The Left Behind Complete Set, Series 1-12

by Tim LaHaye

“Why, I haven’t seen you since that, uh, that—” “The symposium?” “Right! The one at, um—” “Bemidji?”

Yes, I will be highlighting every Minnesotan name-drop

Buck accepted the marker from the chagrined Craig

Grateful for his training taking his turn giving his mother insulin injections, Buck deftly opened the package, raised Ken’s sleeve without toppling him, swabbed the area, and pulled the cap off the hypodermic needle with his teeth. As he drove the point into Ken’s biceps, the cap popped from his mouth and rattled to the floor.

I would never have believed Buck could do it without that explanatory clause

Facing Ken, he thrust his wrists into the big man’s armpits and pulled him from the chair. He turned him 45 degrees and lowered him into the wheelchair, having forgotten to set the brake. When Ken hit the chair, it began rolling backwards, and Buck had no leverage to remove his hands. Straddling Ritz’s long legs, his face in Ken’s chest, Buck stumbled across the waiting room as onlookers dived out of the way. As the chair picked up speed, Buck’s only option was to drag his feet. He wound up sprawled across the lanky pilot, who roused briefly and called out, “Charlie Bravo Alpha to base!”

Third case of sudden slapstick

When Ritz seemed to begin coming out of his fog,

"Seemed to begin to"

“Are you cold, hon?” Buck asked. Chloe shook her head. Her discoloration had spread. The ugly streaks caused by bleeding under the skin nearly reached her temple. “She’s a little shook, that’s all,” Ritz said.

“Answer me,” Chloe whispered. “What?” “Buck, am I pregnant?” “Yes.”

“But we’d better get going. We’re not going to fool a real doctor for long, despite Joe Thespian here.” “That’s Dr. Airplane to you,” Ken said.

Ken being still the best character in this series

“Doctor?” Chloe said in a tiny voice. “You have something on your forehead.”

That moment when you realize this will be a part of every character description for the next eight books

“Will I be able to take care of her at home?” Buck asked. “She’ll be in a lot of pain for a long time and may never feel like she used to, but there’s nothing life-threatening here.

Oh good, an extended excuse to keep Chloe out of the action of the plot for as many books as we want

Rayford nodded. This meeting, as with so many, was unnecessary.

Almost like you're stuck in a boring subplot

“That little two-engine job is redundant. I replaced it with the Challenger 3.” “Where’d you find that?” The Challenger was about the size of a Learjet but nearly twice as fast. It had been developed during the last six months.

Cool story bro

The flight to Waukegan had been difficult for Chloe.

Wait, we just skip over them smuggling Chloe out of the hospital?

The best Buck could do was let her lie across the backseat, but one of the fasteners connecting the seat to the floor had broken loose during the earthquake, so he had to drive even slower than normal. Still, Chloe seemed to bounce the whole way.

Seemed to bounce

The whole deal now is which side you’re on. You’re either serving God or you’re serving the Antichrist.

The guy you brought back from Egypt with me is the hottest thing on the Internet.

But not that way

Buck shook his head. “I suppose next comes the chicken soup.” Tsion smiled and pushed a button on the microwave. “Give me sixty seconds.”

When she hobbled to the kitchen table and sat by herself, she asked only for her computer. It pained Buck to watch her peck away with one hand. When he tried to help, she rebuffed him. He must have looked hurt. “Honey, I know you want to help,” she said. “You searched for me until you found me, and nobody can ask for more than that. But, please, don’t do anything for me unless I ask.”

Good to see Chloe at least pushing back

“I’m not a dependent person, Buck. I don’t want to be waited on. This is war, and there aren’t enough days left to waste. As soon as I get this hand working, I’m gonna take some of the load off Tsion. He’s on the computer day and night.”

“Commander? Tell the truth now, Commander, is it actually Supreme Commander?” Fortunato did not respond, but Mathews must have detected something in his face. “It is, isn’t it? Well, even if it isn’t, I insist. If I am to call you Commander, it shall be Supreme Commander. Is that acceptable?”

I am so tired of this being the only conflict in Rayford's subplot. It feels like half the book has been spent on people bickering with Leon over titles.

Fortunato sighed loudly.

I’m at a reproductive clinic here. Now, don’t overreact. Yes, they do abortions, and they’re pushing me that direction. In fact, that’s mostly what they do.

This place also serves as a safe house, and I am here anonymously. I cut my hair short and dyed it black, and I wear colored contact lenses. I’m sure no one recognizes me.

They also encourage us to write to friends and loved ones and make amends. Sometimes they urge us to write to the fathers of our children.

I told a counselor I felt guilty about becoming pregnant when I wasn’t married. She had never heard anything like that in her life. She said I ought to stop obsessing about right and wrong and start thinking about what was best for me.

I was going to save this news, but I might as well tell you now. Response to my leadership has been so overwhelming that my staff has planned a weeklong festival next month to celebrate my installation. Though I no longer serve the Catholic church, which has been blended into our much bigger faith, it seemed appropriate to some that my title change as well. I believe it will have more immediate impact and be more easily understood by the masses if I simply go by Peter the Second.”

Add it to the pile

“He needs to remember that democracy wasn’t all bad. At least they had separation between church and state.”

People need something to believe in. They need faith. They need tolerance. We need to stand together and rid the world of the hatemongers. The vanishings took care of narrow-minded fundamentalists and intolerant zealots. Have you seen what’s happening on the Internet? That rabbi who blasphemed his own religion in his own country is now developing a huge following. It falls to me to compete with that.

“His Excellency was afraid of that.” “Bull! I’ve never known Carpathia to be afraid of anything.

The closest we've gotten to a swear

Rayford wanted to laugh aloud or spit in Fortunato’s face; he couldn’t decide which.

It is crucial that while out on her own, Miss Durham not do or say anything embarrassing.” “And so you want me to do what? Tell her to behave?” “Frankly, Captain, you would not be overstating it to inform her that accidents happen. She cannot remain invisible long. If it becomes necessary to eliminate the risk, we have the ability to effect this with expediency, and in a manner that would not reflect on His Excellency but would allow him to gain sympathy.”

“You don’t see the irony? I’m to pass along a death threat to Miss Durham yet trust you with protecting Tsion Ben-Judah.”

Rayford trudged to the cockpit, where he was met with Mac’s knowing look.

“What’s the difference? You expect the Antichrist to stand by a deal? I wouldn’t give a nickel for Hattie Durham’s future, whether she toes the line or not. Maybe if I string this out long enough I can learn something from Fortunato about Amanda. I’m telling you, Mac, she’s alive somewhere.”

Every incoming call was potentially momentous.

“Chloe’s phone,” he whispered. All he heard was crying. “Hattie?” he tried.

Hattie reintroduced literally weeping.

“She really wanted to talk to you, Hattie. Is there anything I can do?” “Oh, Buck!” she said, and lost control again.

As Buck waited, his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. For the first time since she had been home, Chloe was not on her left side, keeping weight off the myriad breaks, bruises, strains, sprains, and scrapes of her other side. Every morning she spent half an hour massaging sleeping body parts. He prayed that someday soon she would enjoy a restful night’s sleep. Maybe she was doing that now. But could one really enjoy a sleep so deep that a ringing phone a few feet away would not penetrate? He hoped her body would benefit, and her spirit as well. Chloe lay still, flat on her back, her left arm by her side, her mangled right foot pigeon-toed to the left, her casted arm resting on her stomach.

Once again, look at how lovingly Chloe's suffering is described. It's super gross.

He was struck by Chloe in repose. What a gift of God she was, and how grateful he was that she had survived.

Another creepy Buck moment; just stack it over there with all the others

Buck pulled the sheet and blanket up to Chloe’s neck, worrying that he might have dragged it across her foot, her most sensitive injury.

Which author has leg trauma??? It's a weird theme in this series that foot and leg injuries are so prominant. Maybe that's just because we need to keep so many female characters hobbled at all times, or else they might try to *do something.* This is the second time in four books that Chloe has been stuck home with a leg injury, consigned to secretary work.

“Why would he want me to stay here?” “Maybe he assumes that the longer you’re there, the more likely you are to have an abortion.” “That’s true.”

Buck wished Chloe would rouse and help him talk to Hattie.

Weird way to phrase that

“I’m nobody from nowhere.

Hello Rey

She appeared to be trying to open her eyes.

She grabbed her phone and used a cane to get to the table. She punched the buttons with her bloated right hand. “I’m going to call her right now,” she said. “I’m going to tell her I can’t wait to have some female companionship around here.”

A chortle came from Tsion upstairs.

Anyway, I got an anonymous message this morning from ‘One Who Knows.’ Of course, I cannot be sure he actually is one who knows, but he may be. Who can know? It is an interesting conundrum, is it not? Anonymous correspondence could be phony. Someone could claim to be me and engage in false teaching. I must come up with something that proves my authenticity, no?” “Tsion!” Chloe said. “What did One Who Knows write that amused you so?”

“I’m going with you.” “Oh, no you’re not!” Buck said,

Typical

Carpathia, who continually tries to explain as natural phenomenon anything that supports biblical prophecy, has his senior military adviser planning to, what? Shoot a burning mountain from the sky?

So, the mountain thing will be this book's cliffhanger is what I'm hearing

“Forgive her,” Buck said. “She’s going through a twenty-two-year-old’s bout with political correctness.”

Even in the 90s, that scariest of horsemen was already plaguing the evangelicals