Stuck on the Barricades

Source:_Upon_These_Stones

I've been ploughing through "Les Miserables" for the better part of two months now. The first nine hundred pages flew by, and I felt pretty good about it. Then I hit the barricades. No, literally there's at least fifty pages of book spent behind a barricade, the characters fighting for a mildly dubious cause. I reached these barricades and came to a halt.
This should be the most exhilarating part of the book - bold youth taking a stance against the injustices of societies. Passionate prose and heroic deeds blend together to paint a glorious, devastating scene. I'd slogged through a hundred-page dissertation on the battle of Waterloo, a hundred more about an abbey and Catholic order that was long gone in the time of the author. I had sifted through pages and pages of political, social, and philosophical diatribes. All of them thoughtful, though not what some would call "gripping." These I read with pleasure, enjoying the insight I was given about the author. And yet, when I reach the one part of the book that might generally be called gripping, I stop. I cringe to
pick up the book. I read a dozen pages and put it down.

What is wrong with me?

When I get to the bottom of my feelings, I find fear. I didn't go into this book blind. I'd watched the movie, listened to the (much better) Broadway soundtrack. I know what comes at the end of the barricade. These glorious, innocent, passionate men are snuffed out, gone in a matter of a few dozen pages. And I realize I am not ready to embrace that end. I want an ending where their cause is heard, they are given fair treatment, where they are not all picked off in an old wine shop on a dirty street corner in Paris. An ending where they do not feel forced to pick up arms, and where the city's force does not have to meet such violence with their own.

There is another work I have been dragging my feet about: my own.
I'll sit down, type a few hundred words onto a page. Perhaps I'll collect data for the changes I want to make, start the second rough draft. But I am afraid to finish. A small part of me worries that, when this idea runs dry, my creativity will dry out with it. A small part of me doesn't want to finish because finish means ending, and ending means closure, and closure means I don't get this part of myself back. I'll have grown and changed with my work, and the end result will look nothing like what I started with.


And yet, maybe that is the whole point. Les Miserables doesn't end with everyone dying (... I don't think...). The people who survive to the end are changed, they look different. But maybe that's why the author writes about the barricades. Maybe he wants to draw people's attention to that seemingly small ripple in Paris' history, because he wants to show how these small upheavals lead to the growth and change of the individual and of society.
Perhaps there is a glimmer of hope for myself as well. The end of a story, and all of the change and growth that comes with it, doesn't have to mean the end of creativity. Maybe the end of one project just means I'm driven closer to the beginning of another. Maybe it means I will better understand the sound of my own voice as an author. Maybe it means learning how to use my voice to touch others. I won't know until I finish, so I should probably get to work. 

Reflections on Eternity

I have a tendency to brood. My moodiness often leads to a fountain of words poured out onto a page, some of them usable and some not. Often, caught in the throes of an idea, the thought pops into my mind: "What if I died in the next thirty seconds? Cut off abruptly, mid-thought, without any resolve or completion to my writing. How useless my work would be!"
And it is true, that to those left behind, it would be a very abrupt end, and my work would bring very little resolution. It would be abrupt and sudden, the creative spark cut off with the life. Yet, as I ponder its suddenness, I am immediately enveloped in the thought of Eternity. My life, and thus the writing I complete (or don't) in this life, is not pointless. Whatever unfinished work I leave here will be fulfilled and perfected in me in Glory, in a way I cannot comprehend this side of Eternity.
The creativity at work in me now is but a dim reflection of the Holy, the fullness of which I will taste in the Resurrection. I do not write in the confidence of some earthly outcome. I write with a confidence in the Holy and the Eternal. I write trusting that there is a greater purpose in these meagre words I scribble down than a book publication. I write with a hope in the transformative work of the Holy Spirit, to take these pathetic, lackluster words and make them lastingly beautiful.
And so I sit in front of this cluttered screen, staring at these seemingly uninspiring words I have jumbled together into sentences, and I ask myself: Will I lay the earthly outcome of my work to rest in my King's very capable hands and strive instead for the heavenly? Or will I strive instead to drag the heavenly down and sully it with my earthly ambition?

Wanderings

I have begun a journey since I ended my conventional career. It has proven to be a meandering, unpredictable journey, a journey of words and ideas. The simple act of putting organized thoughts onto a page in a relatable/understandable format is daunting. When I ended my full-time job to focus on bringing my ideas to life, I had a rosy picture in my mind of what it would look like: Peaceful hours spent pouring ideas onto a page while sipping tea.

The reality is very, very different. I found that the cacophony of life did not end when I ended my job; it only grew louder. Before, for forty hours each week, the demands of my personal life and friendships were supplanted by the more immediate demands of work. These demands made sense; each had their place of importance for the hours I was present at my job. I ordered my life around these demands, which meant I didn't have to create a structure; my job provided ready-made structure.
That structure, once removed, allowed the rest of the noise of my life crowd in and overwhelm my time. This noise isn't bad, or a waste of time, but I find that it often drowns out the desire/time I have to write. The slow process that comes with cultivating an idea  into a written reality amplifies the noise of the rest of everyday life, distracting me all the more.

Do I ignore the noise? Do I allow relationships to fallow while I write?

To a certain extent, yes. There are times when I must put relationships, activities, and busywork off in order to focus on my work. Yet I have found, in my messy existence called the present, that engaging with the noise and cultivating rich friendships often encourages growth in my writing. A life devoid of people, color, and activity is stagnant, and such stagnation will lead to colorless writing.

What does this mean for me?

It means that, as with all of life, I am seeking balance. Balance in my writing. Balance in my relationships. Balance in the busywork. I have not even come close to attaining the balance I desire to see in my own life, but slowly I am search for ways to find it each day. Whether it is committing to a daily 30-minute walk or 2 hours of writing each week, or taking a day to immerse myself in the relationships I have (or the housework I've allowed to pile up haha), I am continually looking for ways to cultivate and grow my life.
My writing journey over the past few months has been a wandering but colorful one. Though there are many things I still need to learn about balancing my life, I have found great joy in the meandering. I have many things to learn still, but my prayer is that this journey will be one of learning and growing. 

Roulette, Coquetry, and Robbery: A Triple Review

The Gambler, Fyodor Dostoevsky

"I'm a lost soul. But why should I not rise from the dead? All I need to do is play cautiously and patiently at first and the rest will follow."

Rating: Excellent

Recommendation: High

The Gambler is Dostoevsky's brutal picture of the slow decay of a gambling addict. Himself an ex-gambler, he writes a vivid and telling story of a young man's downfall at the gambling tables. Written in the first person narrative, this tale rips open the prideful heart of a young Russian tutor. He is sure of his own success at the gaming tables throughout the story, even in the face of extreme losses. He falls wildly in love with Polina, the step-daughter of the man engaging him as a tutor. Yet as events transpire, the reader comes to realize that he does not truly love or even care for her. The only one he truly loves is himself, and even that is swallowed up in his passion for the gaming tables.

Dostoevsky shows the sneaking justification of the gambler for his losses, his utter dependence upon Luck, and how wealth can turn to ruin at but the flip of the dice.

~~~

Mansfield Park, Jane Austen

Rating: Obsolete

Recommendation: Ambivalent


Mansfield Park, if anything substantive, is the study of human selfishness. The story is told through the eyes of the all-too obliging Fanny Price. The reader will spend the entirety of the novel frustrated by the way Miss Price allows herself to be mistreated and maligned by the majority of the book's characters. Fanny all but laid down on the floor and allowed every character (including the sainted Edmund) walk over her, she was that much of a doormat. I must say my respect for her improved by the end of the book, as she showed a surprising amount of moral fiber in her refusal of the dashing narcissistic Mr. Crawford.
I watched a number of adaptations of this book before reading it, and found them quite lacking in portraying two things: 1) the quietness of Fanny in sticking to her morals. 2) the selfishness of Edmund, who is generally portrayed as a beguiled saint (see above note).
The Fanny of the adaptations is quite noisy in her refusal of Mr. Crawford, and her uncle tends to explode in her face and sends her home because of the seeming groundlessness of her refusal. In the book he sends her home for a short visit, thinking that the contrast of her life at Mansfield with her family's life in Portsmouth will soften her to the luxurious prospect of Mr. Crawford's hand. But he says none of this to her, and he loses none of his fondness for her in the process.
Edmund, generally portrayed as overly gentle and thoughtful in his care of Fanny, is actually shown to be just as thoughtless (if more amiable) as his siblings when he wants to be. He forgets Fanny in his pursuit of love, and only remembers her as an afterthought.
Even the best of us are selfish. Fanny is selfish in protecting Edmund and her uncle from the truth of Mr. Crawford's character, wishing to remain unnoticed rather than tell them what they don't want to hear. Edmund is selfish in his pursuit of Miss Crawford, allowing his desires to blind him of her meanness and abuse of Fanny. Of the rest of the characters I will not go into detail, for it is quite easy to see their selfishness in the first few pages of their introductions.
Jane Austen writes to entertain, but the subject of selfishness is not one that easily entertains. I found myself more frustrated than anything while reading this book, and even the ending left me feeling rather empty. As an Austen novel it was decent, though not one I would categorize as a "must-read."

~~~

Silas Marner, George Eliot

Rating: Excellent

Recommendation: High

Silas Marner is not a very long book, just over two hundred pages. It is a very light-hearted book compared to some of the others on my list. The story centers around Silas, a young man prematurely aged by societal rejection and ostracism. He is falsely accused and turned out of his home town. He finds solitude in the hamlet of Raveloe, where he is allowed to live but where few trust him. Through a sudden devastation and an unlikely turn of events he is forced to interact with the villagers around him. This story captivates the reader and leads them on a journey through intrigue, joy, sorrow, and a love that overcomes all of these.

Thank You

I don't say "thank you" enough.

I spent the better part of this week with my sister and her adorable child. We drove out to visit my grandmother, who boasts 97 years this month. She, though weak and tired, still has so much vitality and joy to share, and she gave it so indiscriminately to us this weekend. I got to see her chase after her rambunctious great-granddaughter and share laughs with her over the toddler's antics.
I am so thankful for that time.

I have two very good legs, which I used this week to take several long walks. Stepping out into the fresh air; using my healthy lungs to smell the flowers; seeing the fruit trees in bloom. I felt the stillness of the forest on a hillside in Missouri. Birds chirped and cavorted in the warm spring sunlight.

I have a loving husband who works hard and selflessly so that we can thrive. He supports and encourages me even when I struggle to write, and points me to Christ when I struggle to see my own worth.

I have a (massive) family and a home full of light. We love and care for one another, and we encourage each other in our love of Jesus.

I realized this week how little I actually thank God for the many blessings He has given me. I spent so much of the year 2017 striving and working; I watched my family and many friends get hurt, and I was hurt too. I saw only the terrible things that happened, and I did not dwell on the beauty and richness present even in the midst of the hard circumstances. God's grace was constant, even though we struggled to see it.
God continues to give ever so bountifully, and when I look around I see the beautiful, intricate ways He has met and exceeded my every need. I am slowly relearning how to see these gifts. I am slowly remembering to say "thank you" with my whole heart. I am slowly removing the layers of bitterness I grew to protect my heart,  and instead I'm slowly opening my heart to rejoice in Him again.

It is a slow process, and I cannot will for the work to be done in and of myself. There is no power of positive thinking that will erase the painful memories and patterns of bitter thought. I can only rely on His work in my heart, that He will open my eyes to His grace, enable me to confess my selfishness and disbelief, and open my heart to remember and rejoice in the work of His Son and His Spirit in my life.

"And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.  Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him."   ~~ Colossians 3:15-17

A Spot of Dickens for a Dreary Day

The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens

Rating: Fair

Recommendation: High

Summary: Charles Dickens is a delightfully entertaining author. It seems odd to say this of the author who is known for killing significant characters off for the sake of the plot. Dickens, however, possesses the unique ability to mix humor with abject poverty so as to engage his audience and to reveal that there is still joy to be found in the sadness of this life.
The Old Curiosity Shop is no different. Dickens uses his signature wit to paint a powerful picture of human poverty.  His story vividly describes how easily a person can ruin themselves because of their devotion to another. It also contains a colorful array of characters, each lending humor and vivacity to a story that would otherwise be harsh and bleak in its portrayal of human suffering. The book has enough intrigue, mystery, and villainy to keep the reader riveted until the very last chapter. Dickens does not lose his comforting theme of poetic justice, found in so many of his books. While the book leaves the reader brokenhearted, it also leaves them rejoicing with the characters, as good triumphs and evil meets its timely demise.

The Burning Days

This past week I visited my sister, who lives in a city an hour away from me. The drive can be a nice one, through open fields, past the odd herd of cows and stunted trees, reaching their wind-blown branches to the sky. On this particular wintery day, the fields were brown, the cows hiding from the biting cold, the trees hunched over against the blustery winds.
As I neared the city, suddenly the fields opened up to an even bleaker view:
Whole fields charred and blackened by fires. My already bleak mood dove to even darker depths as I viewed this by-product of pre-planting season. There was no sign of life across the open stretch of ground. Even the birds avoided those blackened plains.

Everything was burned. It looked ugly, dark, and miserable under the wintery sky. Nothing but despair for acres.

Our hearts so often look like those fields. We come to the end of a messy year, or years, and we look around and see only ruined fields. All that was once alive and hopeful has been burned off in our suffering.

Later that same weekend, I went hiking in the woods behind my parents' house with my brother. I was astonished that the fire that had burned those fields had found their way into these woods also. In the undergrowth, what used to be tall weeds, was now black and charred. Whole swaths of ground, burnt and frozen on this wintery day. We marveled that the woods, once so familiar and close, looked completely different. The empty spaces made us hesitate and wonder if we had taken a wrong turn somewhere.

As I look into my own heart in this new season of my life, I see a lot of things burned. Things I thought the fires of suffering would never touch have been set ablaze. The terrain that was once familiar is now unrecognizable.

Why do farmers burn their fields? Why do those caretakers of the woods allow the ground to burn? Why does God allow suffering and loss burn our hearts?

Farmers burn their fields to root out the old weeds, allow new grass to seed, so that in the Springtime these devastated fields will yield an abundance. Caretakers burn the brush in the woods to rid it of poison ivy and poison oak, to destroy them to the very root and core so that they may be replaced by new plants that are good for the trees, for animals, and for hikers.

In the same manner, God burns our hearts again and again through suffering, that He might kill once and for all that bitter root of sin. The fire is often excruciating. Often in the aftermath we look about us and we see only devastation and loss, like those blackened fields in late winter. We so easily do not see past the burned and charred landscape of our hearts. Yet there is a Springtime awaiting our souls. Even as we cry out in pain and confusion, as we flail about in our suffering and seek to despair, the promise is that God makes way for new life. He burns away the creeping vine of sin, leaving for a moment in its place an ash heap. But His promise is that, through the burning, He makes way for new life to be planted in us. In the place of sin, holiness inches its way to the surface, delicate, beautiful, and green.

As I sit on the other side of a season of suffering, I do not recognize the terrain of my heart. I hesitate, wondering if I have taken a wrong turn somewhere, if I am not heading down a path of continued wandering and loss. Yet even in the midst of this devastation and change, I find peace and hope in the promise of God: that He is making all things new, that this devastation is but momentary, that His heavy hand of discipline is yielding in me the sweet fruit of righteousness.

"Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like streams in the Negeb! Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him." -Psalm 126:4-6

First Review of the Year

- Note: I have changed how I format my reviews. I have included a rating scale with each book: Excellent, Fare, Obsolete, or Poor. I have also added a recommendation rating: High,  Low, Ambivalent,  or Absolutely Not. Along with the summary I will make sure to include a favorite quote (unless the book is too abysmal to have one). By changing the format in these ways I hope to help those reading to better gauge whether or not this book is for them. If you have any suggestions for changes, or any other information you would like included that I have neglected, please let me know. I am trying new things this year, and I am always open to changing things up to make it easier and more engaging for my readers. - 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Are Women Human? by Dorothy Sayers

Rating: Excellent

Recommendation: High

Summary:
It is fitting that the first book I review for 2018 was written by Dorothy Sayers. Sayers is a phenomenal philosopher, writer, storyteller, and Christian. She also happens to be one of my favorite authors. Her wisdom and insight within the literary world is a gift none of us should neglect. Are Women Human? is a short collection of two essays that Sayers wrote to address the feminist movement of her time. Sayers lived and wrote during the early 20th century, when women were first entering into the academic, scientific, and industrial spheres in society. The women of Sayers' day were facing some very serious sexism, the extent of which most women (thankfully) do not have to navigate today. Even so, much of the wisdom Sayers shares is very pertinent to our time.
I would highly recommend this book for anyone who can read, male or female. It did not even take me an hour to read and is perfect for a lazy Saturday morning. The length (or absence of length, rather) sacrifices none of Sayers' signature wit or literary poise. You won't merely be informed, but you will be entertained and engaged with each page.

Favorite Quote:
"... a woman is just as much an ordinary human being as a man with the same individual preferences, and with just as much right to the tastes and preferences of an individual."

Reading List: 2018

Russian:
The Possessed (Fyodor Dostoevsky)
The Gambler (Fyodor Dostoevsky)
Five Great Short Stories (Anton Chekhov)
Ivan Ilyich and Confessions (Leo Tolstoy)


French:
Les Miserables (Victor Hugo)
The Works of Hugo (including The Hunchback of Notre Dam, assorted poems, essays, and short stories)


British:
Nicholas Nickelby (Charles Dickens)
The Ballad of the White Horse (GK Chesterton)
Middlemarch (George Eliot)
Agnes Gray (Anne Brontë)
Mansfield Park (Jane Austen)
The Old Curiosity Shop (Charles Dickens)
Silas Marner (George Eliot)
The Scent of Water (Elizabeth Goudge)



American:
Lucy Gayheart (Willa Cather)
Death Comes for the Archbishop (Willa Cather)
Gone with the Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
The Scarlet Letter (Nathaniel Hawthorne)

Theological:
Reformed Dogmatics, 5 Volumes (Geerhardus Vos)
Systematic Theology (John Frame)


Philosophical:
Are Women Human? (Dorothy L. Sayers)
Not That It Matters (AA Milne)
Rhetoric (Aristotle)


Historical: 
Team of Rivals (Doris Kearns Goodwin)
The Andersonville Prison Trial (General N.P. Chipman)
Eisenhower (Stephen E. Ambrose)
Truman (David McCullough)


Devotional:
Faithful Women and Their Extraordinary God (Noël Piper)
Idols of the Heart (Elise Fitzpatrick)
Self-Confrontation (John Broger) 

Final Review for 2017: Glorious Conquest and Inglorious Defeat

He was born on the island of Corsica, small in stature yet giant in his own mind.

Napoleon Bonaparte rode on the waves of the French Revolution. In the midst of chaos, bloodshed, moral decay, and economic uncertainty, he won first the hearts of the French army and finally the hearts of her people. In three short years he established himself as emperor of France, a title he greedily held onto until his death.

Many people know Bonaparte only as the petite conqueror who marched an enormous army into Russia, froze half of them, retreated, and then sometime after that (their history here is vague) met defeat at the battle of Waterloo. What they forget is that Bonaparte accomplished much good for the French nation. He quelled the destructive fires of the Revolution, revitalized and stabilized the French economy. During the first few years of his reign the French nation prospered. 

Ever the multi-tasker, he set out to conquer Europe while reconstructing the French government and eco. His vision was to unite the continent under one government, with one currency and one language. He saw himself as the man to accomplish this task. But the source of his vision became the source of his downfall: his pride. While he was a remarkable leader, and in many ways unstoppable, he failed to see his own limitations and ended his life in defeat and disgrace. His once-loving French people cursed his name, for he had sacrificed their sons and their resources for a vision they saw no reason to share. One by one his allies became his enemies as they saw their lands, cultures, and freedoms swallowed up by this mad man and his army. 

Napoleon loved himself and his vision too deeply to see that those around him slowly came to hate his impossible dream. He was so caught up in his perception of himself, his abilities, and his early victories to realize that his power was overstretched and weakening. 

The Age of Napoleon by Will and Ariel Durant captures the drama and detail of Napoleon's rise to power. Not only that, but they give the reader a glimpse of the different facets of life in the European nations surrounding France. The reader is left with a deeper understanding, not only of Napoleon's person and rule, but of all of Europe at the end of the 18th Century and the beginning of the 19th.

Unlike many historical narratives, the Durants do not pick an extreme when describing this famous man. Some historians look on him as a power-hungry ogre, devouring countries and cultures. Others see him as a military genius whose vision was too sophisticated for the world he lived in. The Durants take a much more conservative approach, neither praising nor denouncing him too much. They look at his limitations and his seemingly impossible feats with the understanding eye of humanity observing just another human.
At the same time they do not lose the beauty, intrigue, and drama of that time. The Age of Napoleon truly is a fascinating, colorful age in history, one that all of us could benefit from studying at some point in our lives.

2018: Changes and Opportunities

I have been in a season of change over the past few months. The changes are not completely over yet, either. Some big ones for this next year are:

- I'm quitting my job to spend more time developing my writing/academic opportunities

- We've moved into a house we're sharing with a family

- I'm hoping to expand my reading list.

The first change is a pretty big one. I've always relied on some kind of full-time job to help keep my schedule in order, to act as a natural time restraint for socializing (because, let's be realistic, I would give all of my time to that if allowed), and create a sense of urgency for whatever reading/writing/projects I've had in the past.

Beginning in February that is all going to change. I'm going to have more time on my hands, and I want to use it wisely to bless others and to grow in my knowledge, skills, and my faith. 

The second change has already happened and it has been quite fun and encouraging thus far. It is nice to be living in community rather than isolated in our own little corner.  

As these two changes unfold, I hope to share more about them with you in the coming months. Needless to say I am excited and a little terrified of both. 

The third change is one that I can very easily share with you right now. I want to expand my reading list for this year. I have the freedom for the next few months to consistently read a substantial amount (if I order my time well, hehe). I want to use that opportunity to check some books off of my ever-growing list. I also want to improve the content and consistency of the book reviews I write, so that I can provide those of you who read this blog a steady diet of new titles and genres to read.

I am really excited about the changes that are unfolding. But even if they do not work out the way I would like(and trust me, 2017 didn't so I have no rose-colored dreams for this year), I know that ultimately they will work together for my growth and good, and for the glory of God. I hope that your 2018 is full of such changes as well, and that you can share the journey of growth
with me.