the true core of God-centered spirituality? We peal away and discard those things that it eventually becomes clear are absurd, but underneath? Like Eustuce the-boy-turned-dragon of C.S.Lewis's Narnia story, we may peal off dragon skin after dragon skin only to find a smaller version of the same dragon underneath. Only with the help of Aslan is it possible to get down to the real boy within and discard the heavy exterior that only gets in the way. But beware, his claws are sharp, and his clause is that we obey only him.

“See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ.” Col. 2:8

Writer's Block

I should be writing an essay right now. Needless to say, I'm not. The subject is Jean Jacques Rousseau's views on passion vs. reason. No, I don't have a clue how to write five to eight pages on this topic. I have begun by rereading some of his Confessions. What's this? It appears Rousseau himself struggled with putting words on paper. He admits, “My ideas arrange themselves in my head with almost incredible difficulty... Hence comes the extreme difficulty which I find in writing. My manuscripts, scratched, smeared, muddled and almost illegible, bear witness to the trouble they have cost me.” (671). Unable to sit down and write impromptu, he instead slowly mulled things over in his head, often for days. “I write in my brain; one may judge how slowly, especially in the case of a man utterly without verbal memory and who has never been able to learn six lines by heart in his life. Many of my periods have been turned and turned again five or six nights in my head before they were fit to be set down on paper” (672). Letters were even worse for Rousseau. He says that “such occupation is a perfect torture to me. I cannot write a letter on the most trifling subject, which does not cost me hours of fatigue” (672).

Well, I suppose I'm not alone after all. Still, if anyone has resources to recommend on Rousseau's flight from reason into the land of feelings, I still have a few more days before this paper is due. I'm tired of feeling like I can't write this and instead want a reason to hope I can write an intelligent essay.

Jean Jacques Rousseau, Confessions. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: 1650-1800: Volume D. Ed. Sarah Lawall and Maynard Mack. 2nd ed. W.W. Norton Company, 2002.

"An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered."

The '91 Chevy van has been just about everywhere in the time we've had it. But it is—in polite language—“over the hill” now. This was proved on our last little road trip. Gassing up in Ripon was where trouble first came knocking—literally. Accelerating away from the pump we were all startled to hear an ominous knocking sound coming from somewhere underneath the van. Despite fearful entreaties from the back seat not to get back on the freeway, we got back on the freeway. As we accelerated the knocking sound accelerated to a frantic staccato. Then, mysteriously, it stopped. Unfortunately, our knocking friend would come back with erratic constancy, like a blind beggar pounding the road after us with staff in hand, usually catching up with us at slow speeds or when we accelerated from a stop.

One theory propounded was that the passenger side trim around the wheel-wells and down the entire side of the van had somehow gotten loose and was flapping against the underside of the car. In fact, the trim had gotten loose and was feebly clinging in only a few places. But this did not account for the knocking sound; after jamming it back in place and continuing our drive: “tock... tock... tock, tock, tocktocktocktock."

At one point we parallel parked on a busy main-street and peered underneath the van (I say parked but, in fact, we watched and listened while moving the van back and forth between two empty spaces). Needless to say, this was a terrible place to diagnose a problem so we finally moved to an empty parking lot down the street to continue our investigation. We concluded it had something to do with the drive shaft. Since there was nothing to be done hundreds of miles from home we headed for I-5 once more. At the stoplight by the freeway on-ramp it became apparent that the fake chrome and rubber trim, loose since the beginning of the trip, had finally released its feeble hold for good and was trailing on the ground. Flicking out his Benchmade tactical folder, Matt leaped out into the intersection and slashed through the wayward appendage. He tossed the rubbery snake into the van and jumped in after it as the light turned green and we tocktocktocktocked through the intersection and onto the freeway.

All went well until our stop at Taco Bell some hours later. Here someone inadvertently pressed down on the passenger side window button while trying to lock the van. In most cars this is easily remedied but in a car where the window motor only goes one direction—namely down—this is more serious. Usually after waiting five or ten minutes it is possible to get it to go up a quarter inch and, with patience, eventually the window can be rolled up completely in this way. After about two hours, however, there was still a half inch crack blowing in cold night air.

We made it home in one piece. The journey over, we grabbed duffels, hopped out, and slammed doors. Wait, what's this? Why is the driver-side door rebounding open after being shut? Inviting us with sentient motion on another trip perhaps? Oh... I forgot: that door doesn't latch anymore.

Mere Christianity, Part 2: well, sort of

The somewhat longish gap in time since my last post was not intentional. In fact, I've had a draft just sitting in Blogger for nearly two weeks now. After writing it, however, I decided not to post it immediately. Something didn't seem quite right. Since then it has seemed to me more and more uncharitable. Besides, it was on the free-will controversy which can't really be treated in 3 or 4 hundred words! Interestingly enough though, Calvinism has come up a lot during the time I've been considering what to do with what I wrote. Anyway, what first got me going was reading (as the title of this post suggests) Mere Christianity. It shouldn't do any harm to quote the passage that was meant to be at the heart of the post that was meant to be in place of this one that was meant to be posted days ago, in which I meant to rebut the Calvinist argument against freewill, but, alas, it was not meant to be. I hope you have the means to see what I mean.

I leave you with C.S.Lewis on freewill:

Free will is what has made evil possible... though it makes evil possible it is also the only thing that makes possible any love or goodness or joy worth having. A world of automata—of creatures that worked like machines—would hardly be worth creating. The happiness which God designs for His higher creatures is the happiness of being freely, voluntarily united to him and to each other in an ecstasy of love and delight... And for that they must be free (48).

Lewis, C.S. Mere Christianity. HarperSanFrancisco, HarperCollins Publishers, 2001

The Greeks Seek After Wisdom; Americans Seek After...What?

Although I was generally unfavorable impressed with the novel Lucky Jim, something did catch my attention because it addresses education and choosing a profession, two things that I (and hopefully some other college students) have given passing thought to. Kingsley Amis, a British novelist and acquaintance of C.S.Lewis, has his protagonist, Dixon, receive a question from a colleague about why he got a job teaching medieval history. Dixon candidly answers:

the reason I'm a medievalist, as you call it, is that the medieval papers were a soft option in the Leicester course so I specialized in them. Then when I applied for the job here I naturally made a big point of that because it looked better to seem interested in something specific. It's why I got the job instead of that clever boy from Oxford... Haven't you noticed how we all specialize in what we hate most? (35).

I wonder how many students today major in psychology or cultural studies and so on, for the same reason. Of course, for them the chance of getting a job in such a field is slim, even if they wanted one. If it is not for the disinterested love of learning and it is not for a job in the particular major they choose, what is it people go to college for? The Greeks sought after knowledge for the sake of knowledge alone or to make themselves better, more virtuous citizens. In later times, more pragmatic people have wanted knowledge of certain skills and information to better them in their career. Many in the halls of learning today do not seem to fall into either class, in fact, they just seem to have fallen into class out of the sky. I wonder how many people with regard to learning say in unison with Dixon: "you don't think I take all that stuff seriously, do you?" (34).

Confession: To be honest, I don't really know why I'm in class either. Isn't it easy to condemn in others the very faults we ourselves have?

Amis, Kingsley. Lucky Jim. The Viking Press, 28th. printing 1973

If Your Day's Too Bright, Read the Paper

I was reading letters to the editor in the local paper (something I do about once a week to remind myself how depressing things are "out there") and came across one in Tuesday's Record Searchlight that astonished me. No, it was not that the fellow was defending homosexuality, but that he rejected the idea of any objective or knowable truth. He stated that "my truth is my truth, and your truth is your truth." I would like to know if this statement is universally true or is it just his opinion? If it is always true for everyone then we just stumbled upon the living corpse of an absolute truth that he believed was dead. If, after all, it is just "your truth" then I see no reason to believe it and will continue to believe "my truth," that, indeed, there are universal certainties in the physical and moral order. If this were a letter to the editor I would conclude with:
Yours truly,
Brian

An Experiment in Blogging

Reading Lewis’s Experiment in Criticism has made me realize that I have not, hitherto, given much thought to the purpose of this blog. It is, quite simply, for fun. That is, I like reading and occasionally writing about authors that have been largely forgotten by a television entertained culture. I can only pretend to be an authority, however, and cannot even deceive myself when it comes to evaluating anything critically. To plagiarize the words of C.S.Lewis (from one of his theological books and not, of course, referring to literature): “I write for the unlearned about things in which I am unlearned myself.”

My aim has never been to exhaustively analyze a book but only to discriminatingly comment on whatever I particularly like or (more seldom) dislike, or for that matter, anything that remotely interests me. In An Experiment in Criticism Lewis perceptively remarks that an obligation to review a book may hinder the reviewer’s ability to soak it in and enjoy it for its own sake. I don’t want this to happen to me. Since I started this blog there have already been books I have had nothing worth saying about even after racking my mind. Rather than stress over something to say I see now it would be better to forget writing about, and simply enjoy reading that book. Granted, this determination could translate into fewer posts in the future but hopefully of a better quality. (The current dearth of posts is due to the somewhat extraordinary occurrence of a weekend camp out, a six-day backpack trip, and another weekend out of town).

I am not recommending a book just because I post about it. Some of the books I have written about have very little in their favor and numerous flaws both artistically and morally. I am “concerned far more with describing books than with judging them” (Experiment 122). Chretien De Troyes, whom I reviewed a few months ago, is a case in point. Maybe the original French verse is better but my prose translation is awful: Repetitious, descriptive to the point of boredom, totally unlifelike, and no reason or motive for many of the actions taken. Morally it was just as bad, as anyone acquainted with the adulterous tale of Lancelot knows. Yet it was interesting in its odd little way and I enjoyed parts of it. Would I recommend it? No way. (And besides, who in their right mind would take such a recommendation!)

One reason I write is because I have not yet found another blog entirely devoted to mining for the same literary and philosophical ore that I am in search of. There are scholarly blogs and “summer reading” reviews and religious blogs and history blogs but non which occasionally touch on the deeper issues raised by famous literature without sounding like they are written by a Ph.D. (i.e.: boring and incomprehensible). I would much rather hear someone else’s thoughts on the kinds of books I like but as C.S.Lewis is reputed to have said to Tolkien: “Tollers, there is too little of what we really like in stories [or blogs]. I am afraid we shall have to write some ourselves” (On Stories xvii).

And hearing other thoughts raises another point: feel free to comment. There is nothing like dialogue to stimulate thinking. Agree, disagree, tell me what you think about a book, ask a question, or whatever. Just try to keep it on topic and keep it decent.

Lewis, C.S. An Experiment in Criticism. Cambridge U.K. Cambridge University Press, eleventh Canto edition. 2006
Lewis, C.S. On Stories and Other Essays on Literature. Harcourt, inc. 1982

Prince Caspian

Trying to keep in mind that this is book blog, I will limit myself to just a few desultory comments on Prince Caspian the movie to begin with, while otherwise attempting to keep Lewis’s incomparable original at the center of attention.

• Susan is pretty cool with her Legolesqe archery showdown in the woods but Lucy is cooler facing the entire Telmarine army on the bridge with her little dagger.

• I can hardly wait till Reepicheep takes the stage in Dawn Treader.

• Was the Bulgy Bear sucking his thumb during the dual or not?

I felt that the movie tried too had to be serious; to “talk like a grown up.” There is nothing wrong, in general, with trying to make a plot more plausible by, say, developing themes of Hamlet like revenge on an evil uncle, or a tense exploration of pride and its consequences in Peter, but these elements are simply not in Lewis’s original. And it was a conscious choice, not the deficiency of a shallow author writing for children because he could not delineate character or make a solid plot. In Lewis’s essay entitled: “Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to Be Said,” he describes the creation of the Chronicles of Narnia and why they were written as Fairy Tales (not “children’s stories” by the way):

“As these images sorted themselves out (i.e. became a story) they seemed to demand no love interest and no close psychology. But the Form which excludes these things is the Fairy Tale. And the moment I thought of that I fell in love with the form itself: its brevity, its severe restraints on description, its flexible traditionalism, its inflexible hostility to all analysis, digression, reflections and “gas.” I was now enamoured of it. Its very limitations of vocabulary became an attraction; as the hardness of the stone pleases the sculptor, or the difficulty of the sonnet delights the sonneteer” (On Stories 46-47).

Fairy Tales then, by their nature, avoid much of the dullness and description of the novel form and can focus on, in Lewis’s words, “the stuff I had to say” (On Stories 47).

One of these focal points in Prince Caspian is the importance of obedience. I was gratified to see this theme carried over into the movie, although it takes Peter much longer to learn his lesson (Potentially reinforcing the point by showing the consequences of trying to take charge, or, on the other hand, sullying a noble character from the book).

For me, the central image in the book is of Lucy wandering through the half-waking woods to find Aslan. This is one of my favorite passages in all literature and the movie (or any movie, I fear) could not do justice to the beauty of Lewis’s portrayal. When Lucy finally does reach Aslan, the image is vivid to the imagination and powerful by showing Aslan’s fatherly, playful, commanding love.

“The lion looked straight into her eyes.”

“‘Oh, Aslan,’” said Lucy. “‘You don’t mean it was? How could I—I couldn’t have left the others and come up to you alone, how could I? Don’t look at me like that…oh well, I suppose I could. Yes, and it would not have been alone, I know, not if I was with you”(Caspian 137).

On an Allegorical level this scene is about more than just obedience. Two that immediately struck me (well, they didn’t actually try to assault me) were the nature of God (in Aslan) and evangelism (“Go wake the others and tell them to follow”). Undoubtedly there are more just as there are more throughout the book.

I have to record one exchange in the movie that I don’t recall in the book. It too can be taken as an allegory by those (we’re all in need of it from time to time) who are overly caught up in plans, programs, and pride. When the voice of faith interrupts our grand plans and we frustrated say: “haven’t you been listening, Lucy?” She answers back: “No, you haven’t been listening! Have you forgotten who it was that really defeated the White Witch?” The answer is, of course, Aslan. It is as if Lucy had repeated: “not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, sayeth the Lord.”

Lewis, C.S. On Stories: and Other Essay On Literature. Harcourt, Inc. 1982.

Lewis, C.S. Prince Caspian. Collier books, New York, twenty first printing, 1978.

Too Much Work For Words

Blogging is slow right now because life is fast right now. Lots of work and lots of homework. when I was not doing these two things I was training for a mountain bike race at that time between dinner and dusk when bloggers creep to their computers and sit huddled over the keys trying to unlock the secrets of words.

I sometimes feel I have not been doing much reading either but this, I know, is not the case. I have been reading, just not the books I want to read. Poetry, 20th. century short stories, and now, drama, are the fare I am being force fed in English 1B. I thought about posting my poetry paper, but it's boring and dry; then I hoped to post my short fiction comparison and contrast paper, but reasoned nobody wants to read about feminist literature. Yes, you read that right: feminist literature. The fan of dead white guys is now reading the likes of Alice Walker. But never fear, dead white guys still rock!

In a few weeks college will be out for summer and then I can get back to pursuing my education.

Great Authors of the Past

When a writer cuts out all the superfluous details and stays fixed on what he really wants to say, then you know a master is at work. So consider this passage from Chretien De Troyes, a 12th. century Frenchman writing about Arthur and the Round Table. "The Vavasor [a baron's vassal with tenets under him] summons his wife and his beautiful daughter, who were busy in a work room--doing I know not what." Here, rather than tediously trying to describe their labor of sewing or spinning or cooking--whatever it was--the author quite honestly claims ignorance, saying simply: "doing I know not what." Instead he mentions the important thing, namely, that the daughter is beautiful.

Notice how the mother is not described. She is mentioned in the next sentence as "coming out with her daughter," after that she is completely dropped from the narrative. Not so the "beautiful daughter," the next 17 sentences are devoted to describing her personal appearance.

Well, maybe there is a reason people don't write like the classic authors anymore.

Introduction

It is only fair to warn people what a blog is going to be about. This one is about books and authors and stories. Since learning to read I have liked few things better than sprawling on my bed with a good story. Only lately have I begun to wonder what makes a story good.

This curiosity may be due to a recent (2-3 years) interest in books that in G. K. Chesterton's phrase: "wrestle with ideas naked, as it were, and not dressed up in a masquerade as men and women." Just like Alice in Wonderland who asked what good a book without pictures is, so I used to ask what good a book without a story is. Though I still think fiction is superior to non-fiction in almost every way, I am learning to appreciate (yes, even enjoy) non-fiction, especially apologetics, history, and essays on anything (or nothing).

I debated whether to describe the books I read as "old." Those who consider the Lord of the Rings as "old" will have no problem with that description; those who, like Tolkien, consider everything after Chaucer in the 14th. century as "modern," will laugh at me and you. Of course, I hope to read more medieval and classical literature before too long, but right now I have a host of newer-ish authors clamoring for my attention and trying to jump off the bookshelf every time I walk past.

My plan (so far as I have one) is to post about once a week on the book I am currently reading. Hopefully a brief synopsis and then an analysis (big word!) of the main point or philosophy. If plan A sometimes doesn't work, plan B might be a quote, an idea, or an old truth seen in a new way; or anything from my reading that seems worth passing on.