Ancient and Beautiful and True

George R.R. Martin once wrote in The Faces of Fantasy:

The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real ... for a moment at least ... that long magic moment before we wake. 

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true? 

We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to Middle Earth.

Martin is so right, yet ultimately he is tragically wrong.

Fantasy is alive in ways other literature is not--more real than real and pregnant with truth older than myth.

Fantasy speaks to our deep knowledge of the reality beyond the veil, beyond the darkness of life and in the radiance of Life.  Fantasy is a longing, a cry, a yearning deep within.  It is the lodestone pull of the home we lost but just might find again.  It is flavors we've never tasted, textures we've never felt, and scents we've never smelled but recognize even so.  It is a tree which casts a shadow that we call reality.

Yet fantasy is itself a shadow. Or perhaps a glimmer of reflected light that calls us homeward.  Eden is forever lost to us, but our longing for our lost home is really our reaching for our true home, a home we have never known, but have seen and smelled and tasted in those fleeting flashes that never satiate and always leave us craving more.  We know those flashes when we find them.  Our hearts are filled--for a moment at least--and we linger in that long magic moment even as we stand awake, savoring the fragrance of eternity.  We know then, deep within, that what we yearn for we will never find while our hearts beat with mortal beats. There will come a day when life as we know it will be drawn upward into Life Himself, and the mortal will put on immortality.  When that day comes and our eyes open in Valinor, we will see that the towers of Minas Tirith were just a shadow of the Blessed Realm.  We will see that the beauty of fantasy and the longings it sings are satisfied at last.  For it is not Middle Earth we long for--it is Heaven, ancient and beautiful and true.

We read fantasy, I think, because at its best it points us homeward.  And though we have called our yearning for Home many things and mistaken it for many others, we yearn just the same.

So savor Middle Earth now, let fantasy awaken the longing within, but know that while it points us home, it is not home--it's a glimpse.  And if a mere glimpse captures and enraptures us so readily, imagine what Home will be . . .

Robert Jordan

Yesterday morning I got the news that Robert Jordan passed away. I don’t know if any of the few who check this blog read his epic The Wheel of Time, but it heavily marks my literary world. I was introduced to his series as a freshman in high school, back in 1995, and though I went through bouts of frustration at the lack of apparent motion through the middle books in the series, I continued to read them and continued to be delighted by the world, the characters, and the story Jordan was weaving.

And now the story will be left to the hands of another to complete. I know we will see the end of this grand tale, but will it feel the same? I doubt it.

But how wrong-headed is this? A man has died, leaving behind a family who loves him, and readers who love him not just for the sake of the world he created, yet my thoughts return to the story and how it will end. What a selfish life I lead. The story should be the furthest thing from my mind as I mourn the passing of a giant. For Jordan was a giant. His shadow fell across the entire genre and his works were, no doubt, the inspiration for many writers to try their hand at this beautiful craft—I know he inspired me.

To Harriett and Wilson, my heart goes out to you. I hope and pray that your dear friend and companion has found rest in the arms of his Creator, in whose presence is unending Light.

Psalms

I don’t know if I have ever been as challenged and encouraged by the Word of God as I have been these past 2 weeks while reading the Psalms. They contain great wisdom and direction from the Lord on how to worship him as he deserves, how to mourn our sin deeply, and how to hope in His great love and mercy. What a blessed and treasured time it has been, though immensely difficult as well. It seems that every time I open the Word to the Psalms, the Holy Spirit is speaking directly to me, revealing truth about me and about himself. Many of the Psalms could have been ripped straight from my thoughts and transplanted to the page they described my thoughts and feelings so accurately.

How gracious is our God that he would deign to speak to us, let alone love us and minister to our needs. He is great indeed.

Humbled by his grace,
Adam

300

Just over three weeks ago now, I watched 300 and I left with my heart stirred within me. But what was it about the movie that caused my heart to say, "YES!"? Was it that the images on screen portrayed what true masculinity is? I don't think so. I'm not sure the movie accurately showed what God intends men to be. Sure, God created man to be the protector and provider, to be strong of arm and go to war, but I don’t know if what the movie portrays is what God’s image of a man is.

The movie glorifies men who butchered other men made in God's own image. Killed thousands and enjoyed it. While I do think that at times war is necessary, I don't think killing should ever be enjoyed. Clearly there is a perversion of true masculinity at work here. But that is the nature of life in a fallen world. We see glimpses of God's great glory in the men and women around us, but that glory is obscured by the grime of truth perverted. But that doesn't mean there is no truth in it, or that we can't see the truth in it.

There is much in that movie that is right and true, like:

• Men who beat their bodies into submission, disciplining it to do their will and not to falter and fall into the temptations of laziness and weakness.
• Unity, each man is responsible for his neighbor, to guard him and protect him as they fight as one body. The Spartan 300 is an image of the body of Christ, functioning as a unified whole, made up of different members.
• Submission to the authority placed above you. God has given some to be leaders and the rest to follow. The Spartans followed their king to the death.
• The men are strong and know what is valuable and important in their lives. They are not weak, cowardly, corrupt men, like the politician. They are bold and confident, recognizing that they are mortal yet willing to sacrifice their lives for a greater good.
• Universal freedom and liberty for all mankind. They acknowledge that a slave can never fight as well as a free man fighting in defense of his home and all that he loves. The slave, like a mercenary, is fighting for a lesser purpose, and is therefore a lesser soldier. The free man who chooses to fight to protect what he values, is a man who fights with his whole heart.
• Sacrifice. The men are willing to sacrifice all they are and all they have so that others might live to enjoy the fruits of their labors.
• No man is a god—all men bleed. Xerxes, who called himself a god, lord of lords, king of kings, tried to take upon himself the mantle that only God can wear, and was revealed for what he was—a man, nothing more, nothing less.

I think these men would have admired Jesus, even though he chose not to fight back. They would have seen in him the embodiment of some of their beliefs. He was willing to endure physical pain and understood the necessity of self-sacrifice. He taught about the value of unity and encouraged his disciples to live in it. The Spartan 300 may not have chosen to follow him, but I think they would have admired him. Their action was similar to his. They gave themselves that others might have life. Christ gave himself that we might have life, and have it abundantly.

Shopfreepay

Funny story . . . over a year ago, when Apple released their new macbooks, I prayed that the Lord would provide one for me for free, or at least very close to free. I prayed faithfully for a few months, and then kind of forgot about it. Well about 2 months ago I heard about one of those websites that gives away gifts for trying sponsored offers and decided to check it out. The site, as you can certainly tell from the title of this post, is Shopfreepay.com and it is different from the other sites of its kind in that you don't need to refer your friends; you just need to complete the sponsored offers. That's it.

I decided to give it a go, and lo and behold, two weeks ago a shiny new macbook arrived at my office, practically free. I say practically free because the offers I completed cost a grand total of $120, more or less. Not too shabby, but throw into that the gift cards I received from a couple of the offers and the total cost of my wonderful new laptop was only $50. If that's not a bargain, I don't know what is.

So the Lord answered my prayer, and I am immensely grateful.

Go check out the site, no referrals necessary. Just pick your gift, complete the specified number of offers and enjoy.

A decent writer? Try amazing . . .

A.E. Sacco, an avid reader, 04/16/2007

Over-rated

O.M.G.!!!! I believed the hype and picked this book up and it was the worst piece of crap I have read in a long time. 'Boring' does not do justice to how slow and uneventful this novel is. I sped-read most of it to see if the character would get the hell out of the 'university' and fight some monsters 'yeh, he eventually fights a dragon...yawn....'. Instead, the poor reader is subjected to the most minute happennings. I will admit the author is a decent writer, and has a great story on his hands....but PLEASE! Over 600 pages of mostly 'nothing'....I'm sorry...if this is 'the best fantasy novel of the past ten years', then I'll read other genres.

I found the above review of Patrick Rothfuss's The Name of the Wind on Barnes and Noble. I must admit that my first response was a scathing rebuttal of the blather spouted above, but then I stopped to think . . . while I completely disagree with the reviewer's assessment of the novel, as should be obvious if you read my previous post, I can remember a time when all I wanted out of a fantasy novel was for the main character to "fight some monsters." That was what drew me to R.A. Salvatore's novels, which I mentioned in an earlier post. But my tastes have evolved since junior high. The Name of the Wind is a character driven story, not a plot driven story. That's not to say that the plot is in any way lacking because it's not, but meeting Kvothe and coming to know him is what propels the story forward--it is first person narrative after all.

So instead of the scathing response I was planning I'll simply acknowledge that this book will not appeal to everyone. For people who want monsters and action filling every other page, you'd better grab a different book. But for those who want to truly know the characters who fill the pages of the books they read, you're not going to find a better novel than this one.

The Name of the Wind

I finished reading Patrick Rothfuss’s The Name of the Wind yesterday, and after a mere 2 hours or so picked it up and started reading it again. Now why in the world would I do this? I asked myself that question a few times and my answer is:

It’s damn good writing.
But it’s also a riveting story.
And the characters are absolutely believable.

I guess that’s three answers.

In his most recent blog entry, Patrick Rothfuss writes,

True, all authors use words, but not all authors focus on making them beautiful. Shakespeare loved words, so did Roger Zelazny and Angela Carter. Ray Bradbury also has what I consider a poetical turn of phrase, by which I mean that the language itself is beautiful, regardless of content, character, or cleverness.

Some authors just don't play that word game. They care more about story, or plot, or character, or... I dunno, unicorns or making money. I'm not being critical here. Those things are important. Those authors can still write good stories, there's no denying that.

But my favorite authors love words AND character AND story... and sometimes unicorns, I guess.

If Rothfuss could somehow read his story for the first time, it would be exactly the type of novel he loves. Which shouldn’t be surprising since we all strive to write the kind of books we would love to read. The language Rothfuss uses is beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I found myself rereading sections simply because they were so delightfully and beautifully written. He has a poetical turn of phrase, and there are passages that simply sing. If my novel is half as beautifully written as this, I’ll be overjoyed.

As for the characters: Kvothe is a living and breathing character who practically leaps off the page—unruly red hair, eyes bright green like new growth grass, and all. He is absolutely believable, especially to anyone who remembers being a boy and the awkwardness that comes with growing up. And the story . . . well, the story pulled me in, immersing me in Kvothe’s world so much that I half expected to see the scrael scuttling through my backyard (a truly terrifying thought for anyone who hates spiders as passionately as I do).

I hate reading teasers and spoilers because I always find the story slightly less surprising, slightly less magical when I have an idea of the shape of things going in, so I won’t give you a synopsis or anything here. I’ll just tell you to run out and grab this book. Grab two. It’s that good.

The verdict: 10/10