if i were discussing this book: "god is dead" and i don't feel so good myself

in my transition from the college to post-college life, i responded to the decreasing frequency of late night musings and existential inquiry by instead spilling my thoughts online. strangely enough, the e-place that i most frequently turned to for ravenous debate was englishforums.com, a website where moderators and well-meaning amateurs helped ESL speakers tackle this great monster we call english. and so when i got bored answering grammar riddles, i wandered into the controversial subjects forum.

yet rather than argue for my own causes, i ran to the side of perspectives that seemed, to me, falsely maligned. perhaps because of the vitriolic, one-sided tenor of argument that is a universal fact of the internet, or perhaps because of some innate character flaw, or perhaps because of the empathy-inducing influence of fiction and the gospel, whatever the cause, in between offering advice on commas and prepositions, i ignored my own quest to prove that mormonism wasn't a subset of christianity, for example, to prove that catholicism was (clarification: i'm not catholic).

this tendency for counterintuitive apologetics has, i think, found its way into my real-life character as well. at many a cousin-camping trip, i've stood at the fire, defending catholic theology to my fellow protestants. i campaign for liberal causes among my conservative friends, and conservative causes among my liberal friends.

and now, with the help of my fellow editors, chris keller and jon stanley, i've taken the ultimate crazy step: i've published a book that uses analytic essays, social commentary, poetry, interviews, and art to ask what we christians can learn from atheists. that is, how can christian theology approach atheism, that very concept that seems opposite and anathematic to christianity?"

my intentions are a bit different here--i don't intend to argue that atheists have been misunderstood--but they are related. as we suggest in our introduction, the cultural conversation surrounding new atheism and christianity has become a great swelling of voices, so loud and so self-righteous, that there's no space for quiet, compassionate consideration.

in any case, i encourage you to check out our book, "god is dead" and i don't feel so good myself: theological engagements with the new atheism, and see what you think.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

this is clearly a 17/17 read! OK, OK, you probably shouldn't trust me. i'm a bit biased by the fifty cent royalty for every thousand or so copies sold. look at the website below to see what brian mclaren says about this "brilliant book," or how james k. a. smith refers to it as a "stunning collection" and an "intellectual feast."

you can purchase and read about god is dead here (where it's cheaper than at amazon!).

if i were discussing this book: the brief wondrous life of oscar wao

i'm hesitant to mark my return to the 17 point scale flash-book reviews (pretend that's an n-dash) by examining junot diaz's the brief wondrous life of oscar wao--the book jacket includes quotes from famous publications that pretty much nail my every thought on the book. it's "extraordinarily vibrant" (NYT), "hauntingly horrific" (SFC), "deliciously casual" (TBG), and "achingly personal" (LAT). and even beyond the ubiquity of glowing adverb + adjective constructions for oscar, if you pick out nearly any oscar blurb, i think you'll find me nodding along, "yes, yes. he's right. it is a brilliant multigenerational, globally enacted tragicomedy of sex and nerdom, an epic bildungsroman with voice and pizazz!" (T17PS).

but then i remember the point of this series: i'm not attempting reviews. i'm not even attempting to discuss books in any meaningful way. i merely want to give a sense of what i think of books and what i might say if i were forced to pen a thoughtful essay on said books. it's really quite liberating.

which brings me back to my rather common response to oscar.

a responsible thinker might question whether books like oscar perpetuate latin american stereotypes in the U.S. psyche (my friend dalia, an IU grad student, reminded me of this, which reminded me of this article about roberto bolano in the guardian). or perhaps he might study the sexual ethics and norms in oscar and then contrast those behaviors with the mind-splitting oppression of the dominican republic under trujillo and his "nazgul" minions; that'd be my second choice.

but my essay would focus on that one trait that seems to have made oscar a universal sensation, the winner of the pulitzer prize for fiction, the national book critics circle award for fiction, time's #1 fiction book, et cetera: voice.

i'd attempt to locate the book in the context of other works throughout the centuries that have successfully combined a literary style (i.e., poetic language, thoughtful plot, full characters) with a not-so literary (and funny!) idiom. that is, diaz combines a sense of the literary--take this, for a random example, "It went up in a flash, like gasoline, like a stupid hope, and if I hadn’t thrown it [the burning wig] in the sink it would have taken my hand. … That was when she slapped at me, when I struck her hand and she snatched it back, like I was the fire"--with hilarious shout outs to contemporary vernacular. in oscar we read about the One Ring, about Galactus and the Watchmen. we learn of the protagonist's desire to "combine world-class martial artistry with deadly firearms proficiency" and his sister, who unleashed one of the great Street Fighter chain attacks of all time (OK, as essay on violence could work, too).

and so i wonder what other books of fiction might fit in this canon of works that dare to combine the high and low (?) art to humorous and strangely profound effect.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

i'm leaning toward a 13/17 rating, which makes oscar a 17 point scale recommended title, unless you prefer to avoid titles with copious amounts of violence, profanity, and sex. after all, if you condense this story to the simplicity of its most central device, it really is nothing more than the story of its protagonist's quest to lose his virginity.

you can purchase oscar here.

i'm also tweeting cool passages from the book at #oscarwao.

banned books week!

according to presidential proclamation, next month we can celebrate National School Lunch Week and National Forest Products Week. i really can't restrain myself; the excitement is just too much.

but perhaps more relevantly to my passions and career aspirations, apparently we're right smack-dab in the middle of Banned Books Week, a time when Amnesty International, the American Library Association, and the publishing world seek to remind us of the power language and literature, even--perhaps especially--books we may perceive as dangerous, to awaken us and transform us for the better.

check out the First Amendment First Aid Kit at Random House here, which includes suggestions for dialoging about free speech and a list of "banned" books. in the United States, these books aren't banned in a technical sense--you can still purchase them on Amazon or find them in many libraries--but they are banned in a regional sense; there are some libraries where these books are intentionally not stocked, where librarians lose their jobs over the decision to fight for shelf-space. and here are some examples of banned books: house of spirits (isabel allende), fahrenheit 451 (ray bradbury), da vinci code (dan brown), the things they carried (tim o'brien), a prayer for owen meany (john irving)...

PS per anna alter at http://bluerosegirls.blogspot.com/2009/09/banned-books-week.html, Random House will send a free banned or challenged book (while supplies last) to anyone who posts the graphic or blogs about Banned Books Week. tell them about it at firstamendment@randomhouse.com.

if i were discussing this book: jesus girls

a friend recently emailed me to inquire about my personal thoughts regarding jesus girls (buy the book here!), a book that my friends at cascade books recently published and a book that i helped edit and have been actively marketing on facebook.

i had the sense that she wanted something more than the back-of-the-book blurb (which is actually quite good and rather apropos to the book) or the glowing publisher's weekly review, and so i attempted to avoid pure promotional speak. i don't know that i succeeded, but here's what i said:

Personally, this is the coolest project I've ever worked on. To some extent, editing psychiatric genetic research is rewarding, because some of the things I work on may help lead to a cure or otherwise improve people's lives. That's pretty cool, but the writing itself is dry and makes no attempt to create meaning for readers. My work at THE OTHER JOURNAL is much more interesting--I get to edit theology essays, social justice articles, and poems; I get to work on writing that speaks truth to people's lives.

But JESUS GIRLS moves beyond those mediums (well, perhaps not poetry, but that's another story). JG is a collection of what you might call creative nonfiction or personal essays. Like good fiction, these essays creatively propel readers to an unconscious empathy, to see the world from someone else's shoes, and perhaps to reconsider our own lives. I've wanted to work with creative nonfiction (and novels) for a long time, so helping Hannah (the book's primary editor) edit these essays has been a very fulfilling experience.

Now, more particularly, as its title suggests, JG is a collection of reflections about growing up evangelical. What's unique about JG--and I can imagine this turning some readers off--is that it's not your typical account of growing up evangelical. That is, if you go to a Christian bookstore, you'll probably find books that closely follow the lost-and-then-found formula of conversion; if you go to a secular bookstore, you'll probably find books that blame their evangelical childhood for all of their problems as an adult. Instead, JG gathers essays from women who are still evangelical, women who now belong to other Christian denominations, and women who no longer consider themselves Christians. And so JG aims to be authentic and honest about Christian culture, about the struggles, rewards of faith, and about real-life experiences in the church.

You asked what I think about the book, and I'm guessing that you're curious about more than my biased opinion that the essays are very powerful and well-written--as an evangelical, I think it's important that we read and write this kind of literature, that we avoid sugarcoating the truth or parading a testimony that isn't really our own, that we ask the important questions JG suggests. I think it's important that we acknowledge that our church is both broken and beautiful, and that we take the liberty to honestly consider these things. JG does these things, and this may strike some as Christianity-negative, but I definitely don't see it that way.

I'm excited that you might buy the book, and I'd love to hear what you think of it.

Andrew

to learn more about jesus girls, come to our launch party this thursday! MHGS, 2501 Elliot Ave, Seattle, WA, from 7PM to 10PM--free food, drinks, and readings (including sara zarr and hannah notess!).

an unused introduction to the other journal’s issue on race

Let us,

two shy women—one black, one white—

keep walking up University Avenue together

with our brave faces and uncertain prospects

into a future still gathering its forces.

—from Carolyne Wright, “Miss Brown to You,” The Other Journal #16

humanity perpetually stands on the edge of some revolution, collective disaster, or personal moment of intense success or failure. real or imagined, god-breathed or man-made, our hopes and fears are always right around the next corner. and it is into that murky marshalling of unknown forces and “uncertain prospects” that we daily catch our breath, look both ways, and walk once more into the busy streets.

in this issue of the other journal, we confront matters of race by studying the oncoming traffic, the pedestrians around us, and even ourselves. with brian bantum and willie jennings, we take note of those people who “exist between the cracks” and seek understanding of what they call the “mulatto existence.” and with carolyne wright and cornell west, we seek the courage “to cut against the grain,” to renounce normalized systems of injustice, and to thoughtfully consider our own place in these complex racial questions. we look outward and inward, and by examining our past and present, we hope to see christ moving us and drawing us ever nearer to a truly interracial future.

see an explanation for this unused intro here and check out our issue at theotherjournal.com!

introductions

when you manage a quarterly journal, there are certain things you must do. here’s the business of acquiring and editing pieces, the glamor of email and conference calls, and the madness of deadlines and missing persons. there’s also the matter of finding funding so you can pay your writers and staff and generally stay afloat, if you’re into that kind of thing.

and then there’s the issue introduction, the editor’s preface, or the editorial statement—call it what you will, but someone must write something that sets the tone for the issue.

it must be catchy and yet reflective. it must make readers swoon, stir their tea with intrigue and delight, keep reading. and it must be left to the very last moment.

at some publications with which i’m familiar, this means an essayist of considerable means will sequester himself in a hotel room, order room service and some smokes, and then emerge last-minute with perfect, shining prose.

i assume that, give or take the hotel food, this is pretty standard practice among literary quarterlies. but at the other journal, we strive to ever greater lengths of editorial chaos. we have no go-to-girl, no pre-appointed all-star ready to tap the keys in the last hour. in past issues, our introductions have been written by our editor-in-chief, our managing editor (me), and even a team effort crafted by our entire staff.

and as usual, in the last hours before the launch of our latest issue, a great question mark hovered over the world. would we have an introduction? who would write it? what would it say?

it turned out that, no, we would we not have an introduction—we would instead have two introductions, and they would say very different things.

you can find the one introduction to save all introductions here. It was selected because it better addresses our vision of what we hope to say in this issue, because it clearly frames a touchy topic, race, in the context of theology and life in america.

in contrast, the unused version, my version, is patched together from some flailing metaphors that hope to disguise my cluelessness concerning race and how it pertains to these questions of life and theology.

still, there must be a place for andrew's racey rubble. oh, right, this blog—

photo: andrew david. "the fog and introduction." logan pass, glacier national park.

and i also went to santa fe this summer...

so i might as well share my photos from the glen workshop: http://picasaweb.google.com/the17pointscale/200907SantaFeGlen?authkey=Gv1sRgCNzihKbSheHmeA&feat=directlink.

photos from the oc

beth said that i should post these, too: http://picasaweb.google.com/the17pointscale/200906OceanShoresBevisFamily?authkey=Gv1sRgCIS79_Tn-5_RpwE&feat=directlink.

whitney and pedro!

whitney and pedro are married!

here are the photos i took while in stockton for their wedding: http://picasaweb.google.com/the17pointscale/200908WhitPedroWedding?authkey=Gv1sRgCMfS4OCIpuDgGw&feat=directlink.

dishes!

several facts about the history and present life of dishes in greenwood, washington:

1. there is one dish on my roommate's side of the sink; the dish is dirty. it may also be lonely--until a few days ago, there were dozens of dirty dishes to keep it company there.

2. fourish dishes are scattered on my side of the sink; they've been rinsed but probably do not fit your definition of clean. unlike the dirty dish on the eastern bank of the sink, these westerners generally prefer smaller groups of, say, zero to eleven.

3. a dozen or so dirty glasses are hanging out on the counter. until about twenty minutes ago, they were my roommate's responsibility, but we just swapped dishes for donations, so they're my responsibility now. that's right, dishes for donations. he's giving to the other journal!

4. you can donate too, and i don't even have to do your dishes! visit http://www.theotherjournal.com/news.php?id=39, click "HERE," go through a quick registration process (sorry, that didn't use to be there--because you'll be giving so frequently, they want to provide you with silly online tools to help you manage all that well spent money), designate the donation as for the other journal, and make the donation.

in other news, i plan to eat nachos tonight.



photo: andrew david. "bradys dirty dishes." robbins apartment, seattle, wa. according to the image properties, i took this photo at 9:38 PM on january 25, 2001, in commemoration of yet another roommate.

if i were reviewing this film: easter promises

this was meant to be the first in a three part series devoted to films featuring wicked knives scenes, but now it's not.

eastern promises is a deceptively simple film that reveals itself to be more of a character study than the mystery that one might expect from the trailer. it is also a film that shows no mercy on its viewers. if you like brutality, bloodshed, and naked knife fights, this is the film for you. given the plot--the story of a russian crime syndicate doesn't mind killing people--eastern promises should be harsh; the characters and their crimes should make us uncomfortable, but i really do think that to some degree david cronenberg, the film's director, just likes to make audiences squirm. i've also heard that there might be an eastern promises II soon, so beware.

rating: 13 out of 17

find john wilkes booth! donate to TOJ!

one thing i hate about traveling cheap is the luggage. it seems that at some point during almost all of my trips i find myself saddled with a bulky bags, trying to maneuver my way through tight spaces, twist myself into comfortable positions, or just fit in.

this bothersome aftermath of travel penury was the chief narrative device of the travel essay i posted here a few years back, so i'll spare you another essay on the subject. however, when beth and i visited indiana university at bloomington this spring, we found ourselves in that familiar big-bag position. and so, rather than visiting the famous lilly library together, we went in shifts--i ran off in the direction of the library while beth drank her coffee and watched our bags (and almost vice versa).

unfortunately, this meant that (1) we had half as much time to view the exhibits as we would have under normal circumstances--by the time beth signed the necessary security forms, entered an air-lock or three, and gazed at a page of scribblings by thoreau (?), it was time to go--and (2) i was without my tour guide (i.e., beth), so i really didn't know what i was supposed to be looking at.

thus, like most touristy folk at indiana u who wander into the lilly, i was clueless to the wonderful treasures in the vaults below. so i ran through an exhibit on lincoln. and it may have been interesting, but i was in skim-mode--perhaps the displays were bringing back unwelcome memories of my college paper on the fellow.

still, i did like this wanted poster. it seems almost like a fiction, that there was a day and age when wanted posters were the stuff of reality, not spaghetti westerns and disney theme parks, that the government really depended upon the people to mete out justice. and look at all that small type. i daresay that if presidents were assassinated in our modern era, no one would take the time to read that print. this poster cries out for a good graphic designer.

so what meaning can a poster like this convey to us today? how might its text serve us here and now?

i believe that if you look closely, you might see a simple message embedded in that poster. you might see a message from the abolitionists, the government, and all people of justice, a message just for you.

and it is this:

until june '09, when you donate to the other journal, your donation of $25,000 plus your employer's matching contribution of $25,000 will be matched by an anonymous mars hill graduate school donor for a total donation of $100,000!* perhaps your employer isn't into philanthropy; in that case, your donation of $25,000 will be matched by an anonymous mars hill graduate school donor for a total donation of $50,000!** or perhaps you'd prefer to scrape a few zeroes off that figure--fine! the donor will match any contribution, large or small!*** it's a lot easier than catching a murderer, especially a man whose been dead for over one hundred years. so click the link! donate now!

and when you donate, be sure to select "the other journal" in the designation field: http://www.theotherjournal.com/news.php?id=39 or https://olg.campusnet.net/OnLineGiving/nr/nrDonations.aspx?id=NTHV5KEHx%20Ao6144O/PYPR3/OKfiC2l/iO0zZWxrLm7d%208CePKjz4Q==&fg=.



photo: andrew david. "catch booth! give money!" lilly library, indiana university, bloomington, indiana.

*the donor will only match $25,000 in total donations, so if you really donate 25k, the donor won't match your employer's contribution.

** the donor will only match $25,000 in total donations, so if other donors have already given to mars hill, the matching donor, will only match your donor up to the mark of $25,000.

*** the donor will only match $25,000 in total donations, so if you donate $25,001, the maximum he will match is $25,000.

beauty and aethetics

wednesday will be the debut of the other journal's issue on aesthetics. i preferred to name the issue "Beauty," but i was editorally outranked. still, in some sense i had the last word--

during the last fifty minutes of work today, i was comissioned to write the introduction for the issue. and so i escaped the cramped quarters of our subway-sandwich-smelling office (take that however you wish), squatted in a sun-soaked room overlooking elliot bay (take that squat in the pioneer sense, not the awkward physical exertion sense), and composed a few paragraphs that used Augustine (seen here blasting away at an unarmed man in yellow pants) as a lens for alluding to the various pieces we'll be publishing this issue. i don't know that the paragraphs are worthy of much attention (they are, after all, very short), but i'm happy to report that i got away with avoiding even a single mention of the word aesthetics.

as for the issue itself, we'll begin by publishing several interesting meditations on art, some nature-centric pieces, and of course, some poetry. however, i am especially excited to publish a chapter from jesus girls by jessie van eerden and interviews with greg wolfe and scott cairns.

read my introduction here: http://www.theotherjournal.com/info.php?page=intro.

stay tuned to the latest content from the aesthetics issue here: http://www.theotherjournal.com/index.php.

photo: andrew david. "isn't it beautiful how the monk is handy with a shotgun?" the art institute of chicago, chicago, il (4/09). i'm not certain of the name of the painting or painter, but it was in a series of six or so that illustrated a sequence of the yellow-pant fellow attempting rob the monastery and being outwitted/shot by this monk man. according to the placard at the museum, the paintings were based on a real historical event, but the non-nonviolent priest was not augustine.

my new book!

hey, everyone, i edited my first ever book! you can (please) buy it here or ask buy it directly from me.

and to add to the thrill of having a book published, image journal featured our book in their newsletter. whoohooo!

check it out:
Remembering the Future, edited by Chris Keller and Andrew David

Remembering the Future is a selection of works published in the last three years by The Other Journal, an online journal at the intersection of theology and culture. Included in the anthology are poems by the likes of Luci Shaw, Marjorie Maddox, and Paul Willis, interviews of contemporary thinkers such as Lauren Winner, Brian McLaren, and Charles Marsh, and essays on everything from genocide to pop music (including a piece by music writer and former Image intern Joel Hartse). The anthology charts a course across human transgression—poverty, rape, violence, genocide—into the iconography of contemporary culture—Borat, Britney Spears, reproductive technology, the ONE campaign. The book will naturally appeal to readers with a theological bent, but it does not remain in the realm of mere ideas. Rather, its contributors are interested in the ways that theology is incarnated in real life, here and now—in family and community; in politics, economics, and education; in works of social justice; and in art, literature, and music. In the preface, the editors articulate their vision that “authentic, redemptive Christian practice requires double-vision, that is, thoughtful engagement with both the biblical tradition and the cultural moment.” From a broad spectrum of creativity and theology, this anthology encourages us to rethink our comfortable paradigms in light of such thoughtful engagement. The contributors, including voices from the emergent church and the evangelical, Catholic, and mainline traditions, are not always in agreement with each other, and many of the pieces are provocative—a testimony to the diversity of perspective that The Other Journal values. The opening poem by Luci Shaw, “A Few Suggestions for an Insubordinate Idea,” sets the tone for the whole book, which seeks to goad and stir, to “fling / a glitter of ash over the ocean, pocking it like rain. / Ignite a burning bush. Transfix the universe. Then,”—and here’s the beauty of what Remembering the Future does—“having found a mind of your own, come home. / Burrow my brain. Be one of a neuron couplet / that breeds a host of your own kind.”

Click here to buy the book.

if i were discussing this book: the shipping news

the shipping news deserves a high rating; perhaps a 14 or 15 on the 17 point scale. unfortunately, i moved on to the next book before really gathering my thoughts, and so the the authentic-seeming wacky characters (with names like quoyle and wavey) have faded into the thick newfoundland fog where i last left them.

still, if i were to scratch out an essay from the cobwebbed corners of my mind, i think i might approach the novel from the perspective of an editor. (quite a shock, eh!) as i recall, annie proulx's style is somewhat unconventional: she somehow gets away with fragments. sentence shreds. and her characters, the madcap way they talk on and on about knots and the hulls of frigates--pages and pages of dialect about nothing, about nothing but getting to know the characters themselves. anyway, i think i'd try to articulate how this works and doesn't work; i'd try to understand whether this unique writing style somehow reflects the themes of the shipping news or whether it's a way of speaking that proulx carries with her everywhere she goes; and then i'd recommend the book, because, well, it's really quite good.

i don't like the sound of this

according to this AP report, president-elect obama plans to blast into office with a series of executive orders.

on the surface, the proposed executive orders represent a new direction for the country. if you're in favor of lifting limits on stem cell research or if you cringed at the "drill, baby, drill" chants of the republican convention, you should be happy.

but i'm afraid that obama's mandate for change may result in a continuation of other bush doctrines, specifically the unfettered increase of executive powers. of course, it may be that this is the usual political territory for a new president and obama will represent a less power-hungry force in the oval office, but i'm not convinced.

in other news, i loved obama's pseudoseriousness at his first press conference this week. when a reporter asked him a wacky question about the new puppy he promised his daughters for being such good sports about the campaign, obama played it straight. he calmly described the pros and cons for various dog breeds as if he were weighing whether or not to invade afghanistan.

vocab (mccarthy style from the back page)

today a facebook friend told me that he loves jane eyre because of charlotte bronte's interesting use of punctuation. and then, in a seemingly unrelated incident, another friend commented on the story that i wrote about my encounter with a man and his paradox finding device. not to gloat, but she gave me a very big compliment on the piece; she wrote, "Andrew I love this! And, by the way, you sound like...cormac mccarthy. I'm serious." i was feeling very happy, but then i remembered that this particular 17 point scale fan didn't enjoy reading cormac mccarthy. hmm...

anyway, it just so happens that i have a post that i've been meaning to publish on punctuation and cormac mccarthy, and the conversion of these two incidents seems like the sign that i've been waiting for. it is time.

over the course of my blogging career i've written several entries under the heading of "back page." these were blog posts that borrowed their text from the postscripts of occasional wisdom and much long-winded, overblown verbosity that i scribbled in the back pages of the novels that i recently finished reading. although i like the idea of the "back page" posts, i have since stopped writing in my novels, which makes the simple transcription from book to internet nearly impossible. thus, i am phasing out the "back page" posts and using this post as something of a transition...

xii.
THE BORDER TRILOGY, books 1 and 2

all the pretty horses by cormac mccarthy
the crossing by cormac mccarthy

critical accolades:
all the pretty horses won the national book award and the national book critics circle award.

less official acclaim:
greg wolfe, editor of image, has repeatedly described cormac mccarthy as one of the greatest american writers, and the crossing as cormac's greatest novel.

the 17 point scale concurs:
these are my favorite books of 2007, and cormac mcarthy is my favorite author of 2006 and 2007. he is the master of the dark, thoughtful novel of hope. his characters occupy a strange space between passion and stoicism, and his landscapes are quietly authentic.

but i'll spare you a mccarthy lovefest. instead, i'll bludgeon you with another andrew favorite, grammar.

as i was reminding myself about the plots of all the pretty horses and the crossing, i stumbled upon a new word: polysyndeton.

yes, apparently, cormac writes using polysyndeton. i knew this, i've just never put a name to it. he writes of a man walking and stooping and brushing the blood from a horse's hoof. cormac is stylistically spare--he shuns question marks, semicolons, and the ever-helpful quotation mark--but in my attempt at cormacian polysyndeton, you'll note a superfluous and. that's because polysyndeton is the deliberate use of several unnecessary conjunctions in close succession. i've called it the literary and but polysyndeton is probably a more universal term. in any case, passages like this are the bread and butter of mccarthy. they subtly slow down the text and thereby help communicate a sense of quiet. they also a have a distinctly biblical feel.

if you're not mccarthy, you probably write using syndeton or a single conjunction.

or perhaps you're crazy. perhaps you write using asyndeton, that is, the deliberate omission of conjunctions altogether. you know, little jewels like: i came, i saw, i blogged.

(and then i stopped blogging for several months because i was so busy working for that great shining star of online awesomeness, the other journal.)

election 2008, andrew, and a curious device, part ii

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST (wherein andrew describes his encounter with the paradox finding device)

later, as we sat in the kitchen alcove of beth’s house sipping hot chocolate, the man pointed to a series of digits on a print-out. “now, see this? everywhere you see a string of numbers like this—three-eight-eight, oh-two-seven—that represents a potential metaphysical inconsistency.”

i considered 388 027. the number had no obvious significance, no sign of a pattern or mathematical errancy, nothing for the likes of an english major.

the man danced a practiced finger from row to row as he scanned the digits. he grunted occasionally, belched loudly when his finger stopped below a series of seven 9s, but otherwise seemed entirely absorbed in this gypsy math.

then, from behind the curtains i heard the now familiar hum of the paradox finding device. strange that i hadn’t noticed it before, i thought. then the curtain moved—i hadn’t seen the device move before, just the noise and lights. the curtains jiggled again. perhaps i’d found the paradox motherload.

april’s cat stepped out from behind the curtain, eyed me curiously, and turned back into the long fabric.

“hi, josie,” i said. “what do you have back there?”

i could now make out her figure behind the curtain, nipping at what must be the paradox finding device.

“josie, leave that alone.”

leaving the man to his cryptic pages of digits, i walked into the kitchen. the counters were mostly bare. a spicy curry-like substance stewed quietly on the stove. next to the wine rack i spotted the bright blue spray bottle.

“josie!” i called, “you better leave that thing alone.” grabbing the half-full bottle, i returned to the alcove. the cat had batted the strange device into the middle of the room. she pawed at it in what seemed regular intervals.

“are you planning to spray that cat?” asked the man. he was staring at me now.

“maybe,” i lied.

“of course—well, don’t bother. come; sit, sit. there’s interesting stuff here, but i think that all we have time for are these twenty or so pages.” he was pointing to a stack of pages he’d labeled “election 2008.”

“this is amazing stuff. you score a seventeen!”

“is that good?”

“well, it’s a true paradox, that’s for certain.”

“oh, OK.”

“see, look here. these numbers suggest that on both a global and a micro level you hold views that are paradoxical.”

“what do you mean?”

“for starters, you genuinely believe that barack obama is the moral choice for president, and the immoral choice for president, and that there is no moral choice for president. and you believe that mccain is in many ways the best that the republican party has to offer, but don’t expect to give him your vote—”

“i follow you, but you’ve got to give me some credit for consistently thinking that sarah palin is a loon.”

the cat had abandoned the paradox device and was purposefully walking about the room.

“meow,” she said.

“hmm. perhaps. nonetheless, you believe that capitalism, democracy, and the protestant work ethic are keys to the continued success of the united states, that distributism and quasi-socialism are keys to the ensuring equality of man, and that these systems are all myths, half-truths to make us feel that we can build sustainable society.”

“right, i see where you’re going with this. i’m stuck with these non-negotiables—we must have the freedom to earn our own keep, control our destinies, and live our lives without the interference of a malignant bureaucracy, yet the very system that allows such american dreams seems set up to propagate inequality, poverty, and poor health care. the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. and although many churches and social programs successfully address these needs, others create generational patterns of welfare.”

“oooh, boy,” he cried, looking down at the print-out, “and we haven’t even mentioned the abortion issue.”

i couldn't resist the bait. “i buy the arguments of websites like proobamaprolife.com, which describe how obama’s emphasis on decreasing the number of unwanted pregnancies through education, birth control, and condoms will have a greater impact on the number of aborted babies than any policy of mccain’s. and i hate how the republican party has co-opted this issue as the one way to keep evangelicals in their electoral camp. but i’m going to have trouble voting for a candidate that supports increased access to abortion.”

“you don’t even need me!” he flipped to another page. “what about your so called objectivism?”

“what do you mean? i’m a model of objectivity. after all, i’m an ISTP.”

“then how is it that you are so swayed by the call for change, by smooth talking, amazing speeches, and funny jokes? why do you esteem the underdogs and challengers over the seemingly capable incumbents? and why do you allow personal grudges—i.e., the lack of response to your supersonics pleas—to impact your vote? and for that matter, why do you so prize objectivity? ”

i stared at the man, dumbfounded. i looked at the pacing cat, at the hanging drapes, at the curious buzzing device on the floor. “i don't know. what’s the answer?” i asked.

he ran a hand through his hair, shuffled the papers into a yellow attaché case, and stooped down to pick up the device. the cat meowed once, twice, and a third time. with tired eyes he looked at me and then back at the cat.

“she says that you are the answer.”

election 2008, andrew, and a curious device

“the device is used to spot paradoxes,” explained the man as he slapped it against his thigh. “if there is a paradox, these lights here, here, and here will blink swampy moss green, night-shade eggplant purple, and laundry blue.”

“and—those are colors?” i asked.

“yes, the colors of paradox.”

he pushed his chair back and walked toward me. the device dangled in his hand like a strangled bunch of metallic carrots. it whirred and hummed against his side.

“show me again,” i said.

he nodded, gave the awkward device three quick shakes, and dropped it to the floor—not a sign of flashing lights. the device purred but remained inert.

“but first can i touch it?”

nodding, he reached down and grabbed the device by what looked curiously like a stem. he offered it to me.

“don’t worry it won’t bite,” he chuckled.

it didn’t bite, but it kept buzzing. i carefully examined the contraption, testing its weight in my palm, listening for the source of that noise, turning it to explore its edges, grooves, and nubs.

i handed it back to him.

“OK. i suppose i’m ready.”

again, three shakes, and then he tossed me the device. nothing happened. it murmured in my hands just as it had a moment earlier on the floor of beth’s living room and when slapped against the man’s thigh. and then, it suddenly lit up. a carnival of greens, purples, and blues flashed through my fingers.

“a paradox!” shouted the man.

CONTINUED IN THE NEXT POST (wherein the mysterious paradoxes are unraveled)

the very bad landlord 2

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST

7/3/07

you see, a long time ago, say two and a half years, mr. pastor guy was my landlord--apparently leading the mars hill flock doesn't pay as well as playing slumlord in north greenwood.

that wasn't a misprint; after graduating from SPU i spent one year in a two-room apartment across the street from love zone and the liquor store, but aj's basement was the closest i've come to a tenement.

the house boasted 5 dorm-sized rooms and alex, nathan, and i found our way into the smallest. the room was just big enough for alex's bed, a bunk bed, and a dresser. if our blood alcohol level was really low and we timed things just right, we could just manage to walk from one end of the room to the other without knocking a knee against a wall. thankfully, it only took a step or two to cross that vast expanse, enter the hallway, and grope at my dresser, which was sandwiched between the water heater and some cobwebs.

and i had it good. as far as i know, nathan stowed most of his belongings in his jeep cherokee. for those two months of tenement bliss, he lived like a modern gypsy.

i can't blame the minister for our sardine state. nathan was getting married in a couple of months and i was searching for a new roommate; we were too cheap to fly solo in the cruel world of seattle rentals, and alex was too nice to knock us on the head with a crowbar of common sense. i suppose he could have thrown the RCW our way too--there must be a city ordinance against cramming 500 pounds of human flesh into 5 square feet.

which brings me back to aj.

in some sense, aj was charging alex a reasonable price for the room. they were mars hill brothers, so aj probably thought it would be good of him to cut alex a deal. but when alex told aj about his closetmates, the kindly hearted preacher grew stony.

OK, that's a true story, but i don't know where i meant to go from there. at the end of the post i wrote the following:

back story to backbackstage tale of intrigue

this obscure phrase was then followed by a list of names. well, i don't see the intrigue (except in not telling you who was on the list), and i can't recall the story that was supposed to be revealed through the telling of all that back story, but i can tell you this: i can't imagine myself ever doing that again.

a wedding and a precursor

7/1/07

as of this date, my former roommate, alex the indie music hookup, is married. there were three highlights to his wedding:

first, it was the best wedding i've ever attended that consisted entirely of recorded music. well, i can't be entirely certain of that, but generally i tend to think that live musicians provide weddings with a special, unique feel that is noticeably absent when another recording of pachelbel's canon hits the stereo. somehow sappy wedding music that's live is infinitely more tolerable than sappy music from a CD. however, despite my strongly pro-live perspective, i was happily suprised by alex and katie's wedding. they picked a satisfying selection of contemporary songs that lent their wedding a fresh gravity. the only potential for a musical frown during the event was that they didn't hire our band--that's right, they marched out of the sanctuary to sufjan's "chicago" (!) and they didn't hire us. maybe they thought i was too busy with my usher duties.

second, the food was delicious.

and third, the pastor. he wasn't delicious, and he wasn't a highlight in the traditional sense of the word. it was his first wedding and his sermon aimed at the epic rather than the simple. i think he was trying to read through the bible in 80 days or three wedding services, whichever came first. still, he didn't stutter, stammer, or stare blankly at the waiting couple. it was a decent first time.

no, his highlightyness was more related to his role as the protagonist in a behind-the-scenes tale of mystery and mayhem than any personal trait.

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT POST!