Hey folks--
As the AP class has ended, I felt like this blog was too cluttered up to continue. I wanted to have a fresh place to comment on movies I've watched and to post updates on my filmmaking, etc.
Please check it out at: http://mekameapertures.blogspot.com/
Thanks!
Monday, May 25
Friday, May 8
Where Concertos Meet Celluloid
For some reason, I've seen more "music" movies in the last month than ever before in my life. By music movies I don't mean music videos, nor do I mean musicals. I mean instead that particular brand of drama that revolves around a certain musician or style of music. My meaning will become clearer when you see my examples. These types of movies are so much fun, because they're full of music--often really great music. And they tend to be deeply human stories. Human stories with great music; who could ask for a greater combination? Anyway, of the four music movies I've watched in this short space of time, two were amazingly good. One was ok overall, but flirting dangerously with a slippery slope. The other was amazingly bad. Since these movies had such similar bases, great moments, and downfalls, I thought the compare/contrast of them might prove entertaining. And one other thing: if you hate one of the movies I laud, or love one of the movies I bash--well, I apologise in advance.
So here they are, in order of when I watched them:
Mr. Holland's Opus
Unquestionably the most famous of the four movies in this post, this story of a music teacher's turbulent life has been warming hearts for fourteen years. And this movie is undoubtably and unashamedly trying to be a heart-warmer. At first this movie irritated me because I couldn't figure out what the central plot was. Is it--like so many others--the story of a man changing young lives as a music teacher? Or is it the story of a musician's struggle to connect with his deaf son? Or is it the story of slightly creepy developing love between a teacher and one of his students? Or the story of a busy guy trying to finish his one great composition? Once I figured out that the answer to all of these questions is "yes", that this story is more of an episodic life story than a single moment in that life, things fell into place. And it turned out not to be a bad movie. Though it sometimes crept to the border of the impossibly sentimental, it kept enough backbone to avoid the pitfall that has trapped so many of its predecessors and descendents. It also managed to find its special niche as a period piece, adding strength there as well. And finally, as with many of these movies, it had actors that were better than the story itself. So though it sometimes teetered on the border of sloppiness, and its ending was unabashedly the painfully happy Hollywood type, "it had some heart" as my dad would say. And this redeemed it, making it a movie certainly worth watching if you never have.
Walk the Line
So here they are, in order of when I watched them:
Mr. Holland's Opus
Unquestionably the most famous of the four movies in this post, this story of a music teacher's turbulent life has been warming hearts for fourteen years. And this movie is undoubtably and unashamedly trying to be a heart-warmer. At first this movie irritated me because I couldn't figure out what the central plot was. Is it--like so many others--the story of a man changing young lives as a music teacher? Or is it the story of a musician's struggle to connect with his deaf son? Or is it the story of slightly creepy developing love between a teacher and one of his students? Or the story of a busy guy trying to finish his one great composition? Once I figured out that the answer to all of these questions is "yes", that this story is more of an episodic life story than a single moment in that life, things fell into place. And it turned out not to be a bad movie. Though it sometimes crept to the border of the impossibly sentimental, it kept enough backbone to avoid the pitfall that has trapped so many of its predecessors and descendents. It also managed to find its special niche as a period piece, adding strength there as well. And finally, as with many of these movies, it had actors that were better than the story itself. So though it sometimes teetered on the border of sloppiness, and its ending was unabashedly the painfully happy Hollywood type, "it had some heart" as my dad would say. And this redeemed it, making it a movie certainly worth watching if you never have.
Walk the Line
I went into this with no expectations whatsoever. I had heard good things about it once, and it looked like it would be pretty slick as far as production values go. I got it from the library along with several others that I wanted to watch far more, so it took the back seat to the likes of Flightplan (big, big mistake...what a terrible movie that was). But I finally got around to it. And oh, boy. I was blown away. Even on a scratched library disc that forced me to skip several major chunks, this movie packed a wallop. It's basically I biographical piece about the singer Johnny Cash, his rocky battle with drug addiction and anger, and his love for fellow musician June Carter. Even if the music hadn't been awesome and the story hadn't been amazing and powerful (which was all the case), the acting in this movie would carry the day. Stunning, gritty beauty and depth of character make this a movie not to miss. The story is not always a pleasant one--this movie is probably not for everyone--but for me, everything about it was good. It has been added simultaniously to my favorite movie list and my birthday wish list...
August Rush
If you want to know what watching this movie is like, don't bother to actually watch it. Just chug a couple of gallons of sugar water and you'll get the idea. All sentimental, impossible slop without a hint of substance. I'm not even going to dwell on this movie except to say that I hated it. It's an insult not only to the art of film, but to the audience's intelligence. 90% of the plot isn't even remotely possibe, let alone plausible. The music itself had moments of loveliness, but it is completely lost in the wollowing absurdity of the plot. If one of my readers liked this movie, please take the time to comment on what you saw in it...
The Soloist
The irony of this movie is that I watched it just the day after August Rush. Both movies take place in a large city. Both of them involve a cello player. The Juilliard school of music and the Philharmonic Orchestra figure in both of them. But there the similarity ends. This was a beautiful movie for me. Amazing actors, a rich directing style, and a powerful story all worked together. It is a gritty true story of a schizophrenic homeless cello player and a disillusioned newspaper reporter who meet and, after many ups and downs, end up changing one another. It is well worth watching--many times.
These movies are divided by a myriad of plots and a divergence of quality, but they are all joined by one thread. Music. I can't get over how wonderful it is that the beauty of film and the beauty of music can join together to make something richer than either.
Tuesday, March 31
More on Film (no, I never stop)
Greetings, reader. I don't think there are many of you left, but that's ok. Those of you who are here and reading this: know that I appreciate it.
It seems that whenever I don't have anything particular to talk about, I always fall back on film as a good topic. Hey, I always have something to say about it...so here it goes.
As Tom Hanks says in the excellent Apollo 13: "Gentlemen, what are your intentions?" I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this question in relation to film, its meaning, and my potential place in it.
As related to that, I have had some interesting experiences lately in this area. I picked up a book from the library the other day--a collection of writings by the famous film critic, Roger Ebert. I enjoy reading Ebert; he is a very good writer when he likes a movie, and a very funny writer when he does not. Anyway, this book included Ebert's reviews for what he considered the 50 best movies of the 20th century (or something like that). To my shame, I had not seen a single one (they were not particularly prominent)--however, reading about them was an unusual experience. Ebert's work tossed around some of the greatest names in the business: Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, Oliver Stone, Francois Truffaut, etc. (I have seen movies by these people, just not the ones Ebert selected) He described these men and their work with great detail. It is hard to describe the feelings I had in reading this--maybe I could compare it to an aspiring artist studying da Vinci. Deep down, it is the realization that film is an art. I mean, in way more than the obvious sense.
The realization that film is an art leads to two different emotions, for me anyway. The first is feeling slightly intimidated, slightly inadequate. When you realize just how deep the art of film runs--as with any art--just how subtle and profound its innovations, all the thought and work that goes into every moment of a well-made film, you start to wonder, "could I even do this?" The arts are a tricky thing, they bring in a difficult element of the need for a certain depth of ability, a drive to be "worthy" of one's art. I've started taking the idea of film a lot more seriously lately, not just as entertainment but as a profound art to pursue.
The other emotion is rather more positive--an excitement and a confirmation. I sit down and read about these movies, or watch some finely-made piece like Fahrenheit 451 or Quiz Show (my third and favorite exposure to the excellent Robert Redford, something I connected with rather better than A River Runs Through It or Bagger Vance) or Koyaanisqatsi or whatever, and I start to go yes, this is something worthwhile, this is something great that I could dedicate myself to creating. Film has always meant a lot to me. In Chariots of Fire, athlete Eric Liddel states: "When I run, I feel [God's] pleasure". We could all understand a Christian mountain climber or painter or musician or anyone really, stating that they feel closer to God when they do this particular thing. Like it is what they were created to do. I often feel that way around movies. I have literally entered into worship with God while watching a particularly beautiful scene in a movie—the same thing that might happen with a great song, etc. From my first Disney movies, viewed at the earliest times I can remember, movies have reached me at a very deep place. Some movies, their words, their scenes, their music, are woven so deeply into my person that even though I have long outgrown them, I still cannot view them without overwhelming emotion. Even now, with movies like Lord of the Rings, I don't just enjoy them for the many good reasons that most teenagers enjoy them--for me, watching these movies is an incredibly significant spiritual and emotional experience.
My imagination has always operated best in “movie mode”—seeing scenes of a story acted out in my head. Anything like books or poems or music or scenery evokes vivid visualizations for me. I can find joy and fascination in a single vocal inflection, a single expression or movement, a 3-5 second portion of a movie that I will rewind over and over, watching in fascination. These elements are what connects me with the world of film, and what really excites me.
These are the moments when I feel like maybe, just maybe, I have something to contribute. I worry about the technical elements of film—as embraced by physical operation of technology and also the technological aspects of the art itself—because while I am not incompetent, I feel awkward and behind when wrestling with these parts of film. I wallow in exposures and white balances and shutter speeds and tungsten and so on, knowing what I want but very unsure of how to get there. Of all the myriads of filmmaking “wannabes”, I feel only average in this area. More often when it comes to any of my artistic endeavors, whether film or writing or whatever, people have not commented on the technical excellence of it so much as things like “it really brought this to life for me” or “you made me think about this a new way” or “you completely put me into this situation and walked me through it”. So I pray that this means I have something meaningful to contribute; film means so much to me, and I would love to be able to use it not just as mindless entertainment, but like the art that it is. I think God has given me a special connection with movies; I only hope I can use the gifts He has given me to praise him through this medium.
Before I sign off I also have a quick news update/prayer request for whoever reads this. This Thursday (April 2nd), I’m flying by myself from Colorado to Idaho to visit Northwest Nazarene University. Then in several weeks, on April 16th, I’m doing the same thing in the opposite direction to check out Asbury College in Kentucky. I’m pretty excited about the potential opportunities at these colleges. For being relatively small, obscure Christian schools, they really seem to be thriving and active. So I would appreciate any prayers for safe travel, insight, etc. Thanks!
It seems that whenever I don't have anything particular to talk about, I always fall back on film as a good topic. Hey, I always have something to say about it...so here it goes.
As Tom Hanks says in the excellent Apollo 13: "Gentlemen, what are your intentions?" I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this question in relation to film, its meaning, and my potential place in it.
As related to that, I have had some interesting experiences lately in this area. I picked up a book from the library the other day--a collection of writings by the famous film critic, Roger Ebert. I enjoy reading Ebert; he is a very good writer when he likes a movie, and a very funny writer when he does not. Anyway, this book included Ebert's reviews for what he considered the 50 best movies of the 20th century (or something like that). To my shame, I had not seen a single one (they were not particularly prominent)--however, reading about them was an unusual experience. Ebert's work tossed around some of the greatest names in the business: Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, Oliver Stone, Francois Truffaut, etc. (I have seen movies by these people, just not the ones Ebert selected) He described these men and their work with great detail. It is hard to describe the feelings I had in reading this--maybe I could compare it to an aspiring artist studying da Vinci. Deep down, it is the realization that film is an art. I mean, in way more than the obvious sense.
The realization that film is an art leads to two different emotions, for me anyway. The first is feeling slightly intimidated, slightly inadequate. When you realize just how deep the art of film runs--as with any art--just how subtle and profound its innovations, all the thought and work that goes into every moment of a well-made film, you start to wonder, "could I even do this?" The arts are a tricky thing, they bring in a difficult element of the need for a certain depth of ability, a drive to be "worthy" of one's art. I've started taking the idea of film a lot more seriously lately, not just as entertainment but as a profound art to pursue.
The other emotion is rather more positive--an excitement and a confirmation. I sit down and read about these movies, or watch some finely-made piece like Fahrenheit 451 or Quiz Show (my third and favorite exposure to the excellent Robert Redford, something I connected with rather better than A River Runs Through It or Bagger Vance) or Koyaanisqatsi or whatever, and I start to go yes, this is something worthwhile, this is something great that I could dedicate myself to creating. Film has always meant a lot to me. In Chariots of Fire, athlete Eric Liddel states: "When I run, I feel [God's] pleasure". We could all understand a Christian mountain climber or painter or musician or anyone really, stating that they feel closer to God when they do this particular thing. Like it is what they were created to do. I often feel that way around movies. I have literally entered into worship with God while watching a particularly beautiful scene in a movie—the same thing that might happen with a great song, etc. From my first Disney movies, viewed at the earliest times I can remember, movies have reached me at a very deep place. Some movies, their words, their scenes, their music, are woven so deeply into my person that even though I have long outgrown them, I still cannot view them without overwhelming emotion. Even now, with movies like Lord of the Rings, I don't just enjoy them for the many good reasons that most teenagers enjoy them--for me, watching these movies is an incredibly significant spiritual and emotional experience.
My imagination has always operated best in “movie mode”—seeing scenes of a story acted out in my head. Anything like books or poems or music or scenery evokes vivid visualizations for me. I can find joy and fascination in a single vocal inflection, a single expression or movement, a 3-5 second portion of a movie that I will rewind over and over, watching in fascination. These elements are what connects me with the world of film, and what really excites me.
These are the moments when I feel like maybe, just maybe, I have something to contribute. I worry about the technical elements of film—as embraced by physical operation of technology and also the technological aspects of the art itself—because while I am not incompetent, I feel awkward and behind when wrestling with these parts of film. I wallow in exposures and white balances and shutter speeds and tungsten and so on, knowing what I want but very unsure of how to get there. Of all the myriads of filmmaking “wannabes”, I feel only average in this area. More often when it comes to any of my artistic endeavors, whether film or writing or whatever, people have not commented on the technical excellence of it so much as things like “it really brought this to life for me” or “you made me think about this a new way” or “you completely put me into this situation and walked me through it”. So I pray that this means I have something meaningful to contribute; film means so much to me, and I would love to be able to use it not just as mindless entertainment, but like the art that it is. I think God has given me a special connection with movies; I only hope I can use the gifts He has given me to praise him through this medium.
Before I sign off I also have a quick news update/prayer request for whoever reads this. This Thursday (April 2nd), I’m flying by myself from Colorado to Idaho to visit Northwest Nazarene University. Then in several weeks, on April 16th, I’m doing the same thing in the opposite direction to check out Asbury College in Kentucky. I’m pretty excited about the potential opportunities at these colleges. For being relatively small, obscure Christian schools, they really seem to be thriving and active. So I would appreciate any prayers for safe travel, insight, etc. Thanks!
Tuesday, March 17
Qatsi - Life
The "Qatsi" trilogy is a set of three art films that I have been recently watching and pondering upon. A film history aficionado gave me the first of these films for Christmas last year, and I was fascinated. I purchased the other two in the trilogy this month. Via their form and message, these movies hit me at a deep level. If I were snobbish and wanted to sound super-intellectual I might say that they "spoke to my inner artist". But I'm not, and I don't, so I won't. (sorry, that sentence was just too fun to leave out) But I think you get the idea--and I will get more into the why of all this later.
First, some technical stats to put us all on the same page. The "Qatsi" trilogy was directed by Godfrey Reggio and the soundtrack written by Philip Glass. They are essentially "art" films in form--no dialogue, no characters, no plot...just images and music. "Qatsi" is apparently the Hopi Indian word for "life", and all three movie titles are made up of compound nouns formed with this word. Here's a quick look at each movie (complete with the pronunciation guide I wish someone had given me to start with):
#1: Koyaanisqatsi (Koy-ah-ni-SKAHT-zee)
Meaning: Life out of Balance
Summary: Basically examines the conflict between the natural world and the developed one
Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6pVLQAY1HM
#2: Powaqqatsi (Pow-ahck-CAHT-zee...it looks like I'm trying to write out the phonetics of my cat hacking up a hairball, doesn't it?)
Meaning: Life in Transformation
Summary: Examines the effect that modern development is having on third-world countries
Trailer: http://www.truveo.com/POWAQQATSI-Godfrey-Reggio-Trailer/id/3939422496
#3: Naqoyqatsi (Nah-koy-CAHT-zee)
Meaning: Life as War
Summary: Examines America's current and future way of life as lived on a grid of technology and bound by war as everyday life
Trailer: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0145937/trailers
Hopefully you now have a better idea of what we're talking about...watching at least one of the trailers really helps more than all my awkward descriptions. Now we can get into the mushy cerebral stuff.
People's initial reaction to these movies usually runs along one of two lines:
"This is as boring as watching paint dry and this music is giving me a headache."
OR
"Wow, this is a powerful piece of visual art with a mesmerizing score."
Honestly, I can understand either response. I just happen to fall into the second category. Moving on from there, those who do like these movies then try to interpret the message. A lot of people who appreciate the art of these movies do not like the message; they complain that it seems like an anti-development, environmentalist, anti-America, anti-human rant fest. I can see where this is coming from--these movies do not really paint a flattering picture of technological development, of consumerism, and so on. However, I think categorizing their message so strongly is inaccurate. In my opinion, these movies present their message in a very subtle, very open-ended fashion. We're not talking about Al Gore's "Inconvenient Truth" here...we are talking about what might rather fancifully be called a music video of our planet. To me, these movies quietly show us our world--the natural part, the human part, the technology part--and quietly say "this is how we have made our world. Are we happy with it?" And the fact that many people are uncomfortable with the world portrayed in these films says more, I think, about the audience's mindset than the filmmaker's.
Sure, the makers of this trilogy did not just line up images without some eye for emotional manipulation. However, I often think to myself, the images in these films are not made up. They were all filmed from something real. 99% of the images you see in these movies are unstaged, unscripted life. So the stuff we see exists...what do we do with it? Lastly, I find it interesting that--although the filmmakers obviously have much more of a New Age worldview than a Christian one--almost every element of these films can be translated into a powerful secondary meaning for Christians. In this case it becomes not so much technology against nature as it becomes how man's creation will always be inferior to God's creation. And so on.
I'm having quite a bit of trouble corralling everything I want to say into a coherent, orderly fashion here. So bear with me and for the rest of my space I'm going to take a quick look at each movie individually.
Koyaanisqatsi: This movie is the most famous of the three by far, and if you want to watch just one as a matter of interest--watch this one. I think the whole piece is available on YouTube. Like I said before, this movie begins with images of nature, then images of city life, then images of humanity stuck in the middle of it all. Far from being environmentalist, I think this movie is actually quite open to celebrating some of the technological achievements of man. But overall, this movie plays like a delicate tragedy. It really examines humanity being trapped in a world of their own making. It's very sad, but not bombastic and down-putting. The concluding shot--which must be one of the longest continuous shots ever in film--basically sums up the entire point of the movie breathtakingly. This movie has gotten to me ever since I first watched it, firstly because I have always been fascinated by the combination of image and music, and partly because of how powerful it is. (ending a paragraph with the word "is" will probably get me kicked out of English class, I know)
Powaqqatsi: This movie is a little bit bigger than its predecessor. The viewing time is longer, the music is more upbeat, the images are brighter and bolder and the whole thing is less wistful and delicate (although not necessarily better) than Koyaanisqatsi. More of a "National Geographic" feel. This one has its moments of genius entirely separate in feel from any of its companions...in my opinion it has two or three of the best-edited sequences of the entire trilogy. It is much more human-oriented than the others, and once again could be seen as a celebration of God's creation.
Naqoyqatsi: Well, this is quite a departure. The focus of this film is highly abstract; every image is visually manipulated somehow. So the new mind game is not just to figure out why they inserted a certain image, but also why they manipulated it the way they did. It all says something. Some parts are abstracted reality, while others are complete, light-show style abstraction. Although most of it accumulates into a powerful message, I have yet to understand some images at all. This movie is the most aggressive and daring in its message, and this has repercussions. When it succeeds, it succeeds almost more greatly than any other. But when it falls flat, it really falls. So this is the combination...some of it went too far and thus fails. But other parts are so completely powerful they just blow you away. It is certainly the hardest to watch and the most disturbing, but it is in some ways the best. However, the ending falls flat for me. It's too over-the-top, and I'm not sure I get it. Nothing can match the ending of Koyaanisqatsi.
...And now I really don't know why I just took the time to write all this. I don't think I managed to capture what I was trying to say, and you are probably even now thinking "and why do I care about this?". I guess I was just so excited about the power of these films that I wanted to tell someone...so I apologize to and thank anyone who had the endurance to read this far. Hopefully I'll have something more interesting to say later in the week.
First, some technical stats to put us all on the same page. The "Qatsi" trilogy was directed by Godfrey Reggio and the soundtrack written by Philip Glass. They are essentially "art" films in form--no dialogue, no characters, no plot...just images and music. "Qatsi" is apparently the Hopi Indian word for "life", and all three movie titles are made up of compound nouns formed with this word. Here's a quick look at each movie (complete with the pronunciation guide I wish someone had given me to start with):
#1: Koyaanisqatsi (Koy-ah-ni-SKAHT-zee)
Meaning: Life out of Balance
Summary: Basically examines the conflict between the natural world and the developed one
Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6pVLQAY1HM
#2: Powaqqatsi (Pow-ahck-CAHT-zee...it looks like I'm trying to write out the phonetics of my cat hacking up a hairball, doesn't it?)
Meaning: Life in Transformation
Summary: Examines the effect that modern development is having on third-world countries
Trailer: http://www.truveo.com/POWAQQATSI-Godfrey-Reggio-Trailer/id/3939422496
#3: Naqoyqatsi (Nah-koy-CAHT-zee)
Meaning: Life as War
Summary: Examines America's current and future way of life as lived on a grid of technology and bound by war as everyday life
Trailer: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0145937/trailers
Hopefully you now have a better idea of what we're talking about...watching at least one of the trailers really helps more than all my awkward descriptions. Now we can get into the mushy cerebral stuff.
People's initial reaction to these movies usually runs along one of two lines:
"This is as boring as watching paint dry and this music is giving me a headache."
OR
"Wow, this is a powerful piece of visual art with a mesmerizing score."
Honestly, I can understand either response. I just happen to fall into the second category. Moving on from there, those who do like these movies then try to interpret the message. A lot of people who appreciate the art of these movies do not like the message; they complain that it seems like an anti-development, environmentalist, anti-America, anti-human rant fest. I can see where this is coming from--these movies do not really paint a flattering picture of technological development, of consumerism, and so on. However, I think categorizing their message so strongly is inaccurate. In my opinion, these movies present their message in a very subtle, very open-ended fashion. We're not talking about Al Gore's "Inconvenient Truth" here...we are talking about what might rather fancifully be called a music video of our planet. To me, these movies quietly show us our world--the natural part, the human part, the technology part--and quietly say "this is how we have made our world. Are we happy with it?" And the fact that many people are uncomfortable with the world portrayed in these films says more, I think, about the audience's mindset than the filmmaker's.
Sure, the makers of this trilogy did not just line up images without some eye for emotional manipulation. However, I often think to myself, the images in these films are not made up. They were all filmed from something real. 99% of the images you see in these movies are unstaged, unscripted life. So the stuff we see exists...what do we do with it? Lastly, I find it interesting that--although the filmmakers obviously have much more of a New Age worldview than a Christian one--almost every element of these films can be translated into a powerful secondary meaning for Christians. In this case it becomes not so much technology against nature as it becomes how man's creation will always be inferior to God's creation. And so on.
I'm having quite a bit of trouble corralling everything I want to say into a coherent, orderly fashion here. So bear with me and for the rest of my space I'm going to take a quick look at each movie individually.
Koyaanisqatsi: This movie is the most famous of the three by far, and if you want to watch just one as a matter of interest--watch this one. I think the whole piece is available on YouTube. Like I said before, this movie begins with images of nature, then images of city life, then images of humanity stuck in the middle of it all. Far from being environmentalist, I think this movie is actually quite open to celebrating some of the technological achievements of man. But overall, this movie plays like a delicate tragedy. It really examines humanity being trapped in a world of their own making. It's very sad, but not bombastic and down-putting. The concluding shot--which must be one of the longest continuous shots ever in film--basically sums up the entire point of the movie breathtakingly. This movie has gotten to me ever since I first watched it, firstly because I have always been fascinated by the combination of image and music, and partly because of how powerful it is. (ending a paragraph with the word "is" will probably get me kicked out of English class, I know)
Powaqqatsi: This movie is a little bit bigger than its predecessor. The viewing time is longer, the music is more upbeat, the images are brighter and bolder and the whole thing is less wistful and delicate (although not necessarily better) than Koyaanisqatsi. More of a "National Geographic" feel. This one has its moments of genius entirely separate in feel from any of its companions...in my opinion it has two or three of the best-edited sequences of the entire trilogy. It is much more human-oriented than the others, and once again could be seen as a celebration of God's creation.
Naqoyqatsi: Well, this is quite a departure. The focus of this film is highly abstract; every image is visually manipulated somehow. So the new mind game is not just to figure out why they inserted a certain image, but also why they manipulated it the way they did. It all says something. Some parts are abstracted reality, while others are complete, light-show style abstraction. Although most of it accumulates into a powerful message, I have yet to understand some images at all. This movie is the most aggressive and daring in its message, and this has repercussions. When it succeeds, it succeeds almost more greatly than any other. But when it falls flat, it really falls. So this is the combination...some of it went too far and thus fails. But other parts are so completely powerful they just blow you away. It is certainly the hardest to watch and the most disturbing, but it is in some ways the best. However, the ending falls flat for me. It's too over-the-top, and I'm not sure I get it. Nothing can match the ending of Koyaanisqatsi.
...And now I really don't know why I just took the time to write all this. I don't think I managed to capture what I was trying to say, and you are probably even now thinking "and why do I care about this?". I guess I was just so excited about the power of these films that I wanted to tell someone...so I apologize to and thank anyone who had the endurance to read this far. Hopefully I'll have something more interesting to say later in the week.
Sunday, March 8
Visual Argument on Jesus
Well, folks, here's my visual argument for the Christian Apologetics unit. The video is supposed to be supporting Don Miller's comments on Jesus via other people's quotes. And there's always the old "it looked better on my computer" disclaimer. Although, thanks to some expert help on the uploading, this is the nicest-looking YouTube video I've ever had. Enjoy!
Wednesday, March 4
In Closing...
I want this post to be a kind of summation of my closing thoughts on the Christian Apologetics unit in our English class. Appropriately, it also appears to be my 40th post--a nice, round number to close out a string of very long and thoughtful (if not exactly intelligent) posts...
If I understand everything correctly, the point of this unit was to hear various worldviews (Christian and non) batted around by some very intelligent people. Hearing arguments for your faith can help you if you ever need to "give a reason for the hope that you have", as the Bible so aptly puts it. Hearing arguments against your faith can help you examine it more closely and (hopefully) grow stronger, as opposed to falling away. And then of course we have the blog posts for the purpose of dialoguing with the authors and ourselves.
My absolute favorite passage of Scripture is found in 1 Corinthians 1:18-29. The second half of this segment can be read in my blog title-header. However, I would like to put here the first half, as I think it is appropriate for the occasion. So 1 Corinthians 1:18-25:
For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written: "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate."
Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe.
Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength.
Here it is. There are some very intelligent, very witty, very wise people who see Christianity as a path for the blind, for the deluded, for the helpless, for the fool. They look at the Christian faith and wonder how on earth anyone in their right mind could possibly believe such nonsense. There you go. What do you say to that?
There is always the path of, "well, they're just stupid and wrong, so there!" An easy path to take. It comes naturally after reading an attack on Christianity; we grow offended at their effrontery and, squaring off with their argument, charge in with fists flying, trying desperately to prove that they are the fools, not us. We need to know that we are wiser, cooler, and smarter than them, because then our ideas will naturally hold supremacy over theirs. We try to mock them into irrelevancy.
Is this the best response? Well, ponder this: the Bible says right there in 1 Corinthians 1 that we do not need to be as "wise" as those whom this world elevates as such. We are not to be naive, but there comes a time when we have to look at our faith, at all the super-intelligent cynics and their arguments, and be able to say "it's ok".
My favorite book of the Narnia series, The Silver Chair, contains a particular passage that blows me away every time I come to it. For context: Puddleglum the Marshwiggle and the two children have travelled across Narnia looking for a lost prince. They fall into a hole in the ground and end up in a large set of underground caverns--the realm of a beautiful queen (actually a witch). The witch discovers the three and begins trying to convince them that her realm is the only reality and that neither Narnia nor its king and savior Aslan actually exist. There is no sun except the lamp on the ceiling, she says, no life but that they see around them, no ruler save herself. Just as they are almost taken in, Puddleglum begins speaking:
"One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things--trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world that licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia."
His realization and dedication at this point ends up saving all of the heroes and defeating the witch's power.
It is important to be able to defend your faith against doubters. It is important to be able to argue your case winningly and well and without fear. However, there comes a point where God and his Story cease to make sense to those who do not follow it. It all seems like Foolishness to the wise, who will not embrace it. At this point, we must re-examine our faith not under the light of logic but under the light of God and his love and what he has done in us, and say yes, I am willing to stand against all logic and wisdom. I am going to stick with Jesus not because it makes sense or will turn out best for me in the end, but because Jesus and his salvation and his work in me has brought me to a place where I can never deny him. He has saved me, and I owe him my allegiance.
If we believe that God is real and his word is true, we can sit back and look at the arguments against Him, and these arguments will not get under our skin and worry and fret us until we flatten them. Instead, we can rest in the knowledge that...(and here I have nothing better to say than the words of two wiser people than I, and it is they I shall leave you with)
“At the end of the day, when I am lying in bed and I know the chances of any of our theology being exactly right are a million to one, I need to know that God has things figured out, that if my math is wrong we are still going to be okay..." - Don Miller, Blue Like Jazz
"Quick now, here, now, always--
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well
And all shall be well
And all manner of things shall be well"
--T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding
If I understand everything correctly, the point of this unit was to hear various worldviews (Christian and non) batted around by some very intelligent people. Hearing arguments for your faith can help you if you ever need to "give a reason for the hope that you have", as the Bible so aptly puts it. Hearing arguments against your faith can help you examine it more closely and (hopefully) grow stronger, as opposed to falling away. And then of course we have the blog posts for the purpose of dialoguing with the authors and ourselves.
My absolute favorite passage of Scripture is found in 1 Corinthians 1:18-29. The second half of this segment can be read in my blog title-header. However, I would like to put here the first half, as I think it is appropriate for the occasion. So 1 Corinthians 1:18-25:
For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written: "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate."
Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe.
Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength.
Here it is. There are some very intelligent, very witty, very wise people who see Christianity as a path for the blind, for the deluded, for the helpless, for the fool. They look at the Christian faith and wonder how on earth anyone in their right mind could possibly believe such nonsense. There you go. What do you say to that?
There is always the path of, "well, they're just stupid and wrong, so there!" An easy path to take. It comes naturally after reading an attack on Christianity; we grow offended at their effrontery and, squaring off with their argument, charge in with fists flying, trying desperately to prove that they are the fools, not us. We need to know that we are wiser, cooler, and smarter than them, because then our ideas will naturally hold supremacy over theirs. We try to mock them into irrelevancy.
Is this the best response? Well, ponder this: the Bible says right there in 1 Corinthians 1 that we do not need to be as "wise" as those whom this world elevates as such. We are not to be naive, but there comes a time when we have to look at our faith, at all the super-intelligent cynics and their arguments, and be able to say "it's ok".
My favorite book of the Narnia series, The Silver Chair, contains a particular passage that blows me away every time I come to it. For context: Puddleglum the Marshwiggle and the two children have travelled across Narnia looking for a lost prince. They fall into a hole in the ground and end up in a large set of underground caverns--the realm of a beautiful queen (actually a witch). The witch discovers the three and begins trying to convince them that her realm is the only reality and that neither Narnia nor its king and savior Aslan actually exist. There is no sun except the lamp on the ceiling, she says, no life but that they see around them, no ruler save herself. Just as they are almost taken in, Puddleglum begins speaking:
"One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things--trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world that licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia."
His realization and dedication at this point ends up saving all of the heroes and defeating the witch's power.
It is important to be able to defend your faith against doubters. It is important to be able to argue your case winningly and well and without fear. However, there comes a point where God and his Story cease to make sense to those who do not follow it. It all seems like Foolishness to the wise, who will not embrace it. At this point, we must re-examine our faith not under the light of logic but under the light of God and his love and what he has done in us, and say yes, I am willing to stand against all logic and wisdom. I am going to stick with Jesus not because it makes sense or will turn out best for me in the end, but because Jesus and his salvation and his work in me has brought me to a place where I can never deny him. He has saved me, and I owe him my allegiance.
If we believe that God is real and his word is true, we can sit back and look at the arguments against Him, and these arguments will not get under our skin and worry and fret us until we flatten them. Instead, we can rest in the knowledge that...(and here I have nothing better to say than the words of two wiser people than I, and it is they I shall leave you with)
“At the end of the day, when I am lying in bed and I know the chances of any of our theology being exactly right are a million to one, I need to know that God has things figured out, that if my math is wrong we are still going to be okay..." - Don Miller, Blue Like Jazz
"Quick now, here, now, always--
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well
And all shall be well
And all manner of things shall be well"
--T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding
Monday, March 2
Reading Jazz
Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz is not a comfortable book. People sense this within moments of picking it up. Both in my English class (where this book was assigned) and in the larger culture (gleaned from reviews on Amazon and the like), Miller's work has provoked not only some positive feedback but a fairly significant negative backlash. Unlike many books, the complaints do not stem from "this is boring" or "this is poorly written" or "this is trite", but rather "this is wrong". Miller really pushes the boundaries of conservative theology and ideology.
I don't mean to pick on anyone in my English class; I totally respect everyone's opinions. I'm just quoting here in order to have some material to dialogue with.
One student wrote: "Popular Christianity is not Christianity at all. I finished reading Don Miller's book, Blue Like Jazz, yesterday, and I notice his desire for Christianity to be cool...It is destructive when a Christian's walk is based on feeling."
Another student wrote: "I think Donald Miller is unfortunately one of those people who has succumbed to a feel-good religiosity, which is truly a shame because I think he would make such an amazing Christian. Hopefully he gets there someday."
I think these are all valid statements. A lot of Christians are wary of Miller's perspective. And sometimes his talk of "love", of "mysticism", of democrats and hippies, is disconcerting. As I said before, Miller is not one of those people you can skim over and say "well, that's nice". He is either terribly confused in his religious ideas, or he is amazingly clear in his insights. I am not a spiritual expert. I only wish to make a few points here:
1. How are we approaching Miller’s book? As I have said many times, I mainly dislike books on Christian living. I often wonder why people approach these books as if they are infallible manuals of how to live a better life. The person writing the book is not any more qualified to write on a subject then I am, save for the fact that he or she has done more research or had more experience than me. These people are not “higher Christians”, they are people just like everyone else. So it sometimes worries me that an author—sinful and human—is spiritually shepherding thousands of readers who take his or her word as true and trustworthy. All this to say, I think there is a tendency to approach Miller’s book rather like this: “Oh, here is a ‘Christian Living’ book. It must either be perfect and scripturally sound so that I can base my life on it, or it is totally wrong and I must throw out the whole mess.” Isn’t it completely plausible to imagine that a book written by a fallible human could contain both some wise, God-given insights and some misconceptions or confusions? Just because some of Miller’s ideas are more unusual, it does not mean that his book contains any fewer theological missteps than any other book out there. In fact, according to some, a lot of the most traditional Christian living books contain major misrepresentations of the true meaning of faith, etc. All that to say, if we approach Miller’s book expecting a doctrinally perfect guide to life second only to Scripture, then yes, we shall be gravely disappointed. If we approach the book not expecting to sift and weigh each individual idea on its own merit, we shall be gravely confused. And so on.
2. What is the purpose of Miller’s book? Blue Like Jazz seems rather more like a memoir than a book on how to live the Christian life. Writing a memoir, Miller is allowed to put anything he wants in there. It is, after all, about what he thinks, not about how you ought to think. I imagine that if any of us started writing down every thought, every quirk, every personal belief, we would sound as strange, as controversial, as deep, as immature, and—yes—even as wrong, as Miller.
3. How much of Miller’s work is as “out there” as it sounds? When we get offended or startled by a passage in Blue Like Jazz, we must, must examine whether that passage is contradicting Scripture, or simply our own traditional views of Scripture. For example, some people have freaked out about Miller living with and enjoying the company of hippies. At this point, we have to remember who Jesus hung out with. If we recoil at how Miller seeks to make Christianity relevant, we must reexamine how Jesus shared the gospel through parables designed for their relevancy with his audience.
A lot of people complain that Miller is throwing out organized doctrine, God’s justice, and the law, replacing them with a fluffy, mystical, “feel-good” God of love. I think we must be very careful in interpreting Miller’s words. Maybe he swings too far in one direction...Maybe others swing too far the opposite way. It is certainly going too far to judge whether or not Miller is a “true” Christian.
I guess it all comes down to: learn what you can from Miller, and leave the parts you can’t accept. It’s ok.
I don't mean to pick on anyone in my English class; I totally respect everyone's opinions. I'm just quoting here in order to have some material to dialogue with.
One student wrote: "Popular Christianity is not Christianity at all. I finished reading Don Miller's book, Blue Like Jazz, yesterday, and I notice his desire for Christianity to be cool...It is destructive when a Christian's walk is based on feeling."
Another student wrote: "I think Donald Miller is unfortunately one of those people who has succumbed to a feel-good religiosity, which is truly a shame because I think he would make such an amazing Christian. Hopefully he gets there someday."
I think these are all valid statements. A lot of Christians are wary of Miller's perspective. And sometimes his talk of "love", of "mysticism", of democrats and hippies, is disconcerting. As I said before, Miller is not one of those people you can skim over and say "well, that's nice". He is either terribly confused in his religious ideas, or he is amazingly clear in his insights. I am not a spiritual expert. I only wish to make a few points here:
1. How are we approaching Miller’s book? As I have said many times, I mainly dislike books on Christian living. I often wonder why people approach these books as if they are infallible manuals of how to live a better life. The person writing the book is not any more qualified to write on a subject then I am, save for the fact that he or she has done more research or had more experience than me. These people are not “higher Christians”, they are people just like everyone else. So it sometimes worries me that an author—sinful and human—is spiritually shepherding thousands of readers who take his or her word as true and trustworthy. All this to say, I think there is a tendency to approach Miller’s book rather like this: “Oh, here is a ‘Christian Living’ book. It must either be perfect and scripturally sound so that I can base my life on it, or it is totally wrong and I must throw out the whole mess.” Isn’t it completely plausible to imagine that a book written by a fallible human could contain both some wise, God-given insights and some misconceptions or confusions? Just because some of Miller’s ideas are more unusual, it does not mean that his book contains any fewer theological missteps than any other book out there. In fact, according to some, a lot of the most traditional Christian living books contain major misrepresentations of the true meaning of faith, etc. All that to say, if we approach Miller’s book expecting a doctrinally perfect guide to life second only to Scripture, then yes, we shall be gravely disappointed. If we approach the book not expecting to sift and weigh each individual idea on its own merit, we shall be gravely confused. And so on.
2. What is the purpose of Miller’s book? Blue Like Jazz seems rather more like a memoir than a book on how to live the Christian life. Writing a memoir, Miller is allowed to put anything he wants in there. It is, after all, about what he thinks, not about how you ought to think. I imagine that if any of us started writing down every thought, every quirk, every personal belief, we would sound as strange, as controversial, as deep, as immature, and—yes—even as wrong, as Miller.
3. How much of Miller’s work is as “out there” as it sounds? When we get offended or startled by a passage in Blue Like Jazz, we must, must examine whether that passage is contradicting Scripture, or simply our own traditional views of Scripture. For example, some people have freaked out about Miller living with and enjoying the company of hippies. At this point, we have to remember who Jesus hung out with. If we recoil at how Miller seeks to make Christianity relevant, we must reexamine how Jesus shared the gospel through parables designed for their relevancy with his audience.
A lot of people complain that Miller is throwing out organized doctrine, God’s justice, and the law, replacing them with a fluffy, mystical, “feel-good” God of love. I think we must be very careful in interpreting Miller’s words. Maybe he swings too far in one direction...Maybe others swing too far the opposite way. It is certainly going too far to judge whether or not Miller is a “true” Christian.
I guess it all comes down to: learn what you can from Miller, and leave the parts you can’t accept. It’s ok.
Thursday, February 26
Are We Talking About the Same Religion Here?
How is it that hardly any major religion has looked at science and concluded, 'This is better than we thought! The Universe is much bigger than our prophets said, grander, more subtle, more elegant'? Instead they say, 'No, no, no! My god is a little god, and I want him to stay that way.' A religion, old or new, that stressed the magnificence of the Universe as revealed by modern science might be able to draw forth reserves of reverence and awe hardly tapped by the conventional faiths.
--Carl Sagan
So maybe it's just me being dumb (I'm sure Carl Sagan is much smarter than an 11th grader who can barely pass an introductory chemistry course), but this quote completely bewilders me. Who did this man talk to, what did he read, which behavior did he observe, that gave him this impression of religion? Christianity, for example, is "a religion...that stress[es] the magnificence of the Universe as revealed by modern science". A Christian is fully free to look at a single-celled organism, or a star, or a tree, or a fellow human and say "wow, that is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen".
Religions like Christianity prefer a little God? I'm sorry, but this is simply false, even from the perspective of a dedicated atheist. If a Christian observes and accepts the complex scientific structure of the universe (which is a perfectly logical thing for anyone to do), and if he in fact believes that God constructed this complex scientific structure from nothing and out of his own head, so to speak, then that Christian is most certainly believing in a God of the greatest possible sort. Even a non-believer like Sagan must acknowledge this. A God that conceived and created the universe in its stunning detail and perfection of structure must be unimaginably great and powerful. Therefore, it makes more sense to accuse Christians of, if anything, giving God too much credit, not too little.
The discoveries of modern science--and note I am speaking here of discoveries, not theories like evolution which I will get to later--make no threat whatsoever to the Christian position on the nature of the universe. Sagan seems to be writing of a conflict that does not exist. No Christian, at least that I know of, is observing the internal structure of a bacterium or the chemical makeup of the atmosphere of Jupiter or the navigation techniques of a particular butterfly and decrying these things as being against their view of God. So on this level, Sagan is countering an argument that was never made.
Of course there is still the matter of something like evolution, which could very well be what Sagan is referring to here--under the surface of everything else. From Sagan's point of view, it could look something like this: scientists come up with this very elegant system of natural selection and so on that has eventually produced every living species of which we know, and Christians are rejecting this and moaning on about how God couldn't possibly have anything to do with evolution. Well, let us consider this. Modern science has not "revealed" evolution the way it has "revealed" the structure of a molecule. So Christians are free to respond differently to evolution than to actual scientific discoveries. This is the distinction, the disambiguation, that must be made, and which I don't think Sagan makes. Anyway, everyone reading this, I'm sure, has already heard about the strong evidence against evolution, and the shaky evidence for it. I'm not going to go into all that here. All I am going to say is that I do not understand how viewing the world and all it contains as a series of random molecular accidents can be more magnificent, more subtle, more elegant than the idea that the world is a grand plan created by a masterful, all-seeing God. Completely regardless of whether or not either of these ideas is true or false, they must be fairly compared. And one does not seem smaller in scope than the other.
I'll conclude with an interesting theory I very recently read in my history curriculum on the subject of Galileo. Basically, the universe was created by God and exists as a witness to his glory. Therefore, those who look at science from a non-Christian perspective will be unable to ascertain its true nature, rather remaining stuck in purely technological achievements or in incorrect theories. Consider how all the "advanced" (and pagan) civilizations of the ancient world were advanced only through their technological achievements (architecture, calendars, medicine, etc.). They did not understand the actual nature of the universe. Then, those from these cultures who attempted to understand the nature of things came up with only incorrect theorems (think Aristotle, who thought Earth was at the center of the universe with all the other heavenly bodies suspended and circling it). Galileo--a Christian--was one of the first people who was able to discover the nature of the universe as it actually is, and to build a Christian foundation for science. I don't know if this theory is accurate or not--no one can know something like that--but it is certainly something interesting to think about, and lends a whole new element to Sagan's ideas. What if the religious people were actually the ones who discovered "the magnificence of the Universe as revealed by modern science"?
So there are my thoughts on that. Tomorrow, I hope to write more about Don Miller, having finished "Blue Like Jazz". I think it's fascinating how people both across the country and in this English class are responding to the book. So tune in tomorrow for my own response.
--Carl Sagan
So maybe it's just me being dumb (I'm sure Carl Sagan is much smarter than an 11th grader who can barely pass an introductory chemistry course), but this quote completely bewilders me. Who did this man talk to, what did he read, which behavior did he observe, that gave him this impression of religion? Christianity, for example, is "a religion...that stress[es] the magnificence of the Universe as revealed by modern science". A Christian is fully free to look at a single-celled organism, or a star, or a tree, or a fellow human and say "wow, that is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen".
Religions like Christianity prefer a little God? I'm sorry, but this is simply false, even from the perspective of a dedicated atheist. If a Christian observes and accepts the complex scientific structure of the universe (which is a perfectly logical thing for anyone to do), and if he in fact believes that God constructed this complex scientific structure from nothing and out of his own head, so to speak, then that Christian is most certainly believing in a God of the greatest possible sort. Even a non-believer like Sagan must acknowledge this. A God that conceived and created the universe in its stunning detail and perfection of structure must be unimaginably great and powerful. Therefore, it makes more sense to accuse Christians of, if anything, giving God too much credit, not too little.
The discoveries of modern science--and note I am speaking here of discoveries, not theories like evolution which I will get to later--make no threat whatsoever to the Christian position on the nature of the universe. Sagan seems to be writing of a conflict that does not exist. No Christian, at least that I know of, is observing the internal structure of a bacterium or the chemical makeup of the atmosphere of Jupiter or the navigation techniques of a particular butterfly and decrying these things as being against their view of God. So on this level, Sagan is countering an argument that was never made.
Of course there is still the matter of something like evolution, which could very well be what Sagan is referring to here--under the surface of everything else. From Sagan's point of view, it could look something like this: scientists come up with this very elegant system of natural selection and so on that has eventually produced every living species of which we know, and Christians are rejecting this and moaning on about how God couldn't possibly have anything to do with evolution. Well, let us consider this. Modern science has not "revealed" evolution the way it has "revealed" the structure of a molecule. So Christians are free to respond differently to evolution than to actual scientific discoveries. This is the distinction, the disambiguation, that must be made, and which I don't think Sagan makes. Anyway, everyone reading this, I'm sure, has already heard about the strong evidence against evolution, and the shaky evidence for it. I'm not going to go into all that here. All I am going to say is that I do not understand how viewing the world and all it contains as a series of random molecular accidents can be more magnificent, more subtle, more elegant than the idea that the world is a grand plan created by a masterful, all-seeing God. Completely regardless of whether or not either of these ideas is true or false, they must be fairly compared. And one does not seem smaller in scope than the other.
I'll conclude with an interesting theory I very recently read in my history curriculum on the subject of Galileo. Basically, the universe was created by God and exists as a witness to his glory. Therefore, those who look at science from a non-Christian perspective will be unable to ascertain its true nature, rather remaining stuck in purely technological achievements or in incorrect theories. Consider how all the "advanced" (and pagan) civilizations of the ancient world were advanced only through their technological achievements (architecture, calendars, medicine, etc.). They did not understand the actual nature of the universe. Then, those from these cultures who attempted to understand the nature of things came up with only incorrect theorems (think Aristotle, who thought Earth was at the center of the universe with all the other heavenly bodies suspended and circling it). Galileo--a Christian--was one of the first people who was able to discover the nature of the universe as it actually is, and to build a Christian foundation for science. I don't know if this theory is accurate or not--no one can know something like that--but it is certainly something interesting to think about, and lends a whole new element to Sagan's ideas. What if the religious people were actually the ones who discovered "the magnificence of the Universe as revealed by modern science"?
So there are my thoughts on that. Tomorrow, I hope to write more about Don Miller, having finished "Blue Like Jazz". I think it's fascinating how people both across the country and in this English class are responding to the book. So tune in tomorrow for my own response.
Wednesday, February 18
Missing: One Escaped Creativity
It's a tragedy really. I forgot to lock my window one night, and when I woke up in the morning, he was gone.
My creativity has run away, and I'm currently trying to run him down and bring him back. I don't necessarily blame him...I am facing the prospect of several hours of free time this week in which I hoped to exercise him every moment. I don't think he likes to work very hard, which could be why he bolted. Right when I need him most
So anyway, I'm on the hunt for my creativity. Word has it he was seen almost perishing of malnutrition in mid-Nebraska, was rescued, and said that he was hitchhiking to Chicago. Occasionally he sends me postcards (no return address), with very unhelpful large ideas on them. He hates coming up with simple ideas--which is what I needed him to do. He's also mad at me because I lost the Patrick Henry short story contest, and to add insult to injury I told him that the winners' ideas were better than his anyway. So now he's gone and he refuses to come back. I must admit, I'm starting to miss him. The next step is to try luring him home with some music or a good book--or maybe some chocolate.
If you happen to see him, please try to apprehend him and let me know. He answers to "Bill", and you can keep him in a shoebox. Feed him a couple of good movies a day and he should stay perfectly healthy until I can come and pick him up. Be warned: he likes to talk a lot--and most of it is nonsense. Just ignore him, and you should do fine. There may even be a reward for whoever finds him. If you live too far away, you can ship him to Colorado (no need to pay extra for first class). Just make sure you poke some airholes in the lid.
My creativity has run away, and I'm currently trying to run him down and bring him back. I don't necessarily blame him...I am facing the prospect of several hours of free time this week in which I hoped to exercise him every moment. I don't think he likes to work very hard, which could be why he bolted. Right when I need him most
So anyway, I'm on the hunt for my creativity. Word has it he was seen almost perishing of malnutrition in mid-Nebraska, was rescued, and said that he was hitchhiking to Chicago. Occasionally he sends me postcards (no return address), with very unhelpful large ideas on them. He hates coming up with simple ideas--which is what I needed him to do. He's also mad at me because I lost the Patrick Henry short story contest, and to add insult to injury I told him that the winners' ideas were better than his anyway. So now he's gone and he refuses to come back. I must admit, I'm starting to miss him. The next step is to try luring him home with some music or a good book--or maybe some chocolate.
If you happen to see him, please try to apprehend him and let me know. He answers to "Bill", and you can keep him in a shoebox. Feed him a couple of good movies a day and he should stay perfectly healthy until I can come and pick him up. Be warned: he likes to talk a lot--and most of it is nonsense. Just ignore him, and you should do fine. There may even be a reward for whoever finds him. If you live too far away, you can ship him to Colorado (no need to pay extra for first class). Just make sure you poke some airholes in the lid.
Friday, February 13
How Christian is Christian?
Well, I apologize in advance. This post has a lot of questions in it, without very many answers. It’s really just me thinking out loud—and I don’t know all the answers (surprise, surprise – or not). And another note: You will probably wonder why I blank out a letter in “cr-p” throughout this post. I don’t consider it a dastardly swear word or anything like that...I’m just writing it that way because I want to respect anyone who might be offended by the word. So that’s the reasoning behind that.
Anyway, let’s begin:
As a homeschooler, I have been raised as a very “Christian” Christian. I’ve mainly associated with the people whose iPods are loaded entirely with Chris Tomlin, who think “heck” is a swear word, who turn the lights off and sing praise songs on Halloween night, who get Vision Forum catalogues in the mail, who have never seen R-rated movies, and who unconsciously categorize smoking among the mortal sins. And I am right there with them (minus the heck, Halloween, and Tomlin parts). So please, please don't get offended and think I'm trying to insult anyone with those comments--it's just a illustration which I would lay upon myself as well. Anyway, until relatively recently, I had no idea that I—or we, or whatever—was rather a “foreign species”. Even (and this is the oddest part) to other Christians.
This all became rather more interesting when I first realized that there are “other” Christians out there. First, I met some in person. They never listen to Chris Tomlin. They say “cr-p”. They watch horror movies on Halloween. They have drunk alcoholic beverages before in their lives (as adults). They are also some of the nicest, kindest, most generous people I have ever met. And they are Christians.
Next, I read about Don Miller. He is writing about spiritual revolutions and revelations—inspiring others in their spiritual lives. None of the singers he listened to while writing the book were Christian. He writes about being selfish and sinful. About doing drugs and getting drunk. About having relational issues. About feeling like Hitler. He also says “cr-p”. His book has spiritually impacted me.
I don’t like reading Christian living books. I’ve worked through three “godly young woman” books by chipper, perfect Christian Elizabeth George. I’ve gotten nothing out of them. Half a book by Don Miller has revolutionized my thinking—not to go out and get drunk or something, but to have a better relationship with God.
So where does that put us? As I said in my title, how Christian is Christian? Which behavioral standards are necessary to being a good Christian? Obviously, Biblical standards...but what about the “extra” stuff that the Bible doesn’t really go in to? Is it possible to be too Christian? Is it possible to be not Christian enough? And how do you tell? I mean, is it superficial behaviors that matter? Is it heart attitudes? Is it both? I’m not trying to say that someone like Elizabeth George or Vision Forum is a bad Christian. I’m also not trying to say that Don Miller or the other people I know are bad Christians. I’m just observing that the behavioral standards I took for granted are not universal among Christians. Which is interesting and hard but not all bad. My saying all this will probably also make people think “uh-oh, she’s going to rebel. She’s going to start behaving all badly and say it’s ok...” No worries, friends. I have taken about 95% or more of the behavioral standards I was raised with, and personalized them, so that they have gone from rules to obey to my own convictions and standards for myself. I’m not going to drink, smoke, say bad words, etc. Those are things that I could not and will not do out of personal conviction. However, I’m also not going to judge someone else’s spirituality on whether or not they do those things. If someone is directly disobeying one of God’s explicit commands and doesn’t care, then that’s an issue. But it’s important to remember which are God’s commands and which are “extra” commands which may be important to us but must not be used as the basis for judging others. And this works the other way. Others who don’t share my standards shouldn’t judge me for sticking to them.
So there are my thoughts for the day. For being such a long ride, I don’t really feel like we got anywhere. But it’s just something I’ve been thinking about—and if you choose to read this blog, then that’s what you get to be subjected to =)...
Anyway, let’s begin:
As a homeschooler, I have been raised as a very “Christian” Christian. I’ve mainly associated with the people whose iPods are loaded entirely with Chris Tomlin, who think “heck” is a swear word, who turn the lights off and sing praise songs on Halloween night, who get Vision Forum catalogues in the mail, who have never seen R-rated movies, and who unconsciously categorize smoking among the mortal sins. And I am right there with them (minus the heck, Halloween, and Tomlin parts). So please, please don't get offended and think I'm trying to insult anyone with those comments--it's just a illustration which I would lay upon myself as well. Anyway, until relatively recently, I had no idea that I—or we, or whatever—was rather a “foreign species”. Even (and this is the oddest part) to other Christians.
This all became rather more interesting when I first realized that there are “other” Christians out there. First, I met some in person. They never listen to Chris Tomlin. They say “cr-p”. They watch horror movies on Halloween. They have drunk alcoholic beverages before in their lives (as adults). They are also some of the nicest, kindest, most generous people I have ever met. And they are Christians.
Next, I read about Don Miller. He is writing about spiritual revolutions and revelations—inspiring others in their spiritual lives. None of the singers he listened to while writing the book were Christian. He writes about being selfish and sinful. About doing drugs and getting drunk. About having relational issues. About feeling like Hitler. He also says “cr-p”. His book has spiritually impacted me.
I don’t like reading Christian living books. I’ve worked through three “godly young woman” books by chipper, perfect Christian Elizabeth George. I’ve gotten nothing out of them. Half a book by Don Miller has revolutionized my thinking—not to go out and get drunk or something, but to have a better relationship with God.
So where does that put us? As I said in my title, how Christian is Christian? Which behavioral standards are necessary to being a good Christian? Obviously, Biblical standards...but what about the “extra” stuff that the Bible doesn’t really go in to? Is it possible to be too Christian? Is it possible to be not Christian enough? And how do you tell? I mean, is it superficial behaviors that matter? Is it heart attitudes? Is it both? I’m not trying to say that someone like Elizabeth George or Vision Forum is a bad Christian. I’m also not trying to say that Don Miller or the other people I know are bad Christians. I’m just observing that the behavioral standards I took for granted are not universal among Christians. Which is interesting and hard but not all bad. My saying all this will probably also make people think “uh-oh, she’s going to rebel. She’s going to start behaving all badly and say it’s ok...” No worries, friends. I have taken about 95% or more of the behavioral standards I was raised with, and personalized them, so that they have gone from rules to obey to my own convictions and standards for myself. I’m not going to drink, smoke, say bad words, etc. Those are things that I could not and will not do out of personal conviction. However, I’m also not going to judge someone else’s spirituality on whether or not they do those things. If someone is directly disobeying one of God’s explicit commands and doesn’t care, then that’s an issue. But it’s important to remember which are God’s commands and which are “extra” commands which may be important to us but must not be used as the basis for judging others. And this works the other way. Others who don’t share my standards shouldn’t judge me for sticking to them.
So there are my thoughts for the day. For being such a long ride, I don’t really feel like we got anywhere. But it’s just something I’ve been thinking about—and if you choose to read this blog, then that’s what you get to be subjected to =)...
Friday, February 6
A Startling Gospel Revealed
So before your begin to read please know that this certainly has to do with the English reading assignments for the week...it just takes me a while to get there.
My Bible study/small group has recently been reading a book by my pastor (“Good News for Those Trying Harder” by Alan Kraft), in which he explains how to stop “trying harder” at your spiritual life and instead interact with the gospel. In this book, he remarked that every Christian ought to “have the gospel preached to them every day”. One of the girls reasonably responded with—wouldn’t that get boring pretty fast? If hearing the gospel every day is a matter of reading Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John over and over and over and over, then yes, I imagine it would become extremely boring. As our study chewed on this idea, I felt in my spirit that something was missing. The gospel cannot simply be a physical account, a story which we know by heart, a page in a Bible, a sermon illustration. These things can catch our eye for only a moment before we pass on to more vibrant things—but the gospel...the gospel can renew lives, can complete souls. What it was—what the author of “Good News” was referring to—had to be, I said, what one might call “the living gospel”. The other members of the Bible study regarded me rather blankly. What do you mean by “living gospel”? What’s that?
Well, the gospel is alive, isn’t it? I don’t simply mean that once upon a time it was lived out—I mean, of course God lives, and Jesus lived and died and lived again, and everyone in the gospel accounts once lived. This is the obvious element, but perhaps it is the first idea one must get one’s heart around. I am a great believer in the idea that if one can breathe life into the characters of the gospel story, one can vicariously experience a three-dimensional gospel. One can get into the emotions and humanity of the gospel. This is perhaps interesting and beneficial, but it is not what I meant by a living gospel.
Let me try again to explain. The gospel is huge, thundering, and perfect. Its glory is that of God himself. If someone can wrap his or her mind around the full scope of the gospel, its horror and wonder, he can then catch some idea, perhaps, of a living gospel. Trying to illustrate what I mean: imagine that reading the Bible is like reading a biology textbook. Just as this textbook outlines the organs and chemicals and processes that work together to make up an amazing whole (a human being, in this case), so the Biblical gospel accounts outline the pieces, parts, and events that together create an amazing whole (the gospel). But reading in a textbook is nothing to actually looking at a human being—seeing the amazing intricacy of biological processes, only this time standing before you alive. Now say when you are singing in church, perhaps, or praying at home, and you are overwhelmed with emotion, you are worshipping God and maybe crying or raising your hands or kneeling or just sitting still, you are encountering the living gospel. It has brought the Bible story to life, just as a human being brings a biology textbook to life. But the gospel accounts are still important because you cannot fully appreciate the wonder of a human life unless you have first read the textbook.
It seems that reading “The Reason for God” by Tim Keller, and reading “Blue Like Jazz” by Don Miller can serve as an illustration of the scope of the living gospel. Keller, as a logical man with a logical argument to make, can approach the gospel and find it watertight against the most difficult attacks of human reason. The gospel is infallible, a man like Keller has no trouble defending it—but maybe he is biased, maybe he is trying too hard. Then we have only to look at C.S. Lewis before his conversion—a committed atheist who approached the gospel with cold logic and truth...and found more logic there than even in his atheism.
But on the other hand, the gospel completely defies logic, as can be seen clearly in Miller’s book. Miller, as a highly emotional and artistic person, was drawn into the gospel via a road that has nothing to do with logic, but with a filling of the emotional deficits in his soul. His gospel—as he illustrates—was one that would crawl into the dark where he was hiding and whisper to him until he was ready to get up and follow it.
So the gospel is alive. It can stand up and defend itself in a theological debate. It can follow us deep into our own darkness. It can wait patiently for a thousand years like a flower in the desert. It pursues us, woos us, and wins us if we but respond to it. So the wonder of the living gospel lies in how we are depraved and yet the gospel reaches out to us. It is a revolutionary concept that can never grow old or dull—a living gospel.
My Bible study/small group has recently been reading a book by my pastor (“Good News for Those Trying Harder” by Alan Kraft), in which he explains how to stop “trying harder” at your spiritual life and instead interact with the gospel. In this book, he remarked that every Christian ought to “have the gospel preached to them every day”. One of the girls reasonably responded with—wouldn’t that get boring pretty fast? If hearing the gospel every day is a matter of reading Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John over and over and over and over, then yes, I imagine it would become extremely boring. As our study chewed on this idea, I felt in my spirit that something was missing. The gospel cannot simply be a physical account, a story which we know by heart, a page in a Bible, a sermon illustration. These things can catch our eye for only a moment before we pass on to more vibrant things—but the gospel...the gospel can renew lives, can complete souls. What it was—what the author of “Good News” was referring to—had to be, I said, what one might call “the living gospel”. The other members of the Bible study regarded me rather blankly. What do you mean by “living gospel”? What’s that?
Well, the gospel is alive, isn’t it? I don’t simply mean that once upon a time it was lived out—I mean, of course God lives, and Jesus lived and died and lived again, and everyone in the gospel accounts once lived. This is the obvious element, but perhaps it is the first idea one must get one’s heart around. I am a great believer in the idea that if one can breathe life into the characters of the gospel story, one can vicariously experience a three-dimensional gospel. One can get into the emotions and humanity of the gospel. This is perhaps interesting and beneficial, but it is not what I meant by a living gospel.
Let me try again to explain. The gospel is huge, thundering, and perfect. Its glory is that of God himself. If someone can wrap his or her mind around the full scope of the gospel, its horror and wonder, he can then catch some idea, perhaps, of a living gospel. Trying to illustrate what I mean: imagine that reading the Bible is like reading a biology textbook. Just as this textbook outlines the organs and chemicals and processes that work together to make up an amazing whole (a human being, in this case), so the Biblical gospel accounts outline the pieces, parts, and events that together create an amazing whole (the gospel). But reading in a textbook is nothing to actually looking at a human being—seeing the amazing intricacy of biological processes, only this time standing before you alive. Now say when you are singing in church, perhaps, or praying at home, and you are overwhelmed with emotion, you are worshipping God and maybe crying or raising your hands or kneeling or just sitting still, you are encountering the living gospel. It has brought the Bible story to life, just as a human being brings a biology textbook to life. But the gospel accounts are still important because you cannot fully appreciate the wonder of a human life unless you have first read the textbook.
It seems that reading “The Reason for God” by Tim Keller, and reading “Blue Like Jazz” by Don Miller can serve as an illustration of the scope of the living gospel. Keller, as a logical man with a logical argument to make, can approach the gospel and find it watertight against the most difficult attacks of human reason. The gospel is infallible, a man like Keller has no trouble defending it—but maybe he is biased, maybe he is trying too hard. Then we have only to look at C.S. Lewis before his conversion—a committed atheist who approached the gospel with cold logic and truth...and found more logic there than even in his atheism.
But on the other hand, the gospel completely defies logic, as can be seen clearly in Miller’s book. Miller, as a highly emotional and artistic person, was drawn into the gospel via a road that has nothing to do with logic, but with a filling of the emotional deficits in his soul. His gospel—as he illustrates—was one that would crawl into the dark where he was hiding and whisper to him until he was ready to get up and follow it.
So the gospel is alive. It can stand up and defend itself in a theological debate. It can follow us deep into our own darkness. It can wait patiently for a thousand years like a flower in the desert. It pursues us, woos us, and wins us if we but respond to it. So the wonder of the living gospel lies in how we are depraved and yet the gospel reaches out to us. It is a revolutionary concept that can never grow old or dull—a living gospel.
Monday, January 26
Thrillingness of New Vocabulary
lachrymose - Weeping or inclined to weep; causing or tending to cause tears
littoral - A coastal region; a shore
thurible - A censer used in certain ecclesiastical ceremonies or liturgies
adumbrate - To give a sketchy outline of; to disclose partially or guardedly
fugacious - Passing away quickly; evanescent
mendicant - Depending on alms for a living; practicing begging
littoral - A coastal region; a shore
thurible - A censer used in certain ecclesiastical ceremonies or liturgies
adumbrate - To give a sketchy outline of; to disclose partially or guardedly
fugacious - Passing away quickly; evanescent
mendicant - Depending on alms for a living; practicing begging
Tuesday, January 20
Making History
What's next? Well...we'll just have to wait and see.
Matt Davies Journal News Jan 20, 2009 |
Matt Wuerker Politico.com Jan 20, 2009 |
Bob Gorrell Creators Syndicate Inc. Jan 20, 2009 |
Sunday, January 18
When Historical Fiction Isn't
Recently, I was made to confront the complications of writing historical fiction. This genre has long been disputed by many groups...If you think about it, the name itself embodies a self-contradiction. Something cannot be both history and fiction--can it? In this difficulty, writers tend to survey their subject and select a point somewhere between fact and fiction. Some, like G.A. Henty focus on pure history, bothering only enough with fiction to set up a simple, formulaic story framework to keep readers engaged. On the other end of the spectrum, books like Elizabeth Pope's "The Perilous Gard" or Twain's "Prince and the Pauper" delve so deep into fiction that they maintain only one or two historical figures to give the story a sense of place. Is any of this right or wrong? It depends. Why am I even talking about this? Let's back up a bit.
One of my greatest historical fascinations is with the twelve apostles of Jesus Christ: Peter, Andrew, James, John, Philip, Nathanael (or Bartholemew), Matthew, Thomas, Thaddeus, Judas, Simon the Zealot, and James the Lesser. The fact that I typed that list from memory should serve as some proof of my fairly serious studying of these guys... In fact, over the past few years I have been laboring away at writing a book about them--not in the style of the Christian non-fiction "better living" book entitled "Twelve Ordinary Men"--but in a style that must by necessity be called historical fiction. In other words, it is a fictional account of the life of Jesus from the perspective of the twelve apostles. What do I mean by fictional? Do I mean the whole thing is pure fabrication? No. Here's where the self-contradiction comes in.
I have studied the gospel accounts to the extent that I am working on compiling a list of every recorded word spoken by any of the apostles. I have researched things like food and boats.
History.
I do not know why Thomas doubted Jesus. I do not know why Judas betrayed him. I don't know what foods Peter didn't like. I don't know anything about some of the lesser apostles. But I've put it in there.
Fiction.
All of this came to the forefront the other day in my PowerPoint class, of all places. A long time ago I had created a PowerPoint presentation based off of my story, including pictures and quotes representing each apostle. The creative-type people who watched this were all excited and moved. Others greeted it with neutrality. My PowerPoint teacher (being the highly scientific computer-science major that he was) responded uncertainly. How much of this had I made up? (Most of it) How much church lore had I studied? (None) How accurate was this? (I had no idea)
Historical fiction for kids (and most adult-oriented stuff as well), is focused on portraying a historical event or time through the eyes of fictional characters. A much smaller percentage takes a different approach: portraying a historical event or time through the eyes of a historical character. This defines my story, and this technique drives practical people up the wall. They read "The Killer Angels" by Michael Shaara and groan this isn't accurate! You can't know what General Robert E. Lee was thinking as he ordered Pickett's charge! True. But in this moment, historical fiction passes beyond "history" or "fiction" and into a sort of delicate psychology. If you have ever written this way, you will know what I mean. Unlike most historical fiction, books like "The Killer Angels", books like "The Once and Future King", books even like my apostle story, are formulated as a few fenceposts of solid, indisputable fact, strung together with strange, delicate, but educated guesswork. People who are deeply intuitive seem to do well with this.
It's something that you can't research. It's empathy. Sensitivity. Connection. Psychology. Common sense. It's a complete demolition of stereotypes. It involves giving a historical figure back his humanity. If you can figure it out, then it stops being work. The character speaks through you.
"The Killer Angels" and "The Once and Future King" are examples of this technique in its perfected form. The facts they portray are solid and true, their characters are unforgettable in their tragic, humorous depth. If I could achieve that in my own work, I would count myself blessed. It's not about offering facts about historical figures; it's about getting at the reader's heart and making him stop, and struggle with the solemn humanity of those in the past.
Later, if anyone is interested, I might post some examples, both from the above-mentioned works and my own writing.
Completely off-topic:
First vocabulary word of the New Year!
Abrogate ~ To abolish, do away with, or annul, especially by authority
One of my greatest historical fascinations is with the twelve apostles of Jesus Christ: Peter, Andrew, James, John, Philip, Nathanael (or Bartholemew), Matthew, Thomas, Thaddeus, Judas, Simon the Zealot, and James the Lesser. The fact that I typed that list from memory should serve as some proof of my fairly serious studying of these guys... In fact, over the past few years I have been laboring away at writing a book about them--not in the style of the Christian non-fiction "better living" book entitled "Twelve Ordinary Men"--but in a style that must by necessity be called historical fiction. In other words, it is a fictional account of the life of Jesus from the perspective of the twelve apostles. What do I mean by fictional? Do I mean the whole thing is pure fabrication? No. Here's where the self-contradiction comes in.
I have studied the gospel accounts to the extent that I am working on compiling a list of every recorded word spoken by any of the apostles. I have researched things like food and boats.
History.
I do not know why Thomas doubted Jesus. I do not know why Judas betrayed him. I don't know what foods Peter didn't like. I don't know anything about some of the lesser apostles. But I've put it in there.
Fiction.
All of this came to the forefront the other day in my PowerPoint class, of all places. A long time ago I had created a PowerPoint presentation based off of my story, including pictures and quotes representing each apostle. The creative-type people who watched this were all excited and moved. Others greeted it with neutrality. My PowerPoint teacher (being the highly scientific computer-science major that he was) responded uncertainly. How much of this had I made up? (Most of it) How much church lore had I studied? (None) How accurate was this? (I had no idea)
Historical fiction for kids (and most adult-oriented stuff as well), is focused on portraying a historical event or time through the eyes of fictional characters. A much smaller percentage takes a different approach: portraying a historical event or time through the eyes of a historical character. This defines my story, and this technique drives practical people up the wall. They read "The Killer Angels" by Michael Shaara and groan this isn't accurate! You can't know what General Robert E. Lee was thinking as he ordered Pickett's charge! True. But in this moment, historical fiction passes beyond "history" or "fiction" and into a sort of delicate psychology. If you have ever written this way, you will know what I mean. Unlike most historical fiction, books like "The Killer Angels", books like "The Once and Future King", books even like my apostle story, are formulated as a few fenceposts of solid, indisputable fact, strung together with strange, delicate, but educated guesswork. People who are deeply intuitive seem to do well with this.
It's something that you can't research. It's empathy. Sensitivity. Connection. Psychology. Common sense. It's a complete demolition of stereotypes. It involves giving a historical figure back his humanity. If you can figure it out, then it stops being work. The character speaks through you.
"The Killer Angels" and "The Once and Future King" are examples of this technique in its perfected form. The facts they portray are solid and true, their characters are unforgettable in their tragic, humorous depth. If I could achieve that in my own work, I would count myself blessed. It's not about offering facts about historical figures; it's about getting at the reader's heart and making him stop, and struggle with the solemn humanity of those in the past.
Later, if anyone is interested, I might post some examples, both from the above-mentioned works and my own writing.
Completely off-topic:
First vocabulary word of the New Year!
Abrogate ~ To abolish, do away with, or annul, especially by authority
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