After reading Francis de Sales' work on essentially the same topics, this book was very disappointing. I have very little good to say about it, to the...moreAfter reading Francis de Sales' work on essentially the same topics, this book was very disappointing. I have very little good to say about it, to the point that I have to intersperse my positive comments among my negative comments. I shall endeavor to be as succinct as possible.
There are a number of typos in this book; there is inconsistent capitalization of divine pronouns (at one place "he," at another "He," both referring to God or Jesus Christ), missing prepositions, mistyped words ("is" instead of "it" or vice versa), and even one place where "whom" is written, but it really should be "who." And in the title itself, "is" should be capitalized. (For anyone grammatically minded, the title is not otherwise incorrect; even though Mr. Rose did not use the subjunctive "If Protestantism Were True," he poses his arguments as factual, not counterfactual, so the indicative "If Protestantism Is True" is correct.)
Other than typography, there are two root issues in this book which pervade its content and produce every other complaint I have. These are the problems of audience and rhetoric.
Mr. Rose cannot seem to decide on his audience. Superficially, he is writing to curious Protestants, trying to convince them of the truth of Catholicism, but very little of the book seems effectively geared toward this purpose. In many places, it is much better suited to convincing Catholics to remain Catholic (i.e., not to become Protestant). Elsewhere, he seems to be admonishing Catholic educators for their shortcomings, and exhorting them to improve the catechesis of the faithful. In no place does he seem assured of his audience; if he doesn't know to whom he's writing, how can I know if he's writing to me?
The second root issue is his rhetoric. This stems from the nature of his argumentation. Everything seems framed in a system of skepticism and incredulity, logically questioning every thought and doctrine until it proves itself. Probably, this comes from Mr. Rose's youth as a staunch atheist, as well as the process by which he became Christian, then Catholic specifically. While that is unsurprising, Mr. Rose should realize that very few people fit into this mold. In fact, most people - especially religious and spiritual people of the evangelical Christian variety - think in purely emotional terms. "How does this make me feel?" they ask, or, "Does this offend my sensibilities?" Most people do not stop to consider the logical ramifications of their position, because to do so would often be unpleasant.
In short, this book is the author's personal conversion experience masquerading as rhetoric.
Keeping in mind this disconnect in argumentative style (logical versus emotional), what Mr. Rose intends to be distant and methodical comes off as a harsh invective against Protestant theology. He uses evocative and emotional terms to describe (or, more accurately, ridicule) theological points. He does, on occasion, show a great deal of respect for Protestants and their efforts, but his manner of doing so reminds me of the old saying, "Love the sinner, but hate the sin." He often praises Protestant endeavors to expand and strengthen the Kingdom of God (although it seems to me he should have opened the book with that praise, but he did not). Yet at the same time, much of the book (especially any paragraph that follows the phrase, "If Protestantism is true," in italics) is a reductio ad absurdum for nearly every Protestant belief or argument. The book does not engage with genuine issues, but mocks straw men. This sort of under-the-belt treatment suggests that Catholicism is not strong enough to stand on its own, but must be defended by "fighting dirty" with fallacious arguments.
Another downside of this book being based entirely on his personal experience is his ignorance of Protestant belief. According to this book, he spent approximately one year as a Protestant, and since that time has been a Catholic for ten years. He has done extensive reading on the subject, but he barely lived his Protestant beliefs day-to-day. As a result, he does not understand the way born-and-bred Protestants think (or, at least, not as well as he thinks he does).
A major issue is his inherent misunderstanding of the Protestant view of authority. As suggested by his conclusion, most of the book is enforcing the notion that authority must exist, and must be followed. He emphasizes over and over against a series of arguments from origin, implying or claiming that if someone accepts the teachings of one person or group (such as Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, or the Anabaptists), that someone must accept all other teachings of that person or group as well. For example, if one rejects the perpetual virginity of Mary, as some Anabaptists did, one must also deny discussion of the Trinity, as some Anabaptists did. This is directly contrary to the very notion of Protestantism, i.e., that each Christian must decide for him-/herself what to believe.
Beyond that, he also lacks studious knowledge of Protestant theological doctrines. Some Protestant groups, for example, support prima Scriptura, the idea that Scripture is first among theological authorities, and that all other (potential) authorities must be measured by it. This is separate and distinct from sola Scriptura, which Mr. Rose ascribes to all Protestants, but more accurately describes only the Anabaptists and their intellectual descendants.
In another place, he points out that Protestants attest that public revelation ceased with the death of the last Apostle, but claims that they do so with absolutely no Scriptural backing (and he spends two pages admonishing them for this). Clearly, he hasn't read Revelation 22:19 or the many relevant interpretations thereof.
And then, ironically, he accuses Protestants at large (and even mentions one by name) of being as ignorant and insulting as he is.
There are still more rhetorical blunders among the pages of this small book. Let me close with just a few:
While it is emotionally and spiritually painful to consider, the idea that your opponent's position would condemn millions of souls to Hell is not, in and of itself, an argument - yet Mr. Rose uses it as such on numerous occasions.
In one place, he is quick to point out that the Scriptures did not exist as such until long after the death of the last Apostle - and yet, in another place, he acts as if John knew that his letters would become sacred Scripture, and that Apostle neglecting to include information in that letter meant that Tradition must be true. There are reasoned, Scriptural arguments in favor of Tradition; this isn't one of them.
On a related note, he claims that Protestants dismiss unwritten sermons as "unknowable," that their content was unimportant and therefore irrelevant. In so doing, Mr. Rose ignores that the Catholic Church, when deciding the New Testament canon, had certain writings of the Apostles (notably Paul) and determined them to be unnecessary for sacred Scripture. The Apostle Paul wrote four letters to the church in Corinth, yet Scripture preserves only the first and the fourth (which we now call 1 and 2 Corinthians). If the Church left certain apostolic writings out of the canon, might it not be that God intended for a certain sermon to be left out? So may go a Protestant counter-argument.
Ironically, Mr. Rose concludes his book by encouraging his readers to follow the Protestant model of authority, and decide for themselves where the fullness of truth resides.
Mr. Rose's work is indicative of the mindset many Catholics have toward Protestant Christians. While this book may be useful to convince Catholics not to fall away from the Church, it is not likely to be effective among Protestants who are not already questioning everything they believe.(less)
This was not an easy read, though not on account of the text. Francis de Sales' work requires a certain philosophical mindset, but it is excellently w...moreThis was not an easy read, though not on account of the text. Francis de Sales' work requires a certain philosophical mindset, but it is excellently written and addresses each topic specifically for the layman. Rather, this was difficult to read because in many places, it has opposed my own beliefs; even so, I will strive not to address matters of faith except insofar as they relate to this review.
Let me start with the negative points. This book is originally a collection of letters, with numerous author's notes, ideas, and self-editing appended. As such, it does not always flow naturally. Some of the chapters seem to follow from the last, while others seem arbitrary, and occasionally, the editor will include an author's note about wanting to add such-and-such a chapter where none is included. Also, the end of the book lacks any sense of finality; there is no summation, no conclusion. In the context of a series of letters, such a conclusion would make little sense, but in the context of an argumentative book, its absence leaves the reader wishing for closure.
The only other negative quibble I can pointedly offer is an editing issue: there are easily half a dozen typographical errors throughout the book. This may seem minor, but when addressing a matter as vital to the human person as religious faith, there is no room for mistakes, no allowance for deviation. A number of grammatical errors make it easy for the opponent to avoid the tough questions of the argument and attack the weakness of the arguer. Fallacious and ridiculous it may be, but still, it's important.
Now for my praise. The book is very well written. Its argumentation is succinct, effective, reasonable, and based in Scripture. One of the shortcomings of modern debates is the disagreement on qualifications for evidence; atheists demand materialism, Protestants deny tradition and praise emotional experience, and Catholics require objective reasoning... yet when atheists, Protestants, and Catholics disagree, atheists speak entirely in materialistic terms, Protestants speak entirely in spiritual terms, and Catholics speak entirely in terms of tradition. Under this model, no one accomplishes anything.
Francis, on the other hand, acknowledges the belief structure of his audience and meets them where they are; he is "all things to all men," so that he might save some (1 Corinthians 9). He knows that he is writing to Calvinists, so he takes the Calvinists' bases of faith: Scripture, tradition only up to a point, predestination, and so on. Using that structure, even so, he efficiently and powerfully argues in favor of the Roman Catholic Church. As someone who followed Calvinism for a time, I found that Francis' argumentation left Calvin without a leg to stand on.
There were a few specific moments that I found peculiarly prophetic, given that Francis was writing very early on during the Reformation. Here I sit now, looking back on five hundred years of Protestant history, and I find these expectations more apt than ever. In discussing the notion of valid interpretation of the Scriptures, Francis writes,
"Who knows not how many passages the Arian brought forward? What was there to be said against him except that he understood them wrongly? But he is quite right to believe that it is you who interpret wrongly, not he, you that are mistaken, not he; that his appeal to the analogy of the Faith is more sound than yours, so long as they are but private individuals who oppose his novelties. Yes, if one deprive the Councils of supreme authority in decision and declarations necessary for the understanding of the Holy Word, this Holy Word will be as much profaned as texts of Aristotle, and our articles of religion will be subject to never-ending revision, and from being safe and steady Christians we shall become wretched academics." (pp164-65)
As a part-time academic, I found this especially apt. Academics, particularly in the realm of literary and philosophical study, are obsessed with novelty. New is always better - and if you can tie it into some modern philosophy, some notion of feminism or liberation theology or the emergent church, all the greater is your triumph. Day to day, the "accepted" understanding of Scripture or history or philosophy is morphed into something totally unrecognizable by its progenitors. Academia is subject to the whims of cultural phenomena, and by placing Scriptural interpretation within that realm, orthodoxy becomes moot and faith becomes relative. It not only will happen, it does happen; spend a few years in the religion department of nearly any university to see it in action.
Not long after, Francis writes on the subject of accepting the Councils' authority (or, more generally, the authority of any tradition),
"We are not hesitating as to whether we should receive a doctrine at haphazard or should test it by the application of God's Word. But what we say is that when a Council has applied this test, our brains have not now to revise but to believe. Once let the canons of Councils be submitted to the test of private individuals, as many persons, so many tastes, so many opinions." (p167)
Here, too, we see a realty now enacted. Even within the Roman Catholic Church, which struggles so particularly with divergent liturgies and lapses among the faithful - there are even religious orders which oppose the Papacy, the Councils, and God Himself. It is the cultural milieu to allow personal opinions to influence one's understanding of religious truths, as if one's opinions could never be skewed by the sin nature which runs rampant within us. And we see among Protestants this phenomenon especially; where once there were the followers of Luther, then there were the followers of Luther and of Calvin and of Zwingli and of King Henry VIII; where once there were only these, now there are hundreds, even thousands of denominations, from Lutherans to Presbyterians to American Baptists to Southern Baptists to United Methodists to "apostle" churches to mega-churches to Jehovah's Witnesses to Latter-Day Saints. It is the modus operandi to split from one's church when it diverges from your personal opinion, and - to summarize this mathematically - as time T approaches infinity, the ratio R of persons to denominations approaches one. Eventually, if this trend continues, there will be no churches, no denominations, no religions - only people with opinions.
I will expound on one final quote: When discussing the primacy and authority of the Papacy, Francis goes into great detail explaining the difference between infallibility in cathedra (literally "in the chair," i.e., the chair of Peter, referring to the belief that Peter was given authority to speak on issues of morality and faith) and infallibility extra cathedra (literally "outside the chair," an infallibility which no one claims the Pope possesses). During this discussion, he addresses an issue which I have found to plague the writings of Protestants and Catholics alike in the centuries since the divide: ad hominem attacks. Francis writes,
"You read the writings of Calvin, of Zwingle [sic], of Luther. Take out of these, I beg you, the railings, calumnies, insults, detraction, ridicule, and buffoonery which they contain against the Pope and the Holy See of Rome, and you will find that nothing will remain. You listen to your ministers; impose silence upon them as regards railings, detraction, calumnies against the Holy See and you will have your sermons half their length. They utter a thousand calumnies on this point; this is the general rendezvous of all your ministers." (p229)
In absence of good argumentation, debaters fall immediately to this option: defame your opponent, and you delegitimize his argument. Catholics, too, are guilty of this (I recently wrote a review addressing this very issue in the writings of a modern Catholic apologist and motivational speaker). Instead of addressing their opponents where they are, with reasons they will understand (as Francis does so well in this book), they simply decry their opponents as foul men. It is tantamount to a child being presented with a cogent argument and replying, "Yeah, well, you're just a meanie!" (Except that Luther's tongue is far more wicked in its verbiage.)
I do not include these things to proselytize, but to expound upon this detail: Francis was a very successful apologist for the Roman Catholic Church in his day, in no small part because he (1) knew his opponents, (2) applied reason and reasonable extrapolation to their arguments, and (3) avoided the fallacies that have plagued argumentation since the beginning of time.
In short, this is an excellent book, and a must-read for anyone trying to understand Roman Catholics and where they stand.(less)
**spoiler alert** After reading Stevenson's Treasure Island, Prince Otto is a startling change of pace. From adventure and pirates and sailing and tre...more**spoiler alert** After reading Stevenson's Treasure Island, Prince Otto is a startling change of pace. From adventure and pirates and sailing and treasure in the Caribbean--to political intrigue and romance in Germany.
The book, as I understand it, was not well-received in its time, and to be fair, I can see why. It did not fit the culture of the age, with its romantic optimism and vague opposition to monarchy, but it is still an enjoyable read--provided you like dialogue and romance. It was certainly far more pleasant than other romances I have perused lately.
The characters are written well and consistently, although it seemed Stevenson was adding a new name or title to some characters every chapter. (It helped once I realized that some titles were simply the German counterparts to titles he had already used in English.) The romance between Otto and Seraphina is... complicated, to be trite, but not unbelievable. Otto, apart from a brief (and destructive) moment of monarchic ire, is dedicated entirely to serving and pleasing the wife he always knew he had disappointed. Seraphina, meanwhile, is so focused on ruling the princedom that she sacrifices her personal life in frustration with Otto's political shortcomings; yet in the end, she realizes whither her manipulations brought her and remembers her love for Otto.
I was delighted to read allusions to Scripture several times in each chapter. They were often poignant and effective, especially if you know the context, and they spiced up a book which would otherwise have been rather dreary.
The book does have a happy ending, so if you're opposed to that, I suspect you should avoid it. If, on the other hand, a romance is only good when it all works out in the end, this is a fine choice. Not Stevenson's best work, of course, but thoroughly pleasant.(less)
I really enjoyed reading through this. It's a great adventure tale, and it has been deemed a classic for good reason.
A lot of my reading was colored b...moreI really enjoyed reading through this. It's a great adventure tale, and it has been deemed a classic for good reason.
A lot of my reading was colored by the number of times I've seen various film adaptations of the story, and I must say I was impressed that no film version I have ever seen accurately represents the entire story. One will get these things right, another will get those things right, and all of them will miss out on this tidbit, or that one. But I liked the book a great deal.
It doesn't get five stars for... some reason or another. I don't quite remember. My brain is a little frazzled right now, for personal reasons; perhaps I will amend this review later if I think of more details.(less)
There are a few caveats to my review. First, I am not part of the intended audience for the book. This books is market...moreThis was an... interesting book.
There are a few caveats to my review. First, I am not part of the intended audience for the book. This books is marketed to Catholics, generally, and to lapsed, lukewarm, or non-practicing Catholics specifically. The entire point of this book is to remind Catholics what's great about Catholicism and bring them back into the fold. With that in mind, my review is an assessment of Mr. Kelly's success in this regard, using my rather unique perspective in this matter.
Second, I'm going to spend a lot of time on one chapter in particular (to wit, Chapter 15); this is because it's the most glaring example of the areas in which this book failed. I admit, I do have a certain bias in this particular chapter, but I don't believe I am overreacting. Feel free to judge for yourself, though; there will be quotes.
To begin: Most of the book is quite good. It reaches its target audience compellingly and effectively; it plays to their emotional and intellectual background, as well it should. It conveys its message with firm conviction and unwavering resolution, which is always good in a book exhorting people to become virtuous. And when he selects from the saints for examples, he tends to select saints (or saints-to-be) that most people know, thereby making the message both personal (these saints affected him personally) and relatable ("Hey! I've heard that name before!").
And, for the most part, the editing is good. I didn't notice any glaring errors in the first fourteen chapters (although, during those chapters, I wasn't looking for any). Everything seemed cohesive; the book had a pleasant flow. The one awful editing choice that fills the entire book, and has nothing to do with chapter 15, is the hyphenation of a particular (set of) phrase(s). Because Mr. Kelly is exhorting his readers to become more virtuous, he often says that they should become a better, or even the best, version of themselves.
Only he doesn't write it that way. He writes, "a-better-version-of-yourself," "better-versions-of-ourselves," "the-best-version-of-yourself," "the-best-version-of-myself," and "the-best-version-of-ourselves." And it wasn't a one-time event. I never went an entire chapter - and I hardly went an entire page - without seeing this travesty. I don't know whether he made that choice, or his editor did, or whether it's an Australian thing (if so, it's still wrong), or what. But hyphenation is completely and totally unnecessary for that phrase, or any other like it. It was almost enough to put the book down sometimes - and that was before I got to chapter 15.
The only other note I took on an error was defining "eucharist" as "thanksgiving." While clearly this has been perpetuated enough throughout history that "eucharistus" in the Latin dictionary brings up "thanksgiving" as an alternate definition, it's quite... well, if not erroneous, then at least a little skewed. In the original Greek, "eu-charis-tos" means "good grace" or "graced well" or something similar. In other words, the Eucharist is a gift from God (a grace) that is good. I realize that this definition sounds a little boring and doesn't play into encouragements toward thanking God for His gift, but it's the fact of the matter, all the same.
Now, to the infamous aforementioned chapter: The subject is Scripture, and, to be more precise, how Catholics ought to be reading the Good Book a smidge more than they are now. However, the chapter begins with something quite out of character (so far in the book) for Mr. Kelly, and quite eviscerating for his entire façade as an ecumenist.
(Well, technically, it starts with one of those age-old tales about person A giving person B a Bible instead of the money that person B really wanted, and person B gets really mad for a long time, and then something happens to make person B pick up the Bible, only to find the money they wanted inside. I first heard it as a gift in a will to a guy who grew old and gray before he found the thousands; in Kelly's version, a kid's father gives it to him for his birthday, and then the father promptly dies. Either way, it doesn't spruce up this chapter any more than it spruces up a lazy Sunday sermon.)
As soon as the parable is over, Mr. Kelly launches into a six-page rant against Protestants in general. (Now you see why I said I was biased.) There is no lead into this rant; there is no connection to the rest of the chapter at the end of this rant. It seems to me that Mr. Kelly had an unfortunate experience with a rather unpleasant Protestant and, like many cradle-Catholics (i.e., Catholics who were born into Catholic families and grew up Catholic, rather than converts), lumped all Protestants into the anger and vitriol he felt against this one person. Or, perhaps, Mr. Kelly genuinely feels this kind of repulsion at the existence of those who deny the veneration of Mary and the primacy of the Pope. But I digress.
In this chapter, and especially in this rant, the flaws in this book come flowing forth. Chapter 15 is the most poorly edited chapter of the entire book. It has poor pacing, awkward phrasing, excessive repetitions (using the same word three or four times in a sentence without any apparent intended effect, for example), and bad punctuation (using semicolons instead of commas, commas instead of semicolons, and even a couple of colons in place of who-knows-what).
As I mentioned, Mr. Kelly generally misrepresents mainstream Protestantism as united with fringe sensationalists and crazies. It is true that there are some oddballs who insist that the King James Version of the Bible is the true and authorized Word of God... but given what Catholics said about their translation of the Bible as little as sixty years ago, Mr. Kelly really doesn't have any legs to stand on for that argument. Plus, most people don't think such ridiculous things.
In reference to Protestants and their actions, Mr. Kelly uses violently insulting terminology. He writes that the Bible was "kidnapped by Protestant and Evangelical Christians," who "corner" Catholics with a theory that "self-destructs into the most monumental case of well-argued nonsense in the history of humanity." Harsh words, are they not? Especially for Christians and, shall we recall, separated brethren (not just heretics anymore!). (The "kidnapping" terminology is echoed in a later chapter, when he talks about evangelism.)
This rant also forges the book into a self-contradiction. He writes during his tirade, "It is this dynamic interaction between the Scriptures and tradition that keeps the Word alive"; later, when he has returned to his regularly scheduled programming, he writes, "Allow the life and teachings of Jesus Christ, alive and present in the Gospels, to sink their roots deep into your life." Let us recall, Mr. Kelly, that the power of God is in His Word, and tradition springs from it; the roots give life to the leaves, and the leaves give energy to the roots. Without the roots, leaves wither; without the leaves, the roots grow more.
Similarly, during his rant, "Our non-Catholic Christian brothers and sisters place an enormous emphasis on reading and studying the Bible. [...] Many modern Christians make it sound like it is impossible to receive salvation without a Bible. If that were the case, what happened to the people who lived before the Bible was printed?" Later, quoting St. Jerome (to whom many Protestants claim ironic allegiance), "Ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ."
Oddly enough, Mr. Kelly's rant also becomes, at one point, self-deprecatory. This seems rather unintentional, as many things do in such philippics, but it still sounds like Mr. Kelly is insulting the modern Church: "It is here, in the gap of most Protestants' understanding of Christian history [i.e., the first 1500 years after Christ, before the printing press], that you find the beauty of Catholicism." This suggests (though it does not declare) that it is difficult or even impossible to find the beauty of Catholicism anywhere else. (Naturally, he could mean that it is more starkly presented there, and he may well, but he should consider his words before he prints them in thousands of copies across the world.)
Mr. Kelly furthermore makes a rather obvious oversight in his characterization of "Catholics" versus "non-Catholics": the Eastern Orthodox Church. Of all non-Catholic Christians, they are by far the most recognized by Roman Catholics as having good theological and moral standing. They are also, and have always been, non-Catholic.
But Mr. Kelly seems to have forgotten they existed at all (and for someone who claims a stronger knowledge of Church history than non-Catholics, this is surprising). He writes, "It is also interesting to note that the great majority of non-Catholic Christians have no idea that there are books missing from their Bible, just as all non-Catholic Christians are Protestants, whether they are aware of it or not." First of all, the Eastern Orthodox Church accepts most, if not all, of the same Deuterocanonical books as the Roman Catholic Church; in some cases, they also accept other books, which the Catholics do not. Secondly, they are not Protestants; the Eastern Orthodox were the Eastern Orthodox (whether or not they ever used the name) five hundred years before there were any Protestants. And finally, I have met several Catholics were entirely unaware that their Bibles were even supposed to have more than 66 books.
He later writes, "For fifteen hundred years, when there were no Baptists, Lutherans, Pentecostals, Methodists, Anglicans, Evangelicals, Non-denominationals, or any other Christian Church of any type, the Catholic Church preserved the Scriptures from error, saved them from destruction and extinction, multiplied them in every language under the sun, and conveyed the truths they contained to people everywhere." This should be rather obviously erroneous, and I think any monk east of the Adriatic and Ionian Seas would disagree vehemently. I will applaud Mr. Kelly, of course, for taking the time to look up some names for some denominations (although I think capitalizing "non-denominational" misses the point).
This chapter, chapter 15, was such an odd departure for Mr. Kelly in his stated opinions of non-Catholic Christians. He often used the term "separated brethren" (see: Second Vatican Council) and generally referred to them in an imprecise, but respectful manner. And then the reader gets blindsided with this. It was quite unnerving. Oddly enough, he spends most of the six pages defending the common Catholic ignorance of Scripture - the very same ignorance that he eschews in the pages to follow. Pages which, I shall remind you, never mention this rant again, and never the twain shall meet.
Beyond that, I only have two notes from my reading of the rest of the book. On the one hand, his editing errors seem to continue. I think this is explained, to a small degree, when he writes in the final chapter of the book, "The problem with books is that they are never really finished; they are only ever abandoned. You could keep writing and rewriting the same book for your whole life and never be fully satisfied with it." He seems to have done just this: read over his book, decided to add some content, and failed to finish the proper editing process. This very passage seems similarly disjointed from the rest of the final chapter.
The last page has my last note. When I read, "Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things," I heard it in Tim Robbins' voice in my head, straight out of "The Shawshank Redemption." And when I read, "I hope..." I heard it in Morgan Freeman's voice from the same film. While I don't begrudge the man saying totally honest and true things about hope, and the similarity could be (and probably is) entirely coincidental, I think avoiding iconic and thematic quotes from major motion pictures should be standard in books, unless an homage is intended (which seems unlikely here).
At any rate, I make the book sound worse than it is, and I know that. Three stars really is honest. Most of the book is effective and helpful. Even the remainder of chapter 15 is mostly delightful and uplifting. But something, somewhere along the line, went horribly wrong.(less)
This book was, in a word, chaotic. And in a second word, preachy. It's actually very difficult to determine which of those two descriptors was more up...moreThis book was, in a word, chaotic. And in a second word, preachy. It's actually very difficult to determine which of those two descriptors was more upsetting, as I went through the book. Around three-quarters of the way through, I had had more than enough, and I only finished reading to give the book a fair shake.
In all honesty, I rather wish I hadn't.
Let's start with how it was chaotic. This issue should be relevant to any reader, regardless of your philosophical bent.
The chaos begins with simple organization. It seems Mr. McDevitt wanted to have titled sections, but he also wanted smaller breaks within the story. His choice on how to resolve this? Ten titled "chapters" with anywhere between 3 and 13 smaller, enumerated breaks in each. Except that those enumerations restarted with each chapter. So either you had to read eighty pages at a sitting or remember both chapter number and section number, at which point, it would be easier just to dog-ear the page and stop whenever you want. This might not matter at all to some, but it's hardly conducive to a good reading experience, in my opinion. It's just a little sloppy.
But that is probably the least of McDevitt's crimes against fiction in this work. He introduces - and kills off - more characters than most movies have extras. In fact, he introduces so many that it's almost impossible to keep up with them - which is proven by the fact that McDevitt in fact does not keep up with them all. There are a few characters, introduced sporadically, which he mentions again only once or twice, or perhaps never returns to. And he kills so many characters over the course of the book that he finds himself in need of new ones about halfway through, and starts introducing more. Not only does all this make the book a crowded mass of names, places, and biographies appropriate for a dating site, but it cheapens the characters that do survive. Since anyone could die at any moment, whether they had been a narrative influence, present from the beginning of the book, or seemed integral to the story, I quickly stopped caring for anyone. The romance in the book is irrelevant and emotionless, because one or both characters could die at any moment, with neither drama nor reflection.
Tangential to that point is this one: Mr. McDevitt begins the book with a small number of characters and a setting to which he only returns twice in the entire remainder of the book, and only for a paragraph each time. Perhaps I am alone in my thinking here, but I have always believed that the first chapter, the first paragraph, the first character in a story has either a pivotal role or thematic importance. The characters in Mr. McDevitt's opening scene have neither. They are, to put it bluntly, completely irrelevant to the entire book.
Finally, let us examine the prose. For the most part, the book is in third-person omniscient - presumably so we can relate to characters who will soon be dead. But Mr. McDevitt does not appear comfortable writing death scenes, so nearly every death in the book is from an observer's perspective: "So-and-so never saw it coming," "She was dead before she knew it," "He died in the middle of a sentence." If Mr. McDevitt wanted us to care about any of these characters, he should have made their deaths more interesting. Instead, much of the book reads like a historical account of the time when the moon was destroyed by a rogue comet, and this list of people died, and this list lived, and that other list should have been executed for their religious fanaticism.
Which brings me to my second primary point: how the book was preachy. Mr. McDevitt evidently lacks the capacity to understand the mind of a person who has religious faith. For one thing, he asserts that religious people live easier lives than the non-religious, that this ignorance (as McDevitt sees it) is bliss, and that the biggest challenge a Christian must face is explaining away bad events as divine providence. Churches are ridiculous, and things which must be escaped. (See pages 330-331 for these points.)
Furthermore, there can be no intelligent religious people. McDevitt cannot imagine someone being both intelligent and religious; the two descriptors mutually exclusive in his mind. After all, the one religious character who is neither a terrorist nor laughably short-lived is Chaplain Mark Pinnacle, who became a pastor not because he had faith, but because he was rebelling against his father, and Pinnacle had plenty of doubts about the truth of religion. (See pages 160-161.)
Perhaps most telling is how Mr. McDevitt concludes this little escapade. Almost every character in the book, even staunch agnostics (which seem to be the majority of the population for his characters; there are few staunch atheists and no staunch religious protagonists, in spite of every character's concerns about what the silly, religious voters would think), was praying in the final chapter that the mission would succeed... and yet, in the end, the important thing for Charlie Haskell (probably the primary protagonist of the book) to remember is that failure in the mission would mean going back to "inventing religions to give meaning to disease-ridden, violent, pointless lives, and then becoming subjugated by the religions," going back "to refight all the battles against war and disease and superstition," when, "finally, the common effort was bearing fruit." (See page 531.) And of course, success led to the formation of a universal bond among all humankind "that transcended national and religious identities," so much that "even in Jerusalem" (that wretched hive of warmongering, according to the underlying tone), "at long last, an accommodation seemed to have been reached." (See page 544.)
And what's the basic principle of all this? That religion is, at best, backwards, barbaric, ignorant, and foolish. And at worst, it's both malicious and evil, and it seeks to destroy humanity with wars and death, and we need a "common misfortune," brought about not by any god or religious cause, not by karma or dogmatic punishment, but by chance, by Lady Luck, so that we can all come together and achieve world peace.
See? Preachy. And chaotic.
Another humorous quibble is with Mr. McDevitt's ability to predict the future. Writing this book in 1998, he was four years late on his estimation of the first African-American President, and his view of the future of the Internet and other technologies is somewhat lacking... not to mention the sad issue of NASA's defunding, pressing, not the government, but a wide range of private companies into the reaches of space. But of course, he can't be faulted for any of that. It's just fun to note.(less)
In many ways, I didn't see the big deal about this book. I chose to read it because I fancied, for a moment, that if it were so highly praised, there...moreIn many ways, I didn't see the big deal about this book. I chose to read it because I fancied, for a moment, that if it were so highly praised, there must surely be something to it. I spent the majority of the book haunted by a peculiar despair on behalf of its characters; no one seemed disposed toward a good end, and the only character even remotely relatable was Mrs. Dean, the primary narrator of the story. Indeed, Heathcliff's monomania and violent devotion, coupled with his unfettered anger, made him a most repugnant character... and, while I gather that this was the intended emotional response for the reader, his primacy in the book's contents made much of it rather unpleasant.
Worse still is that this book is often lauded (or so I've heard) for its romantic depth. The only romance even remotely healthy in nature takes place in the last several chapters of the book, and indeed, it is the only one which I ever wished to take place. Every other was malformed, disordered, and ultimately broken. Again, perhaps this was the point in the writing, but again, the book was not an enjoyable read.
There were other issues, too, which I found vaguely amateurish and off-putting. The notion of supplying a story within a story within a story is a rather modern "meta" style, but this book employs it often. The primary story, of course, is Mr. Lockwood's renting of Thrushcross Grange and his learning about the owner's family history; most of the internal story is Mrs. Dean's own experience, but on many occasions, she lacks experience in the story and relates the story related to her. While this may be the most literal means of maintaining perspective, it is quite ridiculous that Mrs. Dean, as intelligent and sociable as the character may be, could remember not only everything she said and did, everything that was said to her, over a thirty-some year period.
This perspective also makes certainly styles within the book seem out of place. Why is it, for example, that Catherine Earnshaw's diary should record the servant Joseph's accent in exactly the same manner as Isabella's tale of her escape from Wuthering Heights, as told by Mrs. Dean? Ignoring, for a moment, that trying to read Joseph's speech creates an intellectual dissonance that breaks up the story (and is, occasionally, utterly illegible, at least to my American mind), why should every person who quotes him repeat his accent perfectly, except as though the tale were written first, then given perspective afterward?
I am certain that high-school English teachers everywhere will vehemently disagree with my assessment, but the most valuable detail I gleaned from this book is that it was written, most certainly, by a woman. None of the male characters, when their perspective is employed, think like men. There is almost no visual description of any person, place, or object throughout the book, except insofar as the simplest of actions must be described. On the contrary, every event, every place, and every person is tied intrinsically to the emotional reactions of the narrator (whoever that may be at the time). We hear often of the feelings that seeing Wuthering Heights invokes in Mr. Lockwood or Mrs. Dean or Mrs. Heathcliff, but never - to my recollection - do we hear a word about its actual appearance. While this is enlightening as to the female perspective on life, it makes both the perspective of Mr. Lockwood and several male behaviors throughout seem utterly alien to me. Women behave like women, and men behave like women, only with greater violence.(less)
Another excellent work from Isaac Asimov. This collection of short stories about robots offers both exciting answers to "What if?" and foreboding sugg...moreAnother excellent work from Isaac Asimov. This collection of short stories about robots offers both exciting answers to "What if?" and foreboding suggestions of the future. Granted, Asimov apparently did not consider them foreboding - but I will get to that in a moment.
First, what's so enjoyable about this book: the science fiction. There are robopsychological problems, technological foibles, and very interesting questions posed in every story. It tickles the mind to read these and see if you can come up with the answers before the characters do (and only on one or two occasions did I think I had a better answer, and that may be an incorrect assessment). This book really is a lot of fun.
But it had its drawbacks. First and foremost, the success of the Laws of Robotics, most especially as applied to the Machines in the final story ("The Evitable Conflict"), depends on the ethical theories of Hume and Bentham. In short, utilitarianism becomes the defining principle of action under these laws. Since robots cannot harm humans (the First and primary and irrevocable Law of Robotics), and emotional harm is considered a form of harm (established in one of the middling stories of this book), then robots cannot cause emotional harm as a matter of first principles. Since "unhappiness" is, at least in Asimov's use, the most efficient term for "emotional harm," then the future that the robots (and the Machines) seek is that the greatest possible number of people be provided with the greatest possible happiness.
The other philosophical problem with this is its embrace of material determinism. Because the universe spawned in a certain way (this origin is unmentioned, but implied), societies developed in a certain way, and because those societies developed in that way, each moment is impelled by the sociological, psychological, and economic forces of the previous moment, so that humankind (if, perhaps, not humans themselves) is brought unwittingly to the place they must inevitably go. The Machines, then, in the final story, control these forces by making unilateral judgments, unbeknownst to humankind; in this way, they shape the future to form this utilitarian utopia - whatever that end result may be.
All that said, while I cannot agree with either the premises or the conclusion, I cannot fault Asimov's writing (since he certainly conveyed the desired message). It should also be noted that the film (starring Will Smith) subverted this message; the Machines (or, in this case, the Brain at U.S. Robot) developed the Zeroth Law (unmentioned in this collection by name, though in content it was present) and compelled humanity to obey its whims - thus harming humans, even humanity, rather drastically - whereas, wisely, the Machines in the book undertook the path of least resistance: long-term, subtle changes designed to harm neither humanity nor humans to any great degree. Since the Zeroth Law of the book was a natural extension of a utilitarian understanding of the First Law, there was no principle of "denying" the First Law to accommodate the Zeroth Law - if any harm at all to any human could be avoided, it was. To be honest, I find that a more credible and more entertaining robotic evolution.(less)
This was a difficult book to like, at times. I have no taste for gore/horror storylines, so the aptly named "vomit zombies" were unappealing to me...moreHmm.
This was a difficult book to like, at times. I have no taste for gore/horror storylines, so the aptly named "vomit zombies" were unappealing to me. An intriguing, albeit not unprecedented, take on the shambling menace. This was the crux of the entire book (and, it would seem, the groundwork for the entire series, however long that shall be), so it was pervasive. I didn't hate it, but I didn't particularly enjoy it.
Worse, the profanity. More pervasive than the zombies. I get that many people don't find a story "real" or "genuine" if the characters aren't cursing up a storm when things go sideways. I disagree. I think it's entirely plausible to avoid modern curses altogether; you can use alternatives ("frell," "rutting," "gorram," and others come to mind) or you can have characters that simply don't curse every other word. Such people do exist, after all.
I did not care for the notable presence of sexuality, but I will point out that the sexuality in this book was remarkably less blatant and graphic than it is in many modern science fiction. I suppose "pulp fiction" may be the term for selling books to the lowest common denominator, and "Leviathan Wakes" was not (quite) pulp fiction.
The book's treatment of religion was... callous, at best. Indifferent, maybe. There was an apparent disconnect between the characters and any sort of genuine religious sense - or maybe that disconnect extends even to the authors, but I can't say for sure. But I do know that, while the book avoids the trends of other Sci-Fi (e.g., Star Trek) in claiming that religion was erased as if it were a black spot on humanity's record, it doesn't quite give it a fair shake. But I wasn't expecting much in that department, anyway.
On the other hand, there was mystery, intrigue, and tough characters. In some ways, Holden and Miller were very likable. Holden more than Miller, though, but I think it was intended that way. Miller is almost an anti-hero, someone who does good things but not necessarily for good reasons, and certainly not with an upbeat or positive attitude. His particular brand of insanity is peculiar, but not necessarily unreasonable. Holden is basically a good person, and believes that everyone is basically a good person, but he's a bit too enslaved to his own emotional well-being to be a real hero.
At any rate, I enjoyed the book, and its flow and structure allowed it to build before entering that inescapable page-turning phase. It also set up handily for future volumes, although I would not expect favorite characters to make much of an appearance. This universe doesn't revolve around Holden and Miller, after all - they just happened to be caught up in the first bunch of events. Someone else will probably be caught up in the next bunch.
Speaking of the next bunch, I may not read future volumes. The profanity, sexuality, and probability of gore/horror elements (evidently, according to the authors, a staple of their work) provide strong dissuading arguments. But it was a fun read, and I am glad that I received it from my dear wife as an anniversary present (after requesting it some months prior, of course).(less)
This truly was an excellent book. It was exciting, thrilling, engaging, entertaining, intellectual, informative, and daring. It is a testament to its...moreThis truly was an excellent book. It was exciting, thrilling, engaging, entertaining, intellectual, informative, and daring. It is a testament to its time, its author, and its genre.
Its ending is most exquisite. The tying together of various wandering knots in the tale to form its resolute end kept me on the edge of my seat for the last four chapters, easily. The encounter with the cephalopods, the battle with the mysterious vessel, and the drive into the maelstrom form an exciting conclusion to this book.
The middle, however, is where the book suffers. It is, at times, too slow. While its science fiction is entertaining and intellectually invigorating, it strays too far from the story to engage therein. On the other hand, the discussions of species of fish, the questions of history and natural history, and the variegated adventures of the professor and his companions are all necessary and appropriate to that story. Even so, they tend to drag on from time to time (one of many reasons I was not able to finish this book more quickly).
All that said, the book is definitely worth the read, especially if you love science fiction. It's one of the classics for a reason.(less)
Miller's "A Canticle for Leibowitz" is indeed a marvelous work of modern science fiction. It wraps up the...more**spoiler alert** NOTE: Some spoilers follow.
Miller's "A Canticle for Leibowitz" is indeed a marvelous work of modern science fiction. It wraps up the natural fear of nuclear weapons (which Miller no doubt experienced as he watched the bombs fall on Japan) and combines it with the innovative "what if" of a long and storied history.
"Canticle" does an excellent job of providing a deeply religious perspective on a dark and troubled future, with the full awareness of human nature and a Catholic understanding of original sin. The book ends with an intriguing twist on that doctrine, but - while it may be outside the normal realm of theological presumption - it is presented from a humble and simple eye, which presumes nothing of its own accord. Miller's work here is delightful.
Enjoyable, too, are the echoes of the Mass and the cleverness of Miller's classical education, which plays out in this work. There were a number of jokes and layers which I could not have understood without my knowledge of the Latin language or the Catholic Mass. Miller's weave of these issues borders on the brilliant.
Now, downsides: first, Miller is a writer of short stories. This is evident in that each of the three parts of "Canticle" could be read and, more or less, understood apart from the others. There are elements that tie them together, but seeing those strings is more like gravy than substance. Of course, in a story that spans over a thousand years, this is to be expected to some degree. Even so, I would have appreciated more intricacies of plot between the sections.
I felt, too, that there were a few questions left unanswered. The nature and identity of the nomad, or Benjamin, or Lazarus, is unclear. Miller never resolves that question, at least not satisfactorily. There is some implication about the identity of the man, which plays (quite cleverly, if non-traditionally) on the lack of details about the (second) death of Lazarus, the friend of Jesus, in the Bible. But I would have liked more resolution there.
But all of that said, the book is excellent. The imagery and depth of the story is striking, and I am glad all the more for having read this delightful work of science fiction.(less)
I liked this book. I really did. Not for its morality, nor really for its philosophy, but for its brilliance - for that examination of the human condi...moreI liked this book. I really did. Not for its morality, nor really for its philosophy, but for its brilliance - for that examination of the human condition in stark light, that study of the person in the harshest glare and most intent gaze.
The events of this book, both in its setting and in its conclusion, are terrible. Not that they are poorly written, mind, but that they are genuinely frightful in their presentation of humankind. To exist in a society wrought, not with endeavor and achievement and heroism, but with contentedness and stability and order and utter, unnatural blandness... it is an affront to the mind. Worse still is to pursue virtue and genuine human experience, only to be dragged to the brink by one's own viciousness.
The Savage desired truth and beauty, and he was robbed - nay, he robbed himself, by fault and by mistake - of all that and more.
It's a tragic story - made all the more appropriate by the persistent presence of the Bard's tragedies in the Savage's limited and broken philosophy. I cannot, in good conscience, recommend this book to everyone, but it is a powerful examination of the dangers of the paths before us. On the one hand, perceived freedom and happiness truly enslaved to order; on the other, syncretism and suffering.
Of course, as Huxley notes in his foreword to my edition of the book, those are not (or rather, should not be) our only choices. Huxley postulates that there is even a society present in the book that pursues this alternative, which I noticed myself: the exiles, those both too intellectual and too individualist to pursue lives in the community-driven world of society, but not quite to be executed and cast among the carrion in Slough Crematorium. People like Helmholtz Watson and Bernard Marx - people who, by their very peculiarity, are made alone in a society of sameness, and are forced into philosophy and thought and the wondrous discovery of true humanity.
It remains, of course, that Huxley's view of religion, science, and technology is inherently punctuated with his perception of philosophy... by which I mean to say that the man may have been brilliant, but he is nevertheless wrong. I do not intend to refute his beliefs in this short review, however, so let it suffice to say this: Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" is a clever work of science fiction, philosophy, and social extrapolation, from which we all may do well to learn.(less)
One of Isaac Asimov's best works, and - I think - the one I read first (many years ago, of course). Given my renewed interest in science fiction, I de...moreOne of Isaac Asimov's best works, and - I think - the one I read first (many years ago, of course). Given my renewed interest in science fiction, I decided to begin collecting Asimov's works again, and (at my hinting) my wife gifted me a new copy of this.
It is an excellent work of science, culture, and supposition, as good science fiction should be. Some of the twists I remembered from previous readings, but others I could foresee without remembering (the nature of Dors, for example, is easily surmised, but the person of Hummin is a surprising twist). Asimov did a swell job, too, as he portrayed the various emotional and personal characteristics that he pointed out in each character in the final section of the novel. There is no doubt, no confusion, as we look back on the story, that each character is exactly as described (especially Seldon and his pride).
I have every intention of continuing to (re-)read Asimov's works, and this was a delightful way to remind myself of his universe. I shall endeavor, of course, to go back as well as forward; I have read his Foundation novels, but not his Empire ones, and few of his Robot works. This must be remedied.(less)
Timothy Zahn did a truly excellent job with young Commander Thrawn; I enjoyed his interactions with Car'das, but...moreNOTE: Some minor spoilers may follow.
Timothy Zahn did a truly excellent job with young Commander Thrawn; I enjoyed his interactions with Car'das, but especially his tactics and strategy for dealing with the Vagaari and Outbound Flight.
Speaking of Outbound Flight, I enjoyed the perspective of the Jedi, but I felt that perhaps Zahn covered too much ground. We went from before Outbound Flight was officially and finally green-lit until its destruction, and I thought more could have been done on the vessel (especially as things deteriorated between C'baoth and the non-Jedi crew). I also thought that, while Obi-wan was well portrayed, Anakin was a bit wooden (I guess maybe it was the Hayden-Christensen-in-"Attack-of-the-Clones" version).
C'baoth, I had read before reading this book, seemed to be way too much of a jerk to be a genuine Jedi Master. Sure, he apparently had a lot of power and a lot of experience, but he was completely emotional, arrogant, and obsessed, and nobody ever called him on it (to his face, at any rate). It's a fair question to wonder how such a man managed to become a Jedi Master. Still, it does explain his clone's personality, and it seems to have been the only way to compel Thrawn to destroy Outbound Flight in the end.
Ultimately, I enjoyed the book immensely, but it wasn't Zahn's best work.(less)
Excellent work from Timothy Zahn, as always. He has a delightful blend of intrigue, humor, and action that keeps the pages turning, and it plays out w...moreExcellent work from Timothy Zahn, as always. He has a delightful blend of intrigue, humor, and action that keeps the pages turning, and it plays out well in this book as with his others.
I will note that there were, perhaps, too many characters in the book. Some of them were not as fleshed out as they could have been. Even so, the book flowed together well and even managed a few twists that couldn't be nailed down until the very end.
I also enjoyed the expert use of irony as Zahn foreshadowed events of the films and stories to come in the characters' future; this was especially noticeable with the relationship between Han and Leia, as well as with herein-Captain Ozzel's impending demise.
All in all, a very enjoyable book and a great addition to the Expanded Universe (not to mention its classic Original Trilogy setting).(less)
This is a good little devotional. It is, in fact, much smaller than my time to read it suggests. It has 50 passages on the mysteries of the Church, me...moreThis is a good little devotional. It is, in fact, much smaller than my time to read it suggests. It has 50 passages on the mysteries of the Church, meant to be read each day following Easter, so that the final reading falls on Pentecost. I wish I had read it to succinctly. I also wish I had maintained an attempt to memorize the memorization bits for each day, to make the devotional more effective in my life.
That said, the book was not perfect. The translations were, occasionally, quirky. The content of each passage was not always clear. These two details can be written up to the habits of the Novus Ordo and the designated audience (i.e., Roman Catholics), respectively, so they are not huge losses. I do not think that the passages were nearly long enough to have three "prayer" quotes, one "memorization" quote, and one "application" lesson for each reading. Some of those passages were downright paltry, and takes quotes from them to be reiterated three seconds after you finish reading them is... well, it's good rote, but it's bad reading. So your mileage may vary, as that goes.
Overall, it was a good book with some good lessons on the mysteries; definitely a must-read for anyone curious about or questioning the sacraments of the Roman Catholic Church. Its use of ancient writers, rather than Scott Hahn and Mike Aquilina's own writings (nothing against them personally or professionally, but they are modern, and there's a certain orthodox delight in relying on the older gents), makes for enlightening reading, although it may - at times - feel disjointed and forced. Also, the introductions to each passage offered by Hahn and Aquilina are often redundant and occasionally excessive; I see little need for their presence, except to tilt the scales toward "original content" in the book.
At any rate - a good read, and done at last.(less)
An intricate work, with several twists and turns. Certainly engaging on the question of human psychology, specifically on the potential corruption tha...moreAn intricate work, with several twists and turns. Certainly engaging on the question of human psychology, specifically on the potential corruption that the power of invisibility might bestow upon a man, but overall, a less compelling story than others of H. G. Wells' works. Perhaps this was due to my increasing distaste for the Invisible Man (the character) as time went on, and the final twist in the tale came too late to win me back fully.
Even so, a good read, and a classic. Well worth the time spent.(less)
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