I am involved in a conspiracy to turn a fourteen year old young friend of mine into a reader. He is a pleasant and intelligent young man, but he does not read books. He can read, but he doesn’t. I like this young friend and think he should be reading more than the occasional street sign, menu or assigned reading for English class.
So do any of my bright blog visitors have any suggestions on how to trick, cajole, or persuade my friend to begin the wonderful adventure of reading?
“While modern Darwinists may wince, eugenics clearly drew inspiration from Darwin’s theory. In fact, Galton was Darwin’s cousin. He took evolutionary theory seriously, arguing persuasively that hospitals, mental institutions and social welfare all violate the law of natural selection. These institutions preserve the weak at the expense of the gene pool. In the wild, such people would die off naturally, thus keeping the human race strong. As Darwin himself declared in ‘The Descent of Man,’ ‘No one who has attended to the breeding of domestic animals will doubt that this has been highly injurious to the race of man. … Hardly anyone is so ignorant as to allow his worst animals to breed.'”
And so as we continue as a nation to debate the ethics and efficacy of embryonic stem cell research, it might pay to remember the history of the eugenics movement. Read here for a reminder of what can happen when we decide that some people are dispensable and not worth perpetuating or even living.
Johanna Spyri, b. 1827. I have found birthdates of April 12, June 12, and July 12, all in 1827, for this author of the beautiful story Heidi. Take your pick, but read Heidi. It’s a wonderful story about a feisty little girl, Heidi, and her friend Peter and how they are tempted to do wrong, confused about spiritual things, and finally loved and forgiven. The themes of the story—broken relationships, reconciliation, forgiveness, sin and temptation–are woven into the story in a way that teaches and entertains at the same time. Modern writers of “Christian fiction” could learn a few things from reading and emulating Johanna Spyri’s classic book.
Henry Clay, b. 1877. He ran for president and was defeated three times. Always a bridesmaid . . .
Hardie Gramatky, b. 1907. Author of Hercules: The Story of an Old-Fashioned Fire Engine and Little Toot.
Beverly Cleary, b. 1916, is 91 years old today, and the celebration includes D.E.A.R. Day. Do all you children’s literature aficionados know what D.E.A.R. stands for? Have you D.E.A.R.-ed today?
Three separate blurbs in the front of my paperback copy of The Gates of the Alamo by Stephen Harrigan compare Harrigan’s Alamo epic to Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove and to other tales of Texas by Mr. McMurtry. The comparison occurred to me independently, too, but I thought Mr. Harrigan’s novel was much better than the portion of Lonesome Dove I managed to struggle through a couple of months ago.
In fact, even though The Gates of the Alamo is obviously designed to appeal to the mostly male fans of historical war sagas and even though I could have done without some of the violence and crude behavior of some of the characters, I read the book in two days, absorbed in the narrative, the characters, and the history.
Mr. Harrigan says in his author’s note at the end of the book that he “made a pledge of absolute fidelity to the truth of the events.” He goes on to say: “That is a naive pledge, though, as any historian will tell you.”
The Alamo is to Texans what Gettysburg is to unreconstructed Confederates —sacred ground, a loss that became a victory, full of mysterious significance, a mythology not to be tampered with or revised. Mr. Harrigan’s book both tampers and revises, but as a die-hard Texican I was fascinated by the new perspectives on the story and characters of the Alamo myth, not offended or disturbed. If you’re a big fan of Sam Houston, you may want to skip The Gates of the Alamo. Harrigan’s Sam Houston is a drunkard (true) with imperial dreams of taking Texas as his own fiefdom. (I’m not so sure about Houston’s being such a grandiose blowhard who won at San Jacinto by luck, but I’m willing to grant that Mr. Harrigan has done more research on the subject than I have.) Travis and Bowie don’t come off as unadulteraed heroes either, although both, as portrayed by harrigan, have more redeeming features than does Houston. Davy Crockett, always the consummate politician even in Texas, seems to be Harrigan’s favorite of the Texian heroes.
Texas history buffs, those who enjoy war stories and Westerns, and probably all those McMurtry fans out there, will be entertained and informed by The Gates of the Alamo. The fictional characters, Edmund McGowan, a botanist who has devoted his life to the study of Texas flora and fauna, and Marry Mott, a widowed innkeeper with an obdurate and unquenchable character, weave themselves into the saga of the Alamo and the beginning of the Texas Republic as seamlessly as if they had really been there. Mr. Harrigan also presents fictional and true characters on the Mexican side of the battle who give the narrative a balanced and well-rounded panorama that is more satisfying and illuminating than a one-sided account would be. (I still can’t work up any sympathy or justification for Santa Anna, the Mesican general and dictator. He’s just a villain.)
The Alamo fell on March 6, 1836. I read The Gates of the Alamo the first week in March of this year, 2007, one hundred seventy-one years later. It was a good way to “remember the Alamo.”
If you come to Semicolon to read book reviews, you have a right to know what my standards are for judging a book. Sometimes I just don’t care for a book; the author and I just don’t mesh or it was a bad day for me. If so, I usually say so in my post on the book. Sometimes I really like a book that I know might be offensive to other people; if so, I try to remember to mention the parts that might be offensive so that readers can be forewarned. Sometimes I read a book that I hate for reasons that I am willing to share in print here; if so, I state my reasons as plainly as I can.
I read books that have profanity, vulgarity, sexual content, and violence. I think some of these books are excellent, vividly portraying the human condition and our need for God’s mercy. As many people have pointed out, the Bible tells stories about people who were profane, vulgar, sexually immoral, and violent.
I don’t like books that contain pervasive profanity and/or vulgarity, graphic, detailed sexual descriptions, or lurid, gratuitous violence. And I don’t like books that try to make sin and degradation, however graphically described, seem exciting, fulfilling, and joyous. Enjoyable, yes, sin is usually pleasureable for a season. But adultery and promiscuity do not lead to joy and happiness in this world or the next, and violence is wrong and awful, even if you believe (as I do) that it is sometimes necessary.
“Do not be deceived, whatever a man sows, he will reap.” Books that depict characters who “sow” rebellion and sexual sin and violence and “reap” happiness, peace, and joy are simply untrue. And their authors do a disservice to their own talent and to readers in writing such books. Oscar Wilde said famously that there is no such thing as an immoral book, only a badly written one. However, Oscar Wilde, who was quite witty and often quite immoral himself, was wrong in this instance. Books that deceive and tell lies and portray evil as good and good as evil are immoral —and badly written, too, no matter how skillfully their authors may use words and phrases and elements of prose to create that effect. In fact the more skillful the author is in manipulating words and ideas, the more harm he can do when he sets out to serve a lie instead of the truth.
So one of my standards is that I like books that tell the truth. If I think a book is lying, I’ll say so.
William Hazlitt, b. 1778. Journalist, essayist, Shakespearean scholar. He wrote many books, including Characters of Shakespeare and A View of the English Stage.
“If we wish to know the force of human genius, we should read Shakespeare. If we wish to see the insignificance of human learning, we may study his commentators.”
Matthew Calbraith Perry, b. 1794. US Navy commodore who negotiated the first treaty between the United States and Japan in 1854. The 1986 Newbery Honor book, Commodore Perry in the land of the Shogun by Rhoda Blumberg, is a great introduction to this historical episode.
Lew Wallace, b. 1827. Civil War general, Governor of New Mexico Territory, Ambassador to Turkey, and author of Ben Hur: A Tale of the Christ.
Third paragraph of Ben Hur: “Judged by his appearance, he was quite forty-five years old. His beard, once of the deepest black, flowing broadly over his breast, was streaked with white. His face was brown as a parched coffee-berry, and so hidden by a red kufiyeh (as the kerchief of the head is at this day called by the children of the desert) as to be but in part visible. Now and then he raised his eyes, and they were large and dark. He was clad in the flowing garments so universal in the East; but their style may not be described more particularly, for he sat under a miniature tent, and rode a great white dromedary.” Does anyone know what Biblical character is being described in this paragraph?
William Booth, b. 1829. He and his wife Catherine founded the Salvation Army, a Christian ministry to feed, clothe, and evangelize the poor.
“In answer to your inquiry, I consider that the chief dangers which confront the coming century will be religion without the Holy Ghost, Christianity without Christ, forgiveness without repentance, salvation without regeneration, politics without God, and heaven without hell.” William Booth
Joseph Pulitzer, b. 1847, d.1911. Hungarian American journalist and newspaper publisher. He left in his will an endowment to create the Columbia School of Journalism, and Columbia began in 1917 to award annual prizes for journalism, letters, fiction, drama, and education. Last year I looked at this list of Pulitzer-prize winning novels and counted the ones I’ve read: 12 out of 80. (Eight of the years say “No Award.” I wonder why.) Now I’ve read 14 and a half out of 81.
1919 The Magnificent Ambersons by Booth Tarkington. Read in 2006. Semicolon review here.
1921 The Age of Innocence Edith Wharton
1925 So Big Edna Ferber
1928 The Bridge of San Luis Rey Thornton Wilder
1932 The Good Earth Pearl S. Buck
1937 Gone With The Wind Margaret Mitchell
1939 The Yearling Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
1940 The Grapes Of Wrath John Steinbeck
1947 All the King’s Men Robert Penn Warren I read this one over my blog break and thought it was quite a reflection on depression-era Louisiana and the life and legacy of Huey Long. Scroll down for a review.
1952 The Caine Mutiny Herman B. Wouk
1953 The Old Man And The Sea Ernest Hemingway
1961 To Kill A Mockingbird Harper Lee
1975 The Killer Angels Michael Shaara
1986 Lonesome Dove Larry McMurtry This book constitutes the “half” in fourteen and a half. Actually, I don’t think I read quite half. Unappreciative Semicolon review here.
2005 Gilead Marilynne Robinson
So how many Pulitzer prize winning novels have you read, and which ones do you recommend? I recommend all of the above except the Hemingway and the Steinbeck and of course, Lonesome Larry’s Texas opus.
We continue to celebrate the death and resurrection of our Lord even after the feast day has passed.
Today at the Mission: “On Good Friday I sat and talked with a man whose heart is stretched to breaking, and we talked about how God came for us when we least deserved it, and how he just keeps coming for us, and he never leaves us and he never forgets where we are, and he never has something more important to do or someone he likes better.”
Catez on Mary Magdalene and passion: “Today people still don’t get what her devotion to Jesus was about – so they try to bring it down to a merely physical and human level, and speculate to sell books and make a profit. Calling common what God has cleansed.”
At a Hen’s Pace posts a wonderful sermon by St. John Chrysotstom.
Real Learning on homeschool burnout: “If your heart is heavy and you are wondering why you ever thought it a good idea to stay home with a gaggle of small children and medium sized children and teenaged children all day every day, it’s time to take stock and lighten up! Let’s take this love-filled Easter season, the time the Church has set aside to celebrate new life, and let’s learn a new song. Let’s look at ways to bring the joy back to the home education lifestyle.”
Finally, I grabbed this link at the new-to-me blog, Granny’s House, one of the blogs nominated for Best Homeschool Mom Blog in the Homeschool Blog Awards: 10 Things To Do With Leftover Easter Eggs.
This is a picture of our cross, made from the wood of our 2006 Christmas tree, decorated for Resurrection morning. May your day be filled with the celebration of the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ.
He is risen indeed!
Christ the Lord is ris’n today, Alleluia!
Sons of men and angels say! Alleluia!
Raise your joys and triumphs high: Alleluia!
Sing ye heavens, thou earth reply. Alleluia!
Love’s redeeming work is done; Alleluia!
Fought the fight, the battle won: Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids him rise; Alleluia!
Christ hath opened paradise. Alleluia!
Lives again our glorious King! Alleluia!
Where, O Death is now thy sting? Alleluia!
Once he died our souls to save; Alleluia!
Where thy victory, O grave Alleluia!
Soar we now where Christ has led, Alleluia!
Following our exalted Head, Alleluia!
Made like him, like him we rise, Alleluia!
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. Alleluia!
Matthew 26:47-68 Jesus is betrayed, arrested, and forsaken.
Matthew 27 Jesus’ trial and crucifixion.
Luke 22:54-23:56 Jesus’ trial and crucifixion.
John 18:12-19:42 Jesus’ trial and crucifixion.
Mark 14:43-15:47 Jesus’ trial and crucifixion.
WAKE, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns;
Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth;
Unfold thy forehead, gathered into frowns;
Thy Saviour comes, and with Him mirth:
Awake, awake,
And with a thankful heart His comforts take.
But thou dost still lament, and pine, and cry,
And feel His death, but not His victory.
Arise, sad heart ; if thou dost not withstand,
Christ’s resurrection thine may be;
Do not by hanging down break from the hand
Which, as it riseth, raiseth thee:
Arise, Arise;
And with His burial linen drie thine eyes.
Christ left His grave-clothes, that we might, when grief
Draws tears or blood, not want a handkerchief.
George Herbert was a both pastor and one of the 17th century metaphysical poets. These poets, including John Donne, Henry Vaughan, and Andrew Marvell, liked to use elaborate word-plays or conceits to tie their poems into a pleasing package. So, in the poem above, Jesus’ grave-clothes become a handkerchief to dry the eyes of all mankind, and we are raised from grief and sorrow by Christ’s resurrection.
I have three rules for my homeschooled literature students, and if you’re having trouble with the April poetry posts here and here, you might try my rules.
1. Always read poetry out loud. Hide in a closet if you must, but poetry read aloud is much easier to understand and feel.
2. Read each poem more than once. I suggest you read the poem aloud three times at least.
3. Don’t try to understand every word or phrase. Grab onto the phrases or images that do make sense to you, and enjoy those. Little by little , the poem may come to be meaningful as a whole.
Try it; you may like it.
The portraits of a joyful Jesus are available, along with many others, here.