20071224

Having the Monk around helps me to not send messages that I would normally send. I was all set to send off the following, castigating a reckless friend of ours, but she stopped me from doing something that would probably wound too deeply a sensitive soul. So instead, I'm sending the diverted missage to you, dear sweet interthing.

Dear _______. You lose at driving. We recommend either putting your make-up on before driving to church OR keeping the liquor for special times at home by the fire. Following these rules will keep you in your lane and out of ours. Cheers.

20071220

It is amongst my deep and abiding hopes that someday soon archaeologists will uncover the lost secret to wearing footwear without socks. Because socks, in the final analysis, just look stupid.* Especially in shorts. What we need is a none disgusting way to wear shoes that doesn't involve unsightly socks. So I say, "Goooo archaeologists!"

*caveat: girls can look incredibly cute in a nerd-chic sort of way with colourful, designed socks** that cover the bulk of the calf.

**a.k.a.: argyle socks or multi-toned stripe-ed socks.

20071217

With a title like the above (Why Philip Pullman Loses at Writing) you might be expecting that I'd focus on, perhaps, the fact that Pullman's writing is hackneyed and clichéd. And redundant. Or maybe that his characterizations are sterile and lifeless. Or that his sense of story is beyond abysmal and his plots roam the landscapes of his written page like undead hordes, a blight upon the generation of sensible resolutions, moaning at a pitch just short enough of divine to be heralding from the pit of hellish excess in which the worst of fantasy authors languish.

No, while any of those are good reason to suspect Philip Pullman as one who loses at writing (which I cover in my review of His Dark Materials), there is something far more simple.

You see, when Philip Pullman set out to write the His Dark Materials trilogy, he had one real goal in mind: to write a children's series that promoted an atheist vision even as Clive Staple's books promoted a Christian one. To quote the tragic figure himself, "I’m trying to undermine the basis of Christian belief." The reason, in short, why Pullman fails so badly is not that he is mediocre writer (though he is) nor that his trilogy is overlong and boring (though it is), but simply that he comes nowhere near accomplishing anything resembling his actual and stated goal for the series.

To illustrate, if I held a press conference declaring that I would write in the next sentence the definitive argument that Diet Pepsi is superior to Diet Coke and followed that up with "Broguiere's egg nog is amazing!" you would say I failed to accomplish my goal (whether or not you agree that Broguiere's egg nog is amazing). So it is with Pullman.

The church he rails against bears no resemblance to the Christian church. The God he rails against bears no resemblance to the Christian God. And in the end, his narrative ignores the both of them. I was actually as baffled by this decision as I was by the more objective aspects of his writing. He wants to say that God is bad, but then the creature he calls God doesn't look anything like either the God of the Christian Bible or the God of Christian history. He wants to have his characters kill this fake God, but instead, this creature dies unknown and unmourned almost off-camera.

I'm not really certain how Pullman expected to carry out his appointed task and I don't really see any great opportunity for him to do so with the world he created, but I can think of ways he might have better accomplished his goal. Obviously, he is the Creator of all the worlds comprised in his books and the sovereign dictator of their every action. So then, if his characters wanted to kill God, it is Philip Pullman that they wanted to kill - and they wanted to do so by Philip Pullman's ordination. So then, if he really wanted to stick it to God, he should have ended the book with something like the below:

Lyra was held back only by the strength of her own anxiety. Will lay crumpled at her feet, a rag doll with no more life than Lee Scoresby or any of the scores of slaughtered Gyptians at the foot of the Tower. She watched in a breathless, quiet horror as Lord Asriel reached out of the pages of his own history, took hold of the Authority, and using Will's knife sheared clean through God's ne [EDITOR'S NOTE: the manuscript end's here. Apparently, Pullman was murdered even in the midst of writing the final chapter of His Dark Materials. We are deeply sorry, but we can only guess at what his completed vision would have looked like.]

THE END

Come to think of it though, perhaps Pullman did actually succeed in his vision after all. If Pullman as Creator is to represent God as Creator, then he is representing a god who is clumsy, senile, rash, and unhinged. So I guess I take it back, maybe Pullman did fulfill his dream, as if to say, "There is nobody behind the curtain, nobody but us babbling fools."

The main concern many Christians have with the series is: "Will His Dark Materials cause my child to lose faith or look poorly upon the church?"

I think the answer has to be No. Not in the long-run anyway. Especially not with children whose parents actually act as if they are really and truly parents, but even with children whose parents abandon them to the influences of the media they consume. The thing is, suppose a child reads Pullman's books and takes to heart Pullman's vision of the church as presented in the series. Suppose such a child comes to believe that the church is built and manned by evil men who are wholly invested in political gain and are not even thinly veiled in their villainy. What happens the very first time that child ventures into any church, no matter the denomination? The child realizes that he has been lied to by Pullman - for no human institution is as monolithically evil as Pullman's church is. As soon as this child is confronted by the reality, he is disillused and will come to find Pullman's words as much a fantasy as Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.

In short, Pullman's books may actually be a boon to the church. Go Pullman. p.s. Phil, seriously. Don't try to write anymore. Please? It's for your own good, buddy.

20071215

Novel Trilogy: Fantasy.
By Philip Pullman.
399/368/544 pages.

Day late and a dollar short with this one.

My hope was to have read and reviewed His Dark Materials trilogy before the film adaptation of the first third, The Golden Compass, came out last Friday. And I would have too - if it weren't for that sheer enormity of suckiness that was the third book in the series (The Amber Spyglass). *sigh* But then, life doesn't actually work out perfectly for us as often as we'd like. Sometimes there are earthquakes that level cities in Turkey. Sometimes Spinach is found to test positive for Salmonella. Sometimes a country introduces democracy to another. And sometimes, just sometimes, Philip Pullman writes a book.

Now I don't want it to sound like the series is the worst ever written. It's not. It's not even the worst I've ever read. Not entirely anyway. The fact is there are three books and they should be treated separately before we get to the series as a whole. So then, to the review! (times three.)

Oh yeah. And there'll be some spoilers in here. Not that it matters. Seriously.

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The Golden Compass
A third of the way into Pullman's first installment of His Dark Materials, I was excited. While Pullman wasn't the most eloquent of writers and his characters had yet to really develop at all, it was clear he had an exciting imagination and was as good at world-building as nearly any fantasy author. He had developed an alternate history for our world that while completely foreign was largely analogous to our own that it didn't seem like a different world entirely. They have science and electricity and particle physics and everything - they just call it by a different name.

The real joy and conceit of the series though is Pullman's use of daemons, animal expressions of every character's soul. These familiars are constant companions of every human, expressing through their animal nature the nature and quality of their human companion. And the daemons of children have yet to find a stabilized form and so flit forth and back and over and again through a host of forms - from owl to ermine to tabby to dolphin to moth to monkey. Et cetera.

Throughout the first book's clumsy storytelling, there is still something that approaches near to wonder. Enough to satisfy some readers. The first four-fifths of the narrative are brisk and enjoyable, and the book only begins to falter when Lyra (the heroine) leaves the bear kingdom to meet her first-act climax. Pullman stumbles through an expository patch here and a finalé that comes off as slightly less than readable. The book, much like The Fellowship of the Ring ends without an ending, leaving the conclusion for future installments.

Rating:

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The Subtle Knife
Typically, the middle chapter in a trilogy is its weak point, so the greater turn toward mediocrity wasn't so worrisome and I didn't quite see in it the grave portent that I ought to have (hindsight, eh?).

The second installment introduces a hero into the mix. Will, who is on the cusp of his teen years just like Lyra, actually hails from our world. And through happy accident or fate or dull contrivance both finds himself in league with Lyra and the chosen wielder of a knife that can cut through the fabric between worlds. The two team up and have a number of relatively dull adventures as we learn more about the great war brewing between heaven and earth and about the prophecy that Lyra is to be the new Eve and that she is to perpetrate a great betrayal and the freedom of all the worlds is at stake. Also introduced is an ex-nun-now-particle-physicist named Mary Malone who is prophesied to be the serpent/tempter to Lyra's Eve.

An interesting set-up for the final book despite being introduced by three-hundred pages of boredom punctuated by moments of ingenuity and interest.

Rating:

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The Amber Spyglass
Book three was just a mess. It's almost nonsensical as it strives against reason and its own narrative to bring the story to some kind of resolution. The great betrayal prophesied? Not really a betrayal at all. Lyra being tempted? Never happens. Mary playing the role of the serpent? Nope. She just kind of stands around. Oh, and the big plan to take war to heaven and kill God? Has nothing to do with anything in the story really. Though they do end up killing the Enoch from some world. The last 250 pages are baffling. There is no climax. The plot contrivances are painful. I'm not even sure what the point of the story was. Things happen because in Pullman's mind they need to, not because it would make any sense for something to happen a certain way.

It's hard to believe it but this book was worse actually than The Da Vinci Code. At least that was merely stupid. This was stupid, senseless, and (perhaps worst of all) boring. It's what I imagine Eragon would have been if I would have made it past page one hundred.

Rating:

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So then, as a whole? His Dark Materials is bad news for readers. From a moderately strong start it quickly turns into a preachy, meandering production of less than an infinite number of monkeys typing for slightly less than eternity. This is probably what half those monkeys would hit upon after about a year and a half. Pullman sets in motion things in volume one that never bear fruit. He never satisfactorily explains the things that one would expect that he should have explained. He provides no climax. His narrative is a shambles. He creates a character (Father Gomez), sends him on a mission to kill Lyra, follows him around for an inordinate amount of time, and then kills him without there ever being a confrontation between himself and his prospective victim. And then there are the mulefa. Don't get me started.

Additionally, his characters are cardboard cutouts who express whichever motive Pullman decides is necessary - no matter the fact that there is no reasonable expectation that these characters should behave so. The aeronaut decides really out of the blue that he loves Lyra (a girl he doesn't even really know) like a daughter and will do anything to protect her. The principle witch meets Mary Malone, talks with her for a few minutes, and then declares them sisters for life. It's all just baffling.

Recently, having criticized those who expressed how well-written the series is (the greatest scorch of my ire was directed at Jeffrey Overstreet and Albert Mohler on this count), I was recently put to notice that His Dark Materials has won a number of awards. I find this a chilling revelation and it wasn't 'til I recalled that Left Behind was a phenomenal bestseller that I was comforted that this was just business as usual for a civilization that is so steeped in mediocrity that it awards the title of Greatness to that which dare not even approach the servant quarters of Greatness for fear of overstepping its bounds. I think people want so badly to think highly of something, to think it the next whatever-recently-great-thing-comes-to-mind, that they abandon all sense of what is in order to do so.\

Shame on Philip Pullman and shame on our society for encouraging such dreck. Remember, if you praise it, it will be emulated.

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Series Rating:

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P.S. Having finished it, I'm still not sure why the series was called His Dark Materials.

20071214

I've been on the last chapter of the Golden Compass trilogy (His Dark Materials* is the official name for the books) for about four days now. I just can't bring myself to read it. Not for excitement, let me tell you. But we'll save that for my review of the books.

But this got me to thinking about the ends of books and especially the finishes to series of books.

When the seventh and last installment in the Harry Potter series was near release, I noted with some surprise a number of readers who were expressing sorrow that it would soon be over. This mindset bubbles to the surface every now and again and I never understood it. Yet thinking about it helped to underscore the fact that different people undergo entirely different feelings when engaging a fictional tale. This was still further illuminated in my thoughts over a recent article about mature video gaming over at Christ and Pop Culture in which the topic of immersion into story was broached.

The thing is, I experience books different from other people. Maybe I experience them like you.

I couldn't imagine being saddened that Harry potter was coming to an end. I was dying to know how it ended. And this showed me that there are at least two common ways to enjoy a book. There are those who enjoy novels for their characters and those who enjoy them for their stories. I am firmly in the story camp. But I know people who don't like the end of a book because it means there will be no more adventures with characters they had come to enjoy. This has a lot more ramifications than I originally presumed, but for now I'll just leave it at: Wow, that's a different way of experiencing things and while I can understand the concept academically, I have difficulty imagining what it would be like to approach a book in that manner.

For me, especially in longer books, I will grow more impatient with a book the more I am enjoying it. Reading a book with awesome characters and a thrilling storyline, I need the book to be over. I need to experience the resolution. It's the story that involves me. The characters are interesting, but if there is an end to the story, that is the thing that occupies my whole mind. I wasn't sad when Harry Potter ended. I wasn't sad that there were no more adventures to be had with Frodo Baggins. I wasn't sad to read the last Phillip Marlowe novel. And if there was anything that got me down about the end of Bone, it was that it didn't end how I would have ended it.

*note: I'm on the last chapter of the freakin' series and I still have no idea why it's called His Dark Materials.

20071212

Conversation overheard Saturday night between a high school student and a Borders Books & Music store clerk (one of the guys who runs around helping customers find the book they're looking for:

---

CLERK:
Okay. So what book are you looking for?

STUDENT:
It's for school. It's called The Divine Comedy

CLERK:
Okay. Who wrote it?

---

It went on, but I didn't have the heart to continue. Borders Books & Music is the new McDonalds apparently.

20071210

Why is Mike Huckabee scary? The answer's pretty simple actually. He hopes to carry his religious ideology into his rule over the land.

The first red flag was when I heard that he was a pastor at one time. Unless he really just wasn't cut out for the pastorate, it's rather disconcerting to hear that someone whose chief occupation was devotion to the heavenly kingdom sat down and thought one day: "Hm, you know? It would be a much better value for my time to ditch the whole kingdom of heaven enterprise and work for the kingdom of the here and the now."

Of course, this alone isn't cause for real concern. People turn their eyes from ministry all the time and do a great job in whichever arena they choose to labour, so maybe Huckabee could do a great job as president, right? Wrong. Because Huckabee carries with him something that would render any future presidency a damage to the world around him. Quite frankly, it is this: he is devoted to a Judeo-Christian moral ethic. And that is the death-nell to the possibility of a good presidency.

I mean sure he supports things like the prenatal rights of infants. Sure he supports things like justice (sort of). Sure he supports the rights of immigrants, illegal or otherwise. But he also supports things like bringing the ten commandments into courthouses. He also supports Israel for religious reasons and says "the Jews have a God-given right to reclaim land given to their ancestors and taken away from them." He supported the Covenant Marriage Act. The key propellant to his campaign is faith.

And that right there is scary.

Do I want a president who is making decisions based on an errant view of my faith in office? Or more accurately, do I want another one. The more recent Bush couched the terms of so many of his decision in language that speaks of right and wrong and faith and God and justice. Decisions that were abhorrent to me. I suspect that Huckabee would accomplish the same feat. Essentially, he seems like he's supporting Theonomy Lite. He doesn't want to institute the whole Mosaic law, but maybe just enough of it.

Really, the support of the Ten Commandments as a civil instruction are a big sticking point for me. If America wants to maintain the illusion of a country at liberty (something that's becoming more and more passé under the current administration), then we must not harbour notions that the Ten Commandments are at all appropriate for our courthouses. The first 40% of the Decalogue are by themselves inappropriate for any government that purports to support freedom of religion. Now sure, if we were a Christian nation...

But that's not what America is about. Nor what it is meant to be about.

Freedom vs. Theocracy. That's the choice at stake when one considers Huckabee. I choose freedom.

20071201

It's been awhile so here are two more thank you notes I've given out. The first is for a set of dishes that get used almost daily and the second for a, well, you'll see.

SPECIAL NOTES:

• If you have trouble reading any of it, just ask and I'll translate.

• The fart bit was in there solely because the gifter would value the note more for its inclusion.

• By the first stanza of the second one, you can tell that I am a lazybutt.

• And the BBQ model in the second one was named The Challenger. Which was comforting during my first grease fire while using it.

• Oh yeah, and Valerie, did you L-O-V-E the pun in the second one?