Big Summer Book Giveaway

I’m participating in my first book giveaway! Credit goes to Jen Roberson, who organized a fantastic virtual book fair followed by this giveaway. She reached out to authors in the Realm Makers Consortium, a community of Christian fantasy and sci-fi writers, to pull this together. We sent in signed copies of our books, and Jen got over 20 authors involved and created 9 prize packs for readers to win.

You can check out all the prize packs and sign up to win here. (Expect to be taken to Facebook Messenger, where you’ll engage with a bot for the sign up flow). A signed copy of The Vermilion Riddle is included in one of the fantasy book packs!

I mean, how can you resist free books?

The giveaway is open through July 9, and you can follow me on IG for updates (@danaliwrites), where the authors are doing the primary promotion.

Stayed tuned, as I’ll have more fun updates soon on The Vermilion Riddle. Hint: audiobook! And blog tour!

The Beating Heart of Stories

“Who was your favorite character to write?” I got asked this a few times about The Vermilion Riddle. It’s a tough question to answer, because I like characters for different reasons – spunky, witty characters are fun to write, while anti-heroes are challenging but rewarding to create. But I find it’s also a tough question because I don’t just like writing specific characters, I love writing relationships. I’m not a fan of lone characters. (If you’re the only survivor in an apocalypse, I’ll pass.) I know there are thought-provoking, well-written stories with a cast of one, but I’m far more drawn to relationships. To me, they are the beating heart of great stories. Ensemble casts have always been my favorite, because you get a range of relational dynamics.

The Vermilion Riddle is, at the core, a story of relationships: between husband and wife, brothers, father and son, father and daughter, friends, enemies, and more. In the midst of adventures, duels, and intrigue, the relationships are the heartbeat of the story. 

Here were a few personal highlights among my favorite relationships to write:

Husband and wife: I might have bit off more than I could chew, since I wrote this while I was single. But I’m a hopeless romantic at heart, and I think every story I write will incorporate some romance, even if it’s not central. In this case, I wanted to explore romance and love in the context of marriage, which I find rare in fiction relative to the drama and fireworks of pre-marriage relationships. I can’t deny that I love a good enemies-to-lovers story, or the tension of a will-they-won’t-they story, or even a (gasp) love triangle done well. But what about love in marriage? For the closest relationship on earth, it doesn’t get quite as much screen/page time. It’s written off as the “happily ever after” that comes post-credits, and I wonder if it’s perceived as too boring or undramatic for a good story. But isn’t that where the real adventure begins? Anyway, Leah didn’t really want to marry August, so I still inserted a healthy dose of drama to kick it off!

Brothers: Again, I’m not a man, and I don’t have a brother, so I’m not writing from personal experience. This is one of the foundational relationships in The Vermilion Riddle, but a lot of August and Benedict’s relationship is not shown through direct interaction, but rather a backstory that is slowly colored in over time. It’s a relationship that’s been marked by betrayal and loss, and it hangs over the entire story. The pain that haunts them both is an unspoken indication of the depth of that relationship – the more you love, the more you hurt. Feeling that brokenness creates a deep longing too for reconciliation and redemption. These are the relationships we desperately want to see made right. While the main climax and resolution to the story was about the large-scale conflict with the Oath-breakers, writing the resolution to this relationship was more cathartic for me. (No spoilers on what that entailed, or even that it was a true “resolution,” but just where I left the two characters by the end of the novel).

Friends: There are a lot of different types of friendship in The Vermilion Riddle, but I’ve always had a soft spot for deep male friendships, which I think is sorely lacking in our world. For intimate friendships between men, our culture immediately imagines romantic undertones. So I had some reservations about writing a friendship that could toe that line in the eyes of some – but I did it anyway. We’ve lost something precious and God-given when men can’t have emotional intimacy and deep love for one another, free of sexual connotation. Benedict and Justin are by no means paragons of virtue, but they have that kind of friendship (and August does too, though I don’t press into those relationships as deeply). We often say “love is blind” and romantic love makes us do stupid things for the sake of the other… can’t a deep love for a friend similarly do that? In a way, I explored the idea of “love being blind” influencing some of the platonic relationships in Riddle, while the romance certainly doesn’t reflect that. (Leah got married with her eyes wide open.)

Father and daughter: Finally, one that I have personal experience with. Father-daughter stories move me in a special way. Leah’s dad is not at all like mine, and I didn’t model him after my dad – but in their relationship, I drew on some of the ways my dad and I relate: the way we easily understand each other without saying much, the irreverent humor in the face of ridiculous social constructs, and the way he protects me when I’m frail and need it most. They’re imperfect, but loving fathers. And there’s a warmth and steadfastness in that, because it’s a mirror of our Heavenly Father. Where friendships fail and romances fizzle out, there’s something in our core that believes a father will love unconditionally no matter what. Even though Leah’s dad isn’t “on screen” for much of the story, their relationship is an anchor in her life.

Interested in knowing more about these characters and how these relationships do resolve? Get your copy of The Vermilion Riddle today!

(I’m back, and I’m still writing! I recently got married, and life is busy, full, but good. After months of wedding planning and exercising the administrative side of my brain, I’m trying to find time for more creative endeavors again, so stay tuned).

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash.

Release Day!

It’s release day for The Vermilion Riddle!

I haven’t been furiously posting here because life is just full right now. I do make more frequent, bite-sized updates on my social media accounts, but man, it is a full-time job to be marketing a book at optimal capacity. And I still have another full-time job (that I do enjoy, but keeps me very busy) unless you all make me a bestselling writer who lands a movie deal.

That’s just to say, in spite of the relative silence in these parts, I’m no less excited that this day has come. I’ve had a number of early ARC readers finish The Vermilion Riddle already, and their reviews have truly encouraged me. I know the novel isn’t perfect, and there’s a lot of room for me to continue growing as a writer and storyteller. But to hear genuine feedback that this story kept people reading late into the night, or encouraged them to love the gospel even more, or made them cheer for and feel for the characters, or handled difficult themes in a thought-provoking way – it reminds me of why I started writing. It can be easy to forget while slogging through edits and trying desperately to fix technical inconsistencies in timeline and distances. To me, good stories have always been about making a dent in the darkness, bringing a flicker of light to another soul, or as N.D. Wilson puts it, “polluting the shadows.”

These were my exact words in a post a year ago:

I was a reader before I was ever a writer, and stories can have a profound impact on our psyche. I think of what the best stories have been for me: a cocoon on cold nights, a companion on lonely days, an iron that sharpened my mind, a battle cry that gave me courage. I don’t aspire to bestseller status or movie contracts. I like my quiet, small life. But I do hope my story, though fiction and fantasy, honors the Lord and is a flicker of light in a dark world. If it’s a candle in the night for one person out there, that’ll be more than worth it.

2021 Dana

It’s been worth it.

A lot is happening in my personal life in the next month, so I don’t expect to be popping in here frequently. But as things slow down, I do plan to share more about The Vermilion Riddle, what I’ve learned, and what I’m also working on next. So stay tuned.

Until then, my publisher and I are hosting a virtual Facebook launch party March 1 at 5 PM PST. Please join us! It’ll be a fun time of activities, Q&A, and giveaways. Just join the group and hop online for the party.

You can find all my writing-related links on my Linktree. And here’s a shortcut to buying your copy of The Vermilion Riddle.

The Vermilion Riddle is Available for Pre-Order!

I’m thrilled to share that The Vermilion Riddle is now available for preorder on Amazon! It feels a bit surreal to see my novel there. I looked back through my email inbox (a real trek down memory lane) and found scattered vignettes of this story, shared with a few friends. It’s been renamed and revised over the course of years. I almost gave up on it at a few points, thinking it was too offbeat to see the light of day – not to mention, the odds are always against you in traditional publishing. I’m so grateful to see this dream become a reality!

I’m also looking for help promoting The Vermilion Riddle. Specifically, I would like to give out eARCs (Advanced Reader Copy) to readers who are willing to read and provide an honest review before March 1, release day. I’m also putting together a small street team that will help me promote the book on social media and offline, as well as participants for a blog tour. If you are interested in supporting me in any of these ways, you can fill out this form.

Do you have other ideas for how to get the word out? Are there questions or topics you’d like me to address about the novel? I’m open to inspiration for new blog posts! Drop me a line anytime.

Stay tuned for more details on The Vermilion Riddle as we approach release day! If you’re on Facebook and Instagram, you can also follow me for more regular updates there:

Finally, I’ll leave you with the official synopsis, also available on Amazon:

“To enter Faerie’s blessed demesne
four secrets must be found:
the land unbound by time and space
opens only to the one who knows
the Light, the Song, and Mortal Gate.”

In the sheltered town of Carmel, women do not have a future outside of a good marriage. That future is threatened when Leah Edwards’ father gambles away the family’s livelihood and estate. She and her sisters must hurry to find husbands. Then August Fox, a Guardian from Cariath, comes to town and purchases a supposedly haunted manor. Charged to keep the peace between mortals and Faerie, the Guardians are the stuff of legend. After he stuns her with a marriage proposal, Leah reluctantly journeys to Cariath, discovering there is more to August and the legends than she guessed.

Nimrod and his Oath-breakers betrayed the Guardians, seeking to solve an ancient riddle that would unlock the Faerie realm. Not all his followers share his desire for conquest. Benedict Fox, his second-in-command, has different motives. But as he continues fulfilling Nimrod’s plan, Benedict hurtles towards a choice between saving his family and settling a personal vendetta.

For Leah, August, and their allies, it is a race against time to solve the ancient riddle before the Oath-breakers, and reunite the Guardians to save the mortal realm. The war is never really over, and this time, the battle lines cut through blood ties and brotherhood.

Top Reads of 2018: The Shortlist

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The last two years I summed up my top reads in three fiction and three non-fiction picks. The amount of reading I did took a dip in 2018, and a good portion of it was caught up in re-reading old books. I also find that I’ve become increasingly picky and impatient, so I’m much more comfortable with discontinuing a book that doesn’t hold my attention 1-2 chapters in. As a result, I only read three new non-fiction books, and while they were all good, it seems pointless to do a top three out of three options.

Instead, I just chose my top four overall. Coincidentally, each of them represents a different genre, so perhaps something will pique your interest. Maybe this means I’m reading more broadly (see, Mom? I’m not only reading books about made-up-worlds now), though I need to read more in general. Here’s hoping I stick it through some good, meaty books this year. Please send recommendations!

1. The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah

I wrote about this book briefly in my post on WWII historical fiction. Two sisters fight for their family and country in Nazi-occupied France. Isabelle is the fiery, rebellious one, deadset on joining the Resistance. Vianne begins as a fragile woman, even more helpless after her husband goes off to war. But the war comes to her home too, and she must find the strength to protect the ones she loves. Usually, war stories are about the men on the front. This is a heartbreaking, beautiful story of the women at home, and the quiet battles they had to fight. Kristin Hannah shines a light on humanity at its best and worst through a complex cast of characters.

“Men tell stories. Women get on with it. For us it was a shadow war. There were no parades for us when it was over, no medals or mentions in history books. We did what we had to during the war, and when it was over, we picked up the pieces and started our lives over.”

2. The Absurdity of Unbelief by Jeffrey D. Johnson

This is my one non-fiction pick, and it’s a little-known gem. Johnson sets quite a task for himself – he runs through a series of non-Christian worldview systems (naturalism, evolution, existentialism, postmodernism, non-theistic religions, Islam, Judaism, Unitarianism, and more) and drives home each one’s core fallacies and inconsistencies. He then proceeds to present the case for Christianity, and why it is the only believable, consistent worldview of reality, answering the fundamental questions of, “What is real?” “What is right?” and “What is true?”

Funny enough, last night at Bible Study, we were discussing  how no airtight argument can definitively prove God’s existence. Many of them are convincing, but you can still poke a hole somewhere. The reality is, there’s no “neutral” starting ground where we can lay aside our biases and start stacking the evidence on both sides. We all come with our presuppositions. The Bible doesn’t make a case for God by a string of arguments – it begins with the presupposition that God exists, and all creation is loudly declaring that truth.

That said, Johnson’s book is formidable. He employs his God-given gifts of logic, reason and biblical knowledge to make an extremely convincing case for Christianity. It’s not perfect, and some chapters are weaker than others, but it’s a great apologetic primer. And he ends with a call to repent and believe. Read this if you’re a Christian. Read it if you’re a skeptic.

“With this in mind, the biblical worldview offers three basic truths that are necessary to a cohesive system of thought. These truths are logic, moral distinctions, and God. These things are inherent because they are necessary conditions preprogrammed within our thinking so that we can construct meaningful thought and cognitive beliefs as we interact with the external world.”

3. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

I’m late to this bandwagon, and I was very hesitant about climbing on. I hate gratuitous sex, violence, swearing, and darkness. And I warn you, this book has some very disturbing parts of all the aforementioned elements, so I do not recommend this to everyone. I honestly expected to hate this book, or at least, find it way over-hyped. And maybe it is over-hyped, but it’s also chillingly good – in the excellent writing, the way Flynn digs deep into the characters, and in the mother of all plot twists. I haven’t read a ton of thrillers, but my sense is, you don’t usually get the whole package like that.

I won’t bother with a summary, since you probably know what this story is about. Imagine your worst nightmare of a toxic marriage. Then triple the catastrophe. Honestly, I wonder if Gillian Flynn’s husband should be concerned. I’m sure she could be a normal, nice lady, but the fact that she had it in her to write this story so well … well, I’d be worried.

Anyway, it was very well done, but I probably wouldn’t re-read it because it was a gruesome picture of depravity. If you’re sensitive, I repeat, do not attempt.

“I’ve literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can’t anymore. I don’t know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. We are all working from the same dog-eared script. It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.”

4. Grisha Verse Trilogy by Leigh Bardugo

Yes, I cheated, because a trilogy is three books. But it’s really one continuous story, and I can’t pick a favorite out of them. Finally, some YA fiction that takes a step above the heap of mediocrity. I burned through this series in a matter of days while traveling. Alina is a poor girl with nothing but her handsome and more capable best friend, Mal. That is, until she awakens a dormant power within herself that has the potential to save their kingdom from war. She is taken away to train as a Grisha, the magical elite force led by the enigmatic Darkling.

So yes, it has your usual YA tropes, but I have nothing against them if they’re used well. It’s an epic tale of adventure, suspense, intrigue/politics, and romance in an exotic Russian-inspired setting, and Bardugo writes with a vivid, poetic style that’s not overkill. She also pulls off some pretty slick plot twists. While I’m rather indifferent to Alina and Mal (they’re likable enough, but not outstanding), I love the ensemble of characters Bardugo builds over the course of the series. It’s rare to find a good villain in YA lit, but I have to say, hers takes the cake. The story follows the typical fantasy arc in many ways, but does so with heart, high stakes, and a dash of humor: all the things I like best.

“This was his soul made flesh, the truth of him laid bare in the blazing sun, shorn of mystery and shadow. This was the truth behind the handsome face and the miraculous powers, the truth that was the dead and empty space between the stars, a wasteland peopled by frightened monsters.”

 

Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

Battle for Humanity: WWII Historical Fiction

I’ve always considered myself a fantasy/sci-fi buff, but I’m beginning to think I jumped on that bandwagon too hastily. Speculative fiction still makes up a large chunk of my all-time favorite books, but its a very particular brand of the genre. I was all in with classic fantasy since Narnia and Lord of the Rings shaped my love for reading, but I’ve come across few fantasy novels since then that have captivated me. Many feel like duller versions of Tolkien and Lewis, recycled with weirder names. My sci-fi fascination started with Star Wars, which was film-based, and that primarily led me to read…Star Wars novels. An embarrassing number of them. I began to realize the hardcore fans of these genres geeked out about things like intricate magical systems, crazy planetary environments, or midichlorian counts (which is from Star Wars, and I didn’t really care about them). I just loved the characters and the heart, but I don’t want to slog through pages about a world’s terrain.

On the flip side, I always thought historical fiction was boring. Real world, no thanks. But after finishing my latest read, I realized how many of these books I’ve come to love, especially in the last few years. More specifically, a common thread emerged: I kept stumbling across great World War II historical fiction without even looking for them.

Here are five I recommend, in no particular order:

  • The Nightingale, by Kristin Hannah
    Two sisters fight for their family and country in Nazi-occupied France. Isabelle is fiery, made for the Resistance. Vianne thinks she’s fragile, but she’s made from the fire.
  • All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doerr
    A blind French girl and a German boy each try to survive the war. On different sides, their stories eventually collide.
  • The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak
    Death narrates this story about a girl in Germany who loves books so much she steals them.
  • Code Name Verity, by Elizabeth Wein
    Two British girls, best friends and soldiers, crash land in France. One is captured by the Nazis, and both will go to any length to save each other.
  • From Sand and Ash, by Amy Harmon
    It’s a tale of star-crossed lovers: Angelo and Eva were raised together as family, but he will become a priest, and she is wanted Jewish woman.

Each of these stories has the things I love about fantasy/sci-fi: characters I care about, a lot of heart, good fighting evil in the face of terrible odds, adventure, suspense, and fabulous writing. Even more, none of these books conclude with a pretty bow and happily ever after. They don’t conclude in despair, but they certainly are not sorrow-free. They look at WWII through various angles, but the war is integral to each story. The stakes are high, and the losses tug at your heart, especially when you remember the reality of this devastation isn’t so far behind us.

I think there are many reasons WWII produces such compelling stories, not least of them being that many are based on real people and heroes that emerged. (I used to have a bias against biographies as boring too, but there are some excellent ones coming from this era). There have been many wars fought, even since then. But WWII stands out not only in its scale, but the mostly universal agreement that it was not just a war fought for resources or politics, but a war fought against evil. Sure, there was nationalism and politics at work on the global level, but there were ordinary people risking their lives for others, doing what was right in spite of the consequences. And we recognize how pivotal the outcome of the war was. If you’re familiar with The Man in the High Castle (either Phillip Dick’s weird book or Amazon’s equally-bleak-but-less-weird show), it depicts an alternate history, where the Axis powers won WWII. It’s a world of shadows and fear, where the Nazi flag flies over America, and you can be shot on spot for being the wrong race or saying the wrong thing.

I find that these stories, maybe in an unconscious way, stand in defiance against the relativistic culture today. How do we have the moral authority to call the Nazi regime evil? Tolerance is a pretty weak flag to wave in decrying such hatred. There must be an absolute standard of good and evil—else if each of us can have our own equally valid truths, how can anyone claim higher moral ground? There must be inviolable dignity to each human life, which is why genocide is such an atrocity. We cannot imbue value into human life just by claiming it, and there’s no reason to believe we have any if we’re just evolved, accidental atoms.

There are complicated people in these books. A German soldier who is kind to his country’s enemies, a Catholic priest who falls in love, and otherwise gentle women who take life to protect another. I find myself more drawn to them than the unblemished good guys of fantasyland. Not because I disbelieve in objective morality, but because they reflect the reality of our broken world and broken humanity. We are made in the image of God, with eternity on our hearts, and an understanding of justice and goodness imprinted on our conscience. But we have fallen far from Eden. In every great character, there is real weakness and flaw, and yet also a grasping for virtue—to lay down their life for another, to die for a worthy cause, or to shelter an orphan. In this tension and collision, we find a picture of the Fall, of Redemption, and the New Creation we long for.

Know of any other great WWII reads (or any great reads)? I’m always open to recommendations!

Photo by Jacob Valerio on Unsplash

Top Reads of 2017: The Shortlist

Happy New Year! I’ll try to be more disciplined about posting regularly this year. I just need to make the time and kick the perfectionism. We’ll see how it goes. For now, I thought I’d share my favorite reads from last year!

NONFICTION

1. Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl by N.D. Wilson

If you’ve read Tim Keller’s The Reason for God, I almost see Wilson’s book as the poetic, sassy version of it. It’s like an extended Psalm, standing in wonder at God’s created world and man, the pinnacle of his creation. It’s written with an understanding of our modern world, and casually dismantles the philosophical flaws our generation clings to, doing so with humor and flair. Also, his mastery of words is magnificent. Example:

“The Problem Part Two: The world is rated R, and no one is checking IDs. Do not try to make it G by imagining the shadows away. Do not try to hide your children from the world forever, but do not pretend there is no danger. Train them. Give them sharp eyes and bellies full of laughter. Make them dangerous. Make them yeast, and when they’ve grown, they will pollute the shadows.”

2. Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus by Nabeel Qureshi

I heard Nabeel’s name in Christian circles for awhile, but I finally picked up his book the same year he passed away. A year ago, I was telling a friend about an ongoing Gospel dialogue I was having, and she said it reminded her of Nabeel and David’s conversations. Curious, I started reading. Nabeel takes you deep into his world: of his Muslim upbringing, his religious devotion, his struggle with faith, and his conversion to Christianity. It’s intensely personal. His life is a testimony to the grace of God as well as a reminder that the cost of following Christ is high.

Note: I was a big fan of his friend David in the book. If you read this, you should check out David’s own testimony on YouTube. Blew my mind.

3. Why the Reformation Still Matters by Michael Reeves and Tim Chester

Protestants celebrated the 500th anniversary of the Reformation last year, and I read this for a series our Bible Study is going through. It’s a clear and accessible book on the history and doctrines of the Reformation. Reeves and Chester draw clear lines of distinction between Reformed theology and Roman Catholicism, showing how the differences are not small, but go to the heart of the Gospel. A faithful and good reminder that we cannot cast truth aside in the name of tolerance.

FICTION

1. Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

I stumbled across this book randomly and it was incredible. I tend to think of the post-apocalyptic genre as zombie-infested, (boring/gory) lone survivor stories, and bleakly annihilationist. This subverted my expectations. Station Eleven is really about art and stories, but it takes place on the brink of civilization’s collapse. It draws one of its core themes from a Star Trek quote: “Survival is insufficient.” Even without electricity, Internet, or airplanes, a theater group is still traveling the country, performing Shakespeare. The world we take for granted is made beautiful in the eyes of those who have lost it.

2. From Sand and Ash by Amy Harmon

A lot of really good literature has come out of the WWII era. This is probably not a well-known one, but it’s beautifully written. At heart, it is a story of star-crossed lovers: two children raised together fall in love, but he becomes a Catholic priest, and she a persecuted Jew on the run. I’m not a big romance reader, but I appreciate how Harmon captures the danger of the times, the heartbreak, and the marvelous contrast of hope in the darkness.

3. All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

Another WII read that is well-known. This one climbed the ranks into one of my all-time favorites. I’m not sure what to say about it, but that it’s a beautiful story about goodness and humanity in a broken world. And Doerr’s writing is one of the best I’ve read in a long time.

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

Top Reads of 2016: The Shortlist

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I’m a bit late to this game, but in case you’re looking for a few good books to add to your docket, I put together a shortlist of some favorites from 2016. These weren’t necessarily written last year; that’s just when I read them. In no particular order, here are my top 3 in non-fiction and fiction. Tolle lege!

NONFICTION

  1. When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi

This book is making waves, and it deserves its acclaim. Kalanithi was as skilled with words as with a surgeon’s knife. He writes of his ambition and incredible academic and career success without pomp or arrogance, and of his terminal cancer days with unflinching honesty. As his patients benefitted from his medical expertise, we too have benefitted from his personal story and reflections. Read it, and walk with him through the euphoric highs and bitter lows of his too-short life, and think hard about how we are living ours.

  1. A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis

Pain turned into words. This is not the mind of the apologist, but the heart of the broken. I can’t agree with all of his theology, but I love his honesty and humanity. Yes, he questions if God is there, and if his faith is real at all. I don’t think Christians should balk so much at that: Lewis may have been a great Christian thinker, but he was also human, and writing in the face of heartbreak and loss. Our own faith shouldn’t rest on the strength of his faith or personal experience. I respect that he was not afraid to write hard and clear about what scares many of us.

  1. The Reason for God by Tim Keller

He’s called the modern day C.S. Lewis by some, and after reading this, I would actually choose The Reason for God over Mere Christianity as the book to give to my skeptical friends or seekers. Keller isn’t saying anything new, per se. Apologetics has been around for ages. But the way he addresses common objections—especially the most relevant ones of our times—and clearly presents the reasons for faith is top notch. He writes with sound logic, intellect, accessibility, and graciousness, all while standing firm on the Gospel truth.

FICTION

  1. Tales of Goldstone Wood by Anne Elisabeth Stengl

This might be cheating, because this is a series with seven full novels and a couple novellas. Chances are, you haven’t heard of it, because it’s not mainstream. I know, unknown Christian fantasy series… really? I actually can’t stand much of the Christian fiction genre—poor writing, heavy-handed, etc. And as a fantasy aficionado, I’ve progressively read less in the genre because it seems filled with copycats or gratuitous violence and sex. BUT this series was a delightful surprise. The world-building and characters are rich. There are definite Christian overtones, but it’s not preachy or forced, and Stengl isn’t afraid to get dark. There’s a fairy tale-like quality to the books, but its never shallow, and don’t expect the stories to wrap up with a bow and happily-ever-after.

Note: Personally, I think the first book is the weakest, but don’t let that turn you away. It gets better and better. Starflower (book 4) is probably my favorite. I would read them in order if you can, though!

  1. Winter by Marissa Meyer

For all the terrible finales to popular YA books we’ve seen (not naming any names), Marissa Meyer does her series a solid with this conclusion. Fairy tale retellings are not new; in fact, they’re kind of the rage now. The Lunar Chronicles takes it to the next level—fairy tales, space, dystopia, politics, etc. Meyer had quite a task tying up all the storylines she created, and she did not disappoint. It was epic and sweeping, with clever parallels to the original fairy tales. Imagine Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel and Snow White (with upgraded IQs) falling in love with their respective men (who actually have some flaws) and fighting the evil queen of the moon. I mean, she did something right, cause I was sold.

  1. Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein

You have spies and suspense, but the heart of this story is sisterhood. The plot was clever, the emotions raw and genuine, and Wein plumbs the depth of a spectacular friendship between two girls, put to the ultimate test. So many props to her for writing a beautiful, intelligent, and historical YA drama. I’m not a feminist, but there is some legit girl power going here—I’m tired of both the whimpering, helpless damsel in distress and the unrealistic assassin lady who can take out armies singlehandedly. Wein’s characters are brave but broken, fierce but flawed. She proves that friendship is just as, if not more, potent than romance in storytelling.

Still Growing Up – Thoughts on “Go Set a Watchman”

Oh hey. I know I’ve vanished for the better part of a month – life changes, busyness, lack of inspiration, and all that jazz. But I’m back, and with a (long-winded, most likely) review of Go Set a Watchman, which I couldn’t resist buying early and devouring in the course of a day. I was apprehensive as some early reviews drifted into my purview – everything from the book being a shameless money grab, to Lee ruining one of the most beloved literary figures of all time – but I have an incurable sense of curiosity. And, in all honesty, I wasn’t going to not read a To Kill a Mockingbird sequel. Some spoilers ahead. 

CHILDHOOD, CAPTURED

Harper Lee has such as keen grasp of children, their nature and way of thinking. It was apparent in To Kill a Mockingbird, and she brings the same warmth and emotion to writing some significant flashback scenes in Watchman. This was one of my favorite parts of the book – finding new anecdotes of Scout’s early days in Maycomb, full of hilarity and moving character insights. There’s her, Jem and Dill reenacting a religious revival and Scout being caught naked by the reverend with her father; there’s Scout living with the terrible thought that she’s pregnant for nine months because of girlish rumors from school; and many more. Like Mockingbird, Lee continues to deal with some serious moral issues in her novel, but so much of her story is wrapped around simple tales of growing up in a small town with unforgettable characters, and how they leave a mark on you for life.

On a side note, I can understand why publishers wanted her to write Mockingbird and publish that instead because I found her flashback scenes to be the best part of Watchman, though they were scattered throughout in a much less structured plot than her first novel.

Did Harper Lee ruin Atticus?

This made me afraid of picking up the book, because Atticus is one of my favorite fictional characters, and if there was one unavoidable spoiler about Watchman, it was that Lee turned him into a racist. Maybe this made me brace for the very worst, because I thought she made him into some kind of a raving madman – but it was quite the contrary. I actually found him terribly consistent as a character. Still a gentleman through and through, with a sharp mind and opinions entirely his own. Yes, you can quote him from Mockingbird and quote him from Watchman and be horrified at some of these juxtapositions, but he is still Atticus. I won’t get into the politics and race relations (and I’m sure this has been and will continue to be one of the book’s most talked about aspects), but I will simply say this regarding his character: Atticus is human, and the philosophy and culture of his times inevitably will have their effect on him, just as they do on all of us. This isn’t to justify his views, but to understand him, and how Lee humanizes him.

The outrage over his character is mirrored in the outrage Scout feels as she tells the story. I wonder if it’s poetic in one sense – that we have “grown up” with Scout, we have idolized Atticus with her, and we have watched him fall, all through her eyes. Atticus is no longer the hero of this story, his daughter is. Lee uses his character’s evolution as a springboard for developing Scout – she would not have the passion and conviction she does if she wasn’t her father’s daughter, and she would not have shown it in Watchman if her father remained exactly the same.

Still Growing Up

One review I read put it this way: Mockingbird is about Scout discovering her father is a god; Watchman is about Scout discovering her father is not a god. My take on it is this: Mockingbird is about a young girl discovering the world and its people can be extraordinarily, irrationally cruel. Watchman is about a young woman discovering that even our heroes are human. It is another tale of growing up, another coming of age, but in a more nuanced and specific way. Haven’t we all experienced both? Isn’t the reality of our heroes’ flaws so much more painful than the reality of the world’s brokenness? Atticus was never perfect – but he was nearly that in Scout’s eyes for most her life. One story is about shedding some of childhood’s innocence, another is about coming more fully into adulthood.

Overall, Watchman was good. Compared to the average novel put out today, it’s very good. Compared to Mockingbird, it falls short. The narrative flow of Watchman is not as strong, and the emotional impact is heavily dependent on its predecessor – the blow Scout feels from Atticus is doubled if you know the Atticus of Mockingbird (though Lee brings a lot of that to light within her new book too). The scene with Cal is heartbreaking. Yet, her storytelling ability, sense of humor, and understanding of human nature is still excellent, uniquely hers, and reminiscent of her first classic.

I’ll admit, I breathed a sigh of relief when I closed the book still loving Scout and Atticus. And sure, someone’s in this for the marketing and money, but I had a good time too – so thanks for unearthing Watchman. 

Young, Reckless and Nonconformist – Religious Thoughts on “Blue Like Jazz”

BluelikejazzI finally read Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz, a few years behind its explosion onto the Christian book scene. I’m not very good at writing book reviews because I tend to get long-winded and dig a hole into one idea, but I felt compelled to share some thoughts. (For excellent and witty book insights, I recommend my friend Veronica!)

Miller is something of a controversial writer in Christian circles, often associated with the emergent church, but I believe he doesn’t consider himself party to that movement. His emphasis on feelings and experiences tend in that direction, though he holds to the depravity of man and the need for salvation. He speaks to an increasingly polarized culture and subcultures of Christianity, and for that I applaud the naked honesty and vulnerability in his writing, which inevitably garners critique from various groups. (And it has—I’ve skimmed the Goodreads reviews.) Needless to say, Blue Like Jazz comes with a host of strengths and weaknesses. I will say up front, though, that I don’t plan to rehash some of the widespread critiques I’ve already seen from many in the conservative, Reformed corner: he’s all about emotion, lacks a high view of Scripture, fuzzy on atonement, and on. I agree with a large part of the criticisms (not all), but at the same time, he’s writing more of a memoir, not a theological treatise. So I want to try to look at it as such.

What I Liked

He’s a good storyteller—humorous, compelling, honestly irreverent (which is sometimes refreshing, sometimes inappropriate), and surprisingly shrewd. Some reviews accuse the book of being nothing more than a meandering diary, but he manages to make that form engaging enough. I particularly liked his stories of living in Portland and attending Reed; it struck close to home for me, and he relates his tales in an up close, personal way, as if you were chatting over coffee in a hipster café.

Dying for something is easy because it is associated with glory. Living for something is the hard thing. Living for something extends beyond fashion, glory, or recognition. We live for what we believe.

He’s honest and real—in a way that can be scary and bold, as he gives a voice to universal but rarely spoken doubts, struggles, and desires. I do think he almost elevates the importance of self-expression and authenticity above objective Truth, but then again, the entire book is a product of his self-expression.

They are lonely. I’m not talking about lonely for a lover or a friend. I mean lonely in the universal sense, lonely inside the understanding that we are tiny people on a tiny little earth suspended in an endless void that echoes past stars and stars of stars. 

He has a sharp gaze into the human soul—I can’t quite compare him to C.S. Lewis, but I found some gems in the book that were reminiscent of Lewis’ insight. The unique edge Miller brings comes from the very different culture he grew up in, and how the severe rift between postmodern thought and conservative Christianity shaped his perspective. Having lived and breathed in both sorts of communities, his observations and struggles resonate with me (and I would guess, with many in our generation).

Somehow I had come to believe that because a person is in need, they are candidates for sympathy, not just charity. It was not that I wanted to buy her groceries, the government was already doing that. I wanted to buy her dignity. And yet, by judging her, I was the one taking her dignity away. 

The Self-Addiction Cycle

Early in the book, Miller expresses his belief in human depravity, and he describes coming to the realization in a personal way.

“Do I want social justice for the oppressed, or do I just want to be known as a socially active person? I spend 95 percent of my time thinking about myself anyway. I don’t have to watch the evening news to see that the world is bad, I only have to look at myself. I am not browbeating myself here; I am only saying that true change, true life-giving, God-honoring change would have to start with the individual. I was the very problem I had been protesting. I wanted to make a sign that read “I AM THE PROBLEM!”

He goes on to speak of our helpless, natural self-addiction many times over. He says, “The most difficult lie I have ever contended with is this: life is a story about me.” I couldn’t help but find it somewhat ironic that the overall theme of the book radiates with an intense focus on self. He repeatedly writes about his opinions and views almost as if they were a law unto himself—his dissatisfaction with relationships, with churches, etc. It made me wonder, “So how did the Gospel rescue him from self-absorption?” He speaks of the inestimable value of love and sacrifice, and how he found beautiful examples of that in the world outside the church. Perhaps this is where our theology comes into play, because I don’t see how one can truly begin to overcome the depth of depravity apart from bringing the full Gospel to bear—Christ’s substitutionary atonement for sin, and His righteousness alone credited to those who believe. I get the sense Miller has a strong grasp of the Gospel’s core, yet his book blurs a lot of lines. It leads me to ask: If he believes in the fullness and centrality of the Gospel, wouldn’t his writing display it?

In short, he shows a keen sensitivity to our innate self-obsession and he speaks of the need to grow in Christlikeness. I can’t help but think of John 3:30 – “He must increase, but I must decrease.” As the outcome of Miller’s conclusions, I half-expected and half-hoped his memoir would naturally grow in speaking more of the glories of Christ and the Gospel and less of himself. Not because “that’s what you’re supposed to do in a Christian book” but because “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me (Galatians 2:20).” He believes that wonder is the best worship of God, yet what aspects of God command his awe, and where is his authority for the character of God? I’m sure he can give an answer, and I wish he had in the book.

The Division of Head and Heart

Miller brings a flavor of mysticism to his view of God, denying the need or ability to rationalize the spiritual. His story is an interesting case study of many drawn to postmodern, emergent breeds of thought—young, highly intellectual and educated people who seek to divorce intellect from spirituality. It’s an odd but strangely trendy phenomenon in our culture today.

While many flying the flag of Christianity over the centuries have sought to make faith viable by shutting down science, compromising to science, co-existing in supposed contradiction yet peace with science, etc., biblical faith never needs or seeks to do that. The Truth is able to appeal to the heart, mind, and soul and withstand the test of being embraced by our entire being, without turning a blind eye or fleeing from tough questions. False religions are the ones that latch onto one part of our faculties alone with an iron grip (e.g. science-as-religion that speaks to the intellect exclusively; spirituality that speaks to the heart and emotions exclusively).

And yet, we are sinners, imperfect in all our ways, and none of us achieve that right tension of loving the Lord with all our heart, soul, strength and mind. Miller falls into the “heart and soul” camp more than the “mind,” but those on the opposite end of the spectrum can surely learn from his basking in the “pure and furious” love of God and compassion for the lost and needy. These things can be lost in a narrow focus on doctrine. At the same time, I think Miller’s love for and faith in the Gospel comes with the undeniable influence of postmodern thought, which favors experientialism over doctrinal conviction. But doctrine is not simply for intellect’s sake, and deep theology and knowledge of truth is the firmest foundation and fuel for abiding love. Love for the sake of love is meaningless in the end and will not hold up in the face of our sin and brokenness. I think Miller would agree with that.

In closing, I’d echo his own well-spoken belief:

“I don’t think any church has ever been relevant to culture, to the human struggle, unless it believed in Jesus and the power of His gospel.” – Blue Like Jazz