A Single Layer

I recently came up with an excellent idea for a book journal, the sort of thing Chronicle Books would publish and PaperSource would sell in a fancy display. It would be more popular than those One Line a Day journals, or the journals of lists and whatnot. It would also be deep and brilliant and wonderful. I just have to figure out a way to properly present it, and my future as a book journal developer is assured. In the meantime, it occurred to me that I could blog the journal as well, almost as a way of developing ideas for it. So then I thought, "Let's start a new blog!" And then I looked at the blogs I already maintain... and that was that. But someday, perhaps, I may add another blog to the rotation. When that happens, it will be brilliant. Just you wait.

"But indeed your children are not likely to trouble you about the meaning. They find what they are capable of finding, and more would be too much. For my part. I do not write for children, but for the childlike, whether of five, or fifty, or seventy-five. "A fairytale is not an allegory. There may be allegory in it, but it is not an allegory. He must be an artist indeed who can, in any mode, produce a strict allegory that is not a weariness to the spirit . . ." "The greatest forces lie in the region of the uncomprehended. "I will go farther. The best thing you can do for your fellow, next to rousing his conscious, is - not to give him things to think about, but to wake things up that are in him; or say, to make him think things for himself." "One difference between God's work and man's is, that, while God's work cannot mean more than he meant, man's must mean more than he meant. For in everything that God has made, there is lay...

Still reading The Princess and the Goblin (some introductory reader questions to follow), but I came across a collection of welded sculptures from found objects by Brian Mock over at This Is Colossal . This one reminded me of the upcoming The Book of the Dun Cow , by Walter Wangerin, Jr. Wonder why...

I have been thinking lately that while cynicism comes very quickly to me, it's not very natural. That is, it's become natural, but I'm uncomfortable with it, and especially uncomfortable with its quickness. I don't like my cynical self. I don't remember it being with me always, and I'd like to return to what once was. I think that's what Lewis Carroll and George MacDonald were always pressing toward in their insistence that childlike innocence was something to prize. It always seemed to me such an odd concept - childlike innocence - as I've never met a child who had any less of the beast in them than I do now. But a lack of cynicism, a generosity of spirit is more akin to children than to adults. It certainly is in my own history, at least. I want to return to that. But I find that becoming like a child, which is actually a divine command, is painfully hard to do. One of the things I'm hoping for, I think, in the children's book group I'm rea...

The first book our reading group has been reading is The Wind in the Willows . Considering how much I love both classic literature and children's books, the fact that I hadn't ever read this on my own was somewhat appalling. I had vague memories of my mother reading it to us as children, but the only memories of the story that really stuck were some irrelevant images from the Disney film and Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. I did some digging around on the internet for relevant discussion questions (our reading group is premised as "Children's Books for Grown-Ups," so relevant in this case refers to questions not directly related to children's reading levels). There were plenty of classroom-oriented reading guides, questions for young students' essays, that sort of thing. But few questions to guide a group of adults through a decidedly youthful story. (I say youthful in the sense of "childlike" rather than "childish," a distinction which s...

I've been hearing some odd things bandied about regarding NT Wright lately, mostly by people who haven't read him. I have my own opinions, and they vary, and they're personal. But regardless, I find the best thing to do whenever anyone has an Opinion that is being Bandied regarding a particular writer or thinker is to read the person for yourself, to get to know them and their ideas. Bandy about your own opinions for a change, and be right to do so. There's nothing to opinion regarding NT Wright's Lent for Everyone . The title is right - the book is for everyone, whether you observe Lent or not. It's a perfect way to walk through the season if you do, and a wonderful resource of thoughts on the Gospel of Mark when the season is through. The words for Ash Wednesday are (suitably) a good starting off point. "We sometimes think of 'repentance,'" he writes, "as being about going back: going back, wearily, to the place you went wrong, fi...

As promised, my poem to the writer's workshop: A Toast   (variations on “An Appeal” by Czeslaw Milosz) To you, O Church, to you I lift this glass of cheap grape juice. I lift it in irony, because I am deeply flawed. I lift it in sorrow, because so are you. And I lift it in brave, bold hope. To you, bored bride, wherever you are. In the creaking building, by the heartless fountain, sitting in the last bright light above the hazy port. I drink to you with no better question  than the far better poet asked some sixty years ago: “Whether you really think that this world is your home?” That the skin and bones are stretched as they ought around the mortal-heavy embers of your heart?  That the words and the songs are the first and the last and they signify nothing but the certainty of this hour? Probably you know very well the hot objection of injustice. That every tumor and scar, barrenness and hunger, mewling, limping life stat...

I promised a while ago to share something of the poem I brought to the writer's workshop last month. Beforehand, I should first share at least part of Czesław Miłosz's poem, "An Appeal." You will see why. You, my friends, wherever you are,  Whether you are grieving just now, or full of joy, To you I lift this cup of pungent wine As they often do in the land of France. From a landscape of cranes and canals,  Of tangled railway tracks and winter fog, In the smoke of black tobacco, I make my way Toward you and I ask you a question. Tell me, for once at least laying  Caution aside, and fear and guarded speech, Tell me, as you would in the middle of the night When we face only night, the ticking of a watch, The whistle of an express train, tell me Whether you really think that this world Is your home? That your internal planet That revolves red-hot, propelled by the current Of your warm blood, is really in harmony  With what surrounds you? Probably y...

Not to overdo it on Pinterposts, but the recent onslaught of friends, acquaintances, and everyone-else on Pinterest has led me to think of some rules. In pirate fashion, these are actually guidelines, and the purpose is to ensure that Pinterest is useful and interesting for you - because, quite honestly, it's not really a social network. It's a network, and a society, but it's mostly a silent one. Pinterest comments are rare, and the best followers and followeds are more often than not complete strangers. It's about meeting one another in the places your aesthetic tastes lie. Who you are behind your tastes is secondary. I will never meet Mary Beth Burrell , but I love her outrageous 433 boards. I will never meet Maia Then , but we swap typography pins on a regular basis, without overt acknowledgement. 1. To begin with, you shouldn't join Pinterest just because "everyone else is doing it." You can browse your friends' boards without making your own,...

...I work very hard to collect pins I care about. I'm referring to Pinterest, of course. I've been on there for quite a while now (has it been years?), and have developed over the course of time an internal filter as to what I will and will not pin. If something interests or amuses me that doesn't quite fit the internal standard I've set for my boards, I may file it away among my "likes," but it will not join my carefully curated collection. (Unless, as recently with the Boromir/Samwise pic "One does not simply walk into Mordor"... unless I just can't help myself.) So it's a little odd to me that in this last week, while I've been especially artful and moved by the images I've come across (and thusly pinned), that one pin of mine in particular seems to be getting an absurd degree of attention. Here are some of the pictures I've found in the last few days ( please follow the links , as they are even more amazing when viewed in th...

I was just thinking the other day how bored I am by today's celebrities, how they all seem to look the same, and how the few actors and actresses who actually do work worth caring about are just too few. This also says a lot about the movies that are out there, but there are legions of mediocre films because we watch them in spades. This is why a film like The Artist is such a breath of unbelievably fresh air, and yet it's just the sort of air that we must be told and told and told again to go breathe. If you have heard that you should see The Artist and yet have not, please do it. It is breathtaking, not just in beauty, but in whatever-it-is that makes a person sit taut in their seat with their fingers to their parted lips and their eyes wide and unblinking toward the motion picture. It's also lovely, and charming, and a number of other words that don't quite come close. I hope it wins all the awards that are awarded to films of any nature. *Regarding the leads -...

A friend requested I pin some book suggestions earlier today, so I started a new Pinterest board for book recommendations. Generally I don't like to recommend a book unless I know you and know what sort of books you might like, but I've had more repins and likes on this board in the last hour than any other I've made pretty much ever. So here's the link if you care to check it out, though it's nothing new to anyone who knows me on Goodreads.

I am participating in a writer's workshop at my church in a few weeks. Last week I had to draft my submission, and it was not very easy. We had the option of non-fiction (which I don't really do) and fiction (which, with a 2000 word limit, is a bit difficult) as well as poetry. I chose poetry because it is easy in terms of word count and writing time, but I almost pulled a submission out from my archives (that's what I did last time), simply because I couldn't write anything. I haven't written much poetry in a while, and when I look back at what I used to write, I get discouraged. Not that the poetry isn't good to write, but there's a difference between poetry as an act of self-expression, discovery, or even meditation and the poetry that ought to be read by other people. So I sat down with a little notebook and a Bible and a prayer book and another Bible, one with illustrations by Chagall (maybe you've seen it before), and a book of fairy tales by Geo...

When I was a kid, I lived for three years on a small missions base in the southern Philippines. When I or one of my friends got a new book, it was a big deal. We ordered books from Scholastic, but when there are no bookstores and the school library hasn't been restocked in forty years, those Scholastic orders were pretty much the life and breath of our literary discoveries. I remember when Scholastic sent my friend Colleen a complimentary copy of Dealing With Dragons , and we thought "this is not our kind of book," but then we read it, sitting next to each other on her covered porch, and then we shared it one by one with all of our friends. We did that with The Ordinary Princess , by M. M. Kaye, and a number of others as well. A book was never just ours. It circulated. Looking back, it occurs to me that that was the first book club I'd ever been a part of. We all read the same things, and then we incorporated them into our conversations, our classes, our play (we m...

I know I've mentioned this before somewhere or other, but OmmWriter is rocking my socks in a zen sort of way. If you find yourself with some writer's block, try it out. You may not write what you need to (you may, in fact, find yourself writing some bad poetry, or expostulations on the nature of the sun slanting through the window), but you will at least write something.

Having alluded to the "other" blog, I suppose now is the time to mention that it actually has a home. Follow the link to read up on certain books I'm reading, hoping to read, etc. What you won't find there are my thoughts on non-fiction, essays, interior design, theology, or winter trips to Arkansas. Well... probably not, anyway. The best blogs often have themes, and I think it's about time I distilled my posts of a certain theme to a singular location. Here's to 2012.

One of the things I'm working on doing for 2012 is separating my book blogging from my "here's my life do what you will with it" blogging. I've toyed with doing this several times over the past few years, but this is the year. Being, of course, the year the calendar quits, I guess that means this is the year to live like there's no tomorrow? I've been reading a lot of resolutions online, but few of them have that sense of urgency, that impulse to live like you mean to now, or else. Regardless of the Mayans and whatnot (fears in which I put little stock), it would be good to approach your resolutions with that kind of energy. It is already the second day of the year, and I am still not sure of what I particularly resolve. I resolve to be resolved?

Apparently I'm not writing a series for Advent, as the season is coming to its beautiful close. I'm alright with that. The not writing, I mean, not the end of the season. There's been a lot going on this month, and I haven't regretted any of my minutes. A couple weeks ago, several extended family members came into town to celebrate the life and honor the death of my grandfather. It was a wonderful opportunity to reconnect with cousins I haven't seen in well over a decade and uncles I care rather much for. My Christmas will, as usual, span several days, beginning tomorrow with my sister and brother-in-law coming into town, and then on the 25th, flying to Arkansas to be with my brother in his brand new home. I'll be seeing old friends, handing out some presents, and generally just taking a breather from life-busy-life. There are a lot of things I want to say as the year wraps, especially about Christmas and Jesus and the Holy Parents. I want to say some things...

Tomorrow is the beginning of Advent, which may or may not be the beginning of a series of Advent-related posts on my blog. Even if I don't end up writing my way through these holy days, I've tagged all my past Advent posts so you can find them easily. Most of them are other people's writings, which makes them all the more worthwhile. One good reason to get all your holiday shopping done on Black Friday and Small Business Saturday (this is a new one to me, but I like that the day also gets a name), is that you don't have to think of presents for the rest of the season. Here is where I shall make a subtle word distinction. It is good to get present shopping over with, but it is all the more good to make this a season of giving. I say that without the Hallmark cheesiness. I mean, rather than shopping frantically, it would be appropriate in these next weeks to think about generosity, about giving and receiving with a thankful heart, the way it ought to be done. Take a hia...

Less than an hour after my last post, my grandfather passed away. Any meditation on the words of C. S. Lewis seems a worthy occupation in a time of great weight, but I confess that I wish I'd been quoting something from A Grief Observed or The Great Divorce  in my post - something with uncanny relevance. I like to look back and see uncanny relevancies, but there were none in the late morning of October 30th. I learned a few things that day, and they were mostly very human things, universal in a molecular rather than a spiritual way. Looking back in a not-uncanny way, I feel I understand the incarnation much better than I did before. Death shows us what a body is, what it means to be embodied, what it means when these bodies are done with themselves, when they say "it is finished." I have never been much bothered by death. I know that most people fear it, and that perhaps in some very ancient way, I fear it too, and that is why I jump at surprising noises and shake my ...