Recently I exchanged e-mail with a fellow who thought because I was a
Christian I must necessarily be on the Creationist side in the Creation
vs. Evolution sweepstakes. He seemed rather disappointed when I said I
wasn’t–though not a Christian himself, he said he was definitely on the
Creationist side of things, and thought that Evolution was manifestly
untrue.

My position on the subject is rather more complicated than the tag
“Creation vs. Evolution” would imply.
On the one hand, I don’t read the opening chapters of Genesis as a
precise description of how the world was created; nevertheless I do
believe that the universe is God’s creation. On the other hand, I
don’t think that random forces produced modern human beings;
nevertheless, all those fossils had to come from somewhere.

I’ve been pondering this ever since, and I’ve decided that there are two
related topics I’d like to expand on. The second, which I’ll address in
another post, will contain some thoughts I’ve had on the nature of
creation, and how creation and evolution can play together. This one, however, is
on the two documents I believe God has left us–the Book of Spirit, and
the Book of Nature–and the relationship between them.

Continue reading →

Church and State is the next volume in Sim’s massive saga of
Cerebus the Aardvark, and I do mean volume, as in “voluminous”. In fact,
it’s two volumes, together comprising 1200 pages of aardvarkian lunacy.

I read Church and State in two installments, about a month
apart, which I don’t think hurt the story any.

In the first volume, which I very much liked, Cerebus is named Pope of
the Western Church of Tarim. It’s a political move, and the result of
much pulling of strings by a variety of players; he’s a compromise Pope
named only because the powers that be think he’ll be easily manipulated.
After all, Astoria had him performing like a trained seal as Prime
Minister of Iest in the previous volume, High Society.

But the fact is, Cerebus (who begins to refer to himself as “Most Holy”)
is tired of being manipulated. Most Holy is tired of working hard when
everyone else gets the credit. Most Holy is tired of being pushed
around. Most Holy is tired of not getting to enjoy the spoils of his
position.

So he takes his show on the road.

Which is to say, he abandons the Papal Palace in ritzy, upper-class Upper
Iest and moves with his bodyguard into a beat-up hotel in sleazy
lower-class Lower Iest. After he’s harangued the crowd for a while,
there’s no chance of any of his erstwhile handlers getting near him. And
just what does he ask his adoring crowd of peasants to do?

I can’t tell you, but it’s funny.

And so Volume I continues, with Most Holy having to learn to live with
the consequences of his own success. And it ends with a quite shocking
turn of events which I nevertheless found hysterical, having read the
early parts of the series.

So far, so good; Church and State, Vol. 1 was a good read, and
more fun than High Society.

So then I read Church and State, Vol. 2, in which we find out
why a lot of this maneuvering has been going on. It turns out that once
an age, one person, properly equipped, can actually try to meet the Divine Tarim
and become his avatar, the Messiah of the World. If he succeeds,
something glorious will happen; if he fails, there will be great
devastation, and no one will be able to try again until the next age. On
gathers that nobody has actually managed it.

I won’t go into details about what happens, except that I found the
second volume of Church and State to be a bit of a disappointment.
There are pages and pages of beautiful (?) drawing during which very
little actually happens–it’s much more slowly paced than his earlier
work. There are many episodes which make almost no sense, comic or
otherwise. And the final payoff was more of a rip-off–bad theology,
with heavy-handed irony and ridiculous sneers at the United States’ space
program. (Yes, really. Why? I have no idea. But apparently the
Challenger blew up to show us that we should have known better. Gag.)

But there were some pretty funny bits anyway; I especially liked the
scenes with Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.

Will I get the next volume, Jaka’s Story? Probably;
it’s considered to be the zenith of the series, apparently, after which
it’s all downhill. After that, who can say.

Here’s a fabulous article which contrasts Rowling’s Harry Potter, Lewis’ Narnia, and Tolkien’s Middle Earth with Philip Pullman’s saga His Dark Materials.

(Via Brandywine Books.)

I happened to take a look at the web log today, and found to my great surprise that I hadn’t posted anything since last Thursday. I guess I’ve been involved.

And indeed it’s been a busy few days. Thursday night was my writer’s group night; we meet about once a month. Then on Friday I went over to a buddy’s house for the evening; this is an exceedingly rare event these days, and accounts for why I didn’t post anything on Friday.

Saturday morning saw the beginning of the Out of Africa Mission. Archbishop-elect Henry Orombi of the Anglican Church of Uganda and his team have come here for a week long mission to ten of the churches here in my home town. I’d met Bishop Orombi before, as he’s visited our church in the past; consequently, I not only got to hear him speak Saturday morning, but also at church yesterday morning. This was a Great and Good thing.

Saturday afternoon and evening I don’t have any really good excuse for not posting, except that I was working on Notebook. By the time I was done I was pretty well braindead, and so probably wouldn’t have written anything worth reading.

And then yesterday was remarkably busy. There was church in the morning, of course. Jane had a meeting early in the afternoon, so I had to get lunch for the kids and keep an eye on them; after that, David had a friend over to play. And then Jane and I got to go out to dinner and to a meeting of the Los Angeles chapter of the American Anglican Council. Not a terribly romantic destination, I admit, but change is coming to the Episcopal Church, and this was our chance to get a heads up–plus we got to hear Bishop Henry yet again. I’ll probably have more to say about this in the coming weeks.

So, really, I’ve just been busy. That state of affairs will likely continue this week as the mission proceeds (there are events Tuesday and Wednesday nights) but I’ll try to keep posting anyway.

I haven’t been doing much serious reading lately. I will take down a well
worn, familiar book and read bits out of it without completing the whole
thing. Austen and Dickens are good for that. Or I will start one and lose
interest a few pages in, abandoning it to the pile next to my chair. That’s
where “The Odyssey” is living at the moment. Someday…. However, I must
read before turning out the light at night. It’s a habit I have developed
and one I find difficult to avoid if I want to fall asleep without time
spent brooding.

I took this book off my shelf while looking for something to hold my
interest for the 20 minutes I read before sleeping. The flyleaf is inscribed
with a “Happy Birthday from Mom and Dad, 1978” which means I was a sophomore
in college when I read it the first time. I don’t recall reading it since.

And what a treat it is! The chapters are short enough that I can finish one
quickly and the stories he tells are amusing and sad and vibrant with his
love for the countryside he lived in. I had forgotten the war between
Siegfried and the secretary and the impossible escapades of Tristan. And I
had completely forgotten the character of Tricki Woo, the little Peke dog
who provides James with treats and good things all in appreciation of good
care whenever the dog goes “flop bott.”

It’s a good book to revisit if you are looking for enjoyable stories well
told, something to soothe the mind and quiet the noises of the night.

This is the third volume of Martin’s lo-o-o-o-ng saga, “A Song of Ice and
Fire”, and I don’t want to say too much about it because I don’t want to
spoil the plot. Suffice it to say that it’s a worthy successor to
A Clash of Crowns; see that review for my
general comments.

I embarked on the 1128 pages of this book with patience in my heart, and
I enjoyed every moment of it thoroughly. Even the walking corpses.

Last summer I wrote a program called Notebook for managing my notes on various topics. A notebook is a collection of pages, as many pages as you like, with hyperlinks between them. It’s a lot like an editable website, except that it’s quicker and easier, and it’s also programmable. If you know how to program, you can extend Notebook in a variety of ways. You can find out more about it here.

Just the other day, someone I’d never heard of released an
article on “wiki” software. A wiki is, in fact, an editable website, a lot like Notebook but available from any web browser. The author cites Notebook as a neat application in its own right, and a good starting place for people who want to know more about wikis since it has the same feel but doesn’t require a web server.

Me, I just think it’s neat that people I’ve never met and never exchanged e-mail with are happy enough with Notebook that they are telling other folks about it.

Whilst out and about with my two boys this evening (fetching home a copy of Panther for my PowerBook, as it happens), we discovered that there’s now a Lego Store at the Glendale Galleria.

Not only is there now a Lego Store at the Glendale Galleria, it’s directly next to the Apple Store where I went to get my copy of Panther. With two small boys in train, I had about as much chance of avoiding the Lego Store as–

I can’t think of a comparison that’s strong enough.

Now, I’m a Travelled Gentleman; I’ve been to LegoLand California. I’ve seen the Big Store at the Beginning that stands at the entrance to LegoLand…and while it is, indeed, an impressive sight, I’ve always found it to be somewhat disappointing. They’ve got too much in the way of souvenirs, and too little for the diehard LegoManiac.

About the Dread House of Lego at the Glendale Galleria, I have no such reservations. It’s a Perilous Pit of Plastic Temptation. Not only are the walls lined with Lego sets large and small, they have the big, hard to find sets for sale. There’s a Star Wars Imperial Walker (the four-legged kind) that’s at least a foot and a half high. There’s an Imperial Star Destroyer that’s three feet long. There are shelves and shelves of Star Wars sets, Harry Potter sets, robotics sets, NASA sets (including a Mars Exploration Rover that looks remarkably like the ones that are currently on the way to Mars), Soccer sets (soccer Lego? But apparently it’s popular), and everything else.

And if that’s not bad enough, there’s the Back Wall, which is studded with the Bins of Doom. Each bin is filled with one color and shape of Lego brick. There are about a hundred bins, and the bricks are in colors that have never before been seen in the world of Lego. For $12.95 you get what looks to be about a 36 ounce cup with a tightly fitting lid–and as many Lego bricks as you can cram into it.

This is Pure Evil. And had I not just bought a copy of Panther I might well have succumbed. And it really is Evil, because 36 ounces of Lego isn’t a whole lot when you’ve got a Big Imagination. You have to keep going back for another cupfull. And then another. And that will begin to run into Serious Money.

Lego fans have been screaming for just this sort of thing for years–I just hope there aren’t any bankruptcies.

(Oh, and yes, my kids did blow their allowances there.)

Here’s a Google feature I bet you didn’t know about.

Go to Google, and do a search on your phone number (including the area code). If your number is listed, it will return a page showing your name and address, along with links to MapQuest and the like.

If you’d rather not have your name and address quite so available in this way, you can click on the telephone icon next to your name and address, and Google will give you instructions on how you can have Google block your phone number.

I found out about this in an e-mail message I received today, and at first I thought it was probably a hoax–but just to be sure, I gave it a try. Sure enough, up popped all of my contact information. I’ve asked them to block it; apparently it takes about forty-eight hours.

Now this book is just too silly for words: an absurdly earnest mixture of
Modesitt-style fantasy, pop psychology, and romance novel shtick. Let me
tell you a little about it.

There are five branches of magic, Air, Earth, Fire, Water, and Spirit.
Every person in Green’s world is more or less capable in one of these
areas. Most people are Lows. Some are Middles, and some are Highs–and
every person revealed to be a Middle must go to the capitol and be tested
to see whether or not they are Highs. Our tale concerns five such
people, one from each of the five aspects. This is Very Significant, for
the nation in which they live is ruled by the Ruling Blending. The
Ruling Blending is a team of five people, one from (of course) each of
the five aspects, who have not only learned to merge their magic
together, but who won their place through fierce competition.

This competition is held every twenty-five years, and the winning
Blending rules the nation for the next twenty-five years. A great deal
is at stake, here, and so of course there is great incentive to skew the
results. Our five heroes are not supposed to win, and of course they
will, though not in this book (it’s the first of five in a series called,
natch, “The Blending”).

So who are our charming five? First, there’s a sea-captain who has no
interest in being a High, even for the power the position holds; he just
wants to live on the sea. Why? Because although he’s a rough, tough,
extremely handsome well-built man, he’s claustrophobic. He simply cannot
stand to be cooped up inside.

Then there’s the astonishingly beautiful young woman who has been
seriously traumatized by a forced marriage to elderly sadistic lecher
whose business interests her father wished to control. The old lecher is
dead, now, and her father wishes to marry her off again. She’d rather die.

Which brings us to our young gentleman, the sheltered, protected son of
one of the highest-born ladies in the realm, one of those poisonous women
who live through their children. He’s never
before been anywhere without his mother, and he has no idea of how the
world works. But he’s extremely handsome, and remarkably well-built,
because one of the servants showed him how to exercise.

Then there’s our astonishingly beautiful lady of the evening with a heart of gold,
the leading courtesan from a major provincial city. She’s no interest in
being a High, either, but coming to the capitol to be tested got her out
from under the thumb of her erstwhile madam. Remarkably, she’s the one
with the least emotional baggage, even though she doesn’t think that love
is real.

And finally there’s the farmer’s son from the boondocks, a truly decent salt-of-the-earth
type who sincerely wants to be a High. He’s hampered by two things: the
fear of trying to use more magical power than he can control and thereby turning
himself into a vegetable, and the narrow and limited moral code he grew
up with that tells him that the courtesan’s profession is simply wrong, a
problem since he’s rapidly falling in love with her–and she with him,
although she doesn’t believe him. Have I mentioned that he’s extremely
handsome, with a hard body from all that farm work?

And so all of them have baggage, and all of them have issues, and oh,
they all have such wonderful and growthful advice for each other, and
such astonishing insights into what makes everyone else tick. It’s like
inviting Oprah Winfrey into your fantasy novel. It’s so wonderful to
watch all of them growing into healthfulness. And then, of course, five of them are
such wonderful people, not like any of the other folks in the story, all
of whom are twisted, evil, manipulative users–at best.

I’ll give the author this much–despite all the anachronistic
pop-psychology and the absurd characters, and despite the five-fold
symmetry that means we get to hear about all of the testing and training
in five times over in five slightly different yet still tedious
flavors–despite all that, I say, she managed to hold my attention to the
end of the book. I’m not sure whether that means that Ms. Green can
really spin a tale, or whether she just pressed enough of the right
buttons amid all of the unintentionally hilarious wrong ones to keep me
going.

I’ve given the book to Jane to read, because I want her opinion. I know
a little bit about being a man, having been one lo these many years, and
the leading men in this tale don’t strike me as being men. Instead, they
strike me as a romance novelist’s fantasy of what desirable men should be
like. But it could be that I’m doing the romance genre a disservice, as
I don’t read them.

I’m mildly curious about the next book in the series, as the whole
testing/training/bootcamp kind of tale appeals to me for some reason;
it’s why I like L.E. Modesitt, Jr.‘s books. But it’s not
a good sign when you find yourself giggling at a book rather than with it.

We’ll see what Jane says.