- Eco is still amazing me. I can only imagine how his style must shine in the original Italian.
- Donne has something for every occasion. Talk about wit.
- Leithart has to be one of the most lucid, literate biblical exegetes in the Reformed world. At the risk of proposing an overdrawn parallel, he seems to play Melanchthon to Jordan's Luther.

Posted by Davey at 06:54 AM | Comments (9)

I finally got my mom to read Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited. My sister had been voicing her dissuasions in an overly loud manner, so the temptation got to be too much. Waugh's surface aesthetic - which can be very brutal - turned her off eventually. (Thankfully, her literary taste is excellent in most other areas.) Anyway, my mom loved the book, comparing it to a dark wine which one must taste slowly. I couldn't think of a more apt metaphor. Waugh isn't like Lewis or even Greene. Lewis is wonderfully didactic and colorful; Greene has a profound brooding quality. But Waugh has a complexity and gift for subtle satire that I haven't seen equaled in other modern writers. In order to really get Waugh - specifically Brideshead Revisited - you have to fully employ your senses. You don't just swallow burgundy, you smell it, roll it around on your tongue, let the aftertaste linger - then you analyze. One thing I love about the ending of the book is how the divine "twitch upon a thread" forces every major character to give up the one thing most dear that had kept them from redemption. Whether it was life or liquor and liberty, love or lust, they all had to come to terms with their true calling.

"Yes," he said, "I caught him, with an unseen hook and an invisible line which is long enough to let him wander to the ends of the world, and still to bring him back with a twitch upon the thread."

Posted by Davey at 01:54 PM | Comments (6)

When ships were bourne upon a turning sea,
I found an untraced tide that breaks
The moorings of the world.

It is no merest waking dream to find
Myself now sailing without sails,
Though all the night now writhes.

I am still standing here, through sleepless hours,
Now counting winds that never come,
As all the world calls.

There is the silent voice that whistles past,
A faintest breath of faith; it says
That I could conquer, if I would.

But holding true to course, all men will find
It better to abstain from trust,
Just as the wit once said.

But not I. The tide still carries me.

Posted by Davey at 07:22 AM | Comments (0)

... By this time last year, I think I had seen the Two Towers at least three times. I've still only viewed Return of the King once. It's not that I didn't like the movie, and I've been back to the theatre for other flicks, so I'm not sure why I lack the motivation. The day I arrived back in Chicago after the Tokyo trip was the day it opened, and I went straight from the airport to the cinema to catch a showing with my dad and sister. Of course, I was exhausted, and perhaps not fully awake for the showing. Even so, I'm still miffed at Jackson and Co. for cutting Faramir's part yet again. I had no real problems with the movies until I watched the TTT extended version documentary on the editorial changes. When I started to hear the reasons for making Faramir into a hopelessly altered "Faramir," I began to have qualms about the whole production. Then, after I saw Faramir and Eowyn standing by each other, with no explanation that they would be married, I utterly lost it. Can you imagine me standing up on my chair in the theatre, screaming at the screen, throwing my popcorn up in the air, while hoarsely yelling Baptistic curses at New Line and Jackson? .... Well, neither can I. But for a fleeting moment I thought about making just such a scene.

... After a run of anticipated movies the past several months, I can't really think of anything coming out I want to see. Sometimes I daydream about what kind of movies I think should be made, but my taste is so eccentric that I doubt my couple dozen letters to Spielberg will be answered anytime soon. One idea, however, that I think has some merit is an epic about Bonnie Prince Charlie. You have battles, intrigue, romance, a dramatic and colorful cast of characters, the scenery of Scotland, and a built-in ending that would almost be too perfectly cinematic were it not for its historicity. Besides, lost causes are perfect material with which to work some movie magic. For what it's worth, I think Ewan McGregor would be the ideal Charles Edward Stuart. Paul Scofield would have to be in it, too. Perhaps as the Duke of Cumberland.

Posted by Davey at 10:28 AM | Comments (5)

So, according to the preponderance of our recent web searches, this is the way people think of us:

- women who are going bald
- broderick look-a-like

I don't know which is worse.

Posted by Davey at 11:25 AM | Comments (5)

... Saw Big Fish last week. I'm not really a Tim Burton fan, but Ewan McGregor and the possibility of seeing a positive movie on myth drew me to the theatre. It wasn't the classic it potentially could have been, but after the first 15 minutes, I was hooked (pun intended). Burton could have made the film into something a bit more substantial (although some reviewers have criticized it for its preachiness), but even without the theological backbone C.S. Lewis or Charles Williams could have given the story, it was a darn good yarn. It wasn't really a comedy, but I laughed more at the theatre than I have for a long time.

... I've been spending the past week reading and trying to motivate myself to catch-up on my correspondence. Today, I should be finishing a hefty book on Japanese power. None of the socio-political paradigms we're used to in the West quite fit Japan - they're like a round peg in very square hole. I guess I always assumed that post-war Japan was far more democratic and "modern" (whatever that means) than it actually is. But the old Eastern brand of nationalism is still very much alive. Much of the world thinks America is proud and overly confident. Foreigners like De Tocqueville and Churchill have told us we're special, and if Americans are like a spoiled kid who is told he's wonderful and believes it, we are spoiled in a very honest fashion. But the Japanese form of nihonjinron, the mindset that no outsider can really appreciate the uniqueness of Japanese culture, seems much more in-bred. People either love or hate America. We can be polarizing, which isn't always a bad thing. But Japan is in the exact opposite situation. Since Japan is not Western, yet also really has no friends in Asia, it views itself as a victim. Japanese still remember WWII in a way that we can't quite understand. I was reminded of this when I was walking to the train in Tokyo and realized that an older Japanese man (perhaps a veteran of WWII) was cursing me under his breath as he walked past.

... Every weekday, I spend my lunch scouring the web for reasonably priced apartments close to where I work. There are some decent ones that apparently aren't rat-infested, but it's going to be hard to find a place willing to give us a two or three month lease.

... I read Harold Bloom's Hamlet: Poem Unlimited. If measly old me can be allowed to critique someone of Bloom's stature, I believe he misses much of the revenge and penitence that makes up the spiritual heart of the play. Aside from a fundamental disagreement on the theme of the play, Bloom's literary insights are magnificent. He has a wonderful eye for catching wordplay and paradox. If only he were able to see the Christian/medieval heart of Shakespeare's work.

Posted by Davey at 11:13 AM | Comments (6)

To an open house in the evening
Home shall all men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.
     - G. K. Chesterton

Posted by Davey at 10:17 AM | Comments (2)

I left O'Hare early Wednesday morning and caught my connecting flight in Los Angeles with only five minutes to spare. The plane was having difficulties being towed to the gate and for far too many sickening minutes I was contemplating spending the night at LAX. But I was spared that ordeal and arrived at Narita Thursday afternoon, somewhat stressed and having slept not more than 45 minutes the entire flight.

After dinner and a few hours of sleep, I went down to the Rembrandt exhibit and spent the morning looking at "fat women and ugly men." Philistine though she may be, I have to agree that Rembrandt and van Dyck's Delilah wouldn't have even slightly tempted me in any carnal way. At her advances, I would have shrieked and run immediately to the nearest monastery to take my Benedictine vows.

Posted by Davey at 01:54 PM | Comments (3)

The cheap way to fulfill one's blogging obligations is to just post disconnected thoughts. No forethought required. I'm cheap. And I have a full schedule the next week or so, so my blogging might be ... shall we say, frugal. But Scots are known for their miserly ways, anyways.

... Impactful is almost as horrible of a word as planful. And, naturally, it is again my manager who most commonly pummels the English language with use of this "word." What can I say? He's a math major. I've heard from more than one source that the English vs. Math rivalry is the most brutal and historic rivalry in American and, one assumes, British academia. I can't think of anyone with a degree in English who truly loves math. Some tolerate it, I suppose. I didn't mind algebra too much.

... Eco's Baudolino is great storytelling. I started The Name of the Rose a while back, but never finished it. Now I'll need to. I understand its scope is much more grand and ambitious. Besides, mystery is one of my favorite genres.

... I saw The Last Samurai on opening night. Decent epic if you can look past the normal overdose of P.C.-ness. I was really disappointed that Algren gave in to the Samurai definition of "honor" at the end. I thought his disagreement with Katsumoto over whether suicide was honorable would make for an interesting twist, even if the story line didn't admit to either view being superior. It would have added character development to the otherwise cookie-cutter, gaijin-hating protagonist. A little Christian honor remained in Algren at the beginning, but by the end, he was just another Buddhist. We've seen this Westerner-hates-the-West-more-than-the-foreigners-themselves cliché dozens of times before. Hollywood hates America much more than most non-Americans, after all. Anyway, even a noncommittal ending would have been better plot-wise (not to mention theologically) than the West-bashing which capped the film.

Posted by Davey at 10:03 AM | Comments (6)

... I don't ever again want to hear someone say that it's guys who get crushes on Hollywood actresses and subsequently can't stop conversing about the newest, hottest pretty face on celluloid.

... Next time someone says I look like Matthew Broderick, I'm gonna do something really weird. Like dye my hair orange. Or wear suspenders. Or both.

... I hear Jackson and Co. are cutting the Houses of Healing from the theatrical release of ROTK. They've already butchered Faramir, and now they're leaving out the one segment in which he really shines. One major flaw in an otherwise stunning series.

Posted by Davey at 04:27 AM | Comments (5)

Interesting reading. Anyone know a synesthete?

Posted by Davey at 11:50 AM | Comments (6)

Last night I had the strangest dream ... what a dream I had ... it's sleeping in my memory. A walk in the garden wears me down ... I wandered empty streets, I heard cathedral bells, as I walked on. The morning is just a few hours away.... And I'm so tired.

Da-n-da-da-n-da-da.

Posted by Davey at 02:19 PM | Comments (0)

I've been commanded to blog something profound, deep, and majestic. I can't. Beatrice is preoccupied. And my whole body is aching. Worked out and jogged for the first time in a couple months last night. Of necessity and weakness, this will be one of those rambling blog entries that dulls the mind and takes you around the block a few times before showing you the daisies. If there are any, that is.

• Thought #1 - Crowe and Tallis

Saw Master and Commander with Kara on Saturday afternoon. I won't rehash all the accolades, but it really is a must-see. Crowe gave his normal well-tuned performance, but Bettany was the one who really stood out. Great character acting. Also, the music was excellent, specifically the integration of classical music. Besides, any movie which uses Vaughan Williams' Fantasia on a Theme by Tallis earns my immediate respect.

• Thought #2 - Post-phone (bad pun not entirely intended)

My dear friend, Hester, has done a wonderful job at making me very impatient and down in the mouth that I can't be in Tokyo right now. Oh ... except for when the raw tuna and squid enter into her stories. I could do without that enticement.

• Thought #3 - Blogging

I like to blog. <excuse>But the problem is ... I always think of something good to blog when I don't have access to a PC. I need a notebook to carry around in my pocket. </excuse>

• Thought #5 - Perfect number

Five was always my favorite number.

Posted by Davey at 09:40 AM | Comments (7)

At a team meeting yesterday, my manager uttered the word planful thrice in a one hour period. It was generally used in the context of a subtle rebuke or motivation: "We need to be planful in the future...." I don't know if I'm being too persnickety, but the word just seems to be the linguistic counterpart to those dreadful Oscar Meyer "hot dogs." It's a let down. In the case of the weiner wannabes, you don't want to chomp down on something you expect to be carnivorously fulfilling only to realize you have a mouthful of carnaged leftovers encased in a synthetic wrap. Same goes for planful. Most words with the -ful ending are "high" words - concepts like beauty, joy, wonder, and pain. But planning ain't a high concept, nor any kind of concept, for that matter. It's possible to be full of a sense of beauty or wonder, but how can you be full of a sense of planning? Planning isn't an attitude or state of being, it's an action.

I'm not against compounding or creating new words. I'm an American, not a Frog, after all. But you gotta have what Hemmingway called the "built in [crap] detector" that any decent writer should own. Some words are just inherently ugly and/or cacophonic, Can't think of any? Try splurge, infrastructure, fecund, and amillennial. *grin*

Posted by Davey at 10:36 AM | Comments (7)

• 1. If you could bring a fictional character to life for a day and spend time with him or her, which one would you choose and how would you spend the day?

I'm going to bend the rules a bit and give my top three before narrowing it down to one.... They'd have to be Lord Peter Wimsey, Innocent Smith, and Adam Dalgliesh. If I'm required to choose one, it'd be Lord Peter. Dalgliesh, as wonderful of a literary character as he is, would be a dreadful bore; Innocent Smith would be anything but a bore, to the point at which I'd fear for my life and sanity.

Lord Peter might well find me a very boring companion, but no one could tire of his company very quickly. There are some people (and I know a few) whose mannerisms and wit are simply magnetic, and Wimsey is the literary gold standard of manners and wit. An evening at a Bach concerto would probably be the most rewarding, since his taste in music and the manner in which he appreciates it is almost exactly my own, although his understanding of aesthetics is far more cultured than mine. I'd be a little worried, however, that a corpse would somehow make an unbidden appearance by the time the day was over.

• 2. If you were told you had to make a choice between never again eating either Chicago style pizza or Vienna Beef hot dogs, which would you choose to give up and why?

Some things are better not to contemplate, but it appears I'm forced to in this case. I've never viewed myself as a Chicagoan, but if there's one thing that does identify me as such, it's my taste in food. I don't have a drop of Italian blood in me, but Italian beef and pizza, both of which are archetypal foods in Chicagoland, are two things I love. And Chicago style pizza ... quite heavenly. But if I were forced to make this devilish choice, I'd have to let the pizza go. I can eat other styles of pizza, but I can't fathom having to revert back to Oscar Meyer.

• 3. Beatrice is giving you a tour of paradise (along with her buddy Dante) and while you're there, you decide to organize a literary conference featuring Flannery O'Connor, G.K. Chesterton, and C.S. Lewis, each giving a single lecture. What would you ask each of them to speak on?

The latter two have already written so voluminously that it's hard to pick something new that I'd want to hear from them. I still have thousands of pages to read of their works. Of the three, the things I most admire are O'Connor's striking simplicity, Lewis' coherent and philosophical wordsmithing, and Chesterton's way of tinkering around before hitting you between the eyes with a well-aimed resolution to his paradoxes. O'Connor and Chesterton, in particular, make an interesting duo. Both Catholics growing up in a Protestant culture; both attacking modernism with very modern methods (similar to Evelyn Waugh); yet both have such disparate writing styles. I want to glean from both. So I'd love to hear Ms. O'Connor lecture on the use of simple, yet subtle, dialogue; from Chesterton, I want to learn how to write purple prose that still has punch.

And, of course, I'd listen to just about anything C.S. Lewis would have to say with rapt attention, regardless of what it was. It's that way with all his writings. Nothing is without impact.

• 4. At your advanced age you still share a room with two younger brothers. What things do you like best about the close quarters and thus being part of their growing up?

Well, in my "advanced age" I've had to adjust all over again to the randomness of youth. I suppose I had my own quirky habits at their age, but my two younger brothers are quite zany. One minute they'll be running endless circles around the living room in a mock Olympic running match, the next minute they'll be passing secret illegible notes to me while I'm reading on my bed. I'm also frequently recruited for their latest Arthurian quest or crusade to the Holy Land.

One of the most difficult things about moving out next year will be getting used to a quiet house again, one without giggles, screams, and random drive-by shootings with plastic darts. So I'll miss the messes and the occasional nerf arrow shot in my eye, but at least I won't have a room to myself.

Interview Rules

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions — each person's will be different.
3. You will update your journal or blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Posted by Davey at 11:19 AM | Comments (3)

• James Jordan "[W]e should not forget that originally Halloween was a Christian custom, and there is is no solid reason why Christians cannot enjoy it as such even today."
• TR response
  "This can be an enjoyable October 31 that can include a covered dish meal (consider a German theme), with plenty of games, videos and presentations about our Reformed heritage. Reformation Day can be a day that we redeem and use to celebrate an important milestone in our history."
• French Alternatives
  "Saints instead of witches, pop songs instead of hooting owls, 'Christian cake' instead of pumpkins -- France's Catholics are trying everything to fend off a Halloween celebration they say is an ungodly U.S. import."
• Danish Alternatives
  "Real Meaning (To Me): A time to enjoy friends and family through shared traditions (involving costumes and carved pumpkins), sweet foods, and healthy celebration. "
• Origins and Myths
  Noncommittal: "Regardless of the position you take...."

I'm just looking forward to lying in wait for any hoodlums who try to egg our car this year like they did last year. This time, I'll be ready. <evil cackle>

Posted by Davey at 11:24 AM | Comments (9)

Maybe those polygamists got it right. Coffee is a terror. Mankind was doing just fine without it. All seven wonders of the world, the Pax Romana, the Renaissance and Reformation were achieved without that nefarious drug. Shakespeare was able to write, Bach to compose, Wren to build without its aid. Putting Bacon aside (where he usually belongs), the pre-moderns were able to stay awake just fine without becoming dependent on its black magic.

OK, OK. Maybe I'm overreacting. A little. Just remind me never to have it again. I didn't sleep well last night, so I gulped down a cup this morning and now my foot won't stop bouncing. I need to go sprint or swim or do something to tire myself out.

Posted by Davey at 12:41 PM | Comments (9)

For the record, it's you guys. Any other form is substandard.

We're all used to hearing professional communicators in television and radio sound like they're from the Midwest. The only problem with the Midwestern "accent" is that it isn't. It simply doesn't exist in any classic form. I come from Chicaaago, so perhaps I have some kind of twist to my speech, such as my use of anyways. That's something. I just think it'd be nice if we Midwesterners had something to distinguish us. Banality is wearisome.

Posted by Davey at 07:33 AM | Comments (7)

It's really ironic how Christians are so often called unloving. It's a particularly Western penchant to accuse the Church of intolerance. In the post-Christian West, it's easy to assume that we've escaped the Jerusalem above. Some of my own friends and family, once believers, have fallen away, usually because of the failings of other Christians or Church authority. Because they view the Church as an imposed and unnatural spiritual authority, when it fails to provide the leadership and love it is called to provide, it's easy for them to level the charge of hypocrisy.

When former Christians start exploring the world "outside" the Church, they often find the freedom intoxicating. In my own extended family, I've seen how the benefits of Eastern religion and even Wiccanism can provide such an enticing alternative to true faith. Fallen man is naturally a pantheist because it's perceived as the shortest route to divinity. Oneness with the world, and therefore a shared sacredness, has ensnared many believers who lost a sense of true fellowship with the Church.

But really, most Western Wiccans and pantheists aren't true Wiccans or pantheists. Perhaps they've planted the seed, but they have no idea what the full-grown tree looks like. They have pantheistic beliefs in what is still a Trinitarian world. Their own ideas of oneness and love and acceptance are really just twisted versions of Christianity. The Wiccanism of my cousin is not the Wiccanism of the Druids. She doesn't offer ritual human sacrifices based on the lunar calendar. But she would if she really were consistent. In the same way, the idea of love in Buddhism, which superficially seems so close to Christianity, is actually antithetical to what most Westerners associate with love. Whether we admit it or not, we've grown up with some very Trinitarian notions about love. True love must be sacrificial. True love must be for an Other. The essence of love is not self-love. But pantheistic or Eastern "love" is just that. If all is one, and one is all, then it is impossible to say you love someone or something, because that person or thing is not real or distinct. I can say I love my fiancee because she is not me. She is herself. She is distinct, and I can therefore pour my love out of myself and into her. But if she is me is a dog is a tree is a wisp of cloud, then I cannot love her. I can only experience oneness with her in the same way that I can experience oneness with a summer breeze, an alley cat, or a drop of rain.

Chesterton once wrote:

It is the doctrine that we are really all one person; that there are no real walls of individuality between man and man. If I may put it so, [the Buddhist] does not tell us to love our neighbours; [he] tells us to be our neighbours .... And I never heard of any suggestion in my life with which I more violently disagree. I want to love my neighbour not because he is I, but precisely because he is not I. I want to adore the world, not as one likes a looking-glass, because it is one's self, but as one loves a woman, because she is entirely different. If souls are separate love is possible. If souls are united love is obviously impossible. A man may be said loosely to love himself, but he can hardly fall in love with himself, or, if he does, it must be a monotonous courtship. If the world is full of real selves, they can be really unselfish selves. But upon [the Buddhist's] principle the whole cosmos is only one enormously selfish person.

The Wiccan or Buddhist takes the oneness of the Trinity without recognizing the distinctness. The Father can love the Son because the Son is both the same and different. The Son's obedience in fulfilling His task on earth was not mere self-acknowledgement, it was true submission and obedience. He did not just come to earth because he had the same mind as the Father, but because the Father sent Him.

It is the same in marriage. In true Christian love, man and wife do not make decisions based merely on like-mindedness. As much as this oneness is to be desired, there is a real distinctness, too, which is why the man must sacrifice himself for his wife, and the wife must submit to her husband in the way that Christ submitted to the Father. The wife does not merely obey because she happens to agree with her husband, but because he is her husband. But if there were no distinction between man and wife, if they were one without being distinct, then this authority would disappear. And it is this basis of authority and simultaneous oneness and distinctness that makes marital love so wonderful and marriage itself perhaps the closest human parallel to the relationship of the Trinity.

The Creation is not "one" in the pantheistic sense. Love is not oneness, but sacrifice. Unless you recognize that your neighbor is not yourself, there is no way to love him as you love yourself. Unless a husband leads his wife as Christ does the Church, he does not love her. True Christian, sacrificial love is not manifested in the kamikaze, but in something more like Dickens' Sydney Carton.

Somehow it just doesn't work to say, "greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for the good of the autonomous collective."

Posted by Davey at 10:26 AM | Comments (3)

Co-blogging ought to make things easier. After all, only half the work is required, right? Well, you all probably know how little I've been blogging as of late, but I hope that will change now. I'm afraid I'm going to have to behave myself. I'll just ebb away ... with style, if possible.

So there will be no more non-capitalized titles; who and whom will be properly used; take and bring will know their places; ain't will only be used to rib my Southern friends; and alright is henceforth all right.

Anyway, I'll try to be more constant now I have motivation.

Blog on.

Posted by Davey at 09:07 AM | Comments (2)