books i want to read. and also finish reading.

I decided to post a list of books I want to read on my blog, because chances are that I am going to forget if I write this on a text document and save it in my computer somewhere. These are books that have recently come across my path or come recommended to me. I am probably going to add to this list later.

Currently In Process
Shantaram (in process) by Gregory David Roberts: First recommended by Carolina on her blog, then raved about by Jeanne after her endless quest to find a used copy of this book in bookstores throughout the Australian continent, I think I heard Jeanne laugh and react more times during this book more than any other. I initially developed a fascination with Indian culture while at university, and the idea of an Aussie convict in India and Afghanistan just sounds great. I'm finally in a regular rhythm of reading this book and I love it now, so hopefully it won't take me months to conquer this massive +900 page beast of a book.

The Seven Storey Mountain, autobiography by Thomas Merton: Something about reading Philip Yancey's Prayer book sparked within me the desire to pick up this book which has been sitting on my shelf unread for a good year. It's interesting to pair a fictional autobiography (Shantaram, heavily based in reality and the author's life experiences) with an actual biography.

The Two Towers/The Return of the King by Tolkien: My reading of this series has been in process for years. Literally. I read The Fellowship and half of The Two Towers and never finished Return of the King. I think something about traveling and having an incredible, arduous journey around the world and back has made me want to re-visit these books and attempt it once again. In other words, I'm back in the Shire and would like some hobbits to empathize with.

Want to Read:
Here and Now/Wounded Healer by Henri Nouwen: Seeing Brennan Manning and Philip Yancey and generally anybody awesome relentlessly quote this guy has made me want to read more by him. I just finished In the Name of Jesus which was a short read. There is so much truth and wisdom in that book. Simple, too. The trick is actually living it out. Which, incidentally, I have not figured out.

The Moviegoer by Walker Percy: This also has been sitting on my shelf for a year, maybe more. Came recommended to me years ago by my friend Mo, on account of its themes of grace and colorful setting in New Orleans. Being in Savannah, GA this weekend made me want to read some good hearty Southern literature.

Everything That Rises Must Converge by Flannery O'Connor: In the tv show LOST, "Jacob" was sitting on a bench reading this book shortly before John Locke fell out of the 10-story building. That's reason enough for me. Also, my friend/former bandmate Ryan has perpetually recommended me anything by Flannery O'Connor. Also going along with the Southern theme...

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky: Another Jeanne Cannon recommend. Also, I would love to compare and contrast the themes and characters with other Dostoesky books I've read. There are only two of them that I've read. But still. I love Russians and I'm discovering that I may have a little (or a lot) of Russian deep in my soul.

Crazy Love by Francis Chan: My youth minister friend Josh endlessly raves about this book.

Surprised By Hope by N.T. Wright: Somebody told me a long time ago that I should read this. And I am suddenly out of my no-more-theology-books phase. Plus I know N.T. Wright is that shiznit and I just need to read something by him.

With Christ in the School of Prayer by Andrew Murray: I think this is Andrew Murray's Mere Christianity. I've only read one Andrew Murray book, a lesser-known book called The Ministry of Intercession, but I haven't read his main book. Philip Yancey has recommended him too. A good follow-up book to the last one on prayer.

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez: I am sure I tested the fates by shipping this book back from Australia to my Floridian doorstep two months ago. Literally shipped it. It traversed perilous waters and waves to make itself back to me after an arduous 2-hour journey. I at least owe it to the book to give it a fair shot, after only reading the first 48 pages of it and being thoroughly confused.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury: Read the first chapter and the prose is captivating. Always good to throw in some eerily prophetic science fiction into the mix. Also Ray is the bomb. I'm pretty sure I read short stories by him in high school but now I can't remember.

Catch 22 by Joseph Keller: Because I use this phrase occasionally. And I have no idea why.

maybe I should stop blogging and start reading.

Tension, Dialectics of Thinking and Philip Yancey

Tension. Lately, my heart has been overwhelmed with the intricacies of human thought, motivation and behavior. People perceive situations and process information and experiences so differently, it's a wonder the world hasn't yet exploded (or imploded) from the chaos and pain this tension creates.

I discovered the dialectics of thinking my freshman year of college. In an oversimplified explanation, this is the general concept: For every idea (thesis) there is an opposite idea (antithesis). A reconciliation of these two ideas in a paradox creates a new idea (synthesis). For all of the dialectical theory's flaws when applied to economics, political systems, philosophy and everything else, I do see this kind of thinking played out in the mechanics of faith, introspection and relationship.

Over coffee with a friend the other evening, she drew attention to one of my quirks: I tend to explore ideas from every facet, embracing the extremes and truly contemplating them, trying to reconcile the validity of two opposing arguments. This makes me come across as remarkably inconsistent and indecisive, as I am always adapting when new thoughts or opinions are introduced.

Open-mindedness to a fault.

I've been wrestling with this aspect of myself more and more recently, trying to understand and expose both the pitfalls and glory of such a mindset.

I am a firm believer that for every Truth or Value, there is not one but TWO opposites. That every value is the mean of two opposites. This tension plays out beautifully in the story of the gospel. Faith and works. Grace and freedom. Jesus, both God and Man. God, Three yet One. Kingdom, both here and not yet.

It plays out in relationships: logic and emotion. alone time and community. Vulnerability and boundaries.

We are constantly living in a state of tension, trying to reconcile opposite ends of the same paradox.

I tested nearly 100% N on the Myers-Briggs test. Meaning, in my own thoughts and in my relationships with people, I'm usually [constantly] unraveling meaning and dissecting motives and searching for underlying patterns in everything. It can be exhausting. And it can get me into trouble, especially if I began to perceive things that are not really there. I think I've toned down in this a lot in the past couple of years and have been able to just let go and live in the moment and not be so concerned with unraveling other people's motives or reading into people's reactions. Other people--friends past and present--have graciously [but brutally] shown me that the reality I perceive may not be the same as the reality they perceive. Or more importantly, reality as it is. It's been hard, it's been challenging, but extremely necessary.

But the extremity of this tendency of mine does resurface.

And I'm realizing more and more: we're all approaching True Reality from opposing perspectives and trying to meet each other on some common ground.

I'm in the middle of reading "What's So Amazing About Grace?" by Philip Yancey. I'm moving through the pages slowly than I typically do, trying to savor the words and wrap my mind around the truth. As much as I have thought about [and experienced] grace over the years, I do not believe I have contemplated it to this intense degree. It's really kind of earth-shattering to me, how the patterns of grace are so contrary to the patterns of ungrace that are ingrained in the DNA of the world. Yancey talks about the "atrocious mathematics of grace," explaining this as someone giving up something that costs them everything to someone who deserves absolutely nothing. And how unnaturally far and removed that seems to be from our own day-to-day experience in the economics of being human. I've understood that idea theoretically, maybe even theologically, but translating the atrocious mathematics of grace into every day relationships and attitude is a bit staggering to me.

I'm still processing. The implications are overwhelming.

So far, 2009 has been this crash course in communication and perception, revisiting and reworking the validity of intuition. 2008 was a wonderful year in which this tendency of mine learned rest and restraint.

It'll be interesting to see where this leads in the upcoming year...

Making Sense of Twilight Nonsense

My dear friend Jeanne already posted an excellent, thought-provoking blog about Twilight, the book and movie series that has dominated my time as of late. I have never had my opinion of something shift so dramatically in such a short amount of time. I went from literally being in love with Edward Cullen on Tuesday night to being completely disgusted with the entire series on this past Wednesday morning.

Reluctantly, I went with my friend Leslie and my sister to go see the movie Twilight over Thanksgiving break. I literally knew nothing about the series, only that it was some teen fantasy movie about a high school girl falling in love with a vampire. I had heard nothing but rave reviews about the series, even from women my own age whom I respect intellectually and spiritually. Still, I was skeptical because it seemed to be so trendy. Not to mention cheesy. I watched the movie with my arms crossed, fully expecting to hate it.

I was surprised at how much I got caught up in the story, and despite a cheesy line here or there, I found myself actually liking the protagonist Bella--she seemed to take cheesy dialogue and at least breathe some life into them--and I fell head over heels in love with Edward Cullen, the vampire. I walked out of that movie, strangely surprised at how much I enjoyed the film.

Leslie bought the first book of the series and began reading, although I initially had no interest in reading it. A few of us got free AMC movie tickets, so we decided to use them on a second Twilight showing, since Jeanne hadn't seen it. I discovered that I liked the movie even more the second time and actually wanted to read the books now. So I began to read Book 1.

I have to say the book itself is far more seductive than the movie. In the film, I admired Edward because he became so protective of Bella. The book explores their connection a lot more and you begin to realize that Edward's sole concern is protecting Bella and being with her and finding out what's on her mind. There's something so incredibly alluring in that kind of single-minded devotion and this (plus the fact that he's perfect physically, wealthy and drives fast cars) that millions of teen girls, 20somethings and middle-aged moms are totally obsessed with the series.

The second book is honestly what dramatically changed my opinion of the series. I didn't find it to be that interesting or compelling, at least from a written and technical standpoint. The last 200 pages are exciting plot-wise, but the reappearance of Edward which I had been anticipating the entire book almost seemed anticlimactic. Mostly because I began to realize how unhealthy the relationship between Bella and Edward really is.

And this is the danger, I think, in these books. They portray Bella and Edward's relationship as ideal, and it FEELS ideal if you allow yourself to be emotionally caught up in it. However, the obsessive, all-consuming, jealous relationship, not to mention poor communication (Bella and Edward could've seriously avoided this whole drama of Book One if they had just communicated clearly:P) IS unhealthy, despite its initial appeal.

One article phrased the series' appeal quite well:

"She [Bella] is purposely made as featureless and ordinary as possible in order to render her a vacant, flexible skin into which the reader can insert herself and thereby vicariously enjoy Edward's chilly charms."

Jeanne recently joked that she knew the best way to make a million dollars: Create a bland, female protagonist and then create an impossibly perfect man so that all women can live vicariously through aforementioned female protag. That's basically what these romance novels are.

I probably could do that, although I feel as though I would lose my soul in the process.

My friends Dan and Serenity have created a wonderful, humorous little website called Stuff That's Better Than Twilight. It has a few more article links posted on there for more insight as to why this series--while entertaining and good for a little romantic escapism--can also be incredibly damaging and give distorted views on what real love is like.

I think this series--and other romantic books and chick flicks that are similar--are truly emotional porn. They do for women exactly what pornography does for men: setting up unrealistic expectations and ideas about love.

I love how Jeanne stated it in her blog:

It really IS porn for women. It sells the lie that this is what love really is, when it's in no way representative of LOVE. The gaudy replica of the truth. It always sells SO well, and we sometimes forget the why: It plays so well on our heartstrings that can be tuned only to Christ.

To readers of the series, particularly women (because I honestly can't imagine a guy willingly reading these books anyway): Please, PLEASE. If you read these books, read them with discernment and full awareness that the deep longing in your soul can only be fulfilled by God and Him alone.

And so ends my roller-coaster emotional Twilight saga.

And yes, I'm going back to Karamazov:D

Contemplation

So I'm in the middle of reading the Brothers Karamazov. It's been such an interesting character/ideology study so far. I'm only about a third of the way through at this point, but this passage stood out to me for some reason. Smerdyakov, the old servant's son (or so we think) has begun to show his proud, insolent side, and Fyodor (the old, drunk buffoon father whom I'm assuming is going to eventually be whacked by one of his three very different, very complex sons) is definitely insulting him. The narrator describes Smerdyakov's tendency to become lost in thought:

"There is a remarkable picture by the painter Kramskoy, called "Contemplation." There is a forest in winter, and on a roadway through the forest, in absolute solitude, stands a peasant in a torn kaftan and bark shoes. He stands, as it were, lost in thought. Yet he is not thinking; he is "contemplating." If anyone touched him he would start and look at one as though awakening and bewildered. It's true he would come to himself immediately; but if he were asked what he had been thinking about, he would remember nothing. Yet probably he has hidden within himself, the impression which had dominated him during the period of contemplation. Those impressions are dear to him and no doubt he hoards them imperceptibly, and even unconsciously. How and why, of course, he does not know either. He may suddenly, after hoarding impressions for many years, abandon everything and go off to Jerusalem on a pilgrimage for his soul's salvation, or perhaps he will suddenly set fire to his native village, and perhaps do both. There are a good many "contemplatives" among the peasantry. Well, Smerdyakov was probably one of them, and probably was greedily hoarding up his impressions, hardly knowing why."

I don't know how crucial this passage is going to be in the grand scheme of the book, but I really liked this section for some reason.

The Picture of Dorian Gray

I finally finished The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde over the weekend. I first became intrigued by this book during the Florida Music Festival (FMF) last year. It was pouring rain that day, so I decided to take refuge in the enormous downtown Orlando public library for a couple hours while we waited to load our equipment onstage. For some inexplicable reason, I picked up the Ravi Zacharias Deliver Us From Evil.

Looking back on it, I don’t know why I decided to read such a heavy book that day but I did. I honestly think I was in a Ravi mood at the time, having just finished Can Man Live Without God? (Brilliant read, by the way).

In one chapter, Ravi described the story of the wealthy, beautiful, young Dorian Gray, how he forges an unnatural connection to the portrait painted of him by the artist Basil Hallward. The portrait somehow supernaturally took upon his sins and deformities every time Dorian did something cruel or evil, but Dorian himself escaped unscathed from the consequences of whatever he did, until the hideousness of the portrait drove him mad with violence.

The idea of that totally intrigued me, but since I am forever wading through piles of books and trying to prioritize what I’m reading, I never got a chance to read it until recently, when Carrie hooked me up with a major discount at Barnes and Noble;) I got a copy of the book for a cool $3.99.

Anyway, the picture on the front majorly creeped me out, because I think whoever chose the portrait is obviously trying to evoke Dorian Gray, but it’s actually of Franz Liszt. I love Liszt, but there’s something about that particular portrait of him that’s always weirded me out. And to now associate that portrait with Dorian Gray is downright eerie.

As evidenced by his Art for Art’s sake manifesto that served as a preface to the book, it is clear that Wilde’s intention—as a major proponent of the aesthetic movement—sought to free art from social responsibility. Ironic that in his attempt, although he perhaps succeeded in shocking Victorian sensibilities and ethics, he actually made a deeper philosophical statement about the nature of evil and how seductively easy it is to be molded and shaped and doomed by ideas and our conversations.

I think so many times--and I am guilty of this--we thoughtlessly consume culture via media and swallow ideas without even thinking them through and before we realize it, we've internalized it and it becomes a part of who we are instead of "testing everything" by the Spirit and "holding on to the good."

I'm in the middle of reading The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard and it explores the power of philosophy and ideas to shape the world. This is something I believe that we as Christ-followers need to take more seriously. I thought of this because I went to see the midnight showing of Sex and the City last weekend with some friends. True to form, it was definitely an enjoyable film with oodles of fashion, humor and heart (I did get misty-eyed at one point...not gonna lie) with perhaps a bit (okay a lot) of scandalaciousness (yep, I invented a word. Deal with it) thrown in there... (it's called Sex and the City, what can I say?).

However, although the film resonated with me in lots of ways as a young single woman in this crazy Western dating culture, there were still many things I so fundamentally disagreed with about the way the characters approach marriage, love, sex and relationships in general.

But the problem is, how many women out there are seriously going to dissect the philosophical threads and worldviews running through that entire film? Not many. The film is a wonderful cultural mirror, but cultural mirrors have a sneaky tendency to become roadmaps if we're not careful.

Guess that's what these blogs are for, eh?;)

All that to say (wow I got really off topic that time), I really appreciate The Picture of Dorian Gray. It's a haunting story. And it's just plain fun to read. I highly recommend it.