Hymnal Dipping

I did not expect or anticipate this one. In fact, I was unfamiliar with this song until this morning when Laurie was looking for a version of "It Is Well With My Soul" for a blog entry (I guess it's the anniversary of when Horatio Spafford's family died which prompted him to write that amazing hymn. Another inspiring story, but not the one I'm on about this morning.) So, we came across a version by the Metropolitan Baptist Church in Washington D.C. on Youtube and, well, you know how Youtube can be. Laurie checked the related videos and said, "Hey, do you know this one?"
I didn't (it's in neither the Quaker nor the Reformed Baptist hymnals, so this edition of my "Hymnal Dipping" feature didn't really even take me into my hymnal. Laurie and I just had a long discussion on defining a "hymn" and she thinks this might be more of a "spiritual song" than a hymn. I don't know, but it is very content rich and I like it and I wanted to write about it) but very quickly we were both in tears. Such a simple little song with such power. "The Blood Will Never Lose Its Power." It was written by Andrae Crouch when he was just 15 years old. He threw it in the trash thinking it was too simple for his high aspirations as a songwriter. His sister knew better and fished it out of the trash. Today it's probably song he's best know for.
It is such a simple and elegant little song of few words. It says all it needs to say and no more, which is one of the marks of a great work.

Verse 1
The blood that Jesus shed for me,
way back on Calvary;
the blood that gives me strength
from day to day,
it will never lose its power.

Chorus
It reaches to the highest mountain,
it flows to the lowest valley;
the blood that gives me strength
from day to day,
it will never lose its power.

Verse 2
It soothes my doubts and calms my fears,
and it dries all my tears;
the blood that gives me strength
from day to day,
it will never lose its power.

I was absolutely struck to the core by the passion in this. So often we who are focused on right doctrine and biblical theology can come to worship with tweezers, a scalpel and masks in clean rooms. Not that there's anything wrong with right doctrine. I think we need to be firmly rooted in scripture to keep us from doctrinal oddities and unhelpful superstitions. I was telling this to Laurie and she summed it up nicely, "God deserves all of our passion." We cannot lose our passion, gratitude, joy and wonder for the sake of academics. We really ought not be more excited about movies or popular (or classical, Paul) music or television shows or weekends or mochas or anything than we are when we come to worship. If we can be excited about anything in this world, we should be more excited about worship.
I frequently lose it during hymns, which I think is a good thing. Like Isaiah realizing the extent of his state when before God's glory in the temple that he cries out "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!" The full knowledge and awareness of one's sin and one's need for a redeemer is crushing. And the glory, the unfettered love of God's grace toward us sinners is likewise of utmost gravity. Of course, this makes us desire to know Him better and constantly dig deeper in His Word, but that is born from a place of brokenness, a place of love, passion and gratitude.
I was also struck that as Rev. Richard Smallwood plays piano the congregation cannot keep from singing.

The Great Outdoors

""Well," said Pooh, "what I like best—" and then he had to stop and
think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do,
there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better
than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called. "
-A.A. Milne


I don't know about you, but in different chapters in my life I fall into different patterns. This is not a bad thing. In fact, I think it's good to be stable (even if some of your patterns are less than stable. To wit, for the past few months, every night I put my asthma medication in my mouth like werewolf teeth and sneak up behind Laurie and growl at her. Every night she falls for it or at the very least is kind enough to pretend like she does.) I also think there can be great vibrancy in a steady life. I'm also quite fond of form poetry (as opposed to the ubiquitous, undisciplined free verse of our modern age) for the same reason. Working in form often focuses one and allows for even greater insight and beauty to be expressed. This is part of why in my early 20s I had sort of an embarrassing over-excitement over the music of Philip Glass for a time. The idea of patterns that shift subtly so that one notices the shifts all the more appealed to me greatly. I still like his music, but I find myself going many months without feeling the need to play the Akhnaten overture whereas ten years ago I rarely went a week without playing it.

Patterns need not be ruts. The difference is attitude. Patterns can be one of life's richer experiences with the correct attitude.

So often I have found that these patterns leave our lives without intent and often without even noticing. Circumstances put us in a new job or a new living space and suddenly we no longer do A, B, and C every day.

We may remember them at odd moments in the far future with some fondness. Some of them we may go to our graves never recalling that we sort of lashed our brains together for a season with a series of predictable actions. Be it going to the library on Thursdays or having a cup of Earl Grey at 3:30 pm or feeding the neighborhood stray before leaving your home in the morning or taking the scenic route home or a friendly person who is in your life every day for a time.

I have one in particular in this chapter of my life which I love and which I'm actually about to do within the next hour. Before bed I take the dogs out and then put Cinco, our garage cat, into the garage for the night with a full bowl of cat food. I then usually check all of the locks in the car, the window of the garage and the lock on the garage door. Then I turn back to the house and there's a moment, just a few seconds really, of looking back at my house.
Having done this every night for several months I've noticed that the moon has changed in the sky. It used to be directly over the roof of the house about the time I'd be doing this little ritual. Also with the season change is that it's very cold outside, especially the past few nights.

The pictures you're seeing in this post come from last night. On Laurie's work nights she often has to wash her cleaning rags and just before we go to bed she puts them in the drier. This causes the whole backyard to fill with the steam from the drier outlet, giving an ethereal quality to the quiet crisp night air and the frost kissed blades of grass.

Of course, in this moment there is somewhere in my brain the realization that I will, in a moment, walk through that door and into the warm, cozy house where the heaters are blasting forth and there are blankets, a wife and two dogs waiting for me to succumb to sleep near. Walking from the cold outdoors is almost one of the grandest feelings I know, but in truth, even grander, is the moment before when I know how good it's about to be.

Announcing...

You remember I recently wrote about the Penguin Classics series of 10 classic books that everyone should read? Well, in the hours that have followed I had a brainstorm after passing our bookshelves and side glancing a copy of a book we have called "Reading The Classics with C.S. Lewis."
I thought, "You know, I don't really have a lot of plans for far future reading at the moment and along with never having read Jane Eyre, many of those books on that list I haven't read in many years. And I do love The Classics. I'm all the time yammering on about them on my blog."

So, you're on, Penguin Classics. I am officially announcing my new series on this blog "Reading The Classics with Paul Mathers." I will be reading (mainly rereading) all ten of the books on Penguin's suggested list and discussing them here. I invite any of you who might be interested to participate along with me. I've never done a reading group before and this one seems suited to me.
Some I read once in high school (Oedipus and The Odyssey), some I've read several times for personal enjoyment (Moby Dick and Pride and Prejudice) and some I've been over countless times (I spent two years working on a production of Hamlet.) I thought this would be fun especially as the only two I think I've read in the past 5 years are one reread of Moby Dick and my first time through Dante's Inferno (so they are automatically bumped to the end of the reading list for our purposes. Or, more accurately, for my own selfish reasons.)
So, here, again, is the reading list if you'd like to print the list up and carry it in your pocket for when you're browsing thrift stores or used book stores (you'll note all of the authors are dead, sorry to say, and, with apologies to our catalyst Penguin Classics, you will remember my post on the ethics of bookbuying. I personally do not feel you should feel any compulsion to buy these titles new.) Here is the order in which we shall read them:

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
The Odyssey by Homer
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Oedipus Rex by Sophocles
Inferno by Dante Alighieri
Moby Dick by Herman Melville

We will start with Of Mice and Men because it's short and I should be able to get through it before my copy of Prime by Poppy Z. Brite shows up (at which time we'll take a very short break because I'm anxious to read that.) I'm not sure what to say about the pace of the reading group... Well, I'm open to suggestions about that although I will say that when I finish a book I'm probably not going to waste much time before I start blabbing about it on this blog. So, let's get crackin', people! Chop chop! Allons zi!

And, of course, should you decide to decline, I will strive to continue to keep the blog interesting anyway.

Also, needless to say, if any of you read a version of a particular book with zombies added, you are immediately expelled from this reading group.

This should be fun. So, do go out and secure yourself a copy of Of Mice and Men and we will get started.

P.S. Laurie informs me that these online reading groups are done a bit more orderly than I'd originally, in my exuberance, suggested. So, this is how it will work:

If you would like to read along, it would be nice for you to leave a little note in the comments signing on. I will continue regardless of whether anyone joins me or not, but conversation is one of the great benefits of something like this.

If you do decide to get on board, we will begin reading next weekend. I imagine one should have no problem securing a copy of Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck in 9-10 days time even if they order one online. If I'm dead wrong about that, do let me know. The rules are here to keep us on track, but I would hate to see anyone left behind who wanted to take part because we started too quickly.

As we read, I may have a few mini-posts of thoughts, but we will have large posts at the end of each week. With Of Mice and Men, I think we can probably do it in two chunks (actually I think we can do it in one, but again, I would hate to leave anyone behind.) So, Book Groupies, you have a little over a week to secure a copy of John Steinbeck's classic Of Mice and Men. You will get a reminder soon. One week after that we will focus on the first half of the book, then the second a week later.

If you have any further suggestions on how to make this run smoothly, please do let me know.

Thursday News In Review

I took two weeks off from my Thursday News in Review feature. The first, as you know, is because my parents were in town and the second I have absolutely no memory why we didn't have a News in Review. Maybe there was no news that week. There may not have been except for the possibly notable op-ed piece where Germaine Greer reveals that, while we've never met, Greer and I think one another are fools. I'm okay with that.


Opera News:

Readers hopefully know by now that at present the West Coast is ruling the Classical Music world in America. The Los Angeles Opera announced workshop performances of a new opera by Laura Karpman with libretto by M.G. Lord and Shannon Halwes. The work is called "The 110 Project" (Laurie will be delighted by this further presentable evidence that people from Southern California do indeed refer to their freeways as "The 5" or "The 22" instead of Chico's "Ya take 99 down to 5 and...") The piece follows a few characters through 70 years of LA history.
I have mixed feelings about modern opera (and, as it happens, mixed feelings about LA.) In some ways the form is more vibrant and diverse than it's even been. Unfortunately along with the greats, it gives rise to some really regrettable opera. I would almost advise a moratorium on operas based on films, but there have been a few really wonderful works based on film (I really liked the Dead Man Walking opera.)
I like the sound of this one and am excited to hear more about it.
Also in mind blowing opera news, apparently Placido Domingo is now singing as a baritone!


News I'd Rather Not Be Giving More Ink To News:

The BBC's shouting head of Robin Lustig told me this morning that Sarah Palin is on a book tour, in case I'd just finished a stint of cave dwelling. As of my writing this she is in Michigan.
Look, I won't waste any more of your time going over how people are actually talking about this book ghost written for the Republican Party's greatest train wreck in my lifetime for no other reason than the television is telling them to talk about it. You probably have all had experiences similar to my own of walking into a major chain store and finding not only that there's a huge display just inside the door for her "book" but also that the display has been ravaged to the point of almost being empty. And I'm not even talking about bookstores. Laurie and I saw this yesterday when we went to buy kitty litter. Were the book cheaper, as it's surely doomed to be clearance rack fodder, I may have considered buying it for that purpose.
You also probably don't need anyone to point to the flaws and falsehoods in the text as the internet is glutted with that information. Or that it's largely a whine-fest. You probably don't need for me to tell you that it's awful. No, I haven't read it and I will not. I don't have a problem saying that anyway because just like 2012 or the Zemeckis Christmas Carol, there are some things in this culture that you can smell the crap on from miles away.
But if you're not going to take my word for it or if you've some improbable person in your life who might want a copy of this as a gift, I do want to say this. Regardless of what happens, no one will ever want this book five years from now. It is a bad book investment. She may be a news story now but, much like Pauley Shore or Borat, people are going to get sick of the act really quick and swing in the opposite direction. Also, if the Republican Party is at long last so out of touch with consensus reality that they actually do run her as a presidential candidate in 2012, it will guarantee another 4 years of a Democrat. As soon as the ballots are cool, the book will be ground up to make school lunch food go further. Take it from a bookseller who has had a book about Hubert Humphrey on a shelf for 6 years, it may be a hot topic in this particular split second, but you do not want to throw money at this book.


Stuffy, Starchy Book Award News:

At first glance, I was kind of delighted to find that the National Book Award went to Colum McCann (who also wins the "best first name for a journalist" award) for his book about Philippe Petit, the French tightrope walker who walked between the Twin Towers without permission in 1974. The book is called "Let the Great World Spin." The NJ Star-Ledger article where I read this wrote,

"Considered to be one of literature's most prestigious honors, it certainly will catapult the Irish author (who lives in New York) to instant prominence.

McCann refers to the book an act of hope written in part as a response to the attacks on 9-11. Accepting the prize, the author praised the generosity of American fiction and its audience. He dedicated the win to a fellow Irish-American writer Frank McCourt."

Which sounded absolutely delightful to me. But then the article ended with "In addition, legendary author Gore Vidal picked up an award for Lifetime achievement." And then I stopped taking it seriously.


Social Literacy News:

I'm not usually in the habit of writing in depth about advertising campaigns. Nevertheless, Penguin Books came up with a new advertising strategy which reeks of someone in Marketing having read Harold Bloom. I'll let their copy speak for itself:

"Penguin Classics has compiled a list of the top ten essential Penguin Classics every person should read. Each of these ten great works—ranging from poetry to plays to novels and non-fiction—has lasted and enlightened audiences throughout the ages, and they all still have something relevant to say to readers. Look over the list, and explore this website to learn more about each of the ten books.

Watch The Ten Essential Penguin Classics, a twenty-minute video program highlighting each of the ten books listed above.

Why read classic works of literature? There are a myriad of reasons, just one of which is to catch the numerous references that appear in movies, television, politics, and throughout pop culture. In the above video, you can see a trailer for a short film we produced showing what happens to a hapless young suitor who hasn't read our Essential Classics."

The list is as follows:

Inferno by Dante Alighieri

Walden by Henry David Thoreau

Oedipus Rex by Sophocles

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

The Odyssey by Homer

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

And they've put together a video series which will probably only ever be seen by geeks like me which features a really awkward, apparently improvised "at a party scene" featuring what seems to be an avid Will Farrell fan in the local college acting troupe who everyone in his classes thinks is a riot. Interspersed seem to be brief interviews with people found around the Penguin offices on each of the books.

Aside from the dorkiness of the video series, I think it's a fine idea. I could see an astute young person following the list and having a wonderful time. I don't even find myself disagreeing too much with the list although I probably would have replaced Walden with Leaves of Grass or something by Dickens. I can already hear Laurie's objection to 20% of the list comprising ancient Greeks, but I don't personally share her distaste for the ancient Greeks. You'll have to ask her about that. Also I've not read Jane Eyre but, as a testimony to the concept, this morning I find myself thinking more seriously about reading Jane Eyre than I probably ever have.

In fact, I can imagine this working very well. If a non-reader or nominal-reader followed Penguin's advice at the very least they would get a basic, crash literacy exposure. I have a hard time imagining one reading all ten of these books, brushing their hands and saying "well, that's done. Now I never have to read another classic." I would rather imagine it would ignite a lifelong thirst for great literature in anyone. For that, I applaud Penguin.

The only two problems I can see are 1) the authority of Penguin. Why exactly are they the ones who get the establish the Western Canon? Again, not that I have a problem with what they've done. Anyway and 2) again, I think the people who actually hear about this campaign are probably likely to already be readers of classics. I'm not sure Penguin really has the ear of the type of person they feature in their short video series. However, these are not really objections and I salute Penguin in their effort. I would be tempted to make my own 10 books every human should read, but I will not... No, actually, upon reflection, I think I may be pompous enough to actually do that. Stay tuned.

Books That Changed My Life

"My job is to help you fall in love."

In 1991 I was a dorky early teen. Never even kissed a girl, probably still was wearing t-shirts with superheroes on them, still very shy and sensitive. The book in question is partially a book that changed my life, although really it's more tied to a life changing event in my young life than a text which changed my life. The event and book I walked away with wasn't so much a time bomb as a neutron bomb. It's seeped into every corner of me in the years that followed.

I am also aware that thus far the books in this series have all been a little odd, not quite the best known. I assure you that I will get to the major works of, say, Twain, Dickens and Shakespeare in good time. Tonight I'm focusing on Green Shadows, White Whale which is a book by Ray Bradbury. But mainly it's about a night where that geeky young Paul went to see Ray Bradbury give a speech and left a changed young man.

The speaking event was at Chapman University, the university which years later I would end up earning a BFA from. It seems likely and fitting that that was the first time I'd ever set foot on that campus. My education began there in a lot of ways. Bradbury came onstage in his then signature white tennis outfit. I wish I had a recording of that night, but a few specifics burned into my brain. I remember him telling story about when he was a boy collecting the newspaper comic serials of Buck Rogers. He'd accumulated hundreds of them and had shoeboxes full of them. One day some of his peers made fun of him over it and he ran home and ripped up all of the comics. He said it was one of the great regrets of his whole life. From then on he realized he needed to be passionate about and interested in what he was passionate about and interested in, and that he shouldn't give a damn what other people thought. That's stuck with me. Although I've wrestled with "fear of man" issues, probably just like everyone does, that story left a life long impression on me.

He also talked about another theme that left a life long impression on me, and it's one that I even find myself writing about often on this very blog. That is that one should fill one's eyes and ears with greatness and curiosity - not with crap.

"Stuff your eyes with wonder, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories."

I'm sure there was a lot more, but those were the parts that stuck. I also seem to remember him being remarkably optimistic about the future which, coming from a house where the evening news was a nightly given, was like nothing I'd ever heard before.

After his speech he had a book signing. Lord bless him, he stayed until everyone who wanted to got to talk to him and, if memory serves, shy young Paul was one of the last people to dare to walk up to his signing table with a ratty old mass market paperback of The Machineries of Joy and a brand new copy, bought on site, of his new book Green Shadows, White Whale. I remember being extremely awkward and blubbering something about it being a wonderful night. I remember him shaking my hand and, Lord bless him, drawing me out a little in conversation with, as I've later heard is his habit, the realization that while he'd just had a huge long night, the person in front of him was meeting one of their heroes. I remember I did ask him the name of his cat which was in his author's photo in that period of his career (although I evolved as a reader, I was born a cat person.) He said its name was Tigger. I think the flier from the event is framed at my Mom's house and beside himself he signed his name and beside the cat he signed "Tigger." My copy of the book is signed in a sweeping signature on the fep in blue felt tip pen.

The book is a sort of autobiographical novel about his time in Ireland writing the screenplay for the Gregory Peck film version of Moby Dick. In it, he is a young, sensitive, highly imaginative author. He stands up to the bullyish John Huston character in a way that does not betray his own character (which also left a strong impression on the young me who had up to that point suffered a few bullies.) I remember the fantastic, almost magical realistic world of the Irish. If memory serves it's more of one of his "novels of many thematically similarly short stories strung together" and a bit episodic (like The Martian Chronicles or Dandelion Wine) rather than one of his from point A to point B books (like Fahrenheit 451 or Something Wicked This Way Comes.) It's a very good book and probably a bit unfair in not being one of his key texts. Although it's also probably not the first suggestion I would point someone unfamiliar with Bradbury to (that would probably be Fahrenheit 451), personal experience will always put this book in a special place for me.

In the years that have followed, Bradbury has always been one of my top authors. I can see my whole shelf of his books from here. I hardly go six months without reading one of his short stories out loud to Laurie, whether she likes it or not. I've read a good deal of his published works which is no small task. Bradbury has given me a lot unawares over the years. He's given me a writing ethic. He's encouraged me to always wonder, always ask, and always relish. He's also shown me a bold optimism that I constantly fail miserably to live up to, but continue to try.
Also, he provided a tether, a sort of a lifeline, through my teen years when peers and life were beating the people around me into dullards, preserving wonder for my own future. A line that extends back from me sitting right here and now back to a nerdy young man walking off a college campus on a warm Orange County night with distant clouds in his eyes with perhaps an occasional hint of lightning in them.

"Go to the edge of the cliff and jump off. Build your wings on the way down."

A Walking Tour of Bidwell Park

If you're anything like me (and I know I am) there are days where you've finished your errands and you feel the strong pull to put on a sweater and go walk where there are trees. In Chico we are blessed enough by the great foresight of our forerunners to have one of the 25 largest municipal parks in the country. Carved out in the middle of town is Bidwell Park, named for John and Annie Bidwell, the latter of whom donated the land to the city in 1905 with the stipulation that the land be preserved (They were close friends with John Muir. If you see pictures from my wedding ceremony, the area behind our flowered trellis and communion altar is Annie's Glen, a picnic area of the park named for Annie Bidwell. In fact they've just completed an underground tunnel which extends beneath Mangrove Ave. which connects the park on the other side and Annie's Glen. We drive over it a few times a day and every time I think "Hey, I haven't checked that out yet.") For the most part, the city of Chico has mercifully followed Annie's wish to preserve the area.
I took a walk to clear my head and because I've been meaning to get there to photograph the trees for weeks. Ever since I've moved here I've meant to, starting sometime in the Spring, find a spot in the park to go at the same time every day and take a picture. The trees are phenomenal in Bidwell Park.
A good deal of my visit was spent thinking how much I really should be raking our yard instead. Which I'm still thinking right now.

I used to go to Upper Park several times a week when I first moved to Chico. Upper Park is far less wooded, but has trails that wrap up into the hilly wild lands. About an hour of hiking and one can easily imagine being the last human on Earth. You can go up the steep North Rim Trail around a cliff face and by the time you get to the other side you'll find that very few people have the endurance or desire to make it that far.

Over to the right of the North Rim area is the Bear Hole area which is a pooling area in the creek. People, mainly intoxicated people in their early 20s, go there to swim. I've hiked past it once. There actually is a hole in the rocks at the bottom of the pool, which is the actual Hole in Bear Hole. About once a year a drunk gets it in their head that they can swim through that hole and they die at the bottom of that pool. When I hiked past it, needless to say stone sober at the time, I could see the attraction. It really looks like something one could drive down and swim through with ease like some inland Siren calling to feed your life to the creek.

There's also an observatory which is open something odd like clear Thursday nights. It's a decent little observatory and it's out there and there are signs on the road going to it instructing you to please turn off your headlights when driving up at night. The observatory is a more recent addition next to Horseshoe Lake and the Rod and Gun Club building, but far enough from the golf course that the telescope really should never be in danger of being hit by stray golf balls. At least I've never heard of that happening but I suppose one ought not underestimate golfers.

One Mile is flat and much more like you would imagine a municipal park. There are picnic areas (although next to the trees, as you can see in this picture, everything man-made often looks absurd and toy-like next to the magnificent trees), at one point the creek was encased for a length in concrete back in the 1920s to form a pool (although the fish ladder didn't come until the 1950s) which for some reason Chico novices actually swim in (most people know that the several miles of upstream creek are often campground and, not to put too fine a point on it, also a toilet for indigents. I remember one rather graphic story about one of the major churches in town holding a massive baptism in One Mile and everyone being baptized got Giardia. One finds oneself struggling and apparently failing to not make a joke about the theological position of that church.)

I tend to walk behind the Caper Acres Children's Playground, which was built in 1970 and is a fenced play park which features castles and slides and Humpty Dumpty sitting on a wall and a water fountain shaped like a lion and giant hunks of swiss cheese all made of concrete. They don't make play parks like that anymore where you can fall and hurt yourself and things are made of metal and I think we are all the poorer for it. I'm glad Caper Acres exists. Also on that path is the Campfire Boys and Girls Club Fire Pit, built in the the 1950s. The path goes toward the Freeway overpass which always makes me think that a really bitter battle was lost by someone at some point. Like a good deal of Chico, the overpass that passes through the park is one of the few parts of Bidwell Park I am of the opinion ought not be.

The 1930s Errol Flynn Robin Hood film was filmed in Bidwell Park. It's a hoot and a riot if you've never seen it. When they were filming, they built a building as sort of a dormitory for the actors (perhaps to regulate Flynn's movements and activities.) It's now the Youth With A Mission camp north of town. The road must be the original road and has never had a single pothole filled. I used to deliver there. It is the single worst road I've ever driven upon. The building is a wonderful pre-WWII "cabin" big enough to house dozens of people. Not to be crass, but I was always impressed that the bathrooms had all of their original fixtures and that, when using them, I was going somewhere that Errol Flynn went.

Sometimes I walk nearly all the way up to the Five Mile Area. One can take a nice forty minute stroll or one can take a four hour+ hike.

I cross the creek by the freeway overpass and go under. On the other side two roads diverge and I tend toward the unpaved one through the woods that's only wide enough to walk two abreast. Mountain bikes zip dangerously close to you. On the walk I realized about 10 minutes in that I not only had my camera on my person, but also one of the rare times I was carrying a large sum of cash for the business cards I'm having printed. One does hear stories of bad things happening in the park (although, as a testimony to our very good law enforcement community in Chico, I haven't heard any stories like that in a few years.) But sometimes there's something liberating about walking through a secluded area with a large sum of money and getting yourself to the place where you have no fear.





















So often, if you go on the unpaved paths and especially on sparsely populated weekdays, you'll turn a corner to a scene that seems like you're likely to meet a hobbit at any moment.
You will also meet wildlife. You'll see hawks, woodpeckers, blue jays, sparrows and vultures instead of the pigeons you see in town. You may happen upon deer, squirrels, coyotes, abandoned cats, and even I am told on occasion in upper park, bears.
And there's a certain time of year when the caterpillars come out en masse.



Chico has a lot of iconic locations. While you see them every day you find if you live here for any length those locations start to become part of your life. The iconic Hotel Diamond is where we spent our wedding night. The alley behind is where, on Saturdays, our friend Augie gives yo-yo lessons out the back door of Bird in Hand. Big Al's, the 1960s burger joint where Laurie and I have probably eaten more often than any other eatery in Chico, is also where we had our rehearsal dinner. Not all of your memories may be good, but that's part of the benefits of iconic and enduring place. You can make new memories there as well.


The stump in this picture is where I sat when I proposed to Laurie.








I walk past it every time I walk in One Mile.





Here's what it looks like from the path. I proposed over on the right hand side. That was a nervous moment in both of our lives. I noticed the lovely yellow leaves on the tree behind it.














And, as is so often the case in natural settings, especially in the autumn, you'll suddenly find yourself facing something absolutely stunning. The yellow tree in the center of the picture stopped me in my tracks.















We have such a wonderful resource in Bidwell Park. When I go too long without partaking in this resource I feel as if I'm wasting a wonderful opportunity. Like being poor and desiring to read but never going to the library or being laid off and broke but not applying for unemployment benefits. We need to be out in the wild areas like this or our soul goes all wonky. We forget the important things. We forget to live. Bi-secting the middle of Chico is a vast reminder.

We need to remind ourselves, as we go around in our mad and dinky little lives, that somewhere all the while there are trees, there is a creek running, there are birds pecking trees and there probably still will be when all of your nonsense is finally over.
To me there is never a moment wasted in Bidwell Park.

Book Review- Liquor by Poppy Z. Brite

I've just had a wonderful reading experience that left me walking 4 inches above the pavement for the rest of the day. This has been a very good year for books for me, although I'm sure people are getting a little sick of each time I read a book hearing me say, "No, really, you must go right out right now and get this book and read it. No, don't stop to put pants on. Really." Poppy Z. Brite wrote a wonderful novel in 2003 (yes, I'm a little late to the party, but please do bear in mind that I recently reviewed a 160 year old book) called Liquor. It is a fantastic book and, yes, I think everyone should read it.

The story takes place in New Orleans. As usual I don't want to give away too much, but it revolves... mainly around a character named Rickey, although the Third Person's eye wanders to other major characters, and meanwhiles, and characters in the periphery, fleshing out the lives of the supporting characters as well. But I do think the story is mainly Rickey's journey; and it's a bit of a rite of passage into a fullness of person-hood story for him. It's mainly about Rickey and his partner G-Man's journey from being unemployed line cooks to opening their own restaurant. There are many problems and stumbling blocks along the way as one would expect (many of which are actually stumbled over.) There are a few conventions that in the hands of a lesser story teller might have grated on me. For example, there is a wealthy man who swoops in bleeding money early on, but the character is so well done, so well fleshed out, with sharp edges and history, vast plains of moral grey areas in his character, personal goals that benefit those who serve his desires and destroy those who are in his way, that his parts were actually some of my favorite parts of the book. The chapters that follow the antagonist are so well done taking us right into the brain and reasoning of a very creepy and ugly character. I marveled at how well that terrible little man's terrible little brain is expressed, especially as one comes to, at the very least, an understanding, if not empathy, for why he is the mess that he is. The book is dark and gritty and, occasionally, a bit gruesome, even a bit on the macho side although not in a contrived way, but it really has the feeling of a walking tour or a well made documentary more than a novel. It was incredible in the narrative's plausibility.

There are many side notes about "a guy who..." or glimpses into the thoughts of the guy who owns the bar in the middle of the book, or regional bits about what the high school a local went to says about them to other locals. On a strictly technical level, you don't really need to know these things for the sake of forwarding the story, but it by no means detracts, and really makes the world so much richer. So, in a way, and I think Brite must have been fully aware of this, these seemingly throw-away side bits are absolutely essential to the story. Again, much like I said about Kiernan's, The Red Tree, while on the surface there seem to be digressions, I ardently feel that not a word was wasted. It all flavors the tone, which is of the essence. One of my favorite side bits, the guy in the family run fine dining grocery supply store who finds great joy in researching and relating encyclopedic knowledge about the items they sell. Fantastic. If anything, one of the most interesting characters in the book is the third person narrator, which is to say, Brite herself.

Having worked in produce delivery, I was very much reminded of some of the fine dining kitchens I've witnessed - the fevered pace, the high emotions, the tendency to be working with people who either love one another closer than family or always want to kill one another (and sometimes they do), the foul language and rampant vice. There's a stark honesty in the world of kitchens. Two of the characters put me in mind of two men I knew in those days so much that my brain, actually quite by subconscious, cast them as those characters. Lenny, in my brain, was one of the chef's of Johnnie's in the Hotel Diamond, except with hair. She really does take you into the restaurant kitchen. The book should serve to further ignite foodies and create new ones. It's the perfect example of a modern novelist at full command of her craft.

I haven't followed her career too closely, and Liquor was one I've meant to read, but hadn't, for six years now. I was the poorer unawares. Brite first appeared on my reading radar when I was in high school with her novel, Lost Souls. I read it while I was in high school and, while I can still recall a few scenes from it, which speaks to her capability as a writer even then, in all honesty I have no interest in her earlier horror work anymore.

Liquor is kind of her Swordfishtrombones album or her Stardust Memories in that she had established herself in a genre and then began with Liquor writing books distinctly not in that genre at all. Suddenly from one book to the next it was in an entirely different gear. Although I'm not sure that's entirely correct. There was apparently a book called The Value of X, which follows some of the major characters chronologically before Liquor which I believe came out first. Next in the series is Prime and then Soul Kitchen. Series is probably the wrong term for me to use as this and, as I understand it, each of them stands on its own as a book, and while some of the characters recur one does not need to have read anything else by her to fully enjoy this book as a work of art. There is word that there are three more to come; although through a quick wiki-search I see that Brite has declared a writing hiatus.

Something I do not understand is why this novel was not her breakthrough. Or, rather, I assume it wasn't from my experience. I have no idea why everyone isn't reading this and why, instead, they are reading the sort of things they seem to be reading (or are at the very least buying new. It occurs to me that people may not be reading at all. Gatsby's so clever he's even cut the pages!) I finished reading and ran right out, while my copy of Liquor was still warm from my hands, to buy Prime. I'm in a large college town and could not find a copy. Nor could I find a copy of anything besides Liquor by her. It really should not be that I bought my copy new from the major chain bookstore's shelf in 2009 and it was a first edition from 2003. That alone was a bit of a shock into awareness that reading in America, or at the very least in Chico, is in a bad way in this particular period of history.
Finally I ordered Prime from Lyon Books, the local new bookstore, but I was struck by how much crap is readily available while something like this is a challenge to find. This ought not be. I would highly encourage everyone reading this not only to purchase yourself up a copy, but also to harangue your nearest bookseller for not having her books in stock.

Of course, all of that should change now as I officially award the book the Paul Mathers Award of Literary Merit which further editions can put the little medallion on the cover. You all know the P.M.A.L.M is awarded to books that I think everyone should read and should be in print indefinitely. You also all know that so far the award has caught on with nobody, but that's not going to stop me from giving it out.

Personally I think Liquor is one of the better novels I've read in years. And I say that even after some of the recent novels I've been gushing over on this blog. It is as good as books in the contemporary novel form get. While it's not reinventing the form in any way, I do think I very well may have just finished a contemporary novel that will be read hundreds of years from now. I do not say that often or lightly. I also think the book could potentially have a profound effect on you. I think it could awaken a strong desire for you to cook, to visit New Orleans, to open a restaurant or to decidedly never want to open a restaurant.

I do hope that Brite does not take a very long hiatus. In fact I hope her next one is released right around the time I've caught up with these books I've only just discovered. Regardless of what happens in the future, Poppy Z. Brite has written a fine novel in Liquor.

Hymnal Dipping

I thought I might start another feature on this blog as I really enjoy starting new features. The other night Laurie and I were listening to a sermon by Arturo G. Azurdia III where he mentioned going to his church early one morning and, upon finding himself alone in the building, started belting out hymns in the empty sanctuary, only to be met a few minutes later by a repair man checking to see what the ruckus was about.
I picked up one of our hymnals the other week to look through the hymns, become more familiar with some, cement the lyrics in my brain of some of my more favorite, and possibly do a little research on some favorites as well. As usual when I get excited about something I want to share.
I'm beginning to notice that I seem to have a favorite time period and style. It probably has more to do with the church in which I grew up where the people who were old in the 1980s favored the sort of hymns they used to hear on the radio when they were young. The sort of hymn that lends itself easily to Dixieland versions. I am sort of a young fogey in case you didn't know. My friend Charles once told me that I had the most extensive knowledge of pre-WWI popular music out of anyone he knew. Anyway, I love the old hymns because of their tunefulness and because the lyrics tend to be little theology lessons.
As I began a post on a hymn I went to The Family of God, Because He Lives, Leaning on the Everlasting Arms, The Church in the Wildwood and finally settled on one I find myself humming and singing a lot, which is His Eye Is On The Sparrow. I love that old hymn.

The lyrics were inspired by Matthew 10:29 in which Christ offers these words of great comfort which have stuck with me through this horrible Recession, "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows."
It's a portrait of a sovereign God who, while unfathomably vast, also is concerned with and in full command of the minutiae. It's such a comfort to me in what appears to be a Universe of so much chaos and defeat to know that God is in control and that we know from His word that He works all things out to good.

The hymn was written in 1905 by Civilla D. Martin with music by Charles H. Gabriel. Civilla Martin wrote about the inspiration for the song, "Early in the spring of 1905, my hus­band and I were so­journ­ing in El­mi­ra, New York. We con­tract­ed a deep friend­ship for a cou­ple by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Doo­lit­tle—true saints of God. Mrs. Doo­lit­tle had been bed­rid­den for nigh twen­ty years. Her hus­band was an in­cur­a­ble crip­ple who had to pro­pel him­self to and from his bus­i­ness in a wheel chair. De­spite their af­flict­ions, they lived hap­py Christ­ian lives, bring­ing in­spir­a­tion and com­fort to all who knew them. One day while we were vi­sit­ing with the Doo­lit­tles, my hus­band com­ment­ed on their bright hope­ful­ness and asked them for the se­cret of it. Mrs. Doo­lit­tle’s re­ply was sim­ple: "His eye is on the spar­row, and I know He watch­es me." The beau­ty of this sim­ple ex­press­ion of bound­less faith gripped the hearts and fired the imag­in­a­tion of Dr. Mar­tin and me. The hymn "His Eye Is on the Spar­row" was the out­come of that ex­per­i­ence."

I wasn't sure which version to post here as there are so many wonderful versions out there. I found a Dixieland one, but the video quality wasn't the best. There's this wonderful version I remembered from A Prairie Home Companion although it takes about 5 minutes or so into the clip before you get to the song. But it's a nice version and you clearly didn't have anything better to do for the next 15 minutes or else you wouldn't be reading my blog.
Ethel Waters, of course, was well known for her renditions of this hymn but, to my surprise, the only versions I could find on Youtube only included the first verse. But I know and love this version from Jessi Colter's Out of the Ashes album from a few years ago, so I went with that one.

New Church Photos

As I strive to be known as a man of his word, you will, of course, recall I had promised pictures of our new church building. You can see the stained glass windows clearly in this photo in case you hadn't noticed.














This is the actual building from the street outside. Our chapel is the back 1/3rd of the building. The large front portion is a much larger sanctuary which, on Sunday, houses another Reformed church. Although I think they're Dutch Reformed.














Here is the lovely and well kept garden I mentioned. To the left would be a great patch of flowers. Alyssum and zinnias. Also a fountain.

My friend Paul and I admiring the garden. If you kind of squint you can see the base of the fountain behind the tree to the right of me. I'm the tubby guy in cold wash colors.

Here's the kitchen which connects the social hall to the chapel. I can't get over the floor! The social hall appears it seat even more than our chapel. We're planning on using it for pot lucks and I'm assuming that's where we will hold our Sunday School classes (of which I am teaching another church history series starting in a few weeks. I'm starting with J.S. Bach and I'm still not entirely decided on where to stop. I'm open to suggestions. I'm imagining I'll stop with a topic that I can argue was "the birth of the modern" but I'm still a little unsure of where that falls exactly. Lewis, Barth or even Schweitzer seem a bit late and I don't wish to bite off more than I can chew. I have three weeks or so to decide.)














And here's the chapel as it would look if you were to come in and find Bryan Gumpy and I chatting onstage behind the pulpit with my mother standing at the base of the stairs.














Here's how it looks without people in the picture. I'm very fond of the communion altar. Also the retro vase stands.















Here's how the chapel looks from right when you enter in the back. As you can see, we can probably seat between 100 and 150.














And, apropos of nothing, here's a nice picture of my wife and I at my brother's house.

The Ethics of Bookbuying

I had an unusual quandary to extricate myself from this afternoon, one that I would hazard a guess falls neatly into the "kind of problems you want to have" column. Laurie and I went to the major chain bookstore in town in solidarity with my middle niece. My middle niece's ballet troupe was performing a small sampler show in the children's section of same bookseller as a fund raiser. They had their show and then, if you bought a book and told the people at the counter you wished to support the troupe, the store would give a portion of the sale to the dance troupe (and neatly write-off the charitable donation this near to the fiscal year's end.)
Of course, it takes little to compel me to buy a book, especially when my parents are in town and went even the further step to pay for the books that we wanted. In essence, I was told "Go and pick out a book."

This happens to me more often than you'd think. I think it's partly because we're poor and partly because we are surrounded by people who love us. So often I am given a sum of money as a gift with the stipulation that it is to be spent on books (because otherwise I will use it to pay bills.)

So, I've been on an Evelyn Waugh kick lately; and the other day I almost picked up a copy of Brideshead Revisited, but stopped, mainly because the cover was from a recent film adaptation and I found myself not terribly interested in carrying around a book with such a horrible cover. I mean, I've done it before, I've lashed myself to great books with embarrassing covers, but I was sure with such a classic I could do better vis a vis cover design. Today, finding myself in that position, I did indeed find one I could stomach a little more. But then I wandered the shelves and walked past I book I'd been meaning to read for a long time and I ended up purchasing that instead.

The book I bought was Liquor, by Poppy Z. Brite. She is a fantastic author. She, like many other modern authors, has an online presence and often lets readers see into the life of the author to some extent. Many of you know that I am a fan of author Caitlin R. Kiernan . In fact I would, apologetically to the wounded party, probably say I am an even bigger fan of Ms. Kiernan's work than I am of Ms. Brite's work (although this is purely personal taste and by no means meant as any form of denigration of the brilliant work of Ms. Brite. I would heartily state that both are of the finest writers working today. It's simply a matter of if I were given a choice between a Kiernan novel and a Brite novel, I would personally probably gravitate toward Kiernan first. Recommendation wise I would endorse either with equal gusto to anyone. And anyway at least with Brite's more recent foodie fiction, we're talking apples and oranges here with the standard intentional pun). Kiernan similarly has a very strong web presence and often writes on the subject of the life of a professional writer. What so often strikes me about them is that they both have written works known the world over. They are some of the greatest living professional authors, and yet they are unable to seek medical attention when they need it. They are selling autographed copies of their books on e-Bay to make rent. I recently bought a t-shirt of Kiernan's new (and fantastic) book, The Red Tree, which my step-daughter often notes I seem to be wearing almost every time she sees me nowadays.

These authors are still struggling to keep the electricity on; and these are even people with moderate names in the business who get interviewed in major magazines. Also out there are some people I actually know personally, like Robert H. Morris or Brendan Constantine (or me!) who do not have works published by major publishers and whom you actually have to seek out to buy their books. People who not only have to have day jobs, but really have little to no hope of ever being "discovered." One begins to realize that there are not only lost masterpieces out there in the dunes of time, they are as many as the grains of sand on said dunes. Which is part of why I highly encourage everyone to sift through smaller presses like Soft Skull or Black Sparrow or even smaller, underground ones which print books as good if not better than you will find elsewhere.

On the other side of that coin is the used book seller, of which I am one. I personally do not sell the works of Kiernan or Brite, partially because I want people to buy their work new, but also because I tend to keep anything I find by them for myself. Most of what I read are found in the category of "Classics" in bookstores which means they were largely written by people who are now dead. I have no moral qualms whatsoever about buying those books used or borrowing them from the library. In fact, let me get the library out of the way here. I have no problem borrowing anything by anybody from the library as 1) I am too poor to buy every new book that is out there, 2) a book in the library is a book that was bought, and 3) a book in the library is a book that could be picked up by anyone, enjoyed, and other books by that author are then sought out.

But one thing that you should know is if a text is from WWI or before, the text is most likely public domain. Which means that the publisher is making nearly pure profit off of the text. Although in the fantasy universe where I am filthy rich I would buy the entire catalog from Modern Library and Everyman's Library because, my goodness, but they print gorgeous books, I don't tend to buy them new in this reality. Although I would be more than pleased to receive anything from either of those publishers as gifts.

I will say that again. I would be more than pleased to receive anything from either of those publishers as gifts

Now, the book world is not a huge world in this time and place. As I've said, I tend to read classics mainly because time's refining fire seems to have largely made the gold easier to find as the dross has burnt off. In any modern age there will be a surfeit of crappy books as publishers throw things against the wall to see what sticks. It's more difficult to find the greatness, although I would hasten to add that this is not an excuse for laziness in the reader. The reader ought to dig for the gold. Especially since someone out there might be starving for your book dollar, your economic vote toward their continued existence as an author.

I'm also not talking about New York Times bestsellers. David Sedaris, as much as I love his work, can probably demand around 10 grand or more for a speaking engagement. Morality is not a movable feast, but I would point out that there is a subtle shift here that one might note. I can tell you that the used book seller is not a wealthy man. I can also tell you that having your book on the New York Times bestseller list generates a lot of money around your work. Unfortunately I cannot tell you this from experience.

And here we hit a little choppy waters ethically speaking. One ought not seek a career as an author for fame and fortune, but sometimes (rarely) they find them just the same. If someone is on the New York Times bestseller list, I really don't have much of a personal problem with buying their books used as the used bookseller probably is a bit more needy than the author at that point. But there are also exceptions to that personal rule of mine, especially if I can cast my economic vote. Recently I bought a copy of Neil Gaiman's, The Graveyard Book, in hopes of casting one vote toward him staying on that list another week (and, hopefully, casting my one vote against the Sarah Palin "book" which also came out that week.)

This doesn't even touch on the ethics of publishers and literary agents. Or of eBooks although the ethics of those really ought to be exactly the same as the ethics of hard copies. Plus I am of the semi-Luddite group who believes that eBooks will never really take off or, at the very least, shall never surpass tangible books, which are one of the most wonderful things human beings have ever come up with. I would not turn down the gift of an e-Book reader, but I think I will probably one day die as I've lived, with my living space full of books.

Heck, I would like to see a society where art and literature are created out of the abundance of the hearts of the artist with no need for concern over their own welfare, because the society recognizes what they are doing as valuable. Which brings me around to my larger point. You've probably noticed that I don't have a lot of clear-cut answers. But I do have one. Everyone should read. Everyone should kill their televisions. They are not helping at all. Everyone should spend less time on the internet. Everyone should bring a book, carry it with them everywhere, read passionately and insatiably. Reading should become one of the hippest things one can do; and I'm even willing to say that people who do not read and remain willfully ignorant should probably be social outcasts. As it stands, rather the opposite is true. We live in an anti-intellectual and willfully ignorant time. I really do think that if most of the people read more the world would be a much better place. So, in the end, the real ethic of book buying that I want to proclaim and proselytize is simply this: Buy and read books. Lots of them. Give them as gifts. Talk about them constantly. Discover and grow. It's one of the better things you can do for yourself and for the world.
Good books, that is. There is such a small percentage of people reading and a small percentage of those are reading good books. Read good books. In fact, only read great books. That is my advice to you. Read great books and be noisy about it.

Book Review- R. Crumb's Book of Genesis Illustrated

"Noah was a drinker. Abraham was a liar. Sarah was a manipulator. Lot was a compromiser. Jacob was a deceiver. Job was arrogant. Moses was hot-tempered. Joshua was undiscerning. Gideon was idolatrous. Sampson was lustful. Eli was passive. Saul was insecure. David was violent. Solomon was a hedonist. Elijah was given to self-centeredness. Jonah was given to racism. Isaiah was given to evil speaking. Jeremiah was given to complaining."
- Arturo G. Azurdia III
(as a pure parenthetical, having nothing to do with the rest of this review, to point others toward another thing I've been excited about recently, some of the better sermon series I've heard in the past year are Azurdia's series on Revelation and Steve Brown's series on radical grace. Both of which I would recommend to anyone.)

The above quote serves to illustrate the vast imperfections of the Fathers of the Faith. They were gritty and flawed like all flesh, like all of us. They failed in ways that all of us fail (which also points to the need for a Savior.) In a church culture that favors the pastel-colored, soft-edged nursery wall version of Noah's Ark, rather than a devastating image of God's wrath, it is not difficult to see why it's easy to lose track of the earthiness of the core text. It's also easy in such a climate to lose a personal, visceral connection with the text. Enter Robert Crumb.

The book I'm reviewing, for those of you who don't know, is an illustrated version of the book of Genesis, in the fashion of a graphic novel, by a very well known underground comics artist who made his career in the 1960s and '70s. His famous characters include Fritz the Cat and Mr. Natural, also the "Keep on Truckin'" guy. He's one of those anti-establishment artists who has stuck around long enough to become an establishment artist through time and no effort of his own. Once his work got banned, now his work gets national awards. Some of his more well known works include themes of sex and drugs. Also his earlier work was marked by a zany sense of humor. The marketing push of this particular volume might have surprised some old fans who hadn't been following his career very closely.
Which unfortunately leads me right off the bat to one of my criticisms of the book. My two main criticisms are the introduction and the commentary which serves as the afterward. The introduction read a bit to me like Crumb taking great pains to assure his audience that this is not his "Slow Train Coming" album. He looked at the project as a straight illustration job and in that I think he mainly succeeded. He also points out that other illustrated Bible texts, largely put out by religious artists funded by religious institutions, tend to add or remove parts for clarity or doctrinal agendas by people who would otherwise claim the text to be divinely inspired. Crumb does not believe this text to be divinely inspired, yet he has not deviated from the text at all as far as he knows (Crumb also wasn't commissioned by a church. He chose the material himself.) I found Crumb's introduction a little frustrating, first of all with what I thought was a craven need to explain himself to his fans; but more to the point, the work should be able to stand if no one knew who R. Crumb was. The art speaks for itself. I found the introduction superfluous.

Since I've hit the criticism portion of my review, let's get the other one out of the way and then I can get on to the praise. The commentary in the back I found embarrassing. Crumb reveals himself to be anything but an expert on the material, he cites pop-vaguely-spiritualized books on biblical figures that would be laughed out of even the most liberal archeology departments of universities. He writes, in my assessment, like a man who was turned on to Steinem era feminism 40 years ago, has stuck to that point of view without the slightest change ever since, and may even be trying to impress a particular audience. I mean at this point in history calling God in scripture "patriarchal" is a fusty old statement borne from a gross misunderstanding of the character revealed in the text. He also does the now age old bait and switch of siting "many scholars" and stating the these stories are an amalgam of several early Sumerian texts without providing a lick of evidence. The mentions of the struggle between the matriarchal and patriarchal seem like he was referring to the different book than the one I just read.

Having said that, I don't think Crumb is seeking to offend anyone, and it's his book. He can say whatever he wants in his commentary and, as far as biblical criticism goes, it's pretty tame by today's standards. Again, even to the point where I personally found it unnecessary.

He approached the project as a serious work of art; and I think he absolutely succeeds magnificently. I think he approached the text with reverence and an attempt at accuracy and even says as much in the commentary. There are no visual jokes and nothing I found disrespectful to the narrative. I don't think the sex and violence is meant to rub believers' nose in what actually is written in their sacred text. If a believer reacts in that way, as some seem to already have, I would suggest that they may want to seek a fuller knowledge on what Genesis actually says. There is nudity, lust and sex, there is gruesome murder and war, there is death, drowning and famine. Crumb illustrates exactly what is written in the text and Adam and Eve do not magically find themselves behind bushes until they discover the necessity of fig leaves. Personally I applaud Crumb for it, not out of any love for the darker sides of life, but for his honesty in his art. I'm not sure what it says about the church that we would never allow such honesty in our own illustrations (although I get that there are usually children present in churches and that has a lot to do with it.)

Crumb's theological ignorance very rarely comes through. There are a few moments, for example when God says right after the Fall "Now that the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil, he might reach out and take as well from The Tree of Life and live forever," God has an expression like it's a terrible epiphany for Him, complete with hand over mouth. As though God were surprised. But really that's one of the very few examples I can come up with.

Another thing I would point out to my fellow believers out there if any still remain skeptical, I would remind you that if we relied solely on believers for religious art, we would have little and the bulk of it of poor, toothless quality. Compare Thomas Kinkade, that horrid mass producer of mediocrities, to Michelangelo or Da Vinci. Now look up some biographical information on Michelangelo or Da Vinci. Which gives me the opportunity to once again make one of my favorite arguments that a great work of art should continue to be as great (or even greater) a work of art if you remove the artist's signature.

The book itself is a masterpiece.
He used a strange mixture of Robert Alter's Five Books of Moses Translation and the King James Version of the Bible. The former being a modern, slightly loose translation and the latter being what I imagine Crumb would see as an appeal to an authoritative text. It works and it works well for his purposes. I think Crumb does better with an external script. In his own work, his writing can be a bit awkward, in my opinion, but he shines when he has Moses or Harvey Pekar writing his script.

The art is stunning. The detail is gorgeous and the expressions are compelling, often even heartbreaking. I think Alan Moore is the only other comic medium artist that has brought tears to my eyes. Crumb even takes the time to draw a portrait of each name in the genealogical lists, making even those sections engaging.

Abraham and Isaac on Mt. Moriah, Jacob's ladder, the flood, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and the destruction of Sodom especially stick out to me as staggering. This is an artist in the fullness of his craft and genius. When God tells Noah of the coming flood, when Israel comes to Joseph, the heartbreak of Hagar, the wicked men of Sodom, the dread of the baker and cup bearer in prison with Joseph and so much more are marked with such subtle and so very real emotions in the faces of the characters. Even God is made awesome even while retaining the archetypal anthropomorphism of an old man with a flowing beard.

I would recommend this book to anyone. Heartily in fact, I would urge you to have a copy in your library. As I've said, this is bound to be one of Crumb's masterpieces. It is a wonderful book. It captures the humanity and the very raw nerve emotional content of the text. It strives to be honest and the very few bits I personally felt were mis-steps still served as rich conversation starters in my house.

In his winter years, Crumb has produced a fresh and masterful piece of religious art. Crumb continues in his anti-establishment career because who else in the art establishment is making fresh and masterful religious art in 2009?

New church building

With an uncharacteristic lack of foresight, I forgot to bring my camera to the new church building this morning. My father did bring his camera and, of course, there's always next week, so you have my word that I shall post pictures of the new facility as soon as I have them. It was an exciting and wonderful morning, so I thought I would take a few moments to talk about it here.

The chapel itself would hold around 100 to 150 people (we currently weigh in at a modest 30ish.) The design is a church built and furnished somewhere between 1940 and 1990 (in usual church style, style is slow to change and therefore hard to guess exact dates.) It's very nice. It is clearly a multi-million dollar facility. The dark varnish wood of the altar, ceiling and side panels, the rock wall behind the altar, the white walls and the stained glass speak to days gone by, which fits very well with our church's tone, as well as the slightly laid back small chapel feel. The pews and carpet are an Emerald City green, but are right on the line of being ready for new upholstery. There is an altar, a pulpit, and an upright piano which one would imagine a lady in her 80s with hair the blue of the sun-bleached stained glass would be very much at home pounding out "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" or "The Family of God" to the enthusiastic voices of a venerable and well dressed congregation. Needless to say it reminds me very much of the 100 year old church I grew up in.

There is a breathtaking garden in the center of the campus (and a very old oak in the school campus across the parking lot which I would be shocked to learn if it wasn't around when John Bidwell was in Chico.) There is a fountain, a wide variety of flowers, a well manicured lawn and perhaps the greatest testimony to the conscientiousness of the gardener, an olive tree in full fruit without a single olive on the ground. Living in the section of town where I live, this garden is like a little slice of Calvin's Geneva for me. It's a beautiful, meditative place, as I would suggest a church probably ought to be.

Another Reformed Church meets in the main sanctuary and I am told that they are even more strictly Reformed than we.

We have access to the ample kitchen and a surprisingly large social hall. One of my favorite details was the bathrooms. They are clearly over 25 years old, for the use of the public, and have never known the harsh touch of the graffiti hand. One has the sense when one is using it that it may have been days since another human has set foot in them. In the hallway there is a series of sketches which served as perfect conversation pieces within our group. The drawings are of Jesus in various places highlighting aspects of His character. The two that were most surprising was the one of Jesus as a defender which featured Him looking very angry over a dead or wounded puppy. The other was of Jesus the compassionate and was a picture of Him reading a modern newspaper and weeping.

It was Reformation Sunday so we sang "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." I do the scripture reading and it was kind of a humbling moment for me to mount the green carpeted steps to the pulpit and read the Messianic Prophetic words of Isaiah. Pat preached on Grace. It was a wonderful Sunday morning.

I understand that a church can meet anywhere and that the church is not the building. Having said that, it's truly a wonderful thing to meet in a building that was built with divine worship as the function.