Tag: Non-Fiction

Superman: The Unauthorized Biography by Glen Weldon

On September 10, 2013

A briefer (and less self-indulgent) version of this appears on Goodreads.

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Superman: The Unauthorized Biography by Glen Weldon
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I was five years old when Superman: The Movie was released, and while I can’t remember much of the experience — by gum, when I left the theater with my parents, I believed a man could fly. I don’t know if that was my introduction to the character, it’s certainly the one that I remember. He was certainly around for the rest of my childhood — action figures, in SuperFriends, coloring books, the sequels, clothing, and, of course, in comics. He was never a favorite the way that Robin (later Nightwing), Cyborg, Changeling, or Spider-Man were, but he was a constant, an ideal. The cover of Crisis on Infinite Earths #7 is burned into my brain. I can’t tell you how many times I read John Byrne’s Man of Steel. Even after I stopped collecting comics, he was around — I watched most of Lois & Clark‘s episodes, and every one of Smallville‘s. My older sons and I spent who knows how many hours with the Justice League cartoons. I even own Superman Returns on DVD (as I recall, I purchased it the same day as I got the Donner Cut of Superman II, a far better use of my money).

In other words, this was a book written for people just like me.

Glen Weldon, NPR’s Comics Critic, has given us a great cultural history of Superman — from his prototypes and then genesis in the early work of Shuster and Siegel up to The New 52 and looking forward to the release of Snyder’s Man of Steel — and all points between. At once entertaining and pedantic, Weldon examines The Last Son of Krypton, the state of comics as a medium, and what both say about American culture through the decades.

He begins, as he ought, with Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster growing up, reading and (even as kids) writing comics, their struggles along the path to publication and eventual establishment in the field. Shortly after this, they came up with their most famous creation, which was essentially the inception of the dominant genre in comics. Weldon focuses on this period in painstaking detail — giving detailed descriptions of the early stories (panel by panel sometimes), their reception and sales.

Following this, he moves into decade by decade summaries — in these chapters Weldon looks at the predominant themes in the stories, power changes and development, new characters, and so on. Special attention is given to Lois Lane (both as an individual and in her relationship(s) to Clark/Superman), tweaks to his origin, and depiction of Krypton. I thought there were too many reboots, resets, etc. today — glad to see it’s not a novel development. Superman’s appearance in other media is also discussed — comic strips, radio, television, cartoons, movies, and even merchandising — how that affects Superman, Clark and the rest. As interesting as that was, I was most interested in seeing how cultural movements, politics and wars impacted the character.

Weldon spends a lot of time discussing Superman: The Movie, the ups and downs along the path to its production. I laughed out loud at the lengthy list of actors considered for the role — so, so few of them should’ve been in the running. Everyone so up-in-arms about the recent Affleck-as-Batman casting should read this list, it might help them see how good he might be in comparison. The list for Lois was shorter, but no less interesting. In light of how far-reaching movie cross-promotion goes today, it’s amazing to see how little DC Comics did to capitalize on this movie (or the sequels).

I think he went lighter on Superman in the comics from this point on, focusing on the Reeve films, the Superboy TV series, Lois & Clark, Smallville, and Singer’s movie. Well, except a really good and thorough look at The Death of Superman saga from the 90’s. Still, fascinating on the whole — sometimes the level of detail can get overwhelming and hard to wade through, but it was worth it. It’s not encyclopedic — however close it feels — there were stories and creators that I thought got short shrift from the last couple of decades. For example, I was disappointed in the lack of any discussion of It’s Superman by Tom De Haven — 2005’s best depiction of the character, although as it wasn’t sanctioned by DC, I understand it.

I would’ve liked to see a more consistent tone — he never steps over the line in to fanboy territory, but generally he’s positive about the characters and universe — but from time to time, he seems snide and like he’s looking down on the franchise and its fans. That said, his take on the character as a whole, and why he’s still a force in popular culture today expressed in the Introduction was great — almost perfect. I wish that Nolan and Snyder had more in common with that take than they seem to have. My major complaint was the utter lack of any images whatsoever — as thorough as some of his descriptions of the art may be, it’s no replacement for the Real (reprinted) McCoy. Licensing those images would be a nightmare (and likely an expensive one), so again, I understand it — I just would’ve liked to see it.

For fans, for those who like the character but wouldn’t go so far as to call themselves that, those interested in the medium — this is a recommended read on this slice of American history.

In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life by Sinclair B. Ferguson

By HCNewton

On August 25, 2013

In Theology/Christian Living

A briefer version of this appears on Goodreads.

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In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life by Sinclair B. Ferguson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

There’s not a lot of in-depth theology here, you won’t come away from this with a deep understanding of any one subject, or a few related ones. This is a compilation of fifty articles, grouped together by topic, which will enable you to gain a refresher on a spectrum of topics, or an introduction to ideas, concepts and texts that you want to come back to and study in the future. As such, it’s a really strong compilation and one that I’m glad I spent an afternoon with.

Don’t get me wrong — it’s not that I didn’t learn anything, or gain a deeper understanding of anything. But compared, say, to his The Holy Spirit or Pundits Folly, it’s (by design) not as in-depth. I thought his framing the book of Romans as a series of exchanges (e.g., man exchanging the truth of God for a lie; the gospel exchange of righteousness and justification instead of unrighteousness and condemnation) was very handy and something I’m trying to internalize. The chapters that followed it were a series of glimpses at the letter to the Hebrews, and now I want an entire book on that epistle by Ferguson.

In the section on “The Spirit of Christ,” he has a chapter called “When the Spirit Comes,” which is an examination of John 16:8-11.

And when he comes, he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment: concerning sin, because they do not believe in me; concerning righteousness, because I go to the Father, and you will see me no longer; concerning judgment, because the ruler of this world is judged.

His thesis is that while, yes, there is a continuing relevance of these verses,

we miss their rich significance of we interpret them in a way that bypasses their historical context. In their original setting, these words constitute a prophecy of the Spirit’s work on the day of Pentecost (Acts 2:1 ff).
When we recognize this, we are able to fill out the content of the promise. But when we fail to recognize it, we are in danger of interpreting (and thus remolding and distorting) Scripture in the light of our own experience.

I’ve got to say, I’ve been guilty of this remolding and distorting until today, and will have to set to work on correcting my thinking.

On the whole, the book doesn’t feel too much like a collection if unrelated articles, rather than a book he set forth to write; and as such it doesn’t really suffer from being a compilation — though Part IV, “The Privileges of Grace,” is the weakest and most scattered. That said, the chapters from Part IV, “The Life of Faith” (on “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”) and “‘The Greatest of All Protestant Heresies’?” (on the doctrine of assurance) were very helpful and thought-provoking. So even at its weakest, this book rewards the reader.

Part V, “A Life of Wisdom,” is really a section on sanctification. But instead of the approach that is usually employed here, Ferguson focuses on the more internal sanctification that needs to happen to result in the external fruit. All of which could use some extended treatment by this author. Particularly, I found the chapter on discernment rich and one that I need to return to for further meditation. His extended look at Psalm 131 to show how to cultivate contentment is, naturally, valuable — Ferguson’s always at his best when discussing the Psalter.

The final chapters center on the idea of spiritual warfare — not the flashy, type that characterize so much evangelical writing on the topic. But the quieter, more difficult, and (dare I say) more Biblical approach — focusing on our sin, our need for mortification, or own worldliness.

The closing chapter on Sabbath rest is far too brief, but excellent. He reminds us that the Sabbath in creation was a “time for Adam to listen to all the Father had to show and tell about the wonders of His creating work,” — a “Father’s Day” every week. Which, of course, was ruined by the Fall, redeemed by Christ and will be fully enjoyed every day in Glory. Practically,

this view of the Sabbath helps us regulate the whole week. Sunday is “Father’s Day,” and we have an appointment to meet Him. The child who asks, “How short can the meting be?” has a dysfunctional relationship problem — not an intellectual, theological problem. Something is amiss in his fellowship with God.

There’s a lot to be mined here for devotional use, as well as a spring-board for future study.

How to Read Literature by Terry Eagleton

By HCNewton

On August 24, 2013

In Blog Series, Opening Lines

A briefer version of this appears on Goodreads.

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How to Read Literature by Terry Eagleton

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I noted earlier this week my displeasure in the way Tony Reinke seems to treat books, but in a way that didn’t quite express what I was going for as clearly as I intended/desired. Imagine how pleased I was to encounter this statement in the beginning of this book:

The most common mistake students of literature make is to go straight for what the poem or novel says, setting aside the way that it says it. To read like this is to set aside the ‘literariness’ of the work — the fact that it is a poem or play or novel, rather than an account of the incidence of soil erosion in Nebraska.

I realize I’m in the minority when I think that reading a book on literary criticism (albeit an introduction) sounds like a pleasant — maybe fun — way to spend a few hours. But Terry Eagleton gave us just that kind of book for anyone who’s at least a semi-serious reader (even less than serious, but I can’t imagine anyone else reading this). Covering a wide-range of topics, Eagleton writes with verve and panache, producing and educational as well as entertaining volume.

We don’t get a concise definition of literature, as if that was possible, but he hints at one in various places. The hint that resonated most with me was:

Part of what we mean by a ‘literary’ work is one in which what is said us to be taken in terms of how it is said. It is the kind of writing in which the content is inseparable from the language in which it is presented.

Over five lengthy chapters, Eagleton looks at both micro and macro issues of criticism. The first chapter looks at opening lines, paragraphs, scenes on the micro-level: ambiguities of language, sounds, syntax, word choice, etc. After this introduction, he zooms out to the macro level spending a chapter each on Character, Narrative, Interpretation and Value. Throughout all these, he bounces from illustration to illustration over a spectrum of literature — novels, plays, poetry. Some of which he spends a long time on, some only sentences.

Eagleton isn’t shy about making sure the how of what he says is as important as the what himself — there were so many quote-worthy lines or observations in this book that even if his conclusions were worthless it would be a pleasure to read. While discussing character, how they are limited to what’s on the page and really have no futures, presents or pasts beyond that, he says,

Some Victorian novels end by peering fondly into their characters’ futures, imagining them growing old, grey and gleeful among a horde of frolicsome grandchildren . . . But peering fondly into one’s characters’ futures is, of course, simply a literary device. Literary figures do not have futures, any more than incarcerated serial killers do.

Or, while setting the stage to discuss Intepretation of literature, he notes

In discussing interpretation of literature, we “assume that [language] is intended to have some value in itself.” “This is not so true of every day language. A panic-stricken shout of ‘Man overboard!’ is rarely ambiguous. We do not normally treat it as a delectable piece of wordplay. If we hear this cry while on board ship, we are unlikely to linger over the way the vowel-sound of ‘board’ rings a subtle change on the vowel-sound of ‘Over’, or note the fact that the stresses of the shout fall on the first and last syllables. Nor would we pause to read some symbolic meaning into it. We do not take the word ‘man’ to signify humanity as such, or the whole phrase as suggestive of our calamitous fall from grace.

Again, take that Reinke.

As much as we might want to — or are inclined to — forget that Jane Eyre, Mr. Rochester, or Don Quixote aren’t real people and what we read about them didn’t actually happen, these are man-made artifacts. It is not the world we live in, but a look at a world we can understand, a tool to help us reflect on our reality

Realism appears to give us the world in all its delightful or alarming disheveledness, but it actually does no such thing. If a telephone rings in a realist novel or a naturalistic drama, it is almost certain to be a move in the plot rather than a wrong number.

Eagleton does, as is pretty common in my experience, show a distinct preference towards literary realism over other genres or approaches. But he sees its limits and inherent difficulties — some of which less classical/pre-modern, more modern and post-modern works can move beyond. It’s here that he can speak more profoundly about not just literature, but life itself (laying aside how correct he might be).

It may be helpful in this response to think of narrative as a kind of strategy. Like any strategy, it mobilizes cerain resources and deploys certain techniques to achieve specific goals. A good many realist novels can be seen as problem-solving devices. They create problems for themselves which they then seek to resolve. Human beings who do this may find themeseves being referred to psychiatrists, but it is the kind of thing we expect of realist fiction. If there is to be narrative suspense, however, difficulties must not be cleared up too quickly. Emma Woodhouse must end up in Mr Knightley’s arms, but not in the second paragraph. In resolving one kind of problem, however, literary works may simply succeed in throwing up another, which needs to be tackled in its turn. Modernist and postmodernist literary works are generally less interested in solutions. Their aim is rather to lay bare certain problems. They do not typically end with fast-living fraudsters being hung upside down from lap posts, or a set of blissful marriages. And in this, one might suggest, they are more realistic than most realism. . .
For classical realism, the world itself is story-shaped. In a lot of modernist fiction, by contrast, there is no order apart from what we ourselves contsruct. And since any such order is arbitary, so are fictional openings and endings. There are no divinely ordained origins or natural closures. Which is to say that there are no logical middles either. . . .
Some modernist works are thus skeptical of the whole notion of narrative. Narrative suggests that there is a shapeliness to the world, an orderly procession of causes and effects. . .
Works of fiction [in the modernist or postmodernist vein] can serve to free us from seeing human life as goal-driven, logically unfolding and rigorously coherent. As such, they can help us to enjoy it more.

I found the chapter on interpretation the most rewarding. His reading of “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep” was at once preposterous, laughable (and laugh-worthy) and entirely sound. Just getting to it was almost worth the effort of the rest of the book. Shortly after that, Eagleton enters into a lengthy discussion of Great Expectations through the prisms of a variety (by no means exhaustive) of interpretive methods for approaching the text. He then moves to a quick (but not shallow) look at another orphan — Harry Potter (which includes a quick glance at Luke Skywalker). I quite enjoyed and agreed with his take on The Boy Who Lived, incidentally. Not only did that serve to compare popular British literature over the years, it served as a good transition to the concluding chapter on the value of literary works — is Harry Potter worth a critic’s attention?

That chapter does a better job at raising interesting questions than actually answering any of them (which I think was his point, if not, he failed utterly). I did appreciate this bit of an answer (which led to further questions, I should note):

Enjoyment is more subjective than evaluation. Whether you prefer peaches to pears is a question of taste, which is not quite true of whether you think Dostoevsky a more accomplished novelist than John Grisham. Dostoevsky is better than Grisham in the sense that Tiger Woods is a better golfer than Lady Gaga. Anyone who understands fiction or golf well enough would be almost bound to sign up to such judgements. . . If literary judgments were objective in that sense there would be no arguing over them, and you can wrangle far into the night over whether Elizabeth Bishop is a finer poet than John Berryman. Yet reality does not divide neatly down the middle between objective and subjective. The point is that there are criteria for determining what counts as excellence in golf or fiction, as there are not for determining whether peaches taste better than pineapples. And these criteria are public, not just a question of what one happens privately to prefer. . . Knowing what counts as excellence in fiction is likely to decide the issue between Chekhov and Jackie Collins, but not between Chekhov and Turgenev.

It’s been a long time since I sat in an Literature class, listening to a lecture on or discussing a work like he does here. I’m not sure I learned much from this, but it was great to be reminded of this sort of work.

Lit!: A Christian Guide to Reading Books by Tony Reinke

By HCNewton

On August 19, 2013

In Theology/Christian Living

Lit!: A Christian Guide to Reading Books by Tony Reinke
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

This was just not a book written for me — don’t need encouragement to read, and widely. Not crazy about his overall approach in the practical half of the book, either. Sure it’s advice, not edicts, but if you ask me, the reasoning is off.

And don’t get me started on that nonsense about marking-up books. Sure, I know a lot of people do it — even some of my friends — but people (even friends) watch Survivor or America’s Got Talent. Doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. Show some respect, Reinke, trees gave their lives for those things you’re covering with graffiti.

Every now and then, he overwrites a passage, but on the whole, a decent enough read, and it could be a decent tool in the right hands. Those hands just aren’t mine.

P. S. I wrote this a few months back, and honestly don’t remember much about the book — and that probably says more about its worth than my rantings above. The one thing that sticks in my mind is that overall, Reinke sees books as collections of resources to be mined. His question seems to be, “What can I get out of/use from this book?” It just seems to cheapen the act of reading — and overall, is disrespectful to the act of writing. The Preacher said, “The words of the wise are like goads, and like nails firmly fixed are the collected sayings.” Now, sure, he was referring to an inspired book — but the same principle is in place no matter the book — each word, each idea is important — as is the aesthetic, the experience, and the gestalt of the book. I’d like to think a Christian way of reading would appreciate that. Each nail (word) is there for a purpose, we shouldn’t overlook that.