It seems that I have slowed down my reading, but this is not true. I have slowed down my writing about said reading. I have slowed down my writing about everything, actually: Independent Clauses has been painfully slow, this here blog has been at a dead stop, Peter C. Myers is about to kill me for not working on Sangtera, and I haven’t written a song in months. I’ve been keeping Gospelized moving at a fairly regular clip, but even that has been subject to some stumbles.

There are decent reasons for this pause in productivity (health issues, logistical problems, emotional exhaustion, etc.), but God is working the problems out. I’m standing around and watching, honestly. I haven’t had the energy to do much more than trust that God’s going to be God and do what is best. That takes a considerable amount of energy, lest you scoff.

I have, however, started a new fiction project. Having gotten The Greater Clothes Exchange of the Universe stuck at a major plot point of which I can’t currently solve, I’ve tabled it along with The Last Unicorns on Earth (if they’re in the same place as my abandoned short story ideas, they’re having quite a crowded rave party, I must say). Never fear, though; this new fiction project has a beginning, middle and end. It may end up being a novella, but nevertheless I am confident that the existence of an outline will help see it through to completion. I am also going to write it as quickly as possible so that I am not burned out when the editing process hits. I am not really sure how fast is “as fast as possible,” but I’ll keep the news flowing. The working title is “The Fire Administration Company.”

I’m hitting a bunch of concerts this fall: I have my tickets for Sufjan Stevens (DAL) and the Mountain Goats (OKC) already, I’m planning on buying tickets for Mumford and Sons in Dallas November 4th, and I’m debating going down for the Tallest Man on Earth on September 17 and Avett Brothers in OKC sometime. I’ve seen the Avetts twice, so that one isn’t a huge concern for me; but if there’s a good party of people going, I could easily be enticed to see them jump around with a banjo and a double bass.

Opolis also has a mega-awesome slate of shows for fall, and I’m sure I’ll hit the Appleseed Cast, among other shows.

Sufjan’s new EP is strange and wonderful. Arcade Fire’s new album tries hard to be epic and mostly succeeds. Tokyo Police Club’s Champ is still a bunch of pensive guys trying endearingly to be energetic.  Fall music is just around the corner, which means I’ll be busting out Damien Jurado’s Rehearsals for Departure a lot more than I have in the past eight months.

And with that, the dark comes earlier and earlier, which is where the middle third of today’s far-too-long title comes from. I dislike that, but I like the temperatures it brings. Can I have long days of cold weather? Do I have to go the Arctic Circle for this? Or does this happen in Canada somewhere?

But despite my relation to sea travel, I unabashedly love The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. It has all of the perks of real adventuring (dragons! magic! treasure! the far edge of the world!) and none of the boredom (the twelve days between each landing are dismissed with a line or two each). And my, what adventures!

I fear for the movie that is about to come out. This book has so many little adventures crammed into it that in a less than expert hand, it will feel incredibly disjointed. Lewis’ hand is expert, of course, and he sets us through isles and countries unknown with ease and joy.

The Reepicheep I loved from Prince Caspian makes a return as a rather large player, much to my delight. The new character of Eustace Scrubb appears, and as I love conversion stories, he quickly became a favorite of mine. Lucy and Edmund are not as large players as I would have expected; I used to think that they were main characters, but it seems that C.S. Lewis’ world is the main character. I suppose that’s why it’s the Chronicles of Narnia and not the Pevensie Chronicles.

I loved the adventure with the dragon, as well as the deathwater. But the thing that most made an impact on me was their journey to the very edge of the world.  Lewis describes the edge of their world in such clarity that it is hard to imagine anything but exactly the brightness he explained.

It is a beautiful, glorious chapter that ends the book; I have never felt quite the same while reading a chapter. I felt as if I were on the little boat headed out; I did not know what they would find, just as they did not. It was incredibly compelling, but not in a heart-pounding way.  It was more in a spirit-gripping way; I saw and heard in my mind so clearly what Lewis was telling us that I actually felt emotions I might have felt as if I were there.

I was overwhelmed at the end of this book; I had to get up and go outside for a breath of fresh air. This book is powerful. While it is not my favorite in terms of story, it is easily the one that resonates the most with me, and the most with my spiritual life. For Lewis is clearly describing a spiritual journey; as an Anglican, he may have thought that this was the journey through the afterlife to the final resting place. Or maybe he thought it was a Christian life. Either way, I felt a journey rise up in my soul, and I felt more strong to walk the path after reading it.

This is powerful stuff. I know I said it earlier, but it bears repeating. Out of all the books I’ve read in this series so far, this was the most gripping. I get worked up just thinking about it, much less writing about it. Definitely goes number two on my list, right after Prince Caspian. Oh, that I may someday write this well! Oh, that God would grant me such mercy and joy to my soul.

And I do try to make my dreams happen. The evidence is scattered about the interwebs and about my room in my house; instruments, old magazines I’ve made or been a part of, books, journals, manuscripts (mine and friends’), lyrics, jobs at various websites, etc. etc.

But sometimes dreams come tumbling down. They just do; we don’t live in heaven yet.

And that’s where Live What You Love comes in. Live What You Love isn’t a self-help book. It isn’t a memoir, either. It’s both of those, plus a bit of kick in the pants. It’s vignettes from the crazy life of Bob and Melinda Blanchard, who have indulged every crazy business idea and life change that they thought they could reasonably sustain and ended up with a lifetime of crazy stories to show for it. They split their time between Anguilla (in the Caribbean) and Vermont, running businesses galore all over several countries (!). It seems totally ridiculous.

But reading their vignettes and their thoughtful musings on their life story, they break it down into manageable chunks. They didn’t end up dual citizens running businesses in two countries in one fell swoop; they did it piece by piece, never anticipating the next piece until the current one was down. They were crazy ideas that they were doing piece by piece, but they were doing them piece by piece.

It is the ultimate dreamer’s guide. Not only a “how you can do this” book, it’s a “you can do this; we did it, why can’t you?” They don’t seem any different than me; they simply seem willing to risk stuff for the sake of doing what they love. I’m pretty willing to do that too. I just need to get off my duff and start making decisions. And I am. And it’s good. And I feel like I’m moving.

Even though this book is five years old (I found it in a clearance bin, sorry to say; it’s worth so much more than that!!), I highly recommend it. Definitely gave me a sense of wonder about life that I had sorely been missing, thinking my time for dreams had passed. They prove that the time for dreams is always. And if you don’t see that, you simply need a little push to prove it. Ah! So good.

But I definitely agree with the thoughts in Dug Down Deep, which I just read. Being seven years removed from the book that put him on the map, he has grown up into a marriage, a pastorate and a theology, the last of which is the main thrust of this book.

It’s not specifically his theology that he is espousing, although it does form the basis of this book. He does, in Joshua Harris style, lay down what he feels is the law. But the subtitle of the book (“Unearthing What I Believe and Why It Matters”) was just as important to the takeaway value as was the thoroughly reformed theology.

As I have spent a good deal of time pondering my personal theology (and ending up with a “theology of everything”), I found much of this book to be gentle reminders as opposed to earth-shattering revelations. J.I. Packer this is not. But it is a very good introduction to developing a personal theology for people who have not spent much time addressing in their own minds how God looks to them.

I was particularly amused at a very Donald Miller-esque section where he drew pictures and subtitled them. He alludes to Miller several times in the book as a friend, and I think that his association with Miller has made him more of a writer that I can get behind (I like all of Miller’s work that I have read, although I am significantly behind, for its conversational style).

As a result of this, my favorite chapter was the final one, in which he espouses a “humble orthodoxy” as a proper one. He relates the story of Miller getting pounded by people who “cared about doctrine” in very unloving ways. It was very comforting to me to see a man very concerned about the truth but also defending Miller, and, by extension, artists in general. I felt much more allied with him in his thoughts, knowing that he genuinely loves people and wants to use the truth for good and not arrogance.

In the light of the last chapter, the rest of the book took on a much kinder tone. I may actually read parts of it again with my new outlook.

I thoroughly endorse Dug Down Deep, even if I disagree with minor theological points therein. The call for people to find out what they believe and then minister that with grace is a call that needs many more supporters and practitioners. Highly recommended.

Prince Caspian combines all of my favorite things about fantasy into one: wonderful characters, palace intrigue, epic quests, total defeats of the enemy and Aslan. Add C.S. Lewis’s ever-swift prose onto that and this book is incredible.

I have come to love the Pevensies, so seeing them go on another adventure was wonderful. If they were people I would like to befriend them; this is the power of Lewis’ characterization. It is especially commendable because he fleshes them out thoroughly in an economy of words.

He does an even greater job of endearing us to a new character: Reepicheep. I can see why Lucy longs to hold and pet him: he is everything right and good about characters. His unswerving hold to honor, his enormous bravery, and love for his posse of mice simply make him a fantastic character.  His presence throughout this tale (and the next!) improves the stories significantly.

Prince Caspian, although not as well fleshed out, is the spearhead of the quest. The plot of this one is really simple (Get to the Table!!!!), but Lewis fills it with enough twists and turns to make it move along.

The plot is not his strongest plot, but his descriptions of the world are some of his strongest yet, painting vivid pictures of sentient trees, wild Maenad dances, canyons, mountains and more. I am thoroughly excited to see the film version, which I have not yet watched (I wanted to read the book again first).

As to theological leanings, I enjoyed that Aslan relies so heavily on the youngest Pevensie to communicate. God does indeed choose the weak of this world to shame the strong, and he showed this theological truth in a wonderful way.

I was genuinely sad when Peter and Susan were told they weren’t coming back.

Again, Prince Caspian is one of, if not my outright, favorites thus far. So many things about the book just thrilled me.

In fact, (spoiler alert) Aravis and Shasta never make it to Narnia. The journey has vastly different adventures and outcomes than they could have expected. The only one who knew what was happening was Aslan, who guided them the entire way.

This, I think, was the point of analogy that Lewis was trying to get across in The Horse and His Boy. Shasta, a slave/peasant Calormene, is what Paul would call a gentile. Aravis is an escapee for selfish reasons. Their steeds are excessively prideful and frustratingly timid, respectively. In short, their little party is a complete mess. Yet Aslan takes it upon himself to guide the group (albeit in terrifying ways) through the wilderness to the salvation of an entire country (one that isn’t Narnia, at that!). God works through whomever he wills to do whatever he wills, no matter what. That undeserved merit and favor is exactly the gospel. Oh, that we understand the grace of what we have!

The fact that magic plays little or no role in the story is a bit disorienting; the lack of Narnia is quite unusual at this point. I don’t know, given the chance to be the author, if I would have included it in the Chronicles of Narnia. But the story is excellent; as always, Lewis’ plotting is fast-paced and intuitive. And even though it felt like a halftime or a side quest before getting back into the meat of Narnia’s story, I enjoyed it because of that masterful plotting (not to mention the gleeful asides I noted in the last essay, which are back in abundance). Not near as much as the first two, but I still enjoyed it.

C.S. Lewis loved writing this book. It shows through every aspect of it, from the wide-eyed dialogue of the characters to the fond characterization of even the most evil of characters to the gleeful asides (“And oh, the cry of the seagulls! Have you heard it? Can you remember?” from chapter 17, for example). And when something is so clearly beloved, it is that much easier to love. Even the lowest, darkest moments have a warm, oft-told feel given by the gentle narration.

The fact that he’s able to distill that feeling without the reader feeling patronized is incredible. His storytelling style is so simple and direct that it feels like I’m sitting at the feet of Grandpa Jack as he tells me a bedtime story. This is the feeling that many children’s authors want to capture but do not. I feel that it is directly tied to Lewis’ intense enjoyment of the story himself.

The joy I derived from this go-round of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe came from breathing in the sheer glee of its writing. Lewis was passionate about the overall scope of the work and the little details, and it still shows, years later. May I have that passion come through in my own writing!

Onward to The Horse and His Boy!

One of my main displeasures with high fantasy is that it’s all so serious (the Joker has a thing or two to say about this). It doesn’t have any heart; it’s political, daring, adventurous and sterile. Also, I will not read a book that has a dragon on the cover. If you want to recommend one to me (cause “it’s so gooooood!“), rip the cover off and hand it to me. Thanks.

Warbreaker dispenses with this nonsense by having one of the four main characters be skeptical of the entire conceit of the book. Lightsong the Bold, a “god” who doesn’t believe he’s a god, thinks that everything in his world (and thus, the whole book) is patently ridiculous. His wicked humor brings a breath of fresh air to what could have been just another political intrigue fantasy novel.

Even without Lightsong, Sanderson probably would have avoided sterility by his deft characterization. I feel like the words “deft” and “characterization” go together, so I did that for you. Here’s what I mean: I like the people I’m supposed to like and hate the people I’m supposed to hate. And when characters move from one camp to the other, I don’t think twice about turning hate into love and love into hate. I mean, the character wasn’t telling the truth! Why should I like him anymore?!

The storyline does get a bit confusing toward the end, as he pulls off a mega twist.  It’s the sort of twist that you didn’t see coming, but only because it was barely referenced throughout the book. I didn’t feel cheated, but I also had to reread pages several times to figure out where allegiances lay. It took away from the page-turning suspense to have to keep page-turning backwards.

As my favorite things in fiction are characters and suspense, I loved Warbreaker. Sanderson delivers them in spades. Fans of world creation should be pleased as well; the world is so fully developed that I see it nigh on impossible that Sanderson let it go (and he does leave the tiniest sliver of hope for a sequel on the last page). It’s a fascinating, clever and uniquely invented world; one that I won’t ruin by attempting to explain.

It’s worth the time, and as it’s only one book, it’s definitely not as big a time outlay as most fantasy books/series. Get it. Read it. Love it.

Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson (half-done)

The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis

Cliffs Notes on the Greek Classics

Authentic Faith, Authenthic God Illuminate (Western Washington University Campus Christian Fellowship Literary Magazine 2010) (what a mouthful)

Latest edition of Rolling Stone

The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (quarter of the way through, and the copy is courtesy of my brother)

The Confessions of St Augustine (which is incredibly heavy reading)

Dug Down Deep by Joshua Harris (which I only have two chapters left in)

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (halfway through)

Bob Marley: The Untold Story by Chris Salewicz (I may or may not get through this book, as I’m not a big reggae fan)

Dark Harbor by Nathan Ward (a history of organized crime on the New York Docks in the forties and fifties; looks fascinating)

Well, time to get on it.

I aim to fix this. I read the first Twilight book, and I just finished reading The Magician’s Nephew, which is the first book in the Chronicles of Narnia. I have the first Harry Potter book over there on the pile. I am sure I will borrow the Lord of the Rings books as needed.

But as I finish reading all these books (or, as I feel led, individual chunks or chapters), I will post my thoughts on them. I fully acknowledge that I am far behind in my media intake; my roommate, his girlfriend and I are about to set on a quest to watch all of Lost, now that it’s over. I am really far behind. But I aim to catch up, and to keep you all amused along the way.

I read the Chronicles of Narnia when I was very little; early enough in my life that I remember nothing except The Last Battle. I did not know that The Magician’s Nephew was intended to be the first in the series. It makes sense that it is, as it is the creation of Narnia.

I marvel at C.S. Lewis’ straightforward prose.  He writes in a truly conversational style; I feel like Jack is telling me a story while we sit around a crackling fire and smoke pipes. His delightful asides and refusal to draw out scenes (which is, conversely, one of the things I love about Brandon Sanderson, whose Warbreaker I am enjoying right now) endear me to his writing style and his stories. The Magician’s Nephew is not a stressful story, even though bad things happen in it. It a marvelous wonder of a thing; a set of events portrayed with little cooked-up drama in language that lifts my soul.

I got shivers when I read the lines where Aslan yells to Fledge “Be the father of all winged horses!” Out of context, it makes little sense and does not induce goosebumps. But in context, it is a wondrous moment; it inspires the imagination to hope on our own God saying such mighty and glorious things to us. We all long for a great purpose, and to see a simple carriage horse redeemed into the father of all winged horses strikes a chord in my soul.

That is the power of The Magician’s Nephew; it takes simple words and crafts them into a simple story that simply moves me. The only argument I have with the piece is something that I praised earlier; several scenes felt like they could have been longer without detracting from the flow of the novel; I would have liked to see the journey to the tree in the far-off lands take longer and have more difficulty. But the moment of truth when Digory decides against eating the apple still has sufficient tension to make me read faster. So even in that argument, there is a counter-argument that C.S. Lewis knew what he was doing in what he chose to do.

In short, I was awed by the concise and distinct power that The Magician’s Nephew possesses. I sighed every time I had to put it down until I finished it. It is easy to see that this book was a product of his later prose of this series rather than his early prose, which is displayed thoroughly in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, which is the next book I’m going to read for “Uh, I read that already.”

The Magician’s Nephew: Read it right stinkin’ now. It will stoke the embers in your soul, no matter how near-death or raging those embers might be at the moment.