The man Thomas Cromwell in the novel Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

Wolf Hall seems to me a many-headed book, imagining a changing England, as it comes about though the influence of the King's favourite, master manipulator Thomas Cromwall. The court is probably in need of a revolution when he takes centre stage at the right hand of the king. It's a world where earls slimily ingratiate themsleves through spying and favours to get close to power. The intricate web of influence Cromwell weaves is built from his principles of balancing the books, a curiosity and a humanity that runs against many historical retellings of the character. My attempt to put these on paper is shown below.

Illustration © Richard Townrow 2013

The main draw of the novel for me is the strong characterisation of Cromwell, whether true or not. When someone needs to turn the tide of a political spat between Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII we know it is "he"; when Cromwell takes in young sons of other officials we know they are on the way to great things; when he dreams of the spectre of his wife Liz or pushes over former foes we identify with his losses and victories; often, we admire him, and often, we don't like him. He's as likely to ride roughshod over individual's conscience, and bend a man's will to fit his purpose to prop up the new queen and his new vision of England, as he is to show a generous hand with the power he accrues, assisting a French academic, helping abandoned widows, secretly supporting reformers as they spread copies of Tyndale's Bible (this last aspect being an invention of the author, I think). Either way he helps to forge a new England and the book is optimistic about that. It occurs to me that maybe, instead of being cynical about our country, we could ponder the kind of society we want to form - the kind that is diverse and progressive and comes to the aid of the underprivileged, and does not overlook injustice. Let's just not be too ruthless in pursuing our dreams...

Mini book reviews: Snowdrops and Seeing Stars

Snowdrops (Atlantic Books), a novel by A D Miller, is an intriguing tale about the modern Moscow, with all the wonder of young love and high-class establishments and the snow and the sense of making it through - plus the corruption and the excess and the smut and property crime. I quite liked it as a tale of a naive man becoming corrupted, and in an odd way seeing that he does not care what a fool he's been, which is at least honest. Basically he meets and spends time in Moscow with a beautiful woman called Masha and a businessman in a cowboy hat, and he just goes with it. Not the best crime/love story I've read, but the descriptions of the snow are pretty fantastic, and give the whole thing a sense of mysterious symbolism. What can be lost or buried in the snow - is it, somehow, your own self?

Seeing Stars (Faber) is a fun trip: a collection of story-like poems from Simon Armitage covering the uncertainties or fanciful hopes of life. It's had me chuckling at the sperm whale who wants to stand up for its rights to an opinion in politics or the man who thinks he can pilot a plane because of the sheer romantic magic of the thing while the pilot is on strike. It's had me pausing to think about the life-forms that matter to a pharmacist who is knocked out by some customers. It's had me thinking about the way we live as contradictions to our own desires and how what we imagine or what we dream of lies under the surface. Definitely recommended to you to enjoy, read and re-read, and ponder on!

Sparrows, living and reading Small Gods

In the thirteenth and very funny Discworld novel Small Gods, Om says the difference between being a small god and human is that humans are uncertain about what lies beyond death, but gods really know that when they come to the end of their lives/reigns there is nothing more for them, that is the end of their real existence - all that's left is longing for what was. At the end of their magic and belief-fuelled "lives", small gods go into darkness after just a moment of "warmth and light", like a sparrow that flies through a room and out into the black night - and he asks "can't you imagine what it's like to be that sparrow, and know about the darkness? To know that afterwards there will be nothing to remember, ever, except that one moment of the light?" (p277). Enter the debate about whether waiting for death is torture and whether the end is really the end.

In Pratchett's fantasy world gods exist if they have believers, otherwise they fade to barely a whisper, their minds fractured, barely keeping themselves together. Some start there but manage to work their way up to real power through accumulating believers. This means that they have to work out how to manipulate people into following them, which doesn't bode well for the cause of truth, love and justice. Indeed through the course of Small Gods it's a human who teaches the small god Om ethics, a way of leading a people to treat others more fairly and with respect.

Interestingly as with a lot of Pratchett books, the stupidity of humanity is brought out here, because despite the ethical way being the one way free of bloodshed, the people still want war, because of honour, duty, hurt pride, impatient zeal for change, and revenge. Pratchett shows how lucky we have to be for good leadership to win out, when people's hearts are bent like this, and when people are preoccupied by things that don't really matter. The small god points out that people will believe anything, even in the power of an army or god, or in the revolutionary spirit or human philosophy, if it suits them - if they think it will allow them to gain something in the world, if it promises them something they feel they need. Both the religious who hold on to a system and the militant atheists have ambitions and values at fault in this in the book - rushing into their cause without thinking of the consequences in terms of their responsibilities to seek peace for their fellow man. Knowledge is co-opted into making machinery of war. Only one or two characters have the eyes to see the folly of the people.

The hypocrisy of the harsh religious system in Omnia is plain and some are brimming to just escape from the rules, while others find meaning in enforcing them. But when it comes down to it, what do the religious sacrifices they make or the battles fought in the name of honour or revenge gain them?* If this is a kind of bargaining with the gods, it’s a poor deal. I think we need this sort of clarity in thinking about why we do the things we do. Our culture is tied up in pursuits, whether of influence, reputation on- or offline, expertise, deeper relational links, a hoard of commercial products we feel we need, the avoidance of any pain or suffering, the best holidays, and constructed meaning in other ways. What does all of this gain us in the long run? Is the key not to obsess and just find balance? And what does it gain us in the face of death and beyond that eternity? When we realise we are going somewhere next and that we can't take anything with us, why do we get so caught up in so many pursuits which seemingly can continue all our lives?

But going back to the way in this book a "god" can fear the absolution of a pseudo-non-existence: It's very interesting how this is portrayed as happening to one small god who is found as a bodyless voice in the desert that has been roaming there for years and can't even remember it's name. Even Om is lucky to remember who he is after amusingly getting trapped in the body of a tortoise.

If our ultimate destination is to be a kind of wimpy non-physical confused and hopeless half-life, I'd hate it too. Maybe this is what people fear most today: being insignificant, being unfulfilled in this life and withering away. They want to live fully and die young and happy. I can relate to this. But as a Christian I want to challenge the assumptions here - I want to say that living into old age, disability, or insignificance in the eyes of the world and living even in weakness and illness can be real living if it's done in relationship with God. If real love is experienced. If you are getting to know him and trust him better, if you are awaiting his promise to bring a kingdom where you can fully be with him, if you see his goodness no matter your situation, weakness can be a time of blessing. Furthermore if we have a hope beyond this life in the one man who came back from death, Jesus-Christ, the God-man, we do not have to have a fear of death and can get on with living for what really matters.

All in all, a thought-provoking entry into the Discworld series that I could relate to a lot. People are cowardly and create systems that don't work, and forget the value of true liberties in society. Luckily our God is large and will never lose the plot. He cares about us more than many sparrows. Like Om he listens to us, but unlike Om he loves us and knows what is good, and will never get trapped in the body of a tortoise.

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*You wonder if there was this kind of hotchpotch of mixed motives in the recent march on Tripoli. There must be stories to be found there both of altruism and, sadly, brutish steamrolling over the ones in the way.

Cover image uploaded from Wikipedia to illustrate the book I'm discussing. It's originally derived from a digital capture (photo/scan) of the book cover (creator of this digital version is irrelevant as the copyright in all equivalent images is still held by the same party). Copyright held by the publisher or the artist. Claimed as fair use regardless.

Book Review: Real Lives in North Korea - nothing to envy

Since interning at Granta Books last year I’ve been enjoying articles and books that bring across the story of how people are living in tough places. One such book is Nothing to Envy: Real Lives in North Korea – which won the BBC Samuel Johnson Prize for Non-Fiction 2010 and which I highly recommend.

Based on accounts of those who managed to escape North Korea, the book gives a sense of what it was like living during different stages of the rigidly controlled Communist regime which continues there to this day. It is incredible to read how fully indoctrinated people were (and I guess, still are) into at times ludicrously harsh or downright unhealthy rules and routines, and the “informing” culture, believed to be essential to “North Korean security”, as well as the personality cult around the leader Kim Il-sung, which had men and women finding their worth in the leader more than in any other relationship. It’s revealing to read about the impact of Kim Il-sung’s death on different groups of people – a patriotic house-wife, broken by the news, whose husband descends into deep depression, a teacher from a lower-class background, a student struggling to bear the weight of the mourning which was expected of him.

This is a well-written history of the last 2 decades, as much as the author, a reporter based in South Korea, has been able to find out, containing surprising detail of the way people saw the world outside through a veil of widely accepted lies, as well as how they saw each other and how they provided for each other in tougher times.

Particularly touching in the midst of all the carefully recorded information about rations and hardworking routines is the story of a young couple, Mi-ran and Jun-sung, secretly visiting each other at night to go walking and talk. A complex and highly restrictive class system prevented them meeting in daylight. It’s revealing and rather sad that despite these episodes one fled the country without trusting the secret to the other.

Another moving episode tells of how Mi-ran, at this point a teacher, watches her children coming to classes exhausted due to starvation in the famine which lasted for many long years in the nineties there. As she notes the missing pupils in her class, she sees her favourite pupil stops coming in and she presumes this is because the child is now dead.

In fact some of the details here and about the hospital in the province made me so sad I stopped reading this book for a while. When I returned, my outrage only increased as I learned of a 16-year-old whose home was taken by other occupants when his father became a beggar, and who was caught trading across the border for food and tortured and imprisoned along with adult inmates! The details here reveal a world of injustice, courage and despair, and above all left me feeling: something must be done.

If like me you feel this way – find out more. Today I was reading a shocking magazine from Release International which talks about the problems facing Christians in North Korea. When it is discovered there is a Christian or a Bible in a household, it’s not unknown for the whole family to be taken to away to brutal labour camps. One man who was in a camp for 5 years tells of how he was treated, at one point tortured by being made to sit on burning coals. Even fleeing North Korea can cause new problems as you are then illegal members of China. Escaping women particularly are preyed on and sold into prostitution and trafficked illegally – your heart just breaks to hear of things like this.

Release International are just at the beginning of their campaign to call for justice and release for imprisoned Christians in the country. Sadly there isn’t that much to read on their website yet – but you can sign their petition at this link. Do it! And do more than this. Find some way of telling someone who could make a difference. Ask leaders. Ask God. Seek more for the people there.

Book Review: Super Sad True Love Story

How can I describe what has been one of the most true-to-life, craziness-of-life-encompassing reading experiences I’ve read for a while in a short post like this? How can I describe this American disaster novel whose flavour of George Orwell’s 1984 is mixed with probable future medical elitism to create a world where the rich and young aim to live forever, to achieve nothing much, and death is feared and hated, and where America’s myth that they are special is totally deconstructed and spat upon by the rest of the world? How can I describe what is a totally over-the-top look at the world today and yet also a scary prediction of the world to come?

Perhaps we can use the title.

Super Sad True Love Story is not always focused on its own “love story”. Somewhat like the lyrics of White Blank Page by Mumford and Sons, our gormless protagonist Lenny Abramov wants to follow his Eunice Park “with his whole life” while she “desires his attentions” but often “denies his affections”. Warning: There is a LOT of explicitly-described sex, but, contrasting this, as Lenny tries to win Eunice, actual love is weak and doesn’t always last the run, only a kind of dependency is achieved – healthy or unhealthy depending on your point of view.

Perhaps this love story can best be described as the struggle between real affections and the forces which efficiently and seemingly inevitably defeat and repress them. Whether it’s the desire to help the people classed as Low Net Worth Individuals who are casually gunned down in Central Park, New York, or the desire to live for something worthwhile, the characters are teased with answers only for a nightmarish reality to break in on them. It is pure satire, laced with some fleeting observations about how we run from what we can’t cope with, how we settle for less than what is right, and end up contributing to the problem. It is certainly “sad”.

So how “true” is this strange work of fiction?
Well, while one shooting takes place, only across the city, Lenny describes the sentiments in a crowded bar of people: “We absorbed the Images and as a group of like-incomed people felt the short bursts of existential fear (…) Finally the fear and the empathy was replaced by a different knowledge. The knowledge that it wouldn’t happen to us. That what we were witnessing was not terrorism. That we were of good stock. That these bullets would discriminate” (p.155, Granta Books edition). These words, like much of the novel, eerily hold up a mirror to affluent Western society and how we can be totally disconnected from other people’s pain and injustice, even if it is happening close to us.

The language is eccentric and brilliant, at times joyful, as in one early section in which Lenny tells his diary he will live forever, his whole hope rooted in this goal, his drive to share the world with Eunice, despite the futility of the collapsing America around him:

“I just have to be good and I have to believe in myself. I just have to stay off the trans fats and the hooch. I just have to drink plenty of green tea and alkalinized water and submit my genome to the right people. I will need to re-grow my melting liver, replace the entire circulatory system with “smart blood” and find somewhere safe and warm (but not too warm) to while away the angry seasons and the holocausts. And when the earth expires, as it surely must, I will leave it for a new earth, greener still but with fewer allergens; and in the flowering of my own intelligence some 10³² years hence, when our universe decides to fold in on itself, my personality will jump through a black hole and surf into a dimension of unthinkable wonders, where the thing that sustained me on Earth 1.0 – tortelli lucchese, pistachio ice cream, the early works of the Velvet Underground, [sexual reference] – will seem as laughable and infantile as building blocks, baby formula, a game of ‘Simon says do this’” (p.3-4).

This is the new religion, at least for Lenny, who sets himself to believe in something, at times somewhat desperately. This is a world where everything is screwed – family relationships are full of abuse, churches are large, recruiting people to meaningless surface changes of behaviour without dealing with people’s real problems (the opposite of what I believe true Christian communities should be), the ineffectual and bullied US government uses a version of Orwell’s “double speak” to deny their own citizens of their human rights with their own implicit consent, and friendships are about one-upmanship while the young prey on the old. Above all, the inane and useless reigns, and is used, while (we can guess from various clues) political powers get to pursue their unknown agendas behind the scenes. Could this be a world we are in danger of becoming, a world in love with itself and distracting itself from what’s really important? A world of conflicting agendas and power games, a world without any ultimate hope, clinging on to what it can get where it can get it, where good democratic relations are impossible? A world where other people are reduced to a series of ratings about what they can give me? Where we have forgotten people’s inherent worth altogether?

Mini- review of bestseller The Suspicions of Mr Whicher (2008)

Mr Whicher was a famous detective from the first stock of detectives ever produced, back in London in 1842. This non-fiction book mainly deals with a murder case he investigated, that of young Saville Kent, who was less than four, but it also covers most of his life with fascinating detail, especially the parts about his first successes.

The details bring it alive. For instance, he tricked a crook into handing back a stolen diamond shirt-pin in a bar, by knowing exactly how the crook worked with an accomplice. Another time he and two fellow officers got into a scuffle with some thieves, trying to recover some stolen jewels, and we read that Mr Whicher was set upon by a man with a red hot poker.

The details of the murder of Saville in his own house at Road Hill are shocking and by the end of this well-researched book much has been revealed about the need for morality and love in the household and in the family. Other fascinating themes and questions are raised as well as the whole country became obsessed with the case in the 1860s and were not satisfied when they could not see justice done. So the need for public justice is shown, but so is the foolhardiness of many who had little to do with the case writing to Scotland Yard with their own theories about what was done, and by whom. Even Charles Dickens had a theory!

Finally the question of madness interested a casual fan of classic Gothic/sensation literature like me. It really makes you wonder what madness is. Is it getting things in the wrong perspective, like a sociopath who does not see that a certain human life has value? Is it not having the proper feelings there? Is it doing something horrendous, out of character, or out of spite or anger (yet surely this definition isn't too far from things any of us have done). What is madness and what is just plain evil, after all?

The book, which perhaps could have been shorter, brings out all the ways this case became politically and socially important, and finally the sentence is passed and we know who did the terrible deed. Author Kate Summerscale reminds us in the last few pages that we must not allow the tragic loss of a human life to become lost in the intellectual game of finding out "whodunit", which is a brilliant sentiment to end on, and the whole thing is an illuminating and really interesting read.

Mere Anarchy: Bizarre short stories

I happened to pick up this strange collection of stories from Woody Allen recently, and although I wasn't sure if I'd like it, I'm glad I checked it out. he has a knack for coming up with absurd situations (a little like some of Roald Dahl's adult stories) and they are very funny too!

Particulary amusing was the hubris of one two-bit, no-good supporting actor who gets captured by terrorists in the most bizarre cutting-edge film set-up in a developing country. This has me laughing out loud. The actor tells the story as if the whole thing was a "jaunt" over to the studio, rather than the trying ordeal it evidently was. Once you get used to the strange use of language, you'll enjopy the neuroses of the characters, and the cleverly hidden put-downs they use - which show what they are really after, or their real characters.

I was also loving the first story, with biting satire about a get-successful-quick scheme run through a manipulative new-age "prophetess" who has grown men in groveling in her service as they seek to escape their current mid-life crisis. And although some of the stories do mis-fire, one story called "Above the Law, Below the Box Springs" really cracked me up with a running gag about mattress tags, of all things, and another supremely silly story had me trying to imagine a dispute between Michael Eisner and the Disney character Goofy about screen time.

So take a look if you intrigued by something as daft as a man trying to buy a modern suit with built-in gadgets, or a couple whose nanny must be silenced before she publishes a book exposing what they are really like behind closed doors, or parents threatening legal action against the leaders of a ramshackle mountain summer camp who are demanding a stake in the rights deal for a movie sold to Hollywood.... some of these concepts bring out the pathetic, the ridiculous or the downright dirty in the modern Westerner, and it's funny while being kind of true.

This week I should be writing about some other books, including The Prodigal God by Tim Keller and The Suspicions of Mr Whicher. What are your summer top reads, and why?

Book Review: The Ballad of Halo Jones

Why is this acclaimed graphic novel worthy of such high distinction? Perhaps it’s because it is one of the few *true* science fiction epics in that form, which has a beginning, middle and an end? Perhaps it’s the crazy concepts, from the haunting tale of the person whose gender has been erased, to the “forever” time-altered charge into battle in the Crush (on a planet with dangerously high gravity levels). Perhaps it’s the satire about our lives that gets us, and the way writer Alan Moore has thought up a world with a ring of truth about it, down to the details of the way people gossip and use slang. Perhaps it’s due to the strong female protagonist, as it was unusual in 1984 for a comic book to have a female hero – and one whose heroism is highly relatable, as she tries to escape the structures and characters which hem her in and want her to “fit in” and degrade her. You see, this future “Ballad” is, like all ballads, about a journey – and the toil along the way.

The plot of the three books

The story starts in the Hoop – a hi-tech slum floating near Manhattan – where Halo Jones (pictured right) lives with her friend Rodice, and are caught up in poverty and unrest. The people seem enslaved either to the various gangs and factions in the Hoop or to a materialistic code of values, which fools them into accepting the way things are – in fact they have ways of altering themselves to forget and fit in (the “safest” way in the crime- ridden area). When disaster strikes, Halo confronts the world outside the hoop (at the end of book one), and boards a space cruiser. She now is working as a waitress for the rich to pay her way out of poverty and gain control of her life – and a measure of freedom seems in her grasp. But by the end of book two she finds herself battling some more everyday problems that threaten to enslave her: the dullness of unemployment and purposelessness – and alcoholism.

Looking for an adventure, Halo Jones then joins the army – and this final book shines the most for me. It is a scathing attack on the inequality of war, the evil of it and how it can brainwash the soldier, and make them unfit for normal life. In a few pages we can sweep the galaxy, or focus on the significance (or not) of one battleground and one fallen enemy. As we begin to respond to the ideas here, it evokes disturbing and uncomfortable images from today’s wars – what anguish should we feel over the need for our young men and women to go to war and to live that different kind of life – that “necessary evil”? Have we forgotten that these wars (necessary though they may be) have a devastating impact on the lives of the people of the countries where the fighting is going on? Finally (spoiler warning), the folly of war stares at us from the final pages, when it is deemed that the war was carried out in an illegal way. What was all the fighting for after all? It should never have been allowed. What does man fight man for anyway? What purpose does it serve?

Letting the book raise some questions

Told in short black-and-white chapters, this impressive tale starts slowly but ends up with some short episodes that say more than whole novels, in terms of the way they mimic the real world and confront us. How can we escape a mindset of materialism and avoid settling for the entertainment culture that surrounds us? Is that what life is really about? And can we really have control of our lives, in the final analysis, or are there limits we come up against?

Where do we look for real freedom, and the ability to live full lives of purpose and joy?

On that last one: I know to whom I am looking – the one who came to offer just this to us if we accept his verdict on our lives and turn to follow Him. Receiving what Jesus offers does not require being brainwashed, made to "fit in" to an oppressive system, or dragged through hell, or in fact any kind of work on our part. His gift to us of reconciliation with God is free, and simply must be accepted.

But knowing Him and all he's done changes us, and soon we will be unhappy with the way we have been living, we will be stretched mentally, emotionally and physically to live the kind of full life of joy and hard work and pain and love that Jesus lived. To live in community, doing the will of the one who rules this world and who actually does know best for us - and cared enough to come to die for us. Let's not throw our brains away and live passively following the world.  Let's engage with him and what he is really offering us. Let's go to the places Jesus wants us to go to.

The Bourne Identity - and how words can create the feeling of being out of control

It's a while since I posted on any books, though I have just started A Short History Of Nearly Everything, which is bascially the most important discoveries/theories in science wonderfully explained and told in lots of brilliantly amusing asides about eccentric or exceptional human beings.

On a different note I have been meaning to post about 1980 novel The Bourne Identity. Here are some quick points about the kind of fiction the thriller delves into, and ways I noticed the brilliant use of language:

• Plot: To me, the idea of this thriller is instantly fascinating - a black ops-trained soldier with amnesia having to investigate himself while protecting himself from unknown killers.
• Mystery & character: The opening chapters are curious, as the unnamed “patient” recovers from his wounds, and begins to suspect his involvement in something violent. Who was he? And where has he got his skills in deception, combat and his (vital) self-protective instinct, which helps him see (sometimes desperate) ways out of the various situations he gets into? Wouldn’t it be better for others if he didn’t keep impacting their lives and causing them danger? What about the money he finds in a Swiss bank account belonging to him? These sort of questions give “Bourne” a huge guilt complex, and a strand which runs throughout is the danger of him flipping and ending it all in one more suicidal mission.
• Differences to the films: Writer Robert Ludlum connects “Bourne” with an objective that at times becomes his obsession: he is “Cain” an incredibly last-ditch effort by various CIA groups to bring to an end one man’s stranglehold on Europe. We learn why Bourne has been living a dangerous life mixed with assassination – his part in a larger game-plan… wildly different to his purpose in the films, and giving a new meaning to the “mark of Cain”.
• Creating emotional and physical chaos in language: Ludlum throughout seems to be at his best in those rare moments when he draws us into the mind of the man known as Bourne, who often tries to keep people shut out and is described simply doing things. But in the midst of chaos or personal confusion we hear his internal voice: "For God's sake. I don't know you! I don't know me! Help me! Please, help me!" (p.50) Or his view is melded with the action, as he is gunned for, cornered, seeing no way out. 

Take this section, showing both Bourne’s heightened ‘war-zone’ senses and his madness, as the situation becomes merged with a conflict from the past, in the Vietnam province of “unremembered Tam Quan” (p.554).

“Bourne rose to his feet, his back pressing against the wall, with flare in his left hand, the exploding weapon in his right. He plunged down into the carpeted underbrush, kicking the door in front of him open, shattering silver frames and trophies that flew off tables and shelves into the air. Into the trees. He stopped; there was no-one in that quiet, sound-proof elegant room. No-one in the jungle path.

He spun around and lurched back into the hall, puncturing the walls with a prolonged burst of gun-fire. No-one.

The door at the end of the narrow, dark corridor. Beyond was the room where Cain was born. Where Cain would die, but not alone.” (p.556)

Surroundings become scenery as on a set, tools which can be “punctured” with bullets, unimportant. Bourne is on a mission. Fierce intention drives him. He will die, but so will his enemy – Cain will not die alone. And this will bring everything to an end. This mahogany jungle will witness a resolution to the war began by men in suits in the ‘elegance’ of organised and secure offices. This chaos is erupting into the world where it was unleashed. Moments like this mix hyper-reality (the gun in the left hand, the doors opening, the detail of the rooms) with the surreal of Bourne’s imagination – and they are the payoff from the long build-up. Will Cain ever escape this world of tension, and constant danger? Who else will bear his mark, his mark of death, and no guarantee of safety wherever he goes?

2 more book reviews & some big issues to chew on

I'm heading up a book stall at our Christmas carol service, and here are reviews of two of the books on that stall, exploring the God of Christianity, and hopefully providing answers which help people understand him and see his goodness.

What kind of God? (IVP)

Having seen Michael Ots on the front line, speaking at lunchtime talks at some of our universities, answering questions from the floor and debating with individuals afterwards, it is clear Michael is passionate at speaking to people where they are at and dealing with their questions about God. This book is based on the outcry of those he has met asking “What kind of God is it who authorises war, inspires fundamentalism in the US, punishes his own Son, represses sexuality, allows the environment to be destroyed, and condemns people to hell?”

He gives real answers to these accusations and, more than that, explains that there is a basis for saying God is good and that Jesus is 100% relevant today - in fact, that we ignore him at our peril. You don’t have to read the book in order, so if you or a friend would read even one chapter, consider picking this one up as a starting point for further discussion.

If I were God I’d end all the pain (Good Book Company)

In this book John Dickson wrestles with the question of suffering: If God is all-powerful and all-loving, why does he allow so much pain and difficulty in the world? Early on he tells us that, although the perspective of the Bible will not answer all of our questions on suffering, he thinks it is the only perspective on the world which is “not itself knocked-out by the force of this age-old question”.

Exploring the views of suffering taken by Buddhists, Muslims and then atheists, he notes their various insights and difficulties before going on to present the picture of this problem in the Bible. We are warmly encouraged to grapple with this problem and to question (or shout at) God along with the writer of Psalms in the Old Testament, and to learn of the way God has provided for us to bring us comfort and help, also promising to one day bring to an end the suffering of his people. The book gives us a glimpse of the plan of God for the world according to the Bible - then, it is up to the reader to decide whether this really does hold true or not. John Dickson “keeps it real” too with examples from films like The Truman Show and real-world tragedies he has spoken to people about, read in the news or those that have affected him personally.

Book reviews - and the real God worth knowing

As we start to think about filling in Christmas cards, and prepare for the Christmas period, here is the first of some books I've reviewed which should get you thinking about God at this time of year, - because I know He can get squeezed out of our thoughts all too easily but I believe it is actually immeasurably important to be moving towards a close, dependent relationship with Him. I hope these books we help you see more of this, and more of Him.

First up: But is it Real?

In this short book Amy Orr-Ewing tackles in quick succession 10 real objections people have to the Christian faith. Each objection has come from someone she has met (a student, a mechanic, a taxi-driver) and they include “What about the spiritual experience of people in other religions?” and “Your ‘experience of God’ is a delusion”.

She treats each statement carefully to get to the heart of the matter - using lots of real-life stories - before going on to claim that it is possible and desirable to have a relationship with the God of the Bible, and that it does not require us to throw our minds into the bin! For instance, she claims it is possible to have respect for people with other beliefs while disagreeing firmly with the content of those beliefs. She exposes the problems with atheism and points to the wealth of intelligent people (including Nobel-prize-winning scientists) who claim to have experienced a relationship with the true God as revealed in the Bible. Leading us through some of the claims of Christianity, she encourages us to approach God for ourselves, as the Bible promises that if we draw near to God, he will draw near to us.

More books coming soon, approaching the subjects of God, religion and life from some intriguing angles...

Reading The Time Traveller's Wife

So why am I reviewing a 3-year-old book that was huge and pretty much everyone already knows about?

One reason is that Niffenegger's big novel touches on just about everything - fate, memory, happiness, fear, bereavement, illness, disability, religion, the future, hope, love, self-destructive anger, sex, jealousy, self-centredness and existential problems about the self, including that feeling of being disconnected from something important. The author's genius is to not simply to create the bizarre concept of a man with a time-displacement disorder, slipping out of time to other points in his or his wife's lives, but the genius is in how she makes this situation human, and then uses it to explore the way we look at ourselves, our relationships, our lives.

In the course of its pages, which plot out the relationship between Henry de Tamble the time-traveller and his great love (and time-static) Clare, we identify with Clare, as she feels the distance in the relationship created by time, and also (for instance) as she struggles with commitment to Henry and feels guilt about that - and has to conquer her fears for their future, often through producing some quite bizarre, and physical, art. But we also appreciate Henry's often strange reflections on life and how it works, and we can understand the way he resents the other version of himself he meets in his future; Niffenegger knows how, during the confusing teenage years, we can have ambiguous, even hostile, feelings about ourselves and our bodies. What is more, in the way Henry studies his older self, Niffenegger clearly perceives our resentment of those who have a better sense of security than ourselves, and reflects on how us creative types want to be in control of our own lives, not merely feel we are fitting in to a pattern laid out for us.

The book is filled with astute observations of how we work. Often the author draws attention to the human body, I think to celebrate the excellence of the way we work, move, interact, reproduce, and sometimes showing how frail we are and the enormous problems caused by just one thing being wrong with us. It seems to warn us to make the most of our time, and not to play around with other people's lives, something we do when we are young and impatient with what life is giving us. Niffenegger uses all kinds of settings and situations (a club in Chicago, a Christmas day mass, the apartment Henry's dad has let deteriorate) to examine how we treat those around us, and the way our values change as we become older.

Although it is mostly concerned with Henry's survival, Clare's next big challenge and the love story, there is a section some time after the midway point where it becomes too much about representing their feelings abstractly, through dreams and other more obvious techniques. And the book bares all, including the ugly side of attempting to conceive a child, and some unhelpfully explicit details of their sex life (outrageously, the incredible gift of sex is exploited for our analysis and entertainment purposes when the sensation is designed to be shared between two people and not compared and dissected).

Having said that, Niffenegger clearly knows what makes a good yarn, and has read her Homer. The end of the novel is exceptionally well done, finding a neat (and intriguingly non-spiritual) solution which still leaves you feeling full of hope for the pair of lovers and for the time ahead, widening our own horizons: What things have we yet to see, and to discover? What are we holding on for?

Graphic novel: Silverfish

Now I am not a big fan of horror, although I do enjoy some of the darker and more violent crime thrillers in Hollywood, such as Kiss the Girls or even the classic, The Fugitive. Here's another exception.

In this black-and-white graphic novel, we are taken on a movie-like journey through Hitchcock suspicion and mystery, through the tension of the "serial-killer-is-lurking" territory, to a high-stakes, high-adrenaline, almost-teen slasher climax. And it all works - particularly as the creator adds something that could only be done in comics: the bizarre 'silverfish' which seem to be fantasy breaking in on our reality. And we are still left with some questions tantalisingly unanswered. What really drove the villain to kill? (There are many suggested reasons.) And what do others know about the strange titular 'fish'?

A good read. In my book, not quite a must-have comic - but that reflects more on my philosophy that it owning stuff isn't everything than this book's quality.

I'm off to visit Penguin Books tomorrow, on a numbers-restricted Open Day. Let's hope this leads to something...

Reading The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

One book I'm enjoying at the moment is The Book Thief - a rich, warm but at times uncomfortable novel about the life of a girl Liesel and how she lives through many adventures in Nazi Germany, suffering after her mother leaves her and her brother dies, growing up with a new family, fighting, living in poverty, having to march along with the Hitler Youth, learning how to read and steal and keep secrets from the Fuhrer.

Although it has taken me some pages to get into it, I am now appreciating how it works on lots of levels. The book is told from the point of view of Death, which is ominous, but this version of Death is almost child-like in his curiousity. Like the children in the book, Death is uncomprehending of the true import of some of the episodes in the book. But we well know the barbarities of the time.

At other times Death is very perceptive and shows he does know the world, having walked its paths and seen how people have acted. It makes you see how bizarre and painful the Jewish persecutions were, coming from men and women who used to live next door to Jews, speak with them, visit their businesses. And Zusak is keen to show the great levellers - our interest in one another, our personality, our appreciation of art and music, the things that go beyond mere tribe or race to the very heart of man, woman and child.

All this makes the book one which is eager to explore good and evil, where men and women are detailed with strange but likeable characteristics and stubborn, wilful natures. The potential to be destructive is there right on the edge of the characters - and their anger, as it develops, is an excellent way to express the outrage we all feel at the way people were treated and killed by Nazis. (There is definitely some similarity with Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird, especially in Liesel's relationship with her "papa" Hans, who is upright and wise like Atticus Finch - although The Book Thief is more focused on private struggles and the effects of trauma on a young girl, and on Death as well.)

Here is an interview with the author about the book - he refers to humanity being part "pure beauty" and part "pure destruction" - a pretty astute observation. I think the Bible (and so God) would agree with that.

Book reviews: Walking through ravaged America as Cormac McCarthy dreamed it up - and a Dickens book too

I must admit I had a hard time accepting this novel, The Road (2006), for what it is. Often harrowing, it is basically a slow and subtle character-piece masquerading as an apocalyptic survival horror. A father and son travel south through a hostile, ash-covered land that was once America. They don’t have any real destination, they don’t have a hope, they just look for food – and ways to avoid the pain of losing each other. Occasionally attacked by the desperate and starving nameless, our hearts are in our mouths as we see the father trying to provide in a land with no sign of life or colour. Tense moments quickly pass and we feel the monotonous inevitability of their trek down the road and learn how they scavenge, what they talk about along the road, what the country has become.

And so it goes on. As I read it through, it seemed McCarthy (who also wrote No Country for Old Men) has a number of intentions with the book. He shocks us with an uncompromising vision of a ruined planet, and shocks us more by the convincing psychology of both characters, their trauma deftly created through suggestive phrases, the smallest of actions, or the way the father speaks about the old world or about other people. McCarthy wants us to stop and think. What is it to be a father? How do you nurture a child when all the world is lost? What would happen to us if the very earth turned against us? Where would we turn? The book is a portrait of a world without hope – revealed in bleak episode after episode of aching loneliness and difficulty. Not light reading, then.

The grey road becomes a place of danger, or, as their attitudes slowly change, a place of connection with the world, as the pair decide to leave something in the road for other travellers. The road at times too is a symbol of the father’s determination to keep going, and not give in to suicide. The man knows there is no better world for the child to hope for, but he carries on as if there might be. This makes for some powerful moments, as the weary man looks up and sees his son as “glowing in that waste like a tabernacle” (p293). This child he believes he has ruined, this child he cares for, who frustrates him, who bears with him, who is his whole world, who asks him about the past and the strangers they have seen – he is his purpose for living. He must protect this boy.

Dreams become the enemy – at least for the man, tempting him to die and go to another world. He can’t dare to hope for the future, or for death, or think of the past. He just travels the road. It must barely be possible to live like this. Just surviving.

It does raise some questions for each of us in the real world. Do we walk alone? Who do we bear our burdens for? Is there something better to look forward to? Does God care about those who are burdened, starving, living in a grey world of monotony and pain?

I thank God for the truth that though we can go through tremendous difficulty, and break our backs working “by the sweat of our brow”, one day He has promised fruition, joy and peace with Him for all believers. We are heading somewhere – a place better than our wildest dreams, with our Saviour God, if we follow Him now. We are not walking alone.

Another book I enjoyed recently is Charles Dickens’ Hard Times. Chapter 10 stood out for me as it, like much of the novel, manages to move and amuse within pages. It is a brilliantly crafted and deeply tragic episode in Louisa’s life, as she joylessly consents to an engagement with the blustering Bounderby, and her parents are pure caricatures of what it means to be absorbed by self, or blinded by a rigid worldview. Dickens creates absurd characters who show us our own faults: our pride, our insensitivity, our use of language to put down and exclude, our double standards (not necessarily to those of lower classes as pictured in Dicken’s Coketown, but just excusing ourself for what we do not let others away with) – and of course, our ambition at the expense of humanity and society.

Plenty of other moments shone in the book – but for now I will just say that Hard Times is a vastly superior novel, once you begin to care for the characters, and while it is sad, it is only bittersweet and doesn’t come with the health warning of “savage bleakness” that The Road does. Definitely recommended.

Currently reading: The Way We Write

I’m glad I picked up this book. It is basically a collection of interviews with some successful, award-winning authors about the way they started writing and how they write, their methods, and writing habits, what inspires them and what direction they are seeking to go in with their writing. And how they feel about it all.

The latter is revealing, with a few being really anxious about the quality of their work, seeing how lucky they have been with being noticed by (or connected to) publishers, with others quite straight-forwardly pointing out their strengths, showing their own excellence in capitalising on and developing their skills in forming plot or dialogue or verse.

They speak from a world of success, and some fulfilment, where they are doing what they want to do, despite mentioning difficulties and frustrations and loneliness. You can see how for some of them their sense of purpose and identity is wrapped up in doing what they do, and in feeling they have contributed to the lives of others, touching people in far-off countries, as one writer puts it “adding towards some worldview that is in constant flux and change” (p.72). In a busy market these are the guys reaping the reward that others long for.

It is instructive to see how novelists, poets, children’s writers and playwrights have at times sweated over their work, determined to forge a work with the right kind of words, with the right kind of connotations, the “right” interactions between characters, the “right” sense of place and the perfect harmony between a tactile world, an atmosphere or feeling they want to evoke and the symbolic themes they want to explore. Often the ideas and the expression of them take a while to come together, it seems. The computer can also be a trap too, as you’re in danger of losing your original work and the flow of a whole piece, because editing is so easy.

As my first time writing about a book actually all about writing, what ultimate effect is it having on me? I think it is encouraging me to keep working on my writing, to be more critical about the choices I make, more ready to research and rework, and to find the right times and ways I work best – even my own way of writing poetry (for instance, what do I want people to have to work at understanding in my poetry?) The book too inspires us to make the most of that idea that comes to you in the night, or the scraps hastily written on the back of the envelope or bill that was lying around!

Authors interviewed include Terry Chevalier, author of Girl With a Pearl Earring, poet Al Alvarez, the Oscar-winning script-writer of Gosford Park and the creators of The Snowman and The Gruffalo.

Comic reviews: Gothic monsters and fairy tales

I recently discovered Tales of the Multiverse: Batman -Vampire, a collection of DC stories attempting to mix the world of Gotham with the melodramatic lore of Dracula. The brutal way the characters are treated seems suitable in this context, and this new kind of challenge to Bruce Wayne’s operation of protecting the gothic Gotham city is welcome. No woman out late in the claustrophic streets is safe, even with the Batman around. And these vampires, powerful, sudden and hard to pursue amongst the streets and poorer levels of society, really leave gashes at the neck, and threaten to overthrow all Batman's work by turning everyone into un-dead creatures – it is a bloody read, but satisfying and exciting (if in a straightforward way), and I like how it really touches on Bruce's mission and how much he is willing to give up for the people of his city.

On the other hand, Fables is a different quality of comic book drama, from the acclaimed comics imprint Vertigo, made famous by Alan Moore's Watchmen (read about that here). It is a comic which seems to revel in not only telling stories, but building up a picture of the lives and richer-poorer relationships between the characters – which all adds up to mean that you actually care about what is going to happen to them. In fact this is a distinguishing feature of the series, along with the way each punchy episode is so tightly crafted: You care about the fate of Fabletown more than in most other fictional communities, probably as you’re never quite sure what threat is working it’s way against them next.

At the beginning the amiable King Cole and Snow White, woman of action, lead Fabletown, an area within twenty-first century New York where storybook characters live as refugees, hoping that the one who drove them out of their homelands does not come after them. And they need policing and defending, whether through the careful measures of shady-detective-type Bigby Wolf or through a more direct approach, in which every prince, pauper and talking animal avails themselves of the right to bear arms and defends their new homes (with all the practical difficulties of this).

Shocks and clever intrigues from one faction or another are always around the corner, and the Fables show their capacity for pride, greed, true love or the more predatory kind, anxiety, feeling the burden of war or responsibility, affectionate friendship, loyalty and betrayal and much more in the five volumes I have so far read of this brilliantly-plotted series. Do seek it out, and do start from the beginning. Writer Bill Willingham is clearly heading somewhere big to end this series, but it would be a shame to miss all the stunning surprises along the way.

Post on culture and what to make of it - and some books I've been reading

Posting on culture is fun because there is so much good in it, whether that comes in the form of a great sense of humour, expertise in the areas of creating art or narrative, or by demonstrating careful thought on a particular subject and encouraging debate. This is partly why I enjoy analysing stuff! Can I identify where the excellence is in the TV show, film, conversation, soundtrack, article or book? Can I share it, emulate it, take joy in it, be thankful for it? Let me pinpoint it: Where is the goodness? Let me at it!

On the other hand, there is much that could influence us badly - many ideas which I ought to beware of, whether these are present only in underlying assumptions about life and God, or in more coherent ideas that suggest that laws and ways of living God has intended for my good are unimportant or "not for me" (or for society in general). I have been reminded lately that not the least danger in all this is the way I can disobey the apostle Peter's directions to use the time I have wisely - it's far easier to absorb culture uncritically than to give my whole being to God in worship, even the time I spend reading or watching something on TV, and by making sure I have organised my time so I am faithful in prayer (thanks be to God for a great sermon on 1 Peter 4:7-11 for jolting me to this stinging realisation).

Finally, a faithful response to God when considering culture is to be totally against evil, as He is; this means being careful to seek joy in the good and pursuing a greater and greater rejection of and distaste of evil, when we see it. Even mockery of evil can be instructive to our souls - and to friends - pointing out the hollow promises which some of our culture offers to us. Where is evil? May I stand against it - by the power of God. Most of all may it not go unnoticed and meet my approval!

With all this in mind, let me give you a slice of my own thoughts on my own reading "for fun" in the last few months.

Diving into Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Country at work has been great to help me see the funny side of things, making me laugh out loud on numerous occasions, and it's been a good light read, taking my mind off the problems of the various customers I chat to (I work in a call centre for a well-known department store, more out of necessity than choice!) I enjoyed the way Bryson has picked out the quirks of British life, discussing our attitude to the countryside and history, our patience and manners, how we put up with bad hotel service and endless amounts of rules, and our obsessions with the weather and giving the best directions. Certain eccentric Brits turn up as well, such as a rich hermit who built an underground complex (complete with ballroom) beneath his strangely-furnished mansion, which was found, after his death, to contain a room filled with boxes of wigs, and others painted entirely in pink.

Bryson is also a nerd for trivia, giving us details and statistics that I would never have bothered to consider about some of our factory towns from around the 1900s. One of the recurring ideas of note in the book is an insistence that us Brits should look after our heritage and not underestimate the impact of solidly-built and well-designed town centres on the public face of a town. While commending good design and service that he comes across in his rambling farewell tour of the UK (this was back in 1988 or so), the former Times writer Bryson spends page after page poking fun at the ludicrous layouts or poor maintenance of dismal and ugly towns and British centres of culture, as well as making us chuckle at his misfortunes with various unhelpful hotel staff and in the way he records the prices he wouldn't pay to enter National Heritage sites.

In fact here's the rub. The book had the effect on me of making me notice the things I am not satisfied with. I guess there are good aspects to always wanting things to be of a better standard, but I found myself noticing even more how petty some of the customers requests I was getting seemed to be. Yes, I throw my hands up and say that was my own critical spirit (need to remind myself of the rather shocking verse that is Romans 2:1), but perhaps fuelled a little by Bryson (?) Let's not underestimate the impact of words.

Finally, Bryson's interesting idea to make all heritage sites, cultural landmarks and cathedrals free to explore probably isn't realistic - something makes me think that actually in this life we can't have things for free (more's the pity). No matter how admirable it is for us to focus our efforts on the upkeep of our hilly countryside and cultural landmarks, this side of heaven things are going to get broken and costly. And earning things by sweat and hard graft is necessary and right.

A second book to mention briefly (I always spend too many words dealing with one subject!) is the frankly brilliant The Big Over Easy by Jasper Fforde. If you know me, I've probably already recommended this one to you. Fforde is great at imagining for us new and bizarre scenarios in a pacey read that is stuffed full of clever puns and literary jokes. Brilliantly funny, while still having a proper mystery to unravel. What made this book, the first in Fforde's second ongoing series, particularly fun for me was the fact that he takes fairly mundane real-life locales from my university town, Reading, and then puts in violent murders of his own bizarre interpretations of fairy-tale and nursery rhyme characters. Local narcoleptic Willie Winkie is discovered face-down dead in Palmer Park, Humpty Dumpty's notoriously seedy life has ended in pieces, and the Gingerbread Man is thankfully incarcerated in a local asylum (no one could face those gnashing iced lips and blackest gum-drop eyes alone). I especially like how the detectives are obsessed with becoming the next Sherlock, and having that "Eureka" moment, and Jack Spratt's sensitivity about giants. The sequel is, so far, just as amusing. I challenge you to find a comedy writer as fun to read!

Finally, one book has recently brought home powerfully how much of a mess I am in before God, and yet what a firm basis I have for hope despite this, and is a book for serious personal study which I'd definitely recommend. The Discipline of Grace by Jerry Bridges is currently informing my prayers, thoughts and dreams, and urging me into action in pursuing all the good things that Jesus would have me be: Righteous, full of thankfulness, dependent on God, disciplined, faithful - ultimately, being like Jesus. What an incredible thought: that this life (for Christians) is a journey towards being more like Him! And yet what a helpful reminder it has been to me that love of God involves total obedience and whole-hearted effort, and a recognition that I'm not good enough. Again, through friends, I have been reminded of God's first and only requirement for heaven: "a broken and contrite heart" before him, as we trust in his plan to save us, and not in our own efforts (Psalm 51:17, cf. Romans 3 and 4). And this book helpfully instructs us to remind ourselves of this gospel daily - and that, as Christians, we continue to depend on God to work through our efforts and bring real change and spiritual growth as only He can (1 Cor 3:7). And so it seems fitting to end this article with another lesson from the book: That we must come under God's living words, the Bible, to be transformed in our thinking by God as he works through his Spirit.

More thoughts on culture coming up - hopefully a mix of the light-hearted and serious, heady adventure and fun and grandiose ideology all tumbled up together.

Book Review: "When People are Big and God is Small"

In this comprehensive study book on the fear of man and fear of God in the world and in the Bible, Prof. Edward Welch provides a devastating critique of the way our generation treats relationships, and how we make other people into idols. We tend to believe that we can not do without certain individuals or groups of people, and that we need to serve them or do things their way, desiring to please them or win their approval. In this way Welch reveals how we often fear people more than God - and allow other people to be the controlling force over the way we work, drive, day-dream, organise our time and provide for others (etc).

Because we have allowed our feelings about how we are perceived to assume monstrous proportions in our lives, we can feel anxious or proud (or just plain awful) through comparing ourselves to others, or we may encounter recurring feelings of hurtful shame about things we have done in the past – feelings that we then try to cover up and sort out on our own. This all inhibits our worship of God, our creator, and leaves us focused on man instead. By making a god out of “self”, we become controlled by others, afraid of our real appearance, and so we create false identities to hide behind. Being afraid of exposure, we allow the fear of man to dominate our thoughts. And we end up with a self-centred desire to be needed or accepted by others, rather than actually loving them, and being centred on their needs.

Not only does Welch make us aware of how our culture can reinforce our desire to be controlled by people, he also brings home the challenge to our hearts and encourages us to take steps to learn more about the greatness of God. If we grow in our fear of God we will see our false ideas about what life is about for what they are: sinful illusions. As we grow in the fear of Him we should leave fear of people behind, like a dad who discards a pet project because it was keeping him from spending time serving others in the church; our attentions must be focused on the King.

Leading us through passages from the Psalms and Isaiah, and some of the teaching from both Bible Testaments, the latter chapters of the book encourage us, in a clear and helpful way, to dwell on God’s bigness and “otherness”, and to see how he is far above us in both love and justice. It really puts self-centred thinking in its place, and shows up our sin. As I read the book I found the words pressing in on the hidden desires of my heart: I know that all too often I have made life all about pleasing those around me, trying to manage my responsibilities in a way that makes me look good (and being stung by failure), instead of being honest about my sin in front of others and trusting God. Thanks to this book and the advice of friends I know I need to forget my plans to “be the best” and place our gracious, patient Saviour God in centre place. He is the one who has qualified believers to be in his kingdom of perfection and light (Colossians 1:12-14), and it is his astonishingly BIG plan for his glory in the universe (see Ephesians 1) that should be my focus for life. Let’s be thankful that if we are followers of Jesus, God has not only secured an incredible future for us in the gospel, he has promised us that there is power in living a life of service to him, even when it makes us appear weak and foolish in the eyes of others.