Lift Up Your Hearts!

So who is Celia Nicklin?  Beats me, but she is responsible for my getting up before five o'clock this morning.

I awoke at 4:20; although I normally have no trouble falling back to sleep at such an hour, today the process was taking a little longer, so I turned on the radio to distract my mind.  I came in on the tail end of a Chopin piano piece, then heard the next selection announced:  Johann Vanhal's Symphony in g minor.  You all know Vanhal, right?  Neither do I.  Nor had I heard of the London Mozart Players.  Perhaps I'm just ignorant; perhaps there's good reason:  in any case, I was back asleep after only a few bars.

Until I awoke to the sound of an oboe.  Somewhere in the middle of the piece there's a long oboe solo—so long that I wondered if I'd slept through the whole symphony and we were now on to some oboe concerto.  Perhaps it was the sound of the oboe that aroused me; what kept me awake was the quality.  It was gorgeous!  Smooth, flowing, light tone, with none of the harshness I've come to associate with the European oboe style.  Unbelievably gentle phrase endings, even on high notes.  The music itself was actually rather uninspiring, but I couldn't stop listening to the way it was played.  London orchestra or not, I was sure the soloist had to be an American, or at least American-trained, and was probably someone I'd heard of.

Needless to say, there was no hope of sleep after that.  I stayed awake to discover the truth—it was, indeed, still the Vanhal—and to do some Internet research to find the name of the oboist.  And to find out that she is English-born and English/German trained, and I'd never heard of her.  So I was wrong—but I wasn't wrong about her sound, and I'd like to hear her on a more interesting piece of music.

Or maybe not.  I don't really have time to post this morning (or I'd be working on my Why the Rest Hates the West review), but one of the blogs I check occasionally has a post so fitting to Janet's frustration with the unsmiling Swiss that I had to write.

In both the Marginal Revolution post, Don't smile too much, and the original New York Times' TierneyLab post, Solved:  The Mystery of the Miserable Models, and their attendant comments, are some enlightening observations on why not smiling is associated with higher class, quality, expense, power, and dominance.  Sad commentary as that is, it fits in with two other experiences that have come to mind recently.

When my mother worked as a teacher's aide in an elemenary school, she tried to call attention to the plight of a small child of Asian origin who was being harrassed by the other students.  The teacher would not take her seriously, because in her view the boy must be happy, since he was smiling all the time.  My mother—correctly, I'm sure—interpreted those smiles as cringing deference, masking fear.

I was talking with a British friend, who lives in France, and his observation was that many Europeans view a person who smiles at strangers as either mentally unbalanced or a prostitute!

Having so recently read Meic Pearse's analysis of Western anticulture, I can't help seeing a connection between a meaningless culture of consumption and entertainment, such as pervades Europe, Canada, the United States, and other places with a great "Western" influence, and the loss of smiling, innocent happiness.  (Not to say that this anticulture is common amongst "real people" in any country; but to many, what is rampant in Hollywood, the news media, and academia is perceived as reality, and may indeed be becoming so.)

Why the Rest Hates the West:  Understanding the Roots of Global Rage, by Meic Pearse (Intervarsity Press, Downers Grove, Illinois, 2004)

This is not a book review; not yet.  I long to write about Meic Pearse's book, but it deserves a detailed and extensive review which I cannot at the moment accomplish.  Rather than wait entirely until I can put in the requisite time and effort, however, I'm posting this placeholder, because this is an incredibly valuable book!  Its somewhat unfortunate title calls to mind the hand-wringing post-9/11 whine, "Why do they hate us?" but Why the Rest Hates the West is a serious, insightful analysis of the chasm between modern Western culture—more precisely, "anti-culture"—and the rest of the world that no one with more than a few years left on this earth can afford to ignore.

Find the book!  Read it!  Then come back here and tell me what you think.

And I'll put Li'l Writer Guy to work on the review.

Janet has a remarkable memory for faces, especially if seen in a dramatic/musical context.  I'll never forget when she was 13 years old, and immediately recognized the new high school chorus intern years after seeing him perform—in a video, on a small-screen television, in a non-speaking part—in a college opera production.

My memory for faces is quite the opposite.  I have a hard time recognizing good friends out of context!  What I've seen in print, however, is another story. 

A friend is looking forward to raising chickens, and on her blog mentioned her plans for acquiring buff orpingtons.  "Buff orpingtons"?  I know nothing about chickens other than a few good recipes, but as soon as I read her page I remembered the only other place I'd heard the term:  Dorothy Sayer's Busman's Honeymoon.  They play no role at all in the mystery, so there's no reason in particular I should have remembered them.

Last night we attended a Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra concert.  The first work was a beautiful modern piece called Musica Celestis, written by Aaron Jay Kernis; the last, Beethoven's Third Symphony.  In between we heard Tchaikovsky's Variations on a Rococo Theme, featuring a cellist born in 1980 playing a cello born in 1790.  Both were delightful.  The cello was a Lorenzo Ventapane; the musician Julie Albers.

I recognized her name as soon as I saw it.  But why?  My first thoughts went down the logical trail of someone Janet knew at Eastman, but reading her biography squashed that idea.  When I learned she was from Longmont, Colorado, however, the mystery was solved.

Many years ago I discovered a book, by Robert Leland Johnson, called Super Babies.  It is the story of the first few years in the life of his son, Anthony—once a sickly, premature infant, now an MIT graduate.  At the very end of the book (1979), Anthony begins to take Suzuki violin lessons.  This morning I pulled the book off my shelves and quickly confirmed that his teacher had been a woman named Ellie Albers, of Longmont, Colorado.  Can anyone doubt my conclusion that Julie is her daughter?

Memory is an amazing thing.

The Well-Educated Mind, by Susan Wise Bauer (W W Norton & Co, NY 2003)

The Well-Educated Mind reminds me of Mortimer Adler's How to Read a Book, only it's less intimidating. In a time when most people who can read, don't, and in which teachers are thrilled if their students read anything at all, no matter how worthless or even harmful, it's sobering to be reminded that—avid reader as I am—there is a world of reading far beyond the level of attention I bring to a book. My palate can distinquish between a white wine and a red, and can distinguish each from kerosene, but the sophisticated analysis of even a moderate expert is beyond by attainment. Susan Wise Bauer encourages me to believe it is not beyond my reach, however.

This may be what those annoying English teachers were trying so unsuccessfully to convey when they sucked all the fun out of a book by their analysis. If so, I missed the point altogether, because Bauer's approach—which incorporates historical, social, and literary context along with what amounts to a serious paying attention to what one reads—is both challenging and intriguing. In reality, I have to admit my list of books to read once, let alone three times with note-taking, is intimidating as it is. Still, I've already gained just by reading this book. (Once only, and even so not quite all of the extensive readings section before I had to return it to the library.)

Like The Well-Trained Mind, The Well-Educated Mind would be worthwhile for the extensive list (with summaries) of recommended reading alone.

On Monday we attended the latest concert in the Orlando Philharmonic's Focus Series:  The Great Struass Dynasty.   I love that series because it features a smaller orchestra in a more intimate venue, the 300-seat Margeson Theatre. In our seats, we feel as if we could be part of the second violin section; that the sound is not well balanced there is more than made up for by the more direct experience.

This night we heard music from four members of Vienna's great Strauss dynasty:  Johann Sr., Johann Jr., Josef, and Eduard.  I'm embarrassed to say I've never cared much for their music, especially the waltzes, but this concert was great!  For one thing, the musicians appeared to be enjoying themselves, and it was impossible not to laugh at Carl Rendek's antics.  Imagine what such a fun-loving guy could do with such titles as Fireman's Polka, On Hunting, Chinese Galop, and ClearTrack Polka, all without detracting from the music, and you'll get the picture.  Is it true percussionists have more fun (even if they're not blond)?

However, that's not the most important of what made the concert so interesting to me.  The conductor was Andy Lane, and I'm sure he deserves most of the credit; whatever the reason, for the first time, Strauss waltzes made sense to me!  I can't explain it any further than that, but Janet, at least, will understand what I experienced.

The Story of the World: History for the Classical Child.  Volume 3:  Early Modern Times, by Susan Wise Bauer (Peace Hill Press, Charles City, Virginia, 2004)

Once a homeschooler, always a homeschooler.  Sometimes I can't help checking out the curriculum explosion that has taken place since the younger days of our own home education experiences.  As one might expect, some is awful, some great, and much in between.

Based on this one sample, Susan Wise Bauer's history books are on the high end of in between.  In addition to the five-star praises, there are some harsh reviews on Amazon for the first volume of this series.  Some of them clearly have an axe to grind on issues that don't bother me; some I agree with but find minor (such as her overuse of exclamation points); others I think refer to faults that were largely corrected by the time she wrote the third volume.

Because it is impossible—maybe even undesirable—to avoid bias in a history book, it is best to have a multi-sourced approach to history.  I wouldn't use Bauer's book as my only text.  It seems reasonably broad and fair to me, but even so, you can't put everything into an elementary school level book.

I chose this particular volume because the time period corresponded with a Teaching Company series we recently watched.  (I'll put in a link to the review when I get around to writing it.) Given that the latter was designed for college students, I'll have to say I was pleased with the level of agreement between the two on areas where they overlapped.  (The Teaching Company course dealt mainly with Europe, while Bauer's touches on many other parts of the world as well.)

I did spot two errors:  confusion of malaria and yellow fever in a discussion of the Haitian Revolt, and the implication that Napoleon's remains are still buried on St. Helena.  Of course there may be plenty of errors I missed in my ignorance.  But we found errors in our favorite math series, too.  This only reinforces the need for multiple sources.

My biggest complaint is the somewhat condescending tone—you know how people tend to sound when speaking to children!—that initially put me off.  However, it improved as I went further into the book, and I also learned not to let it bother me.

Overall, I was very impressed.  I learned many things myself, and plan to read the rest of the series.  It presents a great overview in story form, not a be-all and end-all when-you've-read-this-you'll-know-history, but one that plants seeds of interest to be watered and weeded with other materials.  Even so, if all an elementary school student learned was what is in this book, he'd be far ahead of almost any modern sixth grader.

I'm not conversant with reading levels, but anyone who can read Harry Potter should be fine with this book.  It would also be great read-aloud material for many ages. 

Last night we heard the Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra play Pierre Jalbert's deeply moving In Aeternum, which he wrote as a memorial to his niece who died at birth. Naturally, my thoughts were about Isaac as I listened, running a gamut of emotions, including anger during an intense part of the work with a heartbeat motif running through it—that brought back memories of the doctor who interrupted the family's last moments together to tell them Isaac's heart rate was slowing down.

I had the privilege of speaking briefly with Jalbert afterwards and was able to tell him (though not fully express) how much the music meant to me. You can hear an exerpt of In Aeternum here.

(Some readers of this blog will be interested to know that Jalbert is a native son of Manchester, New Hampshire!)

Having been set up by last night's experience, I was not prepared to handle this morning's news from the United Kingdom: The Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecology is recommending active euthanasia for severely disabled newborns.

In these days of extreme medical care, the right and wrong of a situation is often a messy shade of grey. I fully support the right of a family to bring a loved one—young, old, or in between—home to die in friendly, familiar, natural surroundings, even if medical intervention would extend that person's life. This has nothing to do with actively, purposefully killing a helpless, innocent human being whose existence has become difficult or expensive, and the two issues should not be conflated. That respected doctors should hold such a position does nothing to bolster my already-waning trust in the medical profession.

I have no doubt that financial considerations weighed heavily in this recommendation, and I am saddened and angry for the new parents who—at the moment of their greatest grief and heartache—will face pressure from the UK's National Health Service to allow their babies to be cheaply killed rather than run up expensive medical bills. Nor do I have any illusions that the trend will stop with newborns.

John Harris, a member of the official Human Genetics Commission and professor of bioethics at Manchester University, welcomed the college's submission. "We can terminate for serious foetal abnormality up to term, but cannot kill a newborn," he told The Sunday Times. "What do people think has happened in the passage down the birth canal to make it OK to kill the foetus at one end of the birth canal but not the other?"

If conception is not enough of a momentous occurrence to mark the beginning of a life worthy of protection...if viability outside the womb is not...if the moment of birth is not...then we are left with nothing at all.

Wild at Heart, by John Eldredge (Thomas Nelson, Nashville, Tennessee, 2001)
Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge (Thomas Nelson, Nashville, Tennessee, 2005)

When a good friend lent me Wild at Heart, it took a long time for me to steel myself to read it, for I expected it to make me angry. I've had more than my fill of books, especially from Christian authors, telling men to be authoritative and women to wear makeup and Saran Wrap.

After the first few pages, I was sure I was right, and I was going to hate the book. But I kept reading—something I'm not sure was true of many of those who wrote the negative reviews I read—and became convinced it's a worthwhile book. Oh, there's plenty I found exasperating, a lot I disagree with, and much that's expressed poorly, but Eldredge is asking important questions and has a few good answers. Although it deals with much more than just the church, the book is worth reading if only because it dares reveal church as a place where, all too often, the men are bored and the women are tired—and offers a remedy. Captivating attempts to do for women what Wild at Heart does for men. It is not as good, but still valuable.

(I wonder why it is almost all of my reviews these days seem to boil down to, "This book has some good things to say even though it requires a lot of work to get past the way in which they are presented.")

If you're expecting a summary of the books, you'll be disappointed. I dislike summarizing books, even if I have time. Not only am I no good at it, but I believe that if a book is worth reading, it can't be effectively distilled; you must read it for yourself to get the truth it has to offer. "What's the bottom line?" is an inappropriate question for a good book. Herewith, then, not a review—because the library is sending me dunning notices; I am engrossed in a serious battle with Windows and Palm for the soul of my computer; and choir practice starts in two hours—but several random quotations (italicized) and points of commentary. [Correction: choir practice started and ended; the night passed into day; and I'm still not done. Could it really have taken longer to write a more formal review than just these bits and pieces? Well, yes, it could and would have.]

 

• Corporate policies and procedures are designed with one aim: to harness a man to the plow and make him produce. But the soul refuses to be harnessed…. The soul longs for passion, for freedom, for life…. A man needs to feel the rhythms of the earth; he needs to have in hand something real—the tiller of a boat, a set of reins, the roughness of rope, or simply a shovel. The chief strength of Wild at Heart is its realization that modern society is trapping, taming, and enslaving us. The first sentence of this quotation could be said as much of the school as of the corporation, and it is applicable to women and girls as well as to men and boys. Although the author doesn't quote Wordsworth, I'm sure he would also say, "The world is too much with us; late and soon / Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers." The chief weakness of the book is its portrayal of both the problems and the solutions as special to the male sex. It is possible that men have been more afflicted than women, but that's no excuse for denying women both the recognition and the remedies. Eldredge has some wonderful suggestions for raising our sons; I'm saddened that some will read his book and not realize they are equally valid—and important—for our daughters.

• If the Eldredges would use words like "some" and "many" instead of "all," their pronouncements would be much more believable. Anyone who tells me that all girls love to wear "twirly" skirts and to preen in front of a mirror, and all women delight in painting their toenails and in wearing jewelry, immediately loses credibility because I know it's not true.

• I've noticed that so often our word to boys is don't. Don't climb on that, don't break anything, don't be so aggressive, don't be so noisy. But God's design—which he placed in boys as the picture of himself—is a resounding yes. Be fierce, be wild, be passionate. So true!—and at least as true of girls. Children, male and female, wither under a constant "no" and an artificial taming of their nature. Denied reasonable opportunities to take risks, test their strength, and satisfy their need for adventure, they will either weaken and retreat or seek their adventures in unreasonable, more dangerous ways.

• The Eldredges rightly emphasis the importance of fathers in the lives of both boys and girls, and pins on them the responsibility for delivering both the affirmations that lead us to true personhood and—sadly, more often—the wounds that cripple us.

• [Forgiveness] is not saying, "It didn't matter"; it is not saying, "I probably deserved part of it anyway." Forgiveness says, "It was wrong, it mattered, and I release you."

• Much of the criticism I've seen of Wild at Heart is similar to my original fears, decrying any attempt to return us to a society of chest-beating men and passive, women valued only for their appearance. A cursory reading of the book might support that fear, but Eldredge is clearly not saying that, even if it sounds like it in isolated passages. There is plenty of support here for men as musicians as well as mountain climbers, and for women with careers both within the home and without. There is much about his definitions of masculine and feminine I question, but I also concede the possibility that there is more to what he's getting at than my prejudices currently allow me to respond to.

• We are faking our way through life, sure we will be found out. Violence is a coverup for fear, so is hardworking achievement, so is passivity.

• When the Bible tells us that Christ came to "redeem mankind" it offers a whole lot more than forgiveness. To simply forgive a broken man is like telling someone running a marathon, "It's okay that you've broken your leg. I won't hold that against you. Now finish the race."

• The Big Lie in the church today is that you're nothing more than "a sinner saved by grace." You are a lot more than that. You are a new creation in Christ.

• [Eldredge quoting someone he does not name] Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

• Anyone who quotes George MacDonald and G. K. Chesterton wins major points in my book. I can't wait to read more of the Chesterton essay from which Eldredge extracted this homage to a homemaker's job: To be Queen Elizabeth within a definite area, deciding sales, banquets, labors and holidays; to be Whitely within a certain area, providing toys, boots, cakes and books, to be Aristotle within a certain area, teaching morals, manners, theology, and hygiene; I can understand how this might exhaust the mind, but I cannot imagine how it could narrow it. How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman's function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute.

• I think one reason I found Captivating weaker than Wild at Heart is that the Eldredges have three boys and no girls. They seem to understand boys a lot better than they do girls, though perhaps I feel that way because our children were girls and not boys. Another weakness in both books is that John and Stasi each grew up in fairly dysfunctional families, which helps them identify more with brokenness and healing, but leaves me wondering what they truly know of healthy life situations.

• [Eve] is the crescendo, the final, astonishing work of God. Woman. In one last flourish creation comes to a finish not with Adam, but with Eve. She is the Master's finishing touch.

• Eve is God's relational specialist given to the world to keep relationship a priority…. [B]ecause of the Trinity, relationship is the most important thing in the universe.

• Wild at Heart's descriptions of who men are, what they've lost, and how they might regain it reminds me very much of The Compleat Mother magazine, which comes from a totally different perspective. Yet its analysis of how modern attitudes toward pregnancy, birth, and breastfeeding have stolen from women our birthright, our strength, and our heart is similar to Eldredge's view of society's emasculation of men. Although the authors touch briefly on the uniqueness of a woman's role in giving life, literally and metaphorically, I find their cursory treatment of the subject to be a glaring omission, a gaping hole in their philosophy. The maternal force that wells up in even tiny girls is far more significant and important than swirling skirts and painting toenails!

• This complaint is probably of little consequence to most, though I found it a significant impediment to understanding the books: in both the authors frequently make their points through references to movies and popular songs, which meant they were largely lost on me. What am I to make of a passage like this: "Think of Fran in Strictly Ballroom, or Tulah in My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Remember Lottie in Enchanted April, Adrian in Rocky, or Danielle in Ever After." I can only respond, "Huh?" I have heard of Rocky, and even watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding, though it didn't help any because I have no memory of who Tulah was. More exasperating, however, are references to movies I know, because then it's clear that the analogies given are based solely on cinematic characters. When Eldredge talks about William Wallace, he's speaking of the character portrayed by Mel Gibson in the movie Braveheart, not the real, historical Scottish hero on whom the movie is loosely based. Examples from The Lord of the Rings reference scenes and dialogue that never appeared in the book, and which for all I know are quite contrary to J.R.R. Tolkien's intent. I'm not against fiction, which is the best medium for conveying some truths, and I certainly can be inspired by movies. But both the analogies and the frequent use of them in these books shout to me that the authors and I live in vastly different worlds, which leads me to wonder how applicable their conclusions can be to my life.

• We are in the late stages of the long and vicious war against the human heart…. I am not hawking fear at all; I am speaking honestly about the nature of what is unfolding around us…against us. And until we call the situation what it is, we will not know what to do about it. In fact, this is where many people feel abandoned or betrayed by God. They thought becoming a Christian would somehow end their troubles, or at least reduce them considerably. No one ever told them they were being moved to the front lines, and they seem genuinely shocked at the fact that they've been shot at.

• If you wanted to learn how to heal the blind and you thought that following Christ around and watching how he did it would make things clear, you'd wind up pretty frustrated. He never does it the same way twice. He spits on one guy; for another, he spits on the ground and makes mud and puts that on his eyes. To a third he simply speaks, a fourth he touches, and a fifth he kicks out a demon. There are no formulas with God.

The bottom line (not of the books, but of my reactions): Wild at Heart, and to a lesser extent Captivating, are much better books than a cursory glance could lead one to believe. There is error here, and much confusion, but there are also truths and ideas and revelations that we cannot afford to ignore.

This isn't a review of Tom Wolfe's I Am Charlotte Simmons. I haven't read the book, and am not sure I have the stomach to. But I found Steve Garber's review (thanks to Tom Grosh) and it's well worth reading. It's a little long, so whet your appetite with his conversation with two young women about the book.

One of them found the story of Charlotte's freshman year at college to be frighteningly realistic, while the other recalled plenty of on-campus exceptions to the sex-drug-and-alcohol party crowd: first and second generation Americans, goal-driven students intent on getting into graduate school, people immersed in their field of study, and communities of faith.

I don't know about the book, but the review is simultaneously horrifying and hopeful.

I like supporting small companies and local businesses, including local incarnations of chain stores. Browsing the nearby Borders, scanning the shelves, leafing through physcial books held in my own hands—this experience has a satisfaction that online shopping cannot match, and I know that if I buy all my books online, I risk losing the local experience forever.

Nonetheless, it appears I have unusual tastes in books, music, and other areas, because what is on display at the local store is too often not what I want, and what I want must be ordered. That's where I draw the line: if it must be ordered, I'll do it myself, thank you. That's when I'm especially thankful for Amazon.com and other online retailers.

I usually find what I'm looking for, and it's hard to beat Amazon's free shipping on orders of $25 or more. Still, you can't assume you're getting a good deal, even with free shipping.

Today I discovered Amazon's Gourmet Foods section, and was surprised and pleased that my search on "Boyajian" turned up several items. I discovered the Boyajian folks when we lived in Norwood, Massachusetts, and I passed their headquarters (since moved) and small store as I walked to the train station. They have many good products, but I absolutely fell in love with the citrus oils. Lemon, lime, orange, grapefruit (alas, discontinued!), and the fabulous tangerine—these cold-pressed, natural essences put the power of citrus peel or zest into any recipe with ease. The flavors are extremely powerful and even a one-ounce bottle lasts a long time. I use them in dozens of ways, from stir-fry dishes to baked goods to drinks such as hot cocoa, Bay Punch, and Lime Daleys. [End commercial. No, I'm not getting paid by Boyajian. I really like their products.]

Because I have bought online directly from Boyajian (after both we and their store moved), I was able to tell that Amazon's prices are much higher than Boyajian's. This surprised me; I haven't noticed a similar problem with their books and CD's. I did a little investigating and here's what I found: A five-ounce bottle of Boyajian Lime Oil from Amazon costs $18.25, with free shipping if you buy something else to get the total up to $25. Directly from Boyajian, the same bottle of Lime Oil costs $11.50, plus $6.75 shipping. Hmmm, $11.50 plus $6.75 equals...$18.25! So much for free shipping! And at Boyajian you can get two bottles of Lime Oil for the same $6.75 charge.

Caveat emptor!

I know I’m an independent sort of blogger. My need is to write, and I use the blog format because the LifeType software is so easy to use, is very flexible, and allows comments. The only reason I'm familiar at all with commercial places like LiveJournal, MySpace, and Blogger is that I have to venture into that territory to read some of my friends' blogs. So I'm really clueless about the whole blogging community thing, especially memes and tagging, which generally seem pretty silly to me.

However, a friend has this on her blog, and I like it, so I'm going to do it. I won't tag anyone, but I'd love to read your responses if you want to put them in a comment here, or on your own blog if you have one.

Note: I could answer every one of these points with "The Bible," except possibly #7 (though in some moods, who knows?), but that would be rather pointless, so I'm going to leave it out and consider other books.

1. One book that changed your life:

All books change my life, one way or another. For the moment I'll single out Marie Winn's The Plug-In Drug, because that opened my eyes to what television does to children and other people. Liberating ourselves (i.e. learning to use the tool carefully and sparingly) from that mind-numbing, time-wasting device was one of the best decisions we've ever made.

2. One book that you've read more than once:

Almost any book worth reading is worth reading more than once. (Maybe my memory is just too poor.) But a good answer would be everything George MacDonald wrote. I have the complete collection from Johannesen, thanks to my very generous father, and there is enough goodness packed into even one book to merit re-reading many times.

3. One book you'd want on a desert island:

Hmmm, I might have to break my resolve and say the Bible. I would have plenty of time for uninterrupted study (if I weren't too busy trying to secure water, food and shelter), and being marooned would certainly provide plenty of opportunities to test my faith. Practically speaking, however, I'd look for something called How to Survive on a Desert Island.

4. One book that made you laugh:

Most recently, Holy Humor by Cal and Rose Samra of the Fellowship of Merry Christians. I was reading while Noah was sleeping on my chest, and I had to stop because the upheavals kept waking him.

5. One book that made you cry:

Books generally don't make me cry. Music does, but not books. Unless I'm crying because there are so many good books and I'll never be able to read but a tiny fraction of them.

6. One book that you wish had been written:

Updates from authors on how their views have evolved since they were set in ink. John Holt did this beautifully with the revised version of How Children Learn. I particularly would like to know how C. S. Lewis's view of women changed after he married Joy Davidman. I know it did, but that was within a few years of his death, and after most of his books had been written.

7. One book that you wish had never been written:

As a writer, it's hard to wish any book unwritten; that would seem like wishing someone's child had never been born. But there are many books I wish I had left unread. Books change the mind, and foul images and foul attitudes are nearly impossible to expunge. Unfortunately, a visit to the children's section of your local library will most likely reveal a sizeable collection of such books.

8. One book you're currently reading:

Colossians Remixed: Subverting the Empire by Brian Walsh and Sylvia Keesmaat. I can't comment on it because I haven't finished, but I'll post a review when I have.

9. One book you've been meaning to read:

The complete works of Francis Schaeffer. I've read several of his books, but I have the whole set on my bookshelves and I'd like to fill in the many missing pieces. Reading The God Who Is There as part of my Lenten discipline two years ago, I was struck by how many things it explains now that I didn't understand back in the 1970's, and even more by how it agreed with what I was reading in John Taylor Gatto's The Underground History of American Education. When an evangelical Protestant theologian living in Switzerland and a self-described lapsed Catholic schoolteacher from Pittsburgh tell me the same things, perhaps I had better listen.

I can't recommend the movie Lost in Translation to anyone I know. It's an R-rated film with an uninspiring story and scenes you'd rather not have in your mind. However, we watched it the other day and I enjoyed it very much, because it is set in Japan. It was fun to hear the crosswalk music (not Comin' Through the Rye, which you can hear in Swing Girls, but the tune for the other direction. I would never have noticed it in the movie if we hadn't been to Japan. It was also wonderful to be able to recognize some of the spoken Japanese words, though I was embarrassed by how much katakana I have forgotten.

Because the film is set mostly in Tokyo, it shows many of the parts of Japan I didn't care for, from the garish lights and colors to the pachinko parlors. But even those were reminders of our trip, and thus enjoyable.

If you live in the United States, you may never have a chance to see the movie, Swing Girls. It is presently unavailable in this country, and if you get it in Japan you need either a region-free DVD player or a good friend in the A-V business. But this is the movie to see for the best glimpse into Janet's life in Japan short of spending a very long time in an airplane. You'll see a school that looks very much like hers, from the physical layout to the students' uniforms to their voices and actions. Although the movie was filmed in a different area of Japan, the scenery is much the same. You'll even get to hear the crosswalk music, that famous old Japanese tune, Comin' Through the Rye. I loved the crosswalk music, though Porter thinks it would drive him crazy if he stayed in Japan very long. There's a different tune for crossing in the other direction, but I don't know what it is; it does sound a little more as if it might really be a Japanese song.

Swing Girls is not great art, but it's a fun story with no objectionable parts if your children can't read. If they can, be warned that the English subtitle translation of the Japanese contains a few four-letter words. Whether the Japanese itself was offensive, I don't know.

Home Education Magazine has a great article by Deborah Markus called Being a Cheerful Rebel. Sometimes being a nonconformist feels great, and sometimes it just feels lonely. Sometimes you love explaining your lifestyle choices to others, and sometimes you wish they'd just mind their own business. But ready or not, the questions will come, and Markus has some good suggestions for preparing to meet them. My favorite is

Don't Apologize: Stand strong. If you don't seem firmly convinced of the rightness of your course of action, why should anyone else? Especially someone who's never heard anything but conventional wisdom on the subject, all of which disagrees with you?

St. Peter knew something of the pressures of being outside the mainstream, and he had good advice, too:

Always be preparied to make a defense to any one who calls you to account for the hope that is in you, yet do it with gentleness and reverence; and keep your conscience clear.