Confessions of a Bibliophile

                The musty smell of used books wafts toward my nose as my eyes scan the clearance shelves.  I am content in this store, amid such a motley array of books.  I feel like a treasure hunter seeking for works of lasting value.  As my eyes peruse the shelved volumes, my mind filters them: title, author, plot.  However, the thought foremost in my mind remains, Is this book worthwhile?

                On the first bookcase, I spy a pastel paperback by Shannon Hale, whom I like.  Her Newberry award-winning book intrigues me with its story of unlikely princesses.   Atop that shelf sits an old brown hymnal, its yellowing pages and aging smell preluding the beautiful old hymns inside – a definite keep.   Shakespeare’s thick, cream Othello (always classic) on the next shelf plops into my waiting basket.

                Passing over the dark grain of the smooth wooden shelves, my hand encounters a double treasure.  A petite book, about as tall as my hand and barely over one hundred pages, proudly proclaims the name Antoine de Saint Exupéry in simple blue font along the spine.  His masterpiece, The Little Prince, is illustrated and narrated simply, yet the story is profound.  It leans against a shiny paperback collection of short stories by George MacDonald.  In rich red, black, and gold, the cover portrays a solemn woman wrapped in a windblown cloak striding down a flight of stairs.  I am enchanted enough to choose it as well.

                Popular fiction is ignored.  The books’ dramatic covers and flimsy plots are too transient.  Hidden in their midst, however, Melville’s Moby-Dick reclines, dignified and unassuming with its navy spine and plain cover.  My eyes brighten as I snatch it from the shelf.  I have read it before and was hoping to add it to my collection.

                As I plop this heavy tome into the red shopping basket, my arm begin to ache.  The overflowing pile of books tells me that my shopping is done for the day.  Making my way to the cash register, I smile, eager to read my new treasures.

Simple and Complex

I found this quote on a Christian blog recently:

"Often, I hear that the Bible is simple. Is it? Conservatives often use this maxim as an intellectual scapegoat. Wed this idea to the equally disturbing notion that the "Bible is all you need" (another fretful argument) and it culminates in a shallow intellectual tradition. Why proclaim that the Bible is simple when it says of itself that it is not?"

The Bible is simple, yet It is also incredibly complex.  The book of John specifically has been described as profoundly simple yet simply profound.  To ignore either part is to seriously limit our understanding of and our growth in the Scriptures.

How am I going to connect this entry with a blog all about literature?  By noting that it is the authorship of the Bible that makes It these complimenting opposites.  Because the Bible was written by God, It is complex, for It was written by an intelligent, infinite Being, and yet as simple to understand as the greatest literary Mind in the universe can make It.

Don't argue too heartily that the Bible is simple to the exclusion of Its being complex or complex to the exclusion of Its being simple.  It is both, and that is why It appeals to the ignorant as well as the intellectual.

(Quote from The Rambling Prophet: Where are the Christian Intellectuals?)

An Observant Outlook

"Jean Nicolet, the Frenchman who cruised the straits from Lake Huron and who donned the mandarin's robes when he went ashore at Green Bay, in the belief that the fresh-water seas had led him to the Orient, was the first in a long procession.  He did not find what he expected to find, but he at least learned that the world was a great deal bigger than he had thought it was." (Catton, Bruce. Michigan: A Bicentennial History. 1976.)

This quote came my way in a book of Michigan history.  It struck me as a bit funny.  This poor guy travels halfway around the world and gets all dressed up to meet the Chinese, and all he encounters is a plant-filled wilderness full of Native Americans, not Chinese; yet the best thing the commentator can say for him is that he learned how big the world is!  I suppose he did learn that, but was that truly the lesson he learned, or the only one he learned?  What about preparation and research, new experiences, paradigms, etc.  However, I do believe that the quotation does have a moot point.
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One of the great banes of life is the inability to change and, conjunctively, the inability to learn.  If, however, I can examine each situation in life, especially those considered failures, and learn form them even a trite lesson, I can continue to learn and will never become stagnant.
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Even though the author's comment seems a bit understated, at least he learned from this situation a small lesson.  At least he was not oblivious.
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The lesson I learned from the author was this: always look for a lesson to be learned.

They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety. B. Franklin

Recently, I had the privilege of attending a prestigious leadership conference in which we had a mock-Congressional session in which we practiced revising an act.  One of the sections in this act was about screening news published in a foreign language that deals with military matters.  As winners of the Veterans of Foreign Wars speech competition, we had people on both sides of the issue: those who wanted to protect our soldiers and those who were adamantly for free speech.  It was certainly eyeopening.

I found myself on both sides of the issue, wanting to protect men who die for our freedoms, but unwilling to give up those freedoms that they give us.  We ruled to abolish the section altogether because we felt that there were already many measures in place to protect our soldiers and that it would be a blatant violation of the First Amendment.

How to protect both liberty and human life when they seem to be in opposition?

Kites and Lights: Symbolism in Macbeth

    Witches and darkness and blood and noise permeate Shakespeare’s masterpiece Macbeth.  The play is dominated by the destroying power of sin and the depths of wickedness to which the human heart can plunge.   Throughout Macbeth, Shakespeare uses symbols and imagery to lend a deeper, darker meaning to many events.

    After murdering Banquo, Macbeth is haunted by Banquo’s ghost.  His wife chides him that he looks “but on a stool.”  To this comment Macbeth replies, “If charnel-houses and our graves must send/ Those that we bury back, our monuments/ Shall be the maws of kites.”  In passing, this allusion seems obscure, but the passage becomes clearer once the meaning of the words is known. 

    The key to unlocking the phrase is found in two words: monument and kite.  An eerie reference to Banquo’s ghost, the monument mentioned is a device by which those who are living remember those who are dead.  The type of monument described is rather nasty: the maw of kites, or, in other words, the stomach of a predatory bird that symbolizes greed and insatiable desire.

    Accordingly, Macbeth’s comment assumes a double meaning.  On the surface, he seems to be talking about the futility of burial; if the graveyards are going to send back the dead, then dead bodies might as well be left for scavenging animals to devour.  However, wittingly or unwittingly, Macbeth also predicts his legacy.  In this sense, he is saying that, if the ghosts of everyone he has murdered come back to haunt him, he will be exposed as the greedy, predatory creature he truly is.

    This comment is not the only instance of Shakespeare’s masterful use of adumbration.  He did not create the moods in his plays by description but by the interaction of his characters.  Thus, the audience often senses, rather than knows, how the wickedness of Macbeth progresses.  A perfect example of this subtlety is Act III, Scene 3 of Macbeth, the scene of Banquo’s murder.

    In this scene, Shakespeare relates the presence and absence of light to the progression of evil.  As the murderers lie in wait for Banquo, the First Murderer states that “the west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.”  At this point, the Murderers have not killed Banquo; there is still time left to abandon the scheme.  Just as sunset wavers between day and night, so this moment the Murderers’ souls waver between good and evil; as the sunset plunges the world irrevocably into night, so the Murderers’ choice to “stand to ‘t” plunges their souls into murder most foul.  When Banquo dies, the Third Murderer cries, “Who did strike out the light?”  By what clever means does Shakespeare represent the extinguishing of the Murderers’ consciences!

    Because he uses such rich imagery to picture the deeper meanings of his characters’ actions, Shakespeare involves his audience far deeper in the psychological workings of Macbeth than he would by simple description or narration.  His vivid imagery compellingly illustrates the truth of Matthew 6:22-23: 

“The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.  But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!”

Four Recent Reads

Green Mansions: I finished reading Green Mansions this summer. It was a good read and gave an interesting look into the South American jungle, but ended depressingly.  Not to expose the plot, but the "ill-fated" love story is truly ill-fated.  Although Green Mansions is compelling and worth reading, readers should be forewarned that all does not end happily ever after.  Also, the philosophy of the novel is incorrect.  Set against a Catholic background, the book realizes that Catholicism is inaccurate but in its place turns to a self-atoning religion.  At the end of the novel Abel comes to the belief that self-forgiveness and self-ablution are the keys to salvation, a concept that Scripture denies as hopeless and dangerously deceptive.


Doctor Zhivago: I ended up throwing this book away after reading not too far into it.  I asked myself whether I would want to be acquainted with the characters and decided that their acqaintance would be deleterious to my spiritual health.  The story deals with a young girl and her affair with her mother's lawyer, and a married man who has romantic feelings for this girl (who has grown up and become a nurse in the war) instead of his wife.  Maybe the story would have ended by showing the consequences of these sins, but I was not interested in reading any farther.  If you read it, please use discernment.


The Old Man and the Sea: An intriguing look at the life of an old fisherman in Cuba.  At points, there are a few bits of language and the characters drink, but nothing hair-raising that I remember.  The reason this book is a classic is the concise yet colorful way in which the author portrays a few days in the life of a little-known, old fisherman who is not very successful in the eyes of everyone else.  The story tells of a young man who has learned fishing from him and often takes care of him, bringing him food, etc.  The great struggle of the story occurs when the fisherman hooks the biggest fish he has ever seen.  For three days, the fisherman battles with the fish and finally, ... well, you have to read the story.  I liked how the story showed the tenacity of the fisherman in his struggle with the elements.


The Aeneid: The only people who would truly enjoy and appreciate this work are gory Romans who hold the glory of their empire as the greatest good.  Parts of it were interesting: the fights never lacked color, and the people were strong.  On the other hand, Virgil depicted the women as either weak (Lavinia), or obsessed and self-destructive (Dido), or strong but ill-fated (Camilla).  However, the men do not fare much better.  Most of the names recorded in the epic are of those who die valiently in battle.  The only characters who truly have a "happy" ending are Aeneas and his sons.  Most of the philosophy governing the book reflects a worldview that has had very liitle contact with the principles of Scripture.  If you are still desirous of reading this bloody book, good luck: catch up on your Roman mythology!

Book Lover

A bibliophile is a person who loves books. I must confess that I am one of these, ardently obsessed with reading anything and everything.

    "Five years from now you'll be the same person you are today except for the books you read and the people you meet." (Charles E. Jones) After hearing this quote, I began to question if I would like myself in five years based on what I was reading now. Frankly, the answer was less than satisfying. Much of what I read I read for pure pleasure, not to benefit me or make me a better person.  

    I began to think of what I could do to enrich myself through reading. I decided to make a list of improving books (most of them classics) and read them. As I finished a book, I would blog about it, what I liked or did not like, the style and plot line and morality, the color and feel and texture. Not only would reporting on my books make me accountable, but I hope it will allow others to get a complete and concise review on many classic works.