My Favorite Reads of 2009

November 21, 2009

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year has marked a return to reading for me. I’ve always loved to read, but sometimes life takes over, and it seems there is no time. But this year I found time. It’s been fun. A few books rise to the top when I look back on 2009. I thought I’d choose my top 5 and profile them in the order that I read them.

The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus by Brennan Manning

This book was so good, I read it twice this year. I blogged about it here.

Crooked Little Heart by Anne Lamott

I’ve read a lot of Anne Lamott’s nonfiction. I love it, because it always reminds me that it is okay to be imperfect – that all human beings are flawed and broken, and that God loves flawed and broken people. It turns out her fiction does the same thing. Crooked Little Heart is filled with flawed and broken characters; Lamott doesn’t hide their failings or shield them from pain, but she tells their story with compassion and grace. To me, this kind of storytelling rings true.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

I am becoming more and more of a Neil Gaiman fan. It started with Coraline, which I read three years ago. Since then I’ve recommended it to just about everyone I know. And I will recommend it again now: Read Coraline; it’s excellent. The Graveyard Book, which won the 2008 Newberry Medal, is also very good. Maybe the concept sounds morbid to you: A boy lives in a graveyard and is raised by ghosts. It’s not morbid. It is a scary, funny, and bittersweet story about growing up. It made me feel happy to be alive. And I couldn’t put it down.

A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving

I picked up this book after hearing a lot of good things about it. I wasn’t disappointed. The story is at times tragic and at times bizarre, but author is consistently compassionate toward his characters, and I found myself rooting for them the whole time. I really cared about what happened to Owen Meany. Irving is a great storyteller who ropes you in. For example, this is the book’s first sentence:

I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice–not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany.

One of the best first lines I’ve ever read. Doesn’t it make you want to pick up the book right now?

The Mind of the Maker by Dorothy L. Sayers

Lots of artists and writers have recommended this book, and I finally got around to it last month. It was a dense and heady read that required my full attention, but it was also rewarding. Like C.S. Lewis, Sayers has the ability to take a confusing abstract concept and demonstrates that it is, in fact, logical and reasonable. Without explaining away the mystery of the Trinity or the wonder of human creativity, she shines light on these topics and leads the reader to greater understanding. This book affirmed my creativity and faith. I plan to read it again.

So that’s my list. What were your favorite books you read this year? Let me know. I love getting book recommendations.


From my morning’s reading

November 13, 2009

News - Narnia Dawn_Treader Michael_Apted

“Most of us know what we should expect to find in a dragon’s lair but, as I said before, Eustace had read only the wrong books. They had a lot to say about exports and imports and governments and drains, but they were weak on dragons.”

- C.S. Lewis (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

Note: Read the right books – the ones that teach you about the important stuff.


Here Be Monsters

October 21, 2009

210361_halloween_pumpkin_2I have been thinking lately about what makes a good story and why stories matter. A few weeks ago, I was at a writing conference where a speaker named Brian McDonald addressed this topic. He said we tell stories because they contain survival information.

This makes a ton of sense to me, because I think that a key element of a good story – the book you can’t put down, the movie you can’t turn away from – is a sense of danger. And danger stories teach us how to survive.

This is probably an overly simple formula, but I think it holds true for the most part:

Danger + Characters You Care About = A Great Story.

The second part of the formula is as important as the first. The following formula is just as valid:

Danger + Cardboard Characters = I Don’t Care.

This is why I dislike most action movies; the characters are not that interesting. But when fully realized characters are in great danger, I’m at the edge of my seat. And that is why I love good fantasy and science fiction. Because in good sci-fi and fantasy, as in all good literature, the characters seem real. They compel us to care about what happens to them (even if we don’t like them). I particularly love sci-fi and fantasy, because the dangers that characters face can connect with deepest parts of our imagination and get in touch with our most primal fears.

And this brings me to monsters. Because if stories contain survival information, then the monsters and villains of sci-fi and fantasy teach me how to survive my fears. These stories show me that fear’s greatest tactic is deception. If I can identify deceit in the words and actions of Screwtape, Darth Vader, or Coraline’s other mother, I am better able to recognize the tactics of deception in real life.

Monsters also warn us of what we might become. Gollum was once a creature much like a hobbit. Darth Vader was once Anakin Skywalker, Jedi knight. Their stories teach us how to avoid their fate and stay human. They remind us that our decisions determine who we will be.

So if you find me digging into monster stories around Halloween-time, it doesn’t mean I’m going over to the Dark Side; I’m just gathering survival information – and enjoying some well-told tales.

1041773_dragonRemember this:

“Fairy Tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.”      

– G.K. Chesterton


Recommended Reading: The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus

September 1, 2009

What are you reading this summer? relentlesstendernessofjesus 

Over the past few months, I’ve read a couple dozen short stories and a handful of fantasy novels. I don’t normally read a lot of nonfiction, but lately I’ve been delving into books about the writing business, searching for career advice from the experts. I am learning a lot. But I’m learning even more as I re-read a book I first discovered this spring: The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus, by Brennan Manning. It might just be my book of the year. 

If you ever have difficulty believing that Jesus not only loves you, but likes you, or if you’re not totally sure you can trust Christ with your life, I’d recommend this book. Brennan Manning’s message is simple: Jesus is the beginning, the end, the everything of our faith, and Jesus really loves you and me. I’ve been a Christian all my life, so I’m supposed to know this, but it is amazing how often I forget. If you ever find yourself forgetting the love, the grace, or the supremacy of Christ, I would recommend this book. And if you’ve never known Jesus’ love, I’d recommend it to you as well.

After reading the book this spring, I wrote this poem. I believe it is true of me, and it is true of you too. God loves you deeply, and you are what his love and grace say you are.

If you’re looking for some end-of-summer reading, check out The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus. And if your plate is too full for any extra reading now, that’s okay  – just know that Jesus loves you, and he likes you too.


Adventure and the Eatable Hero

June 19, 2009

To a Christian, existence is a story, which may end up in any way. In a thrilling novel (that purely Christian product) the hero is not eaten by cannibals; but it is essential to the existence of the thrill that he might be eaten by cannibals. The hero must (so to speak) be an eatable hero.

1036672_danger

- G.K. Chesterton in Orthodoxy

It’s been a few years since I read Orthodoxy, but the phrase “eatable hero” sticks with me, because it so clearly and humorously captures the essence of adventure. Adventure always involves risk, and a “sense of adventure” is simply the willingness to brave the risk in order to gain the reward.

As a first-grade kid, I read adventure stories longingly. I so desired to be a part of a story where the stakes were high – a story that involved a quest, a battle, a transformation. I wanted Narnia; I wanted dragons; I wanted hidden treasure or a secret mission. I was also very shy and tended to worry about life. (I was especially concerned that the earth might get hit by a meteor, or I might go blind from looking at the sun too long during an eclipse … stuff like that.) At twenty-six, I’m pretty much the same girl I was at six – longing for adventure, but a little shy and anxious for safety. Except now I worry about finances and international politics instead of cataclysmic cosmic events. My worries have become a bit more prosaic.

Stories are a good antidote to worry, not because they make me feel safe from danger, but because they remind me that without danger, there is no story. If the hero isn’t “eatable,” the story isn’t exciting. Stories put the joy back into the risk-taking, restoring my sense of adventure. You’ve probably heard this quote by Helen Keller:

Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is a daring adventure or nothing at all.

Agreed. But I find I do need some security – something to keep me from melting in the uncertainty of it all. There is really only one guarantee, but I think it is enough. Here it is: Nothing – nothing life brings, no power in the universe, not even death – can pull us out of Jesus’ love.

In Matthew 10, Jesus instructs his disciples before sending them out on a risky mission. This is my summary/paraphrase:

I am sending you out into adventure – dangerous but rewarding. I believe you can be like me. Don’t value your life so much that you miss this adventure. My Father and I are the ones who determine your value, and you are so valuable to us.

I think I will have more to write about this soon; for the time being, I’m signing off. But I’ll leave you with a reading list to further inspire you to adventure. Happy reading, and happy adventures!

 

Further Reading:

Matthew 10

Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton

“Leap Before You Look” by W.H. Auden (It’s not a long poem; you can read it all by following this link. Read it here! Read it now!)

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (Bilbo Baggins is a delightful character who gives me such hope for myself.)


Take it with you

June 13, 2009

Yesterday, the last day of a tough workweek, I treated myself to a latte. “I am always amazed at how much better coffee makes me feel,” I told my sister Lindsey that night.

Lindsey agreed, “It’s because it gives you something to look forward to, and then you savor it for as long as you can. It’s this thing that you get from the outside world, and you get to take it back into work with you.”

I had never thought of it that way before, but it made a lot of sense. So often, the things I have to do – working, cleaning, running errands – feel tedious and tiresome. They can break me down. It really does help to have a little something to take with me. Usually the things I bring with me are stories, songs, or art.

I brought two stories  and a poem with me this week. One was Shakespeare’s  The Tempest, which I saw performed by Seattle Shakespeare Company last Saturday. I wrote in my journal afterward:

Good theatre always makes me grateful to be human. Tonight it was Prospero, realizing that even as ruler of spirits, master of magic, holding his enemies in the palm of his hand, he was prisoner of his own unforgiveness. I loved watching as he laid down his power, his right to revenge, and became free – fully human once again. Vulnerable and alive.

And so the play came with me this week. Go see it! The production runs for a few more weeks. The music, set, and costumes are beautiful, as is the story.

The other story I took with me was the novel Crooked Little Heart by Anne Lamott. I read it hungrily; I so wanted to know what was going to happen, and I loved the characters. It was a very human story, told well. That’s what I like in a novel. The book’s title alludes to Auden’s poem “As I Walked Out One Evening”  – one of my favorites. And so that poem has also come with me this week, rattling around pleasantly in the back of my head. Read it here, then take it with you as you go on your way.


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