Kevin Lucia's Blog, page 23

Review: Mr. Fox and Other Feral Tales

Mr. Fox and Other Feral Tales by Norman Partridge
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

All the noir/pulpy goodness you would expect from Norman Partridge, as well as his signature style - proof that this kind of fiction can be well-crafted. I love his very specific word choice and the rhythm of his prose. I lucked out, too, and snagged the original Road Kill Press edition for much cheaper than I'd seen it in the last few years - probably because it was a library book with the plastic protective coating. Anyway - lucky me!

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Review: The Knowledge of the Holy

The Knowledge of the Holy by A.W. Tozer
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

There's a lot of good to be said about THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HOLY, especially in regards to a call for Christians to return to a more reverent view of God, (sorry, no Buddy Jesus here) yet thankfully, this is not exactly a SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD, be scared of God because He's hiding in a bush with a hammer ready to get you.

Not quite as accessible as MERE CHRISTIANITY, however, (for example, Lewis believed that deriving pleasure from good literature, be it "Chrsitian" or not, would be something God would want for us), whereas it seemed like Tozer was almost calling Christians to the life of the asthete monk. Regardless, a thought-provoking I'd recommend to any Christian, regardless of their place in their walk.

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Review: The Fireman

The Fireman by Ray Bradbury
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Came across this recently on the Internet Archive, and as a lover of Fahrenheit 451 - which I teach every year - I wanted to check it out. Interesting the parts Bradbury kept, and the parts he either changed, expanded, or got rid of. It's also how much of "The Pedestrian" apparently lived inside this story, also. Definitely something for the consummate Bradbury fan to check out.

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Review: On Stories: And Other Essays on Literature

On Stories: And Other Essays on Literature by C.S. Lewis
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Folks always remember Lewis as the "Narnia Guy," or the apologist who wrote MERE CHRISTIANITY and THE SCREWTAPE LETTERS. What's often forgotten is that he was an extremely well-read and well-regarded academic, a professor of literature and mythology, and an insightful literary critic. ON STORIES is a loose collection of his criticism and essays on science fiction, fantasy, the methods of literary criticism, and writing in general. It's interesting and a little surreal to see Lewis not only commenting on classic authors and contemporaries such as Tolkien, but also offering opinions of Orwell, Huxley, William Hope Hodgson, and even Ray Bradbury, of which he said: "Some of Ray Bradbury's stories perhaps make the grade." (of being quality science fiction)

A fine read, to be sure.

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Review: Mystery Walk

Mystery Walk by Robert R. McCammon
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Just as powerful the second time around, and I think one of my favorite McCammon novels, in retrospect. It's ironic how, the first time around, I was initially hoping it would be more like BOY'S LIFE (even though this was published first, I didn't get to it until after I read BL), was briefly disappointed in how it WASN'T like BL, especially considering how Billy and his mother Ramona were treated by the town of Hawthorne (the name of the town seems doubly apt, on a second reading) and Billy's father, but then the idea of the Mystery Walk, the tragically late redemption of both John Creekmore and Wyane, and Billy's quest - developing on the opposite end of Wayne Falconer's - swept me away, as most McCammon novels usually do.

I think McCammon's portrayal of the wildly popular - almost cult-like - evangelist Fakconer and how easily Wayne is taken in by the devious and decadent businessman Krespin at the end is still timely. Especially considering how much of a "big business" Christianity has become.

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Review: Pursuing Christ. Creating Art.: Exploring Life at the Intersection of Faith and Creativity

Pursuing Christ. Creating Art.: Exploring Life at the Intersection of Faith and Creativity by Gary A. Molander
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I read this some time ago, meant to leave a review, and never did. In any case - an interesting collection of essays about creating Art, and the intersection of art and faith. However, it's strong suit might also be viewed by some as it's weak point: that this collection of essays doesn't offer any answers. They're centered on the truth that, because we're human, and humans will always be flawed and conflicted, our pursuit of art is also always going to be flawed and conflicted. These essays don't offer answers so much as an honest grappling with this issue.

For me, it felt like a breath of fresh air. While not as well written as Madaleine L'Engle's WALKING ON WATER: MEDITATIONS ON ART AND FAITH, it did beat along the same rythmn: that a Christian heeding the desire to create Art isn't selfish, or serving our own needs: it's simply an outgrowth of our innate desire to imitate the Artist Himself.

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Review: Apologetics and the Christian Imagination: An Integrated Approach to Defending the Faith

Apologetics and the Christian Imagination: An Integrated Approach to Defending the Faith by Holly Ordway
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

An excellent look at how creating art - and not art whose meanings are explicit, but art which requires thoughtful interpretation - is a necessary means of not only expressing faith, but also defending it. This book will require a re-read - some heavy theological and apologetic lifting - but the idea that we aren't called upon to create art which is blatantly proselytizing, but called upon to create art which leads audiences/viewers/readers into thoughtful reflection and interpretation, was extremely heartening, especially for a guy like me, who long ago found himself called to write in the horror/weird/speculative genre, and who also has a healthy dislike/distrust of "Christian Fiction."

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Review: Me, Myself & Bob: A True Story about God, Dreams, and Talking Vegetables

Me, Myself & Bob: A True Story about God, Dreams, and Talking Vegetables by Phil Vischer
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

So, I'm not an animator. I've never owned a media or graphics arts/video company. I've never had a dream of having this big huge impact on the world through writing, like Phil Vischer did with VeggieTales. And I'm certainly not in the same type of position, with my writing mostly a supplement to my income as a teacher.

I am, however, a Christian who is trying to walk that razor's edge between being true to my "voice" and being true to my faith. I have, also, in the last few years, had to let a lot of dreams "die," for the sake of sanity, health, and renewed focus on my faith, family, and my teaching job. I'll always be a writer, I'll always write the strange, weird, and odd, and don't plan on writing "Christian" stories any time soon. But in the words of Phil Viscer - where will I be five years from now, ten years from now, twenty years from now, as a writer?

That's none of my business. It's ultimately not up to me. And I'm working on being okay with that.

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I'm Okay, Really I Am...

So it occurred to me that my last blog post may've come off a little...out there. Spacey. Might leave folks wondering if I'm in the middle of an existential crisis. Anyway, I just wanted to add a  little note that, not to worry, I'm fine.

It's just that...the last three years haven't always been so fun. I imagine many folks who chase an artistic dream - like I have been - are eventually forced to come to grips with how they've been chasing their dream, and if it's been healthy or not.

And, I've just recently come to the conclusion that my dogged pursuit of writing the past ten years eventually turned toxic, and decidedly unhealthy. Along those lines, I realized a startling truth this morning: I didn't have to write to be happy, today. In fact, I didn't feel like writing, and my day would actually be better at work (teaching) if I chose NOT to write this morning.

I didn't need to write this morning to feel happy.

Granted, I'm well aware that tomorrow will likely be at least a two-hour delay because of the weather, affording me time to write. I'm also well aware that we have a four day weekend ahead, which will also provide a lot of time to write. Even so...

I didn't need to write this morning to feel happy.

A writing career is no longer essential for me to feel "happy" or "fulfilled."

Maybe this smacks of common sense for lots of people. I mean, let's be honest - writing (any art, really) is an unpredictable pursuit. Even those who have full-time careers probably take care to center themselves on something less mercurial. Case in point: the novel I've been working on for five years, which I thought I'd made a breakthrough on, has once again hit the skids. It's done, I finished it. It's just...not good. Not right now.

So I'm shelving The Mighty Dead, for now. If I was centering all my happiness on writing, this would really throw me into a tailspin. I'm not exactly thrilled about it...but it isn't the end of the world, either.

I'm fine.

Weirdly enough, this novel I spent all summer finishing, and all Fall editing, has just sputtered out...and I'm fine.

This doesn't mean I'm done writing. I've finally started that big coming of age novel, and that makes me happy. I just saw the illustrations and cover for my second Cemetery Dance novella, The Night Road, and I'm thrilled at Ben Baldwin's as-usual stellar work. I think I'll eventually tinker on the Billy the Kid novel again.

It just means I don't need writing like I once did. Of course, this begs the question: what's going to take the place of writing as what "makes me happy" and what "fulfills" me?

I don't really know.

And that's kind of scary. 

Review: The Passage

The Passage by Justin Cronin
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I don't often read post-apocalyptic novels - even less so post-apocalyptic novels involving a "vampire virus." Like zombie novels, or vampire/werewolf novels, they too often fall into cliche. And, even more so, I find that it's a rare writer who can craft a post-apocalyptic society/culture that strikes the right balance between a different, foreign culture of a society that's "moved on" (Thank you, Sai King) but is still relatable to readers.

In The Passage, Justin Cronin has done exactly that. This is a world that has forgotten things like Christmas (because no one has celebrated it in a 100 years), but there are still many tangible reminders of the past, and while the people of this future know little about The Time Before, they don't act as if they're barbaric hunter-gatherers from a cliched fantasy novel. They're still relatable human beings who may've forgotten who the Utah Jazz are, but they know that "gaps" are types of pants, because they've been scavenged from The Gap in derelict shopping malls.

Also, lots of writers are often called "lyrical" when, really, they're dense and almost unreadable. In this case, Cronin is the real deal. His prose is readable and straightforward, and lyrical and poetic when the story called for it. It's been awhile since I read an epic-length novel that was this engaging and obsessively readable.

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