O Pioneers! and Wuthering Heights ---

What does Willa Cather’s O Pioneers – a novel about a struggling Swedish homesteading family in Nebraska – have in common with Emily Bronte’s classic story of a haunting and tragic love affair on the moors of Britain -- the windswept Wuthering Heights? Well, both stories deal with unhappy marriages, with impetuous and emotional people, and with the passing of time. Both stories deal with the history of personal tragedies, and both invite the reader to step back and take a good, hard look at his own life.

O Pioneers! tells us the story of the sweet, independent and wise Alexandra Bergson who transforms her family’s farm into a profitable business after her father’s death, despite opposition from her less intelligent brothers, Lou and Oscar. Alexandra has a close relationship with a neighbor boy, Carl Lindstrum, who is introduced to us at the outset of the novel as a slightly hardened but kind fifteen-year-old boy. He becomes estranged from Alexandra when his family moves away, and she doesn’t see him again until he is a grown man of thirty-five. He has always felt inferior to her, and so he is unwilling to marry her. Alexandra’s dream is to create a happy life for her youngest brother Emil, a full fifteen years her junior. She hopes to send him to college and see him make a great man of himself. When he returns from college, he is slightly indolent and does not fully appreciate the sacrifices his sister has made on his behalf. He entangles himself in an affair with a vivacious and unhappily married Bohemian girl, Marie Shabata. Marie’s jealous husband catches them together and shoots both of them to death in a blind rage. Alexandra realizes that she should have seen the tragedy coming and is devastated. In her time of weakness, Carl comes rushing home to see her and finally they are married.

Wuthering Heights tells us of the capricious and jealous Catherine Earnshaw and her relationship with her foster-brother, a gypsy foundling named Heathcliff. Perhaps the most memorable portions of the book are those detailing the childhood shared by Cathy and Heathcliff. A former family servant tells how the two passionate and unruly childen were unrestrained and left to their own devices. Upon the death of their parents, the children fall into to the care of their older brother Hindley, a selfish man who is envious of Heathcliff. He treats the younger boy badly, depriving him of the privileges he had enjoyed under Cathy’s father and reducing him to a position of servanthood. Heathcliff, always of a passionate nature, becomes bitter and this bitterness is increased to a vengefulness when Cathy chooses to marry his rival Edgar Linton. She doesn’t really love Edgar, but says it would “degrade” her to marry Heathcliff. Heathcliff hears a part of her statement and his pride is severely wounded. He runs away and does not return for three years, during which time he acquires a small fortune. The new Heathcliff re-enters the story only for the purpose of vengeance. He swindles and abuses Cathy’s relatives, including her brother Hindley and her sister-in-law, Isabella Linton. As book wears on, we see the horrific results of his tormented passions, and those of Cathy, who grows increasingly selfish and eventually dies unhappy and frustrated.

I think it is likely that the authors of these books want us to look at the lives of their characters as a whole. This is why the stories are told from so far back. Probably Bronte and Cather were hoping that we would step back and look from a distance at their word paintings to see the design. Both of these books seek to show the importance of childhood in the shaping of character. The authors are telling us that children become adults regardless, with adult problems and adult temptations, but that they do not ever really grow up unless there is someone there to grow them up. We see how Cathy, Heathcliff, Marie and Emil’s lethal passions could have been mastered by better training and more time with deliberate adults. Both books also strongly emphasize the power of childhood relationships with the opposite sex. Cather and Bronte try to tell us that when a girl and a boy are best friends as children, they have a homegrown love that goes deeper than a fascination with an attractive stranger. Alexandra and Carl do come together in the end. They wait for a long time. But they are married, and we are happy and gratified when the thing finally comes about. Cathy is more selfish and impatient than Alexandra. She does not want to wait, and she is flattered by Edgar Linton’s attentions. She spurns Heathcliff as a lover, even though she acknowledges that he knows her better than anyone else ever will. Cathy and Heathcliff are forever tormented by her decision and their bitterness causes them not only to ruin their own lives, but the lives of others.

And yet, both Bronte and Cather seem to suggest that a mistake such as Cathy’s should not be considered a fatal one, and that it is crucial for those people involved to choose to get over it. In both novels, we see how the lovers’ unwillingness to move on proved to be destructive, and did not alleviate their regrets. The bleak and unlovely lives that are the results of Cathy and Marie’s refusal to accept their own choices are contrasted starkly with the beautifully normal and simple lives of others around them. Cather adresses the issue of a contented, simple life when Carl returns home to see Alexandra for the first time since he was an adolescent. He has been wandering the country for awhile, trying to make ends meet as an artist, just doing his own thing. He tells her this has not made him happy. “Freedom so often means one isn’t needed anywhere,” he says to her. While Wuthering Heights and O Pioneers! certainly hold their own as mere stories, their chief merits lie in their ability to warn and caution the reader through the mistakes of their characters.

Seize The Day!

StrongJoy

EDEN - Perelandra, and The Fall of Man Into Sin as a Real Loss

Yes, I've taken a long break from blogging. In fact, it was such a long break that I should now have more than enough topics on my mind to keep me blogging every week for months. January has been a very busy month here. My family runs fifty goats and we just went through kidding season while my Dad was on a business trip overseas. We now have eighteen baby goats running around the farm and several more on the way. Several have to be bottle fed around the clock. I'm tired. My eleven-year-old sister also broke her arm this week.

There's a topic that I've spent so much time thinking on over the past year, I'm going to take at least two posts to write about it: EDEN.

To be quite honest, it all began with C.S. Lewis' Perelandra, which I begin to understand is probably the most overlooked and underrated book I've ever read. For months after reading it, I continued to persist in my opinion that The Space Trilogy was dry and difficult to read and that there was really nothing wonderful about it. But when I think back and realize how much Perelandra has influenced my life, and how much it has encouraged and inspired and excited me even during the months in which I was insisting that I didn't really like it, I think I need to go back and read it again.

But before I write about Perelandra, I'm going to write about its prequel, Out Of The Silent Planet. In this first book of The Space Trilogy, a man from planet Earth is taken to another planet, a perfect planet without a "fall into sin." At one point the protagonist, Ransom, tries to explain the concept of sin to some of the creatures on the other planet, but they are totally unable to understand him. The only word in their language that can even be used to refer to sin is the term "bent" or "twisted." Ransom tries to talk to them about promiscuity and they are not even able to understand what could possibly induce a creature to want to be unfaithful. Their nature is not evil like ours, and every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts is only good all the time.

In Perelandra, Ransom is taken to another "un-fallen" planet to save it from a fall into sin. The book raises all kinds of thrilling and important topics, from the sovereignty of God to the need for Law, to righteous hatred, to demon possession. But the thing that I found the most interesting was the assertion of the superiority of a perfect world.

At one point in the book Ransom is wrestling in his mind over whether or not he can risk his entire life for a faint hope of saving the perfect planet. He begins to ask himself if, after all, it is so necessary to save the planet in the first place. If it were to fall, surely God would redeem it eventually, just as He did ours. Not in the same way, maybe, but it would be redeemed. And his mind, agonized and afraid of doing what he knows he should do, begins to wonder if perhaps redemption is better anyway than un-fallen perfection. After all, didn't we get Jesus out of the Fall? Don’t we have the Kingdom of God among us, and the Spirit of God dwelling in us? However, these lines completely void his argument:

"Whatever you do, He will make good of it, but not the good He had prepared for you. That is lost forever. The first King and Mother of our world did the forbidden thing; and He brought of it good in the end, but what they did was not good, and what they lost we have not seen, and there were some to whom no good ever came nor ever will come."

After Ransom makes his decision he goes and finds the "Eve" of the planet sleeping in the woods, and there is this beautiful and heart-breaking passage:

"As he stood looking down on her, what was most with him was an intense and orphaned longing that he might, if only for once, have seen the great Mother of his own race thus, in her innocence and splendor. 'Other things, other blessings, other glories,' he murmured. 'But never that. Never in all worlds, that. God can make good use of all that happens. But the loss is real.'"

The loss is real. We don't know everything that we lost when we fell into sin, but it is a real loss - a loss of things that God wanted us to have. And because of this fall, everything here that was created whole and lovely and majestic is broken.

I was instant messaging a good friend of mine a couple nights ago and we were talking about this concept of brokenness as a result of the human fall into sin. I think that very often we don't even come close to realizing how deeply sin has perverted everything in the world. Sin has perverted even the good things. The world is messed-up and even the beautiful things are adulterated. If you just take a minute to think about this, you can trace the effects of sin in every sphere of life. Here are a few I thought of off the top of my head:

Human Love: As Galadriel says in The Fellowship of The Ring, "In all lands, love is now mingled with grief." Love in our world comes with pain. I'm not necessarily talking about romantic love between the sexes here, but just about love in general. Even the very purest and deepest love that we have for other people is sure to get us hurt in some way, whether by death or betrayal or separation or misunderstanding or something else.

Nature/The Outdoors: The nature that is still praised by poets and idealists as the way to relax the mind and still sought by city people as a refuge from the horrors of social problems and urban stress, is messed-up. Cruelty is manifest in nature. The fittest survive, and the weak suffer.

Human Nature: The nature of men has been destroyed. Our "natural" lusts for blood and violence and ready sex are indicators that nature is not absolute, and has definitely failed. Our more subtle desires for power and position and fame and wealth and control at any cost are other examples of this perversion.

Human Beauty: God made us in His image, and we are beautiful. But how frequently our beauty is corrupted by our lusts! How frequently are beautiful people regarded not as living testimonies to the glory of the Creator but as things to be played with and discarded when we are tired of them! And how frequently we refuse to reflect the beauty of God in our bodies and instead choose to allow ourselves to be ugly?

My friend was highlighting the fact that even God, when He is blessing us with the most vital and important things, has to break us to do so. We live in a sinful world, and when we hurt and break ourselves with sin, the only way for Him to heal us is to re-break the bone we’ve broken and set it correctly. It's almost a contradiction that the perfect and Almighty God has to heal us by breaking us again. Jars of Clay has a sweet, sad song about brokenness and the wretched condition of humanity and their first lines go like this:

"Oh my God, look around this place
Your fingers reach around the bone
You set the break and set the tone……"

After reciting a list of the horrific evils, they end it with the simple cry,

"Oh my God,
Oh my God,
Oh my GOD!"


You can listen to this song here:

http://www.playlist.com/searchbeta/tracks#jars%20of%20clay%20oh%20my%20god

That is what I feel like saying sometimes. There are some things so evil that nothing else can carry their weight. Sometimes, when I get hit in the face by the full force and understanding of the depth of our fall, the only thing worth saying is, "Oh my God," because as George MacDonald puts it in Sir Gibbie, "Jesus is the one rock where evil finds no echo. Jesus is the cavern of destroying love into which all evil tumbles and finds no reaction and ends forever."




P.S. If that struck you as a slightly depressive post, don't worry: the next one will more than make up for it!

"Les Miserables" - Why Gavroche Is My Favorite Character and What Grantaire Believes In (Warning: Spoiler)

I have not actually finished reading Les Miserables, but after my favorite character died I took a long break. I have read 822 pages of the 981 pages in the book and so I guess you could say I am making progress :) (If you haven't read Les Miserables, let me just warn you: I am not going to summarize the storyline for you in this post, or explain anything, because the story is way too long and too complicated)

I actually surprised myself when I decided that Gavroche was my favorite character. For one, I have no idea how to pronounce his name, and then, of course, in the long run, he barely even enters into the story:) There are a lot of reasons why I like him. To be honest, the first reason is probably just because I like street-kids. Gavroche seems to be Victor Hugo's "average" street-kid. Even though Les Miserables is a rough book, Hugo is a gentle author and he wants very badly to redeem certain undesirable people-groups. Of course, the average street-kid isn't like Gavroche, but it makes a good story.

Gavroche is a rough little boy with a good heart. He hangs out with the worst and most despicable criminals but doesn't lose his "character" if you could even call it that. (The author apparently holds to the belief that humans are born with good hearts and that children are innocent. And, of course, that is not true- but it makes a good story.) Despite having a good heart, Gavroche is wild, rebellious, and disrespectful. But perhaps Hugo wanted us to wonder, "Does he owe the world anything? What has anyone ever done for him?" And if that is so, it is something to think about.

The thing that made me love Gavroche the most, though, was the scene in volume two, when he takes charge of two lost little boys he finds abandoned in the street. He never finds out that they are his little brothers. He did it just because. Just because. This is a boy who has probably never in his life heard anything but threats and hard words and never felt anything but the cold and hard hands. But he knew. In this pathetic situation, he knew right from wrong like light from dark. You can't take that away from people. You can't delete the knowledge of good and evil.

Another thing about the book that really caught my attention was Grantaire's relationship with Enjolras. Grantaire and Enjolras are both members of the group, "Friends of The ABC." Enjolras is the leader, a visionary, an absolute champion, the perfect symbol of chastity, purity, honesty and perfection. But he is cold. He abhors impurity and apparently has no concept of love. Grantaire is a decided agnostic (if that's possible:). His only interests are alcohol and girls. Enjolras greatly dislikes Grantaire, and this, again, is such beautiful writing, I think. The author has created a "perfect" character (Enjolras) but he "has not love," and so he is nothing.

At one point in the story, Enjolras is appointing different people to act as spokesmen for the group - to rouse the young men of Paris and invite them to join in the rebellion against tyranny. He runs out of volunteers and is looking around for someone else when,

' "I," said Grantaire, "am here."
"You?"
"I."
"You to indoctrinate republicans! You, to warm up, in the name of principles, hearts that have gone cold!"
"Why not?"
"Is it possible that you can be good for anything?"
"Yes. I have a vague ambition for it," said Grantaire.
"You don't believe in anything."
"I believe in you." '

That line blew me away. "I believe in you." Because he knew. He knew right from wrong like light from dark. Of course he knew! From the middle of his empty, dark, destructive lifestyle, he caught a glimpse of light, and knew it was good. If Enjolras perhaps had known the least thing about love, he might have saved Grantaire, but there is such a thing as empty morality. I don't know how far it goes and, naturally, these are fictional characters so it's pretty irrelevant to them, but the way Victor Hugo delves into these things and creates these fantastic, thought-provoking situations just gets me excited :) The way Enjolras and Grantaire die together was just an extension of an already fascinating and intricate relationship.

To conclude, Victor Hugo seems to have caught a glimpse of part of the big picture. I'm afraid he missed most of it, and that's what makes Les Miserables such a sad book. However, one of the things Hugo captured VERY well is the concept of radical love. It's all throughout the book, from the bishop at the very beginning of the story to the street-kid Gavroche, to the convict JeanValjean. In a nutshell, this book is well worth the time it takes to read it. It's thought-provoking, educational, well-written and full of surprises.

Seize The Day!
-StrongJoy

The Big Problem With “The Essay On Man”: Misinterpretation

A couple of weeks ago I got so upset at Alexander Pope’s Essay On Man that we ended up having a big fight. I filled up the margins of the book with lines from Perelandra to console myself and really got a rant out. He didn’t get to respond to me – and so that made it easier :).

Actually, that is an exaggeration - I want to be fair to this great poet, who does, I think, have great talent and probably wrote the Essay on Man out of the best intentions. However, I do think it is important that we question the “greats,” – NOT because they are great but because they are human. The authors of the “classics” are often regarded as incredibly wise and thinking people but this is not always the case, and – as long as we do it humbly – I think it’s crucial that we remember to question them. They are not any less “human” than the rest of us and just as prone to mistakes. Although, of course, this isn’t to say that I don’t think we should admire authors for the wisdom that they display in their writings, I do believe that we shouldn’t idolize them or assume that they will always be right. That said, the lines that I particularly had troubles with were these:

“All Nature is but Art unknown to thee;
All chance direction, which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil universal good;
And spite of Pride, in erring Reason’s spite
One truth is clear – whatever is, is right.”

Now, of course, one cannot take Pope seriously here. He surely cannot mean, “Whatever is, is right.” It would be unjust to accuse him of that kind of simple-mindedness – as though he didn’t know about evil = slavery, suicide, addictions, sadism, cruelty, prostitution, oppression, castes, murder, love-of-money, etc….. He knew. So what was he trying to say? This is where the heart of the problem lies, and in reading the poem, one might almost say that he actually believed it was all “destined” to be in order to fulfill a greater good.

Dorothy Sayers (in The Mind Of The Maker*see end note) says, “The fact, however, that ‘all activity is of God’ means that no creative Idea can be wholly destructive: some creation will be produced together with the destruction; and it is the work of the creative mind to see that the destruction is redeemed by it’s creative elements.” Perhaps this thought is what Pope was attempting to express up there, but I guess the root question, the part that Pope didn’t explain very well, is this, “Because the evil was turned to good, was it then, ‘prepared’ that way?” Here is what C.S. Lewis says about that, “Whatever you do, He will make good out of it. But not the good He had prepared for you if you had obeyed Him. That is lost forever. The first King and the first Mother of our world did the forbidden thing; and He brought good of it in the end. But what they did was not good; and what they lost we have not seen. And there were some to whom no good came nor ever will.”

So I guess the answer is no. It was “prepared” to be beautiful, if we had obeyed Him. There was supposed to be no brokenness. And there is. But he made good out of it, and good was “Redemption.” Obviously He knew that we were going to disobey and there was going to be a Fall. But He had something else for us, and, as Aslan says, “No one is ever told what would have happened.” Perhaps the best line I know of on this subject is from "The Last Samurai." Those of you who have seen this movie will remember the part where Captain Algren is talking with Katsumoto and attempting to persuade him not to give up and to keep fighting against the odds, even though it will almost certainly mean defeat. Katsumoto says to him, “Do you believe a man can change his destiny?” and Algren answers, “I believe a man does what he can until his destiny is revealed to him.”

Well, that’s all I have to say on this subject, although I suppose you can see that everything smart in my post was not my own idea but quoted from one of the “greats” :) Oh, and if you disagree, do offer me your alternate opinion – I realize that this is a hard subject and I am totally open to other ideas.

Seize The Day!
-StrongJoy

*By the way, this book is pretty tough for me and requires my full attention. It is also full of metaphorical language and I would suggest being really careful in quoting from it, as certain passages could easily be misunderstood without the full context. I hope I have quoted her fairly and clearly, without muddling her intended message.

Edit: When I titled the post "The Big Problem With 'The Essay On Man': Misinterpretation," I didn't nessecarily mean that Pope had misinterpreted anything. I just meant that I thought his work was easy to misinterpret.

The Cross And The Switchblade - A Call To Anguish

Not too long ago, I stayed over at a friend's house with my brother and sisters while our parents were out of town. I was sleeping with my little sister, who was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, so to speak, but I always have troubles getting to sleep in strange houses, so I went over to the bookshelf, looking for something to read. The book that caught my attention was The Cross And The Switchblade, because I had just heard my Mom talking about it that week, and I wanted to read it. So I did. I started on the very first page, and I said, "I am going to read this book if it takes me all night." (We teenagers don't have any problems with staying up all night - we're very flexible about bedtimes:) That was one decision I will never regret - one night that was not wasted... I laughed, I cried, and over and over I set the book down and prayed, because you cannot read that book without praying. I should warn you, The Cross And The Switchblade is a hard book, and you will probably break your heart over it, but I'm learning every day that it's OK to break my heart. And it's OK to keep breaking it, over and over again. That way I keep a vision of The Perfect. I don't get so used to how it is that I forget how it SHOULD be.

The Cross And The Switchblade is the incredible story of how one young man got a call to do a hard thing - and did it. But it's also the story of the New York City street gangs and the teenagers like Nicky Cruz who were so lost that Wilkerson thought no love could reach them. David Wilkerson was a young, married preacher in Pennsylvania and his call to go to NYC came through a murder-trial picture in a magazine. The murderers were kids, all under 18. And Something told Wilkerson to "go to NYC and help those boys." He didn't want to go. He didn't know anything about violent, teenage street-kids. He didn't WANT to know anything about them. But he knew he was supposed to go, so he did it. What happened afterwards is a story that actually defies reality, but don't get me wrong here - this is not a book about David Wilkerson changing NYC. In fact, much of this book is about moments of absolute miserable desperation, moments of shock and that sickening feeling that comes with the realization of a nasty truth. Much of this book is about defeat and anguish.

Wilkerson says that everything in his life that ever mattered to God was born in anguish. I can testify to that fact, for I have found it to be true in my own life. If I am not anguished over something, I will not do anything about it. The only times in my life where I have committed to set my alarm for five in the morning and get up to pray, were those times I have been anguished over something and could not live with the hurt of it any more. And, to be honest with you, it is only this year that these moments are beginning to come regularly and I am starting to realize what all of this anguish means and how it all works together for good. If you feel up to hearing something that will bring you to your knees, I'd recommend that you listen to A Call To Anguish.

I'd say it is really passages like this one, detailing Wilkerson's first meeting with Nicky Cruz, that show the reader of The Cross And The Switchblade the anguish that birthed everything Wilkerson did for the NYC gangs:

'Go to H---, Preacher,' he said. He had an odd, strangled way of speaking and he stuttered badly over some of his sounds.

'You don't think much of me, Nicky,' I said, 'but I feel different about you. I love you, Nicky.' I took a step towards him.

'You come near me, Preacher,' he said, in that tortured way, 'I'll kill you.'

'You could do that,' I agreed. 'You could cut me in a thousand pieces and lay them out in the street and every piece would love you.' But as I said it, I was thinking: and it wouldn't do a bit of good - not with you, Nicky - there's no love on earth that could reach you."

That is tragedy. There's only one word for that last line: tragedy. It's surely a good thing it wasn't true. The Cross And The Switchblade testifies relentlessly to the Power of Prayer. It cries over and over again, "never, Never, NEVER underestimate the Power of Prayer." If you've read it, you probably know what I mean.

My favorite line from that book is Nicky Cruz' first prayer: "Dear God, I'm the dirtiest sinner in New York. I don't think You want me. If You do want me, You can have me. As bad as I was before - I want to be that good for Jesus." Anybody can say, "I am the dirtiest sinner" but in Nicky's situation, it was probably true. I think it would be hard to imagine a sinner worse than Nicky Cruz...and yet he fell to his knees in tears at the altar and gave it all up to Jesus. How can anbody refuse to believe in miracles?!

I recommend this book to everyone who isn't afraid to cry for the utterly lost kids in our country and to pray for them, not just today or this week or this year, but as long as we live. And I recommend this book to every teenager because we need to know these things.

Seize The Day!
-StrongJoy

"Westward Ho!" and the Futility Of Revenge

I finished reading Charles Kingsley's Westward Ho! yesterday and gave it an A- rating. I didn't enjoy Kingsley's other books very much (Water Babies, Madam How And Lady Why) but perhaps it was only because I was a little too young for them when I read them. (Kingsley has a habit of writing children's books for adults:) However, this is definitely my favorite of his works. In Westward Ho, Kingsley brings the Elizabethan era to life through his hero, Amyas Leigh. One good thing about the book is that Kingsley is able to form Amyas' complicated character, while writing about history at the same time. However, though the history in the book is vivid and detailed, the truth Kingsley works hardest to express is the futility of revenge.

Revenge. The book is seething with it. It is in the 1570s and war with Spain is becoming increasingly bitter. The Catholics and Protestants have been struggling for years. Both sides are fighting venomously and both have tasted enough of cruelty to be harsh.

It is into such an atmosphere that Amyas Leigh is born in Bideford, Devon. He spends his childhood dreaming of becoming a sailor and fighting the "Spanish idolaters" in the Indies. As a very young man he falls in love with Rose Salterne. Unfortunately, Amyas is not the only one in love with Rose Salterne. Rose happens to be the town belle and Amyas has not a few rivals to vie with. One of the said rivals turns out to be his older brother, Frank. Unknown to Amyas, Frank has been in love with Rose for even longer than his brother. When Amyas tells his brother of his passion for Rose, Frank resolves to let his brother have her. Amyas accidentally overhears Frank telling his mother of this resolution and is so horrified that he also resolves to give up his sweetheart.

After this event, Amyas sails to Ireland and fights the Jesuits and Irish Catholics there. On this expedition, he captures a haughty Spanish lord, Don Guzman Maria Magdalena Sotomayor de Soto. While the Don is waiting to be ransomed, he goes to Bideford and falls in love with poor Rose Salterne. Rose runs away to the Indies with the Don and, when Amyas returns home, he vows to seek her. His brother, who is generally so gentle and quiet, elects to go with him, and a great many of Rose Salterne's old admirers are also eager to join this expedition.

In the Indies, Amyas and his brother sneak up to the Don's palace one night. There they hear Rose speaking to an spy who is attempting to convert her to Catholicism and threatening her with the Inquisition. Listening to the conversation, Amyas and Frank are able to discover that she is actually married to the Don and this is a relief to both of them. However, they are almost immediately discovered and the island awakes in a flurry to attack the English spies. Amyas and Frank try to run to their ship but Frank is shot and captured.

When Amyas learns that his brother and Rose Salterne were tortured and burned in Spain, a fire of hate is kindled in his heart, and he vows eternal war with the Spaniards to avenge his brother. Throughout the rest of the book, this hatred can be seen to increase constantly and to turn the innocent, gallant, Amyas into a bitter, vengeful, tormented young man.

Towards the end of the book, Amyas is given a chance to chase Don Guzman and get his ultimate revenge. While crew is going after the Spanish galleon, the following scene takes place aboard his ship (named...guess...Vengeance).

"That one fixed thought of selfish vengeance has possessed his whole mind; he forgets England's present need, her past triumph, his own safety, everything but his brother's blood. And yet this is the day for which he has been longing ever since he brought home that magic horn as a fifteen years boy; the day when he should find himself face to face with an invader, and that invader Antichrist himself. He believed for years with Drake, Hawkins, Grenvile and Raleigh, that he was called and sent into the world only to fight the Spaniard: and he is fighting him now, in such a cause, for such a stake, within such battle-lists as he will never see again: and yet he is not content; and while throughout that gallant fleet, whole crews are receiving the Communion side by side, and rising with cheerful faces to shake hands and rejoice that they are sharers in Britain's Salamis, Amyas turns away from the holy elements.

'I cannot communicate, Sir John. Charity with all men? I hate, if ever man hated on earth.'

'You hate the Lord's foes only, Captain Leigh.'

'No, Jack, I hate my own as well.'

'But no one in the fleet, sir?'

'...No, Jack, I hate one of whom you know; and somehow that hatred of him keeps me from loving any human being. I am in love and charity with no man, Sir John Brimblecombe -- not even with you!'"

Amyas gets so eaten up by this "one great revenge that blackened all his soul" that when his enemy's ship sinks, instead of rejoicing in triumph, "'Shame!' cried Amyas, hurling his sword far into the sea, 'to lose my right! when it was in my very grasp! Unmerciful!'" It is the "unmerciful!" in this outburst that caught my attention, and that is because it is so ironic.

I am not going to finish the story and tell you what happens, (No, Amyas doesn't turn into Darth Vader) so if you're still interested you'll have to read it for yourselves.

This is a grotesquely simple summary of a complicated story, filled with numerous plots and ideas, so don't be discouraged by it. I am only trying to track the "Revenge" thread in the book.
The concept of revenge seems to be following me around a lot lately. It is, of course, the main theme in Hamlet, the Shakespeare play I'm reading this month, and then last night we finally got to watch episodes IV, V and VI of Star Wars, another story that deals with hate and revenge at least, very well. It is truly amazing (and horrifying) to look at all of the examples in literature and history where a hero is corrupted by the burning desire for REVENGE.

This quote, perhaps, summarizes these ideas very well: "A true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him but because he loves what is behind him." -Anonymous

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-StrongJoy

The Innocence Of Father Brown

I finished reading The Innocence of Father Brown by G.K. Chesterton recently and I liked it so much I thought I'd share some of my thoughts about it. I really think that Chesterton is a wonderful writer and he has a way of expressing ideas with startling clarity.

All of the stories in this book include elements of suspense and surprise that are so important in a great detective story. The plots are complex and well-organized. There is the joy of feeling smart when you finally do crack the code and solve the mystery. Even if it isn't until the end of the story, you still feel like a very accomplished detective. In fact, you feel like you solved the mystery yourself, much of the time.

I think that the greatest thing about the book is that it is both entertaining and thought-provoking. Chesterton has created an intriguing story but has also managed to weave much deeper ideas into the book. Through the conversation of Father Brown, the sweet little English priest, Chesterton manages to state many of his own beliefs. Yet, somehow, he says them in such a way that the reader does not feel at all as though he is "preaching to them." Indeed, how can they? For the author rarely states his own opinions with the omnipresent privilege he possesses, but prefers to let his star character influence the reader of each story. This is what I consider to be very good writing.

I cannot say that I agree with everything that Chesterton says - indeed, I differ with him on many points- but somehow, in this book, those differences don't really matter. Winston Churchill says of history, "Nevertheless, the broad story holds for it was founded on a true and dominating principle." I believe that the same is true of these stories. The truth behind the book is so powerful that it makes a fascinating read.


Here are some lines I particularly like:


"Reason and justice grip the remotest and the loneliest star. Look at those stars. Don't they look as if they were single diamonds and sapphires? Well, you can imagine any mad botany or geology you please. Think of forests of adamant with leaves of brilliants. Think the moon is a blue moon, a single elephantine sapphire. But don't fancy that all that frantic astronomy would make the smallest difference to the reason and justice of conduct. On plains of opal, under cliffs cut out of pearl, you would still find a noticeboard, 'Thou shalt not steal.' "

One of the most interesting stories in the book is The Eye Of Apollo. At the beginning of the story, Father Brown asks his friend Flambeau about the new "Religion Of Apollo."

"What on earth is that," asked Father Brown, and stood still."

"Oh, a new religion," said Flambeau, laughing: "one of those new religions that forgive your sins by saying you never had any....It claims, of course, that it can cure all physical diseases."


"Can it cure the one spiritual disease?" asked Father Brown, with a serious curiosity.

"And what is the one spiritual disease?" asked Flambeau, smiling.

"Oh, thinking one is quite well," said his friend.

I sincerely recommend this book to anyone who enjoys mysteries that are more than just mere mysteries.



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-StrongJoy

Now You Have No Excuse Not To Read It...

For those of you who haven't read The Ballad Of The White Horse (and, by the way, if you haven't read it, you haven't lived!), it is now possible to read it online. This site has the entire poem typed up and you can even print it out if you want. I highly recommend that you do it immediately...

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-StrongJoy

The Best Dialogue In Tolkien's Works (Well, I think so at least...)

The fact that I am a true and thorough Tolkien fan might not have been made clear yet by any of my previous posts...but it's time to confess...

I found a wonderful passage of his and I decided that it was too good not to share. This dialogue is only published in one of Tolkien's books -- Morgoth's Ring: The Later Silmarillion (Go here to read up on the history of Middle-Earth) and discusses Redemption. Tolkien has been criticized by some that his stories do not contain the redemption story. Read on...

‘Have ye then no hope?’ said Finrod.

‘What is hope?’ she said. ‘An expectation of good, which though uncertain has some foundation in what is known? Then we have none.’

‘That is one thing that Men call “hope”,’ said Finrod. ‘Amdir we call it, “looking up”. But there is another which is founded deeper. Estel we call it, that is “trust”. It is not defeated by the ways of the world, for it does not come from experience, but from our nature and first being. If we are indeed the Eruhin, the Children of the One, then He will not suffer Himself to be deprived of His own, not by any Enemy, not even by ourselves. This is the last foundation of Estel, which we keep even when we contemplate the End: of all His designs the issue must be for His Children’s joy. Amdir you have not, you say. Does no Estel at all abide?’

‘Maybe,’ she said . . . ‘It is believed that healing may yet be found, or that there is some way of escape. But is this indeed Estel? Is it not Amdir rather; but without reason: mere flight in a dream from what waking they know: that there is no escape from darkness and death?’

‘Mere flight in a dream you say,’ answered Finrod. ‘In dream many desires are revealed; and desire may be the last flicker of Estel. But you do not mean dream, Andreth. You confound dream and waking with hope and belief, to make the one more doubtful and the other more sure . . .

‘What then was this hope, if you know?’ Finrod asked.

‘They say,’ answered Andreth: ‘they say that the One will himself enter into Arda, and heal Men and all the Marring from the beginning to the end. . . . How could Eru enter into the thing that He has made, and than which He is beyond measure greater? Can the singer enter into his tale or the designer into his picture?’

‘He is already in it, as well as outside,’ said Finrod . . . ‘For, as it seems to me, even if He in Himself were to enter in, He must still remain also as He is: the Author without. And yet, Andreth, to speak with humility, I cannot conceive how else this healing could be achieved. Since Eru will surely not suffer Melkor to turn the world to his own will and to triumph in the end. Yet there is no power conceivable greater than Melkor save Eru only. Therefore Eru, if He will not relinquish his work to Melkor, who must else proceed to mastery, then Eru must come in to conquer him. More: even if Melkor (or the Morgoth that he has become) could in any way be thrown down or thrust from Arda, still his Shadow would remain, and the evil that he has wrote and sown as a seed would wax and multiply. And if any remedy for this is to be found, ere all is ended, any new light to oppose the shadow, or any medicine for the wounds: then it must, I deem, come from without.’

-John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, "Morgoth's Ring: The Later Silmarillion"

ht: www.lordofthekingdom.com

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-StrongJoy

"Transients In Arcadia" (About Ordinary People)

I’ve had a respect for O. Henry ever since I read “The Ransom Of Red Chief” which has got to be the absolute funniest story of all time. When I read “The Last Leaf,” I decided that I had found an author worth checking into. (By the way, those of you who have not read “The Last Leaf” are missing out on one of the most gripping, skillfully written short stories written in the English language.) I bought a little book of his short stories about two years ago read it from cover to cover. Then I put it back on my shelf. Yesterday, for no reason at all, I took it down again and opened it up right to “Transients In Arcadia,” one story I didn’t remember very well. I didn’t plan on reading it but somehow I couldn’t tear myself away from that story. It was quite a simple little tale – there was no complex plot and not much action, to be sure, but somehow I found myself very wrapped up in it.

O. Henry begins the story by describing the dream hotel Lotus in a very idyllic way (with just a very little measure of sarcasm). He then goes on to praise a mysterious “Madame Beaumont,” the Lotus’ most illustrious guest.

“Now, isn’t that a wonderful beginning?”
“Yeah, it’s really great.” -The Princess Bride

This description continues for quite some time – long enough to give the reader a sort of respect for the afore-mentioned Madame Beaumont. Then, this magnificent “perfect woman” meets Mr. Harold Farrington, a seemingly respectable gentleman, and the two form a cordial relationship. Everything seems perfectly settled at this point and most readers would suppose that they were reading a “happily-ever-after” romance. However, the day before Madame Beaumont leaves the hotel, she tells Mr. Farrington a secret that changes the course of the story. I can’t tell you what the secret is because then you might not read the story for yourself, but I can assure you that O. Henry always lives up to his name, “The Master Of Surprise.”

I like this story because it reminds me of the real meaning of the phrase “ordinary people” but furthermore, because it reminds me that there are no ordinary people…and we all have hopes and dreams and ambitions - hurts and sorrows and tragedies.

Seize The Day!
-StrongJoy