books

Reflections Upon McMurtry’s Novel, ‘Lonesome Dove’

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Introduction: For years and years, I had heard about this novel. I even had it on a shelf in my library for years. Finally I resolved to read it. It’s not that I didn’t want to. It was that I have so many books on my TBR list that I’d simply not gotten to it. But the time came at last. And to give you an idea of how highly I found the experience of reading it . . . well, I’m blogging about it. It was spectacular. If you are a serious reader, perhaps you will follow me as I share some reflections below.

Published in 1985 by Texan Larry McMurtry, the novel earned the Pulitzer Prize for Literature in 1986.

The plot is simple but not simplistic. The story hinges upon the spectacular efforts to leave the tiny community of Lonesome Dove, Texas and ride horseback to Montana to herd cattle back to Texas, and become self-sufficient ranchers and leave Texas Ranger life somewhat behind.

The two main characters are Captain Augustus “Gus” McCrae and Captain Woodrow Call. But their group of friends and associates and women and drunks and a boy (Newt), and ex-wives, and a black man/friend/scout named Deets, et al, will leave you with characters in your imagination you’ll not quickly forget. There are also Dish and Pea Eye and Lorena and Clara. The cast of characters is large as the landscapes the story covers, but they all grip you. At least they gripped me. Profoundly.

The stories involved in this tome include their heroisms, defeats, arguments, divorces, adulteries, friendships, betrayals, loyalties, love for the land, battles with Indians, a cowardly sheriff, tough-as-nails women, golden-hearted whores, grave diggers, and more.

So, What’s It Really About? It is difficult not to limit the book in answering that question. But among other things, it’s about friendship, about loneliness, about pride, about grit, about sacrifice, about freedom, about the need for others, about pity, about honor, about violence, and that’s just a start.

I have read hundreds of novels over my many years as a reader and teacher. I have never been one for genre fiction–Westerns, sci-fi, fantasy, etc. But this book, though certainly a Western, was not so much a book as a world.

Let me compare it this way: I love reading the great tragedies of Shakespeare. And each time I read Hamlet, e.g., I’m back in Elsinore. Well, in this novel, I wasn’t in Elsinore; I was in Texas, Kansas, Nebraska, Montana, Fort Smith, Arkansas, and more. I was simply but profoundly there with them. The story was that good.

The Ending: It’s a long novel, by most people’s standards–just short of 900 pages. So, yes, it takes some effort to stick with it. But I can think of few novels where I wept like I did over this one’s endings. I say “endings” because we as readers see the ends of a host of characters. We come to understand Call in his pride, Gus in his courage, Clara and Lorena, and the beautiful boy, Newt. And when you see what becomes of them, McMurtry rips our hearts out–not in cruelty towards us as readers but in our love for these men and women. I cannot get over how much the scenes between Call and Newt eviscerated my soul. And the last conversation between Gus and Call was simply an example of the best of what great literature provides to us–beauty and pathos and a reminder of the power of love, pride, honor, and sacrifice.

If you will, I simply encourage you to pick up this book. Schedule time. Read it. It took me several weeks, but it was so worth it. I know this will reveal even more of my deep love of great literature, but this book does what great literature is meant to do–remind us of what Faulkner called “the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of [man’s] past. The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.”

And like so much that Faulkner wrote in his best novels and stories, McMurtry, too, earned his place among the greats with this novel.

Ruminations: Our Granddaughter, a Trip to the Store, and a Novel That Brought It All Near and Far

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We are blessed to keep our granddaughter this weekend. CJ is a natural at it all. I am not. What’s the ‘it’? Grandparenting a seven-month-old. CJ excels in feeding and bathing her. She burps her. She rocks her. She plays with her. It’s beautiful to watch. I’m less than graceful at it all. I can’t seem to ever get her comfortable when holding her. The times I do fairly well are when I take her with me outside to the burn barrel and hold her as I piddle in the yard. And she seems to like it when I water the trees. But I’ll take it all. It’s beautiful to see her smile when we sing ditties and nursery rhymes and see her eyes light up when we call her name.

I drove to the store in town to purchase a medication but the store didn’t have it, so I returned empty-handed. On the way down the hill, lots and lots of deer were munching on grasses that had turned a bright green after today’s rain. You can see the doe up close here, then another standing over her right shoulder, and see another one bed down in the trees behind them both.

I read Powers’ excellent novel Bewilderment over the last two days. It was one of those books that’ll remain with me. It’s a visceal tale of a father-son relationship in a universe that is indeed bewildering. The dizzying stupidity and greed of politics and government bureaucray, the destruction of the earth, the seemingly endless levels of human vanity and stupidity . . . and yet, the possibility of depth and of human connection. Truly a remarkable book. It reminds me of McCarthy’s The Road, one of the most powerful novels I’ve ever read.

I have another day’s events scheduled for in the morning. I have to drive to a faculty meeting for one of the universities where I teach English. But then, I long to return to see this beautiful granddaughter, to her amazing grandmother, and study more of Ecclesiastes before I herald the truth to the saints of Christ Covenant Church (3cs-canton.org) Sunday morning,

Views upon a Trip to a Florida Barnes & Noble

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Lonesome Dove is the main book I’m currently reading. But it is about 900 pages in length. 858 to be precise. And the font is, I’m speculating, about 10-point Times New Roman. I felt the need to get up and peruse some other books. Augustus and Deets and Call and the other fellas would be here when I got back.

“I’m going to go to one of the bookstores,” I said to CJ.

“Oh, you need another one?” she quipped.

“No, I just need to see what’s out there. There’s a Barnes & Noble and a Books-A-Million just down the way. I’ll be back in a few,” I said.

I grabbed my wallet, laced up my On Cloud running shoes, borrowed our daughter’s car keys, kissed CJ on the cheek, walked out the door, boarded the elevator, and walked towards her vehicle downstairs in the parking lot.

A summer rain had been on and off again throughout the day. The sky was that muggy FL haze common in summer. The traffic was light but constant on US HWY 98 between Destin and Panama City. I read the tags on the vehicles: TN, TX, KY, GA, and lots of local FL ones.

Fifteen minutes later I arrived at the Barnes & Noble. I walked in, eager to see how this one would be arranged book-wise. Again I was disapppointed to see there was no Classics section. Instead there were sections of Manga, Mystery/Thriller/True Crime, Romance and Fantasy, Bibles, New Age, Philosophy, a small Poetry section, and sections for what Barnes & Noble called Young Readers. And there was all manner of gifts–journals, coffee cups, bookmarks, stationery, pens, toys, etc.

Once I discovered that the classics would be hard to find, I went to the Fiction section and looked for what I took as the basics they’d surely have. I did at last find some Dickens, Faulkner, Hemingway, McCarthy, McMurtry, Powers, and Wharton, and Whitman. Hope, at last.

I pulled Powers’ Bewilderment off the shelf and read the first few paragraphs. Like his other books, I found them marvelous and instructive. Powers is focused on what’s being done to the natural world in the name of progress, and he has my ear.

A young man in his twenties appproached near where I stood reading. He kept getting closer and closer, such that I looked up to see if I was perhaps in his way, perhaps blocking his view. He never made eye contact. But he kept standing right next to me. It gave me what my deceased grandfather called the “heeby-jeebies,” so I reshelved the Powers novel and moved on to the Poetry section and perused some Whitman and other poets.

After the creeper moved on, I returned to the Fiction section and thumbed through some familiar literary friends’ books–Larry McMurtry, Edith Wharton, William Gaddis. I lost track of time. I knew CJ and the family would be making jokes of my being in a bookstore and likely would have wagered I’d return with a bag of purchases. But I didn’t give in. I simply made note of volumes I’ve yet to read, but that had caught my interest. There was one called Mailman by Grant that looked like a fun read. Plus I love the region that served as its primary setting.

Nothing really stood out to me–other than the fact that reading seems to be marketed to what sells, not necessarily what is actually lasting and good. Maybe that’s just the old codger coming out in me. That lament has probably been part of bibliophiles’ sentiment since Gutenberg blessed the world during the Reformation.

Back at the beach house now. The sun has popped out. And I’m back with McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove and saddled in with Call and Gus and the boys en route to Montana, to see what happens.

We’re going out for seafood this evening. CJ will want some (no, many!) crab legs, and I’ll be on the hunt for grouper and shrimp.

Thoughts on ‘Confirming One’s Calling’

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When I was a boy, the house I grew up in had a black iron bell on the front porch. In the afternoons after school, and especially during summers, I would be outdoors most of the days if the weather was right. The other boys and I in our postage stamp of soil would be outside like little Huck Finns–building forts, making ramps on which to jump our bikes, fishing, camping, hunting, exploring the woods and the many fields, scouting for deer, trying to trap rabbits. On and on it went. A boy’s paradise in smalltown rural life. We didn’t have much money. I didn’t know that at the time. We were simple people with simple pleasures, and I was filling my boy soul with sights, sounds, and smells that shaped who I am.

Currently I’m away from home as part of my military duties, but at night I’m able to read Scripture and study. When I return to Christ Covenant Church (3cs-canton.org), I will resume teaching through Peter’s two epistles. The next text is 2 Peter 1, the opening chapter, where Peter writes about evidences of Christianity. He lists multiple qualities/characteristics of believers (2 Pt 1:5-7).

And then in verse 10, it struck me like Mom’s ringing the black iron bell on the front porch when it was time for me to come in. When she’d ring that, the sound would travel across the ponds, through the pines, across the fields. I knew it was time to get home. “Dark-thirty,” is the phrase that was used.

In verse 10, Peter writes, “Therefore, brothers, be all the more diligent to confirm your calling and election, for if you practice these qualities you will never fall.” There’s something about that calling that summons the soul, that brings me back to the clear sound of that bell I heard countless times as a boy.

Vignettes of Warfighter

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Another week has come and gone at Warfighter. The weather here has thus far been ideal. Daytime temperatures are in the 80s and the nights cool after the sun has descended. Our soldiers have discovered their rhythms. Many are operating on 12-hour shifts–daytime and nighttime. You can tell based upon the exposure, of lack thereof, to sunlight.

The sound waves carry the constant hmmmmm of the generators that power our military computers and electronic equipment. The intel and current operations shops in the tents are like walking into a big box electronics store, all aglow with monitors displaying maps with contour lines, lines of advance, bridges, roads, rivers, etc.

The signal guys are constantly monitoring communication assets and vulnerabilities. The future operations guys are wargaming how to react to anticipated enemy attacks. Fires and artillery are doing the same.

Our unit legal team is researching questions and answers related to queries from some of our downtrace units.

I walk amongst the troops, checking on everyone, engaging in small talk, trying to encourage them during these long days. Often they speak of their families and loved ones back home. Others are working through strains with their civilian employers.

I sit down to type a bit in order to clarify my thoughts. A few meters away is the tent entrance and the concertina wire surrounding our area of operations.

So far, so good–the long days and nights, the hmmmmm of the generators, the Chinooks and Black Hawks slicing across the sky above us, the guys leaning forward into their tasks.

As is often the case, we measure time based upon chow–hots for breakfast and supper, and MREs for lunch. Many of us are skipping meals. The chow here will keep you alive but no wise soldier eats more than is necessary. Hot sauce almost makes it edible. The coffee could double as diesel fuel.

“Hey, chappy. Services tonight?” a soldier asks.

“Of course, brother. I’m ready anytime.”

“See you at 1900, sir.”

“Roger that, brother,” I said.

And this is the way it goes.

I look over at my black notebook with my notes of what I’ll speak on this evening–anxiety and how to navigate it as a Christian.

I look over at a Hawthorne novel to my left that I’ve almost completed during the long nights–The House of Seven Gables. It’s my third time reading this one but I value Hawthorne’s insights still.

Missing my wife, I look at pictures of her I keep in my phone photos. She’s going to get her hair done today, so she’ll be prettier than ever–once again. I missed her birthday this week, and our son’s birthday, due to being away with my military unit. But they’ve endured my military absences for decades now, and are doing it again.

The days tick by, the generators hmmmmm, I type a bit more, and now it’s time to return to our guys.

Some Reflections on the Use of AI in Literature

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For many years now, I have taught literature. It is part of who I am, I suppose. I discovered a passion for reading when a teenager and that passion is unabated. I do not truck with much popular-level reading, like that which you’ll find in airport kiosks or on the tables at your town’s chain bookstores. I love the classics–most of them anyway. There are a few books considered classics that I just cannot seem to enjoy. There are some Austen books that put me to sleep. Give me Dickens and Hardy over Austen, any day.

But this is about Artificial Intelligence, not about my literary interests. Here are a few questions I’m thinking through:

  • Is AI to be welcomed in when it comes to literary analysis?
  • That is, is ‘close reading’ even possible if AI becomes the de facto medium for students’ literary analyses?
  • What happens to students’ intellectual development if and when they rely on AI to ‘do the reading’ for them?
  • Is it possible to inculcate critical thinking skills when AI is prevalent?

I was grading papers today and, after reading six or seven essays from my college kids, I discovered a pattern–almost the exact same lingo, quotes from short stories, and conclusions. Some overlap is understandable, of course. But when the pattern repeats again and again, “Houston, we have a problem.”

I concede that we should aim to learn the history of the best commentaries on the classics. I mean, if one’s reading is so ‘out there’ that it’s unhitched from the wisdom of the past, there may be good reason to be suspicious.

But what I’m seeing is just the opposite in today’s culture of AI, especially when it comes to my lane of the classics. The responses to questions I pose to students in literature classes grow more and more similar. It’s likely due to their almost complete reliance upon AI engines of their choice.

For those of us who love great literature, this is a dark cloud. It portends ominously over lands that should ideally be filled with critical thinkers. But when auto-generated responses, divorced from close personal reading, are the medium students rely upon, I cannot be confident that much learning at all is actually occurring. Just my thoughts.

Remembering Dr. Higgins

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One of the most influential professors I had in studying literature in younger days was Dr. Higgins. He was a master teacher. How so? Well, he was a master of clarity. His preferred way of teaching hinged upon the use of contrasts. He would put up a T-chart on the board that looked like this, for example:

Atheistic Writers (Secularists) vs. Theistic Writers (Biblical):

Crane, Stephen vs.Melville, Herman
Hemingway, Ernest vs.Faulkner, William
Sartre, Jean-Paul vs.Percy, Walker
Camus, Albert vs.O’Connor, Flannery

Then he would pose questions of us related to atheistic writers:

  • What worldview is espoused in Crane’s short stories?
  • How do Crane’s characters wind up?
  • What emotions characterize Sartre’s protagonists?
  • Why is the anti-hero part and parcel of the atheistic writers?

We students would discuss the novels and short stories and poems of said writers, and he’d ask still more questions, and force us to justify our responses based upon the many books we’d had to read. Then he would pose questions of the contrasting writers:

  • What worldview is espoused in O’Connor’s stories?
  • How do self-righteous people play out in her stories?
  • What emotions characterize Percy’s protagonists?
  • Why is nobility possible in Melville and Faulkner but not in Sartre’s fiction?

The hinge upon which his teaching turned was the inculcation of our understanding pattern recognition and contrasts. Not this, but that.

In Proverbs 19:1 Solomon writes, “Better is a poor person who walks in his integrity than one who is crooked in speech and is a fool.”

Do you see the contrast and recognize the pattern?

Solomon contrasts two types of people–those of integrity vs. those of duplicity. One is honorable; the other is dishonorable. One person is honest; the other is dishonest. One is put together and straight. The other is a fool and is up to no good.

All these years later, Dr. Higgins, I still thank God for his putting you in my life. I have reread all of those long novels and stories more than a few times now, and they were just as you said. Thank you for teaching me. I hope I made you proud. You have since gone to your reward, and I hope to learn from you again one day. Until then, just know you made a good difference and a difference for good.

Tales from Travels: A Warrant for His Arrest

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Introduction: I had flown to Texas and then to Arkansas to minister to fellow soldiers. I was in my element–mobile, teaching military personnel, and teaching on topics near and dear to my heart: spiritual readiness and spiritual fitness. I was thrilled to come to see this set of guys again. It had been several months since I had been able to pour into them and to just be with them. They’re among my favorite soldiers–good ‘ole boys from Arkansas, Texas, and Oklahoma, mostly. Salt of the earth patriots. My kind of people.

A few hours later, the American flight landed in Dallas. I had an hour or so to kill until my next flight. I found an open chair and resumed the book I’d read on the flight. I only had a few pages left, and I finished the book.

I’d had to wake at 0130 back in Georgia in order to be at the Atlanta airport at 0330 for American’s first a.m. flight to Dallas. All had gone well so far, though. There was scant traffic at that hour, and I had no significant hassles to speak of, even at Atlanta’s airport.

Anyway, the flight had landed in Dallas, just as the sun was coming up. As far as you could see, it was flat and already hot, even at dawn. I’m not wired for July heat in Texas or much of July heat anywhere else, but that’s another story.

Closer than I Thought: When I took another flight to my final destination, I picked up my ride. My lodging was not ready yet, so I drove to a local bookstore to peruse the shelves. I found a book of Faulkner stories. I’ve read Faulkner for decades now, and respect him now as always. A giant of literature.

Anyway, I gripped the book of Faulkner stories in my right hand, retrieved my wallet with my left hand, and walked to the front counter to pay. A petite brunette with a ponytail and black Books-A-Million t-shirt rang me up.

“Could I interest you in a membership card?”

“No thanks.”

“How’s your day going so far?”

“Fine,” I said.

“Just relaxing, eh?”

I just smiled. I sometimes struggle to engage when the conversation is about drivel. Say something significant, or I’m likely to check out.

“Could I interest you in a gift card?” she continued.

“No thanks.” Honestly, I was starting to get annonyed. Just let me pay for the Faulkner book and be on my way, I thought.

“I had to park close to the store this morning,” she said.

“Sorry?”

She kept cutting her eyes to the left, signaling me somehow.

“My husband … he told me to park right in front of the store,” she said.

I was completely lost as to what she was driving at.

She whispered, “We found out. There’s a man with a warrant between us and the store next door. The cops are on their way. My husband told me to park close to the front of the store, so I did.”

“Oh,” is all I could think to say.

I looked down at the little black pad for me to pay. The total appeared; I tapped my debit card.

“Receipt?” she asked.

“No thanks.”

I walked out, the hot sun blaring down already, my Faulkner book in my right hand. I noticed a silver Nissan by the Books-A-Million, near the bookstore’s entrance. I assumed it belonged to the girl at the register. I sat in the car for a few moments. Waiting. For something. Cops to show? A criminal to become visible to me? I waited. Nothing. No cops that I saw. Perhaps they would come circumspectly, in unmarked clothes and plain clothes. I waited some more. Still nothing.

I sat in the driver’s seat, the A/C on blast.

Here I was, out here to teach fellow soldiers about spiritual readiness and spiritual fitness, and I’d just listened to a girl tell me that a criminal was steps away, a man with a warrant out for his arrest.

I got notice: my lodging was ready. I scanned the parking lot again. I think I was looking for a man to walk in the Books-A-Million, a shady-looking guy, perhaps, but no one entered the store since after I exited.

Reluctantly, I pulled out of the bookstore parking lot and onto the road that led to my lodging. But I am still wondering what happened/didn’t happen.

7 Worth Your Time

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I had several blessings this year. I returned from a military deployment to Iraq that I deeply appreciated. I worked with some fine Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and civilians for whom I am grateful. Each deployment brings together diverse personalities, and several people stood out via their unique giftings and particular strengths. We were a diverse group, a motley crew. Because of chaplaincy’s unique inroads, I was able to work near engineers, Marine infantrymen, pilots, mechanics, electricians, fuelers, budget analysts, accountants, cyberspace gurus, logisticians, and more. The diversity of those with whom I labored found a counterpart in my reading life. I discovered several new authors. That is, they were new to me. Some of those have become new favorites. (More on that below.)

What follows is a list of seven books that particularly stood out for me. Some refined my thinking. Some convicted me. Others confirmed my deeply held convictions. If you are a fellow reader, I hope you benefit, too, from my reflections on some of my reading. This is part one of several installations as I look back on some of this year’s reading. More reviews are forthcoming. Tolle lege: Take up and read.

You’ve Got to Read This: Contemporary American Writers Introduce Stories that Held Them in Awe This 1994 volume is edited by Ron Hansen and Jim Shepard and is my favorite volume of short story collections I own. The selections include masterpieces by Isaac Babel, Borges, Raymond Carver, Cheever, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Dickens, Welty, Munro, Joyce, Updike, O’Brien, O’Connor, and more. I am a junkie for short story collections, but the fact that these masterful short pieces are introduced by such impressive writers as Charles Baxter, Jane Smiley, Joyce Carol Oates, Ron Hansen, and Annie Dillard deepens this volume still more.

A Long and Happy Life This novel by North Carolina writer Reynolds Price was published in 1962. I read it for the first time last month. It captivated me such that I read it in a day and a half. The story of Rosacoke and Wesley, poverty and ignorance in Dixie, honor, sacrifice, loneliness, longing, and love, this story explores all of these and more in less than 160 pages. If you enjoy literary fiction set in the South of days reflected in the worlds of Eudora Welty, Faulkner, Flannery O’Connor, this is a great place to camp. Price has become a new favorite for me.

Pathway to Freedom: How God’s Laws Guide Our Lives A 2003 book brought about by hearers encouraging Reformed Christian pastor-theologian Alistair Begg to put his preaching through the Ten Commandments into book form, this volume is chock-full of biblical wisdom delivered by a winsome wordsmith and faithful pastor. Our lives invariably demonstrate our theological beliefs. Begg excels in connecting God’s words to our ways in the world. An excellent resource for the Christian church.

Why One Way? Defending an Exclusive Claim in an Inclusive World This book was published in 2002. Written by pastor-teacher/theologian at Grace Community Church and The Master’s College and Seminary, John MacArthur elucidates in 75 pages what few other men dare. In a time when many high-profile so-called Christian teachers have caved to the “social gospel” and being “woke” to the culture, MacArthur is one of the few who holds the line. Perhaps it is because I appreciate clarity so much, but MacArthur demonstrates how the gospel always offends the unregenerate, how sin is essential to diagnose, how Jesus himself confronted the world, how Scripture—time and time again—outlives its critics, and how the Christian church needs to grow up and endure the battles we were warned of long before, and engage the emptiness of secular worldviews with complete confidence in the power of God as revealed in Scripture to accomplish God’s purposes.

The Doctrine of Repentance This is a classic of Christianity. Written by Puritan Thomas Watson, it is no wonder that Banner of Truth continues to find a market for these profound writings from the deep biblical minds and pens in the Reformed tradition. My copy is now highlighted and underscored such that one would think I had had this volume for years. Wisdom on every page in this volume.

Words made Fresh: Essays on Literature & Culture Larry Woiwode is a wordsmith, fiction writer, and thinker that merits faithful reflective reading and thought. He has become one of my favorites over recent years. He writes not only moving fiction and essays, but also of other areas with the same deftness. This is my favorite collection of his essays I have read so far. Herein he writes of Shakespeare, Reynolds Price, Wendell Berry, and more. A fine book by an important writer.

Revolutions in Worldview: Understanding the Flow of Western Thought Of all the theology/worldview/”history-of-ideas” books I read in 2019, this 2007 volume, edited by W. Andrew Hoffecker, is exceptional, not just in this year’s reading, but in my library as a whole. If you are a big picture worldview thinker like I am, I cannot think of a better worldview book to have at hand. An invaluable resource.

 

 

 

 

 

A Reading Log

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IMG_1886We all have our struggles. One of mine is sleeplessness. But I’ve found at least some benefit: I can read during the nights. I’ve begun maintaining a reading log. Nothing fancy, but it helps in at least three ways. First, it helps me maintain a ledger of what I’m reading. Second, I am better able to see patterns among books and thinkers. (Some writers are worth more of my time; others have already consumed too much of it and I move on.) Third, a reading log provides a means of evaluating ideas.

Over the last several months, I have not written much blog-wise due to my current location with the military, but here is a list of some of my recent reading. In the left column is the book; the middle column lists the book’s author; and the third column is my response–usually just a fragment, phrase, or sentence or two. At the bottom are some of the volumes I’m still reading due to their length and/or weightiness. Hope you profit. My thanks to fellow readers who have pointed books and writers out to me that would have otherwise escaped my attention.

Book: Author: Response:
Suttree McCarthy Among the saddest books I have ever read. It may also be the richest book I read in terms of its delight in language and the fecundity of words. McCarthy is—his dark vision aside—a wordsmith on par with Joyce and Shakespeare.
Cormac McCarthy’s Nomads Andersen & Kristoffer A master’s thesis that was large on jargon and intellectual posturing and short on coherence and clarity.
Resolutions: Advice to Young Converts Edwards My only complaint is that I waited this long to read it. Edwards was certainly a theologian/philosopher, but in this volume, you also see he was a pastor with a love of discipling God’s people.
On Reading Well Prior A reminder that some of the world’s greatest literary pieces are explorations of the biblical worldview. A truly good book about books.
The Battle for the Beginning MacArthur I know of no other living Christian writer who is as biblical and clear as John MacArthur. In this volume, he tackles head on the mutually exclusive worldviews of biblical creation vs. macroevolution and materialism. An important book.
The Stranger Camus When I read it as an 18-year old, I thought it masterful. Now, er, hardly. A sad book about life without God, life without hope, and life without redemption.
In the Year of Our Lord Ferguson One of the best books I’ve read in recent memory. The bottom line up front: the true Christian church must always keep her focus on the truth, the gospel, Christ, and purity. Today’s pagan headlines are merely tomorrow’s fertilizer. Keep a biblical perspective.
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao Diaz Reminded me why I don’t enjoy postmodernism or post-postmodernism. With its trendy style of blending genuine pity with trendy pop-culture and profanity and gender politics, this is just what literary committees adore, but it makes for poor literature. Who will want to read this modish stuff in a few years? Egads.
Killing Jesus O’Reilly This could be helpful for skeptics of the Christian worldview.
Killing Lincoln O’Reilly Very enjoyable. I learned even more to appreciate Lincoln and to pity him.
Killing Patton O’Reilly Leadership for Patton was what he seemed born for. He was a patriot, a very fallen and cruel man, but also courageous like few others. When hell stared him in the face, he spat and kept right on marching. And I thank him and those he led.
Animal Farm Orwell Communism/Progressivism/Socialism fails—everywhere and always. But dogs return to the vomit. And people often act like animals.
The Catcher in the Rye Salinger Hard for me not to gush here. In my view, one of the best novels ever, esp. with regard to narrative voice, point of view, and tone. A masterpiece.
Exit West Hamid People are not reducible to religion, ethnicity, and politics. The human heart is the problem; we are sinners and we need a savior—and government is not the savior. Ever.
Kidnapped by the Taliban Joseph There are good and bad folks everywhere. Sometimes good intentions lead you into bad situations. But grace can still appear and even endure.
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings Angelou An anthem to the artist to sing—if for no else than himself/herself. Some will listen.
Tom Sawyer Twain I preferred Huck Finn. But similar episodes and themes are here—innocence vs. experience; corruption; escape vs. responsibility.
Blood Meridian McCarthy Perhaps the most violent book I’ve ever read (again). Horrific and beautiful. McCarthy descends into the pits of evil and reprobation, and takes us with him. There he writes in graphic detail. But it is so heartbreakingly beautiful in its expression that you endure the rapacity and cruelty and cannot see life the same way.
The Sun Also Rises Hemingway Immature adults taking themselves way too seriously and drinking way too much alcohol get mad at the state of the world, but refuse to take responsibility. This was a much better book when I read it as a 19-year old, if that helps. Probably the last time I’ll do this one.
The Sound and the Fury Faulkner A watershed book in terms of its use of interior monologue, non-linear time, flashbacks, stream of consciousness, etc.
Books Are Made Out of Books Crews A book about the books that have shaped Cormac McCarthy. Appreciative of this book.
A Long Obedience in the Same Direction Peterson Beautifully written by a man gifted with discernment, biblical maturity, and a pastor’s temperament.
Facing the Music Brown A book of Larry Brown’s short stories. Kind of like Harry Crews’ fiction, these are stories of down-on-their-luck southerners who ain’t got no quit in ‘em. Excellent fiction.
Larry Brown: A Writer’s Life Cash A biography of Larry Brown, of his determination, struggles, literary triumphs, and isolation necessary to create.
Everything that Rises Must Converge O’Connor It’s Flannery O’Connor. Read it. Then read it again.
Hitler’s Religion Weikhart Excellent, readable, researched book of Hitler’s worldview (pantheism).
Hillbilly Elegy Vance No matter how successful we are in the world’s eyes, we never really leave behind the boy or girl we were at 12. Our childhood affects us till we die.
A Wrinkle in Time L’Engle Childhood imagination sometimes portends divinity.
Desperadoes Hansen Literary western genre. Beautiful language. A bit slow going, at least for me.
Light in August Faulkner Rich in interior monologue. A slow read for me. The preacher was my favorite character.
Killing the SS O’Reilly There is no bottom to man’s evil.
Love Thy Body Pearcey Read Nancy Pearcey’s books. You do yourself a disservice if you don’t. Logical, persuasive, and clear. Excellent.
Go Set a Watchman Lee Even the folks we think of as ‘good’ are sinners.

 

Currently I’m reading Don Quixote and The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis. Both are excellent. Maybe this helps encourage you. It at least helps me to keep track of some of my reading life and helps me plot my future reading goals. “Take up and read.”