I haven’t read Kinsella’s Shopaholic series, but after Finding Audrey, I think I need to! I loved Kinsella’s humor, inclusion of pop culture, and honest portrayal of mental disorders.
Audrey suffers from a host of anxiety disorders after a (presumably) horrendous bullying experience. Although I understand the right of a person to not have to share why they struggle, it’s a book! I want to know why! This was the one thing I didn’t like about the story. I can only assume Kinsella thought that no matter her description of bullying, some reader would scoff that it wasn’t that bad. As it is, our imaginations are free to run wild.
While Kinsella doesn’t tell us exactly what caused Audrey’s panic attacks and anxiety, she does a phenomenal job showing how these disorders play out in her life. Kinsella doesn’t glamorize her anxiety, nor does she make Audrey into a caricature of a human being. Instead, she honestly describes the fear, growth, and healing that comes in a person working through their issues with the help of a loving family and a knowledgeable counselor. And a cute boy. Because it is a YA novel, and cute boys never hurt. Continue reading →
Theodicy is the theological term for “the problem of evil.” It is, essentially, a defense of God when someone asks, “How could a good God allow evil to exist?”
When I studied theodicy in church and in seminary, I often felt disconnected from the reality of the discussion. Sitting at a table, it’s easy to defend God’s goodness. There are graphs and outlines and quotations. Everything is sanitized, kind of like this video describing Augustine’s famous solution to the problem of evil.
It’s all very logical and intellectual, and while safe at my privileged desk, I agree with the theology. But there has always been a deeper part of me, ruled by emotion, that rebels. I don’t care that God must allow evil in order to preserve free will. How can God be powerful and good when animals are killed so that humans might be fashionable, prisoners are raped so that power might be asserted, and wars destroy people, homes, and countries, so that feuds might be settled? When children are cowering in corners watching Daddy throw Mommy down the stairs in their pretty suburban house?
Theodicy answered my intellectual questions. But it could not satisfy the horror in my heart. I knew how a good and powerful God could allow evil, but….how could a good and powerful God allow evil?!
Emotion must be answered by emotion, and emotion is best conveyed with music and with story. The opening chapter of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion gave me both. Entitled “The Music of the Ainur,” Tolkien presents a creation narrative similar to the one in the Bible, with some noticable differences. In The Silmarillion, God (here named Eru Ilúvatar) creates the Ainur, who in turn create the world. These angelic equivalents carry out their task of creation by singing into existence the will of Ilúvatar. Be forewarned – I will quote from the book extensively. I could explain the plot instead of allowing it to speak for itself, but explaining is intellectual, and the emotional power of story is in its telling.
And it came to pass that Ilúvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed; and the glory of its beginning and the splendour of its end amazed the Ainur, so that they bowed before Ilúvatar and were silent.
Tolkien’s creation mythology has a perfect God creating a perfect world. His story also includes free will, since Melkor, the Lucifer equivalent, rebels against the Great Music Ilúvatar created.
But now Ilúvatar sat and hearkened, and for a great while it seemed good to him, for in the music there were no flaws. But as the theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matters of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Ilúvatar…straight-away discord arose about him, and many that sang nigh him grew despondent, and their thought was disturbed and their music faltered; but some began to attune their music to his rather than to the thought which they had at first. Then the discord of Melkor spread ever wider, and the melodies which had been heard before foundered in a sea of turbulent sound. But Ilúvatar sat and hearkened until it seemed that about his throne there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon another in an endless wrath that would not be assuaged.
The chaos of evil is sometimes too much for words to express. At a certain point, the sheer enormity of it all makes my brain shut down. But a raging storm of music? I can perfectly imagine that and feel the dread and confusion and terror it would evoke. Evil has entered the perfectly created world. What will God do? What can God do? Erase it, or start over, or…something else? Something more powerful?
Then Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that he smiled; and he lifted up his left hand, and a new theme began amid the storm, like and yet unlike to the former theme, and it gathered power and had new beauty. But the discord of Melkor rose in uproar and contended with it, and again there was a war of sound more violent than before, until many of the Ainur were dismayed and sang no longer, and Melkor had the mastery. Then again Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that his countenance was stern; and he lifted up his right hand, and behold! a third theme grew amid the confusion, and it was unlike the others. For it seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and profundity. And it seemed at last that there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Ilúvatar, and they were utterly at variance. The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other had now achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes…
Then Ilúvatar spoke, and he said: ‘Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will now show forth, that ye may see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.
It might be that Tolkien’s stories play exactly into the way my mind and heart are designed, but this story, more than any theodicy, gives me peace about the nature of God and the existence of evil. Zooming out to the big picture of creation acknowledges that evil consistently clamors for dominance and even seems to win it. But God is bigger than evil, and somehow the words “he that attempth this [evil] shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined” makes my heart sink into the most profound sense of peace.
There is evil in this world, and as Christians, we try to defend God’s honor against those in pain. While I am thankful for intellectual explanations, I cannot help but feel they are too often inadequate. Augustine’s powerful and good God who allows for evil in the creation of free will is distant and a little cold. But Eru Ilúvatar brings the world into existence with song, rises from his seat again and again and calmly assures his created servants that he has everything under control.
Emmy & Oliver manages to combine the contentment of best-friends-falling-in-love with the passion of strangers-falling-in-love. How? By having Oliver kidnapped by his dad at age seven and returned to Emmy’s life ten years later. It’s a little ridiculous, their lifelong love enduring through such chaos, but I loved it!
Although this is an unapologetically romantic book, I loved the psychological details revolving around Oliver’s conflicted feelings toward his dad and the overprotective reactions of Emmy’s parents. In fact, I really liked her realistic relationship with her parents as they struggled to let her grow up. I also loved her friendship with Caro and Drew, especially as they worked through the changes Oliver’s return makes in their relationships.
But mostly it’s a romance! And a really good one. Emmy and Oliver are so sweet with each other, weird and supportive and healthy in a way that YA novels often ignore. More stories where romance begins with friendship…and continues to be a friendship, even when the kissing starts! Continue reading →
I picked this up simply to cross off another title from this year’s Caudill award nominated books, and I wouldn’t have made it past the first couple chapters if I hadn’t assumed people liked it for a reason. The protagonist is a little wooden (although that’s definitely part of her genius personality), and I didn’t like the way paragraphs tended to be one sentence long.
BUT THEN. But then, Counting By 7s became something really beautiful. Middle grade books have the opportunity to delve into the darkest parts of life (grief, racism, poverty) and address them with simple optimism. This story was all of that, and it was so refreshing. It’s not that these issues are resolved easily, but every page is infused with hope. Whereas an adult novel might veer into something maudlin, Counting By 7s is fierce in its assertion that all things can be endured and overcome. I loved it. Continue reading →
I recently reread The Giver and watched the movie for the first time. It’s fairly obvious that the book is infinitely better than its film adaptation, but it was, I think, worth watching.
But first, what I didn’t like.
The movie moves too quickly, speeding through explanations and experiences where the book lingers. The Community is hastily shown to us, whereas the book spends long chapters introducing us to their society, only slowly revealing how ominous their rules truly are.
The movie lacks a cohesive logic. In the book, Jonas and the Giver are the only two people capable of deep emotion. The actions and apathy of the other characters are seen as tragic and maddening, but we understand that without memories and emotions, they cannot help themselves. They are little more than robots.
In the film, however, characters act on emotion when they have no ability to do so. Lily looks sad at Gabe’s release, although in the book she happily agrees with her father that they did all they could for the child. Asher hints at jealousy when Jonas and Fiona start pairing off, and later he saves Jonas’s life out of what can only be loyalty–an emotion he ought not to have. And Fiona. Ugh, Fiona.
I loved her in the book. She (and Jonas’s father) are our most intimate windows into the tragedy of the Community. Although Jonas’s feelings for her mature and grow passionate, hers remain simple and naive. When Jonas rails against his father after learning the true meaning of “release,” he takes comfort in the fact that Fiona would never do such a thing. That is, until the Giver tells him that she is already being trained to release people. She stands in stark contrast to what we expect, allowing us to see the necessity of the memories Jonas is inheriting. She’s a good person; we like her. Yet because she does not have the empathy born of emotion, she will unwittingly do horrible things.
But in the movie, she fights alongside Jonas. After mere hours of being without her injections against the “stirrings,” she accepts a kiss and soon helps him escape. I understand that they are implying the power of love, but really? It cheapens Jonas’s journey and the importance of a shared history. If all it takes to buck the system is hormones coursing through their veins, a much simpler plan would be to get everyone to stop taking their injections for a day rather than attempting a dangerous escape. Plus, it turns the whole story into a romance, and come on. Don’t we have enough of those? I liked the plot much better when it was a boy’s love for an infant that spurred him into action rather than a pretty girl. Romantic love is an inspiration, but it is not the only emotion that encourages bravery and self-sacrifice.
And the Chief Elder! In her (admittedly brilliant) argument with the Giver at the end of the film, it seems like she has had just as much access to the memories as the Giver himself. If so, what is the point of his station? And again, this cheapens the tragedy of the book, where we see the elders deliberately avoiding any knowledge of the memories, wanting only the Giver’s advice out of context.
Whew. Okay. Apparently there were more things I disliked than I realized. HOWEVER, I stand by my earlier statement that the movie is worth watching, and for one simple reason. The memories. The first time Jonas sees full color, transported to the view of a dramatic sunset on the ocean, waves turned red in the waning light, my eyes filled with tears. The beauty was overwhelming after so much grey scale. I was moved to emotion again when the Giver transferred memories of courage to Jonas, of people parachuting, riding rapids, protesting, standing firm in front of tanks. And again at the end, when all the memories return to the people of the Community, and they see tornados, babies, concerts, lights, tears, running, praying, sunlight, death, pregnancy, and rain.
The movie is at its best when it takes on the role of Giver, filling our minds with memories and emotions, reminding us of the beauty, pain, and intensity that comes with being human.
The Giver: Do you know what that’s like? To love someone? I do. I’ve cried, felt sorrow. Love, song, dance. Felt real joy.
Chief Elder: Then you should know better than anyone. You have seen children starve. You’ve seen people stand on each other’s necks, just for the view. You know what it feels like when men blow each other up over a simple line in the sand.
The Giver: Yes, I do, I do.
Chief Elder: And yet–and yet! You and Jonas want to open that door again, bring all that back.
The Giver: If you could only see the possibility of love. With love comes faith, comes hope!
Chief Elder: Love is just passion that can turn. It turns into contempt and murder.
The Giver: We could choose better.
Chief Elder: People are weak. People are selfish. When people have the freedom to choose, they choose wrong. Every single time.
The Giver: Loss, pain, music, joy–the raw, beautiful, impossible feeling of love. We are living a life of shadows, of echoes, of faint distant whispers of what once made us real.
Ugh. I would not have made it through this book if it weren’t for the constant encouragement by my trusted book-loving friend Kelly. She insisted it got better, and while she was right, it took 250 pages to get there.
I honestly don’t know why the first 250 pages existed. I mean, I do, but they were so derivative and repetitive and blegh. It’s a stereotypical Beauty and the Beast story, except like….without any of the fun drama and disgust captured far better by Cruel Beautyor The Hollow Kingdom. They fall for each other far too quickly, and they’re both attractive, nice people….isn’t the whole point of the fairy tale the fact that at least one of them is a little bit beastly?
HOWEVER. Things make a turn in the last third of the book, and I enjoyed the ending so much I almost find myself looking forward to a sequel. Things got darker, more complex, and a lot more interesting. I wish the whole book had been that way! Continue reading →
I used to be really into novels in verse (stories told through numerous short poems), but I haven’t read one in a while. I’m so glad Brown Girl Dreaming reminded me of the art form. It’s a great way to condense a long story (in this case, Woodson’s childhood) into bite-sized emotional pieces.
Woodson does a wonderful job of conveying her experiences both through the micro lens of her family as well as the macro lens of the changing racial cultures around her. We get to see what it was like for a black girl to grow up in the North and the South during the Civil Rights generally, and we get to see her family support and tragedy specifically.
I loved this book. Because of its format, it’s a quick read. It’s heartwarming and heartbreaking, just like life. Continue reading →
It’s such a relief when the second book of an author you love turns out to be excellent. Cruel Beauty immediately became one of my favorite books, and now that I’ve read Crimson Bound, I can trust that Rosamund Hodge is going to be an author I can trust to create beautifully haunting worlds of remade fairy tales.
I love Hodge’s darker spins on classic stories and the incredible amount of creativity she infuses into her story. Although undeniably Little Red Riding Hood, the necessary elements of seductive danger and innocence stolen are laid on top of a rich fantasy world of sometime-France and faeries. It is so good.
One of my favorite things about Hodge’s romances is that she refuses to play into “happily ever after” tropes where good wins and bad loses. Although there is definitely pathos to the end of her stories, Hodge insists that there is good and bad in all of us. It is when her characters accept their badness and cling to their goodness that the plot starts moving. People fall in love with each other’s whole self–there is no fairy tale princess here, just broken people needing and loving each other. This is exactly the kind of romance I like to read.
I cannot wait for her next book, and I encourage everyone to read both this and her first book, Cruel Beauty, as quickly as possible. Continue reading →
I’ve always thought of Western civilization beginning with ancient Greece or Rome. But Thomas Cahill convinced me to take a historical step backward and consider the impact of the Jewish story as the true hinge upon which history turns. Prior to the Jews, pagan religions viewed the world as cyclical, repetitive, and uncontrollable. When Yahweh intercedes in the life of Avraham (then Yitzchak, then Yaakov), the unveiling of a monotheistic religion changes everything. History becomes linear, and a relational God that interacts with humans creates the possibility of real change and human responsibility.
Anyone interested in history, culture, or religion will find this fascinating. Cahill is a phenomenal writer, working his way through history with just enough time to appreciate what happens without dawdling. His adherence to Hebraic terms (like the names of the patriarchs above) gives readers enough space to view the story with new eyes.
As a seminary student, I view the Bible almost exclusively through the eyes of application: what can we learn from its stories? The Gifts of the Jews broadened my appreciation, helping me to see that history itself was changed by this unique people group. Continue reading →
Ten pages in, I knew Fill These Hearts would be at the top of my favorite books lists. Few other Christian books feel so human; West is deeply in touch with the longings of humanity as well as our hope. Every sentence went straight to my heart, and I found myself excited to live, excited to be human, excited to admit my desires in hope of my destiny.
The main premise is that we all have universal longings–for meaning, for companionship, for eternal ecstasy and bliss. We know we want those things, and we know that this life so rarely fulfills us. In the face of thwarted desire, West suggests that we react in one of three ways: 1) the starvation diet, wherein we pretend we don’t care about those desires, 2) the fast food diet, wherein we try to fulfill our desires through unhealthy means, and 3) the banquet, wherein we lean into our desires and let them point us to God and his goodness.
I used to fall into the starvation diet category, miserable but in control. I was leery of people who indulged in their desires and arrogantly called them “sinners.” The past few years, thanks to mentors, books, and counseling sessions, I am learning to embrace the banquet mindset. I’m so glad West wrote this book (which embraces both theology and pop culture–my favorite!) to give language to my emotions. More than most books I’ve read, I hope everyone reads this one! Continue reading →
It Is Trish 