Eric (Discworld, 9) Terry Pratchett. HarperCollins (ISBN: 9780063375017) 2024, first published in 1990.
Summary: A thirteen year-old demonologist tries to summon a demon to grant him three wishes. Instead, he gets Rincewind and the Luggage.
Have you ever heard the warning to be careful what you wish for? That’s what Eric, the thirteen year-old demonologist learns when he tries to summon a demon to grant him three wishes. Instead of a demon, he summons Rincewind the wizard, who last we heard of was trapped in the Dungeon Dimensions. And along with Rincewind, of course, comes the Luggage, who will get them out of more than a few scrapes.
So, what does Eric wish for? Pretty much what you’d guess for a young male his age: to rule the world, to meet the most beautiful woman in all history, and to live forever. Now, Rincewind tries to convince him of his lack of wizardly wish-granting, but Eric will have none of it. So, Rincewind snaps his fingers, and they find themselves in Klatch in the Tezumen Empire. The young god convinces them he is their world-ruler, little knowing what they do to world-rulers. Next thing they know, they are on top of a pyramid, being prepared for sacrifice! I’ll leave it to you to discover how they get out of this one and move on to the next wish.
Another snap of the fingers finds them inside a wooden horse, a gift to the Tsorteans. They are taken to Elenor (a parody of Helen) only to find the most beautiful woman plump and mother of a brood. After all, she’d been in the city a long time! Rincewind talks to Lavaeolus (whose name means “Rinser of Winds”, a distant ancestor of Rincewind), who asks him about his journey home. All he tells him is that he will make it home.
Then they are off to the third wish. They find themselves at the beginning of creation. It turns out that if you are to live forever, that means from the very beginning. The only way out is for Eric to reverse the summoning, which lands them in Hell! However, it turns out that Pratchett’s Hell is the ultimate bureaucracy where the greatest torture is boredom. They find themselves caught in a rivalry between the demon king, Astfgl, and his rival, Lord Vassenego. All I’ll say about their escape is it’s not because of the Luggage!
Pratchett has great fun parodying a variety of mythologies and tales from Odyssey to Inferno. However, I’m not sure Eric has learned his lesson. Maybe all he learns is be sure of who you summon. But then again, he escapes the fate of Faust.
Summary: A prayer for children beginning something new, drawing upon the life of Jesus and the promises of the Beatitudes.
Change is exciting. And scary. Beginnings are a part of all of our lives but can be especially scary for children who do not have lots of past experiences on which to draw. A new home. A new school. And a new bus route. New friends. And new social situations.
Mitali Perkins has written a wonderful children’s book that explores a number of these changes. First days at school. Missing family. Making friends. Going out of one’s way to show kindness. Then there are the challenging social situations. Standing up for the bullied. Comforting friends losing someone they love. Not yielding to peer pressure to look at questionable material on a phone. Or helping two friends caught in the blame game.
All of these beginnings are woven into a prayer that runs through the book. The prayer connects the child’s experience to something Jesus experienced in his life. For example, the book begins with this:
“Jesus, now I come to you,/at the start of something new.
People didn’t know your name./Here I am, a bit the same.“
The simple rhymescheme makes it enjoyable to hear and memorable.
In addition, the book incorporates the text of the Beatitudes. These offer promises of how Jesus will help in each of the situations depicted. For example, the child who is homesick may trust the promise: “God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Likewise, the child who stands up for another who is bullied is reminded that “God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be satisfied.”
Also, the illustrations of Andrés Landazábal bring the prayer/narrative vividly to life. The scenes look like school and neighborhood settings. I particularly appreciate how he captures the emotions of children. In addition, he portrays a multi-ethnic mix of children on each page.
The book concludes with “A Note from the Author” in which Mitali Perkins describes her various homes in five countries before living in the United States. She also discusses growing up in a Bengali home. Lastly, she lists some of the influences that inspired this book and what she has tried to do.
I like the portrayal of all the situations in which a child can trust Jesus in their Monday to Friday world at school. In addition, I appreciated how children are helped to see why Jesus would understand their fears and their prayers. Then the weaving in of the Beatitudes does not at all seem forced but flows naturally out of the various situations children encounter. Finally, as in all good children’s books, the truths found here are both simple enough for a child to understand and profound enough to sustain adults in all the changes they face.
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.
Summary: Social media for Christians beginning with mission and authenticity and finishes with strategic excellence.
Jacqulyne Horbrook grew up with a Christian influencer. Her father engaged in street ministry in the city of Chicago, preaching on a bullhorn, handing out tracts, and leading people to faith. She also discovered a calling as Christian influencer, only not on street corners with a bullhorn. It began with a social media page to reach students at the university where she worked. Before she knew it, she was “Jackie the Educator” and eventually the host of a YouTube show titled Higher Learning reaching a global audience. As she wrestled with the challenge of defining and reaching an audience, she realized she wasn’t the only one. This led to creating Black Christian Influencers, an effort to empower others in impactful ministry.
Horbrook not only realized social media is a powerful tool that may be used well or misused. She also realized that she was an influencer who could use these platforms to make disciples of Jesus. In fact, one of the things I appreciated about this book was its clarity about defining Christian influence: to publicly share one’s belief in Jesus Christ, to live a godly life so that your character and content align, and to never lose sight of the Great Commission.
She then walks through a number of practicalities of Christian social media influence. One is to be clear about one’s message and mission. Then comes marketing excellence. This involves finding one’s target audience, focusing on expertise, strategizing for results by creating online spaces you control, and creating content that connects. She offers ample how-tos for each step. She shares lessons she has learned about impactful storytelling, especially the importance of vulnerability. In fact, vulnerability is the first of her four components of influence, complemented by transparency, originality, and relatability.
Then she follows this with a number of tips about growing one’s platform. She begins with a warning. Don’t sacrifice integrity for numerical growth. However, you do want to make your content so good people share it. You need to know your niche and start there. Use bold statements, visuals, and compelling questions to be seen. Then pay attention to what people are sharing and engaging (and what they are not). At this point she hits “pause” and invites the reader to work through a Platform Growth Checklist and a Content Planning Worksheet–hugely valuable exercises.
The final three chapters center on larger issues for maintaining integrity and authenticity. She offers a chapter chock-full of advice on navigating social media. She addresses everything from the characteristics of different platforms, to dealing with negative comments, safeguarding one’s privacy, and protecting one’s mental health. And she emphasizes fact-checking oneself. Horbrook discusses making disciples and the vital importance of community versus isolation. Finally, she addresses stewarding influence well. She re-emphasizes themes she has touched on: depth over breadth, boundaries, to not define one’s worth by engagement, and have a community of accountability.
As a fellow Christian who uses social media to influence, I found so much with which I resonated. I especially appreciate her discussion of the alignment of content and character. I consciously strive for people to perceive the character of Christ in what I post, how I engage, and the “vibe” I create in curating my platforms. Horbrook pushes me in thinking about engagement with and shareability of content. Most of all, she models accepting and stewarding the influence one has for God’s, rather than personal glory. This is a book for any Christian working in social media spaces!
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.
Summary: An exploration of the Communio theological movement that arose following Vatican II and its relevance.
“Communio Theology.” What is that? This was my question when I saw the title of this book. I came to learn that this is a theological movement within Catholicism following Vatican II, beginning in the early 1970’s. The theologians in this movement seek to engage the currents of change following the Council while affirming traditional theological convictions. The movement is international in character. Communio: International Catholic Review was created as a journal for articles from the community of theologians identifying with this movement. It is published in several different language editions.
In this Introduction, Tracey Rowland provides this history and introduces us to three key figures in the Communio movement: Hans Urs Von Balthasar, Henri de Lubac, and Joseph Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI). As mentioned, this group formed in response to Vatican II. In particular, Rowland shows, the resulting documents contained many ambiguities as well as reflecting different strains of Catholicism. She offers an account for how they responded, framing theological proposals that didn’t break with the past and yet built on discussions on matters of ecclesiology, revelation, anthropology, and more.
While the many theologians are each distinctive, Rowland identifies four hallmarks in their work. Firstly, was a Trinitarian Christocentric foundation. This shapes everything from convictions on sacerdotal priesthood to a metaphysics of gift with political and economic implications. Secondly, Communio theology is wary of dualisms and dichotomies that divorce grace and nature, theology and philosophy, Church and state. Thirdly, is a conviction that sociology is not theologically neutral and frequently at variance from a Christian anthropology. Fourthly is the embrace of the transcendentals of goodness, truth, and beauty. While different traditions emphasize one or the other, Communio weaves them together in harmony.
Within this framework, Rowland summarizes the contributions of Communio theologians, particularly the three key figures, on a range of subjects. These include tradition, reading scripture, moral theology, feminism, the sacerdotal nature of the priesthood, stewardship of creation, and secularism. The last is particularly fascinating in illustrating the non-dualism of Communio scholars. They trace the flaws of secularism to the divorce of faith and reason, grace and nature, and humanity from the Triune God. Tat non-dualism is also evident in their engagement with Thomism. While they are two different schools, Communio theologians don’t see themselves in opposition to Thomists.
As a reader outside of Catholicism, I was impressed with the vibrancy of theological engagement on questions we also care about–how we read scripture, how we understand the moral life, and how we care for the creation. At the same time, I found myself wondering at the book’s silence about theological discussions in the church since 2013, when Benedict resigned. How have more recent developments shaped the concerns of Communio theologians?
I would commend this “Introduction” to Catholics to give them an enriched appreciation of the rich intellectual resources within Catholicism. And for those who are not Catholics, the book is helpful in understanding matters like tradition and the priesthood and why we may differ. And much of what those from non-Catholic backgrounds will read is part of our “family history.” We may well recognize that we also have much in common and much to learn!
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.
Summary: Argues that becoming an individual involves engaging with real physical environments and shared human practices.
Crawford, like many others, writes in this book of how we live distracted lives. However, he argues that the fault lies not in our screens but in ourselves. In particular, his contention that the rise of the autonomous self has made us vulnerable to distraction. The idea that we live “inside our heads” makes us vulnerable to all kinds of consumerist ploys, intensified through our digital economy. He offers one of the most chilling portrayals of this in how gambling has sought to be so frictionless that people will spend hours at a machine, urinating and defecating themselves rather than break away. He observes the irony that our quest for autonomy in the end results in a “mass solipsism” of “autistic monads.” We lose any real individuality.
Crawford believes to be human is to truly engage with our physical environment as well as other beings. He offers the examples of how the stick of a hockey player becomes an extension of one’s body, how the motorcycle an extension of the rider. He reminds us that the Latin root of “education” means “to lead out.” We are led out of our heads when we give focused attention to any skilled practice. Crawford offers examples of glass-blowing, learning Russian, playing music together with others. Drawing on Michael Polanyi, he observes the personal aspect of any form of true knowing, the relationship between knower and the object known.
Real individuality emerges in communities of practice in which we both perfect a skill and use it in a social context. Crawford uses his own trade as a motorcycle mechanic, showing how skilled work is recognized in the acceptance and payment of a labor bill. Likewise, real human relationships constantly bring us up against those not like us. This is so even in marriage. Knowing and bonding involves the practice of attention, the skill of negotiating those differences. Digital relationships seem easier, and more frictionless. And yet all this leads to boredom and the flattening of self.
Throughout, Crawford has held up the idea of skilled and embodied communities of practice. The final part of his book consists of just one chapter, “The Organ Makers Shop.” He introduces us to the pipe organ makers George Taylor and John Boody. He explores the lineage of organ-making from which they’ve come, the apprenticeships each underwent. The account walks through the renaissance in mechanical organs and the physicality of the workshop. For example, we learn how leather is a superior material for bellows rather than space age materials. Then there is the fine art of voicing organ pipes.
What most struck me in this account is how employees became master craftsmen. John Boody was asked out motivating employees to care about quality:
“They are absolutely the most vicious and greatest proponents of that,” he said. “The way to get people most disturbed here is to give them any sense that you are trying to cheapen things, or push them ahead. You think when you start out something like this that the hardest thing is going to be to teach people to care and value that aesthetic. But it happens, and you cannot convince them to do less.”
Behind the stories, there is some denser philosophy. By arguing that we need to get out of our heads, Crawford is not arguing that we stop thinking and just do. Rather, he invites us to use our minds to understand the ideas and practices that have misled and distracted us. Likewise, skillful work of any kind is mindful, attentive. But somehow, it must take us into the world of things and people.
The book led me to reflect on my own practice of reviewing. Reading books and writing about them can be a pretty “in your head” sort of thing. But I’m approaching the ten thousand hours of developing a skilled practice. I’ve written something like three thousand reviews. I’ve studied other reviewers. There is copyright law to observe. One needs to understand the vagaries of each platform. Then there is the back end technologies of websites, SEO, and more that go into every post. I also relate to a network of authors, publicists, publishing houses, booksellers, and devoted readers. My “hardware” includes reading glasses, pencils, computers, tablets, and smartphones.
And here I’d like to press Crawford. His examples focus on embodied practices, which I would certainly honor. But I think there is also skillful work one does as a “knowledge worker.” Crawford is his own best example of this. No doubt, doing other things besides “knowledge work” is good. My life has been enriched by everything from choral singing to painting, to maintaining and repairing my seventeen year old mower.
But the skillful practice of reviewing has changed me from simply being a reader to one who cares about what makes books good, who appreciates the labors of authors and wants to protect that from the intrusion and theft of AI. It has made me passionate about intellectual freedom and free speech and a free press. In sum, it has made me more fully who I am, even into my seventies. In Crawford’s terms, I think this is what it means to become an individual.
It was a day I remembered in minute detail. I was in Cleveland for the funeral of a friend. Driving up the evening before, I stayed with friends who I would see later that day. I was meeting another friend for coffee around 9 am that morning. Like so many others throughout the country, I remarked how clear the azure blue sky was that morning. On my drive to the coffee shop, I was listening to NPR when the reports came, first of one plane strike, then another, then the Pentagon.
There was a TV on at the coffee shop, and we sat riveted as the tragedy unfolded. Images I will never be able to unsee. When I could, I called my wife, as did so many around the country. At the funeral, I remarked to the friends I’d stayed with how much our world had changed in the few hours since I’d seen them.
I remember the tremendous sense of unity we experienced for a short time. And how it seemed so quickly to unravel and has continued to do so down to the present.
If we are basically good, as so many believe, why are we so cussedly fractious? While not as immediate as the 9/11 attacks, we face threats far more ominous. A massive surveillance society, which we can trace, at least in parts to those attacks. The existential threat of a planet becoming increasingly uninhabitable. And this week, the news from AI developers that AI could have the capability in the next few years to exterminate humanity. Yet we go along blithely banning books and specifying what teachers cannot say. Rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
I’d love to see us unite to meet the existential threats facing us. But the experience of our response to a deadly global pandemic doesn’t encourage me. Which leaves me hoping for the Deus ex machina of ancient theatre. Or the second coming of Jesus. Personally, I’m coming to believe that if God doesn’t save us, we’re toast.
Another of those big issues, indeed the final one, is death. Emma Cline’s new book Switzy explores the last days of a former executive with Alzheimer’s who has arranged his death in a right-to-die country. Hillary Kelly reviews the book in “The Novel That Looks Death in the Eye.”
Then, on a different “note,” Alan Jacobs writes about the distinctive interpretations of Bach by Canadian pianist Glenn Gould in “Hearing Gould.” The one thing I missed in this article was any discussion of Gould’s vocalizations, certainly one of the most distinctive things you hear on his recordings.
This quote by James McBride, born on September 11, 1957, speaks to my comments above.
“The things that hold us together are much stronger than the things that drive us apart.”
Sadly, I think we are often lacking the sense to see the things that hold us together.
Miscellaneous Musings
I often have books I am looking for when I visit our “big box” retail store. I’ve found it frustrating that often books are not arranged in any order that I can discern. But it has given me the chance to get to know some very helpful booksellers! Although on a recent visit, it turned out that a recently published work advertised in an email was not in stock! No wonder I couldn’t find it.
I’m delighted with the boom of new indie bookstores around Central Ohio. And this listing is already out of date. Last week, The Whispering Page opened in Worthington, Ohio, just down the street from Celestielle Books. I understand readers can pick up a “passport” for all of these stores at any of them. I love it!
I’ve finally waded into George Marsden’s magisterial biography of Jonathan Edwards, perhaps America’s most brilliant theologian. It was the winner of the 2003 Bancroft Prize. So you can see it has taken me awhile to get around to it. A great, but long read.
Next Week’s Reviews
Monday: Matthew B. Crawford, The World Beyond Your Head
