book reviews

Book Review: Lost Letters of Pergamum

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I first read the Lost Letters of Pergamum (Bruce W. Longenecker, 2003, Baker Academic) a couple of years ago, at the recommendation of my son-in-law and with his copy of the book. He knew that I love reading letters as literature, as regular readers of this blog will know. My collection of books of letters–some read, some in the queue–include Charles Lamb, Emerson with Carlyle, George H.W. Bush, John Wesley, Cicero, Pliney the Younger, Dylan Thomas, Teddy Roosevelt, Charles Darwin, and a few others. Some of these I accessed on-line and formatted for ease of printing/reading, and printed them.

He also knew I was working on a book about the writing of the gospel of Luke (Doctor Luke’s Assistant), and so recommended this since it deals much with Luke’s gospel. These letters are fiction, created by Longenecker to represent the typical letters of the era, and show how the gospel of Luke might have been viewed/interpreted/accepted by the educated, wealthy class of the time. The protagonist is Antipas, son of Philip, a wealthy merchant/landowner, late of Tyre and now of Pergamum. He writes to Calpurnius, son of Theophilus, of the city of Ephesus. This eventually turns into a series of letters between Antipas and Luke, who lives in Ephesus and is a friend of Calpurnius, the letters being about his gospel (called his “nomograph” by the correspondents). Slowly, Antipas is drawn into the faith. By the end of the book he is a Christian, and dies a martyr to save the life of Simon, of the common people. The relations of the rich to the common is one of the minor themes of the book.

Longenecker makes this Antipas the same person mentioned in Revelation, the the letter to the church at Pergamum: “Antipas, my faithful witness,…was put to death in your city [Pergamum]–where Satan lives.” This is a reasonable basis for the main character. He is further made to have been named in honor of Herod Antipas. The book includes three appendices, which include maps and the characters. The third appendix is the author’s notes of what he feels like is true in the letters, i.e. what can be defended historically, what is speculative but which he feels is probably true, and what is fiction. This is an important addition to the book.

If this book has a fault, it is that the letters sometimes include information that a letter writer would not really include, which appears added only to educate/inform the 21st century reader. Some is tolerable, such as in the first letter to someone who is a stranger. But I think Longenecker gives us a bit too much of this. Certainly, these items help us to better understand the correspondence and times, but make the letters a little less realistic.

I recently reviewed some of these letters to get Longenecker’s take on some of the historical facts. As I read through them for making this post, I was again struck by their excellence, and may keep them a while longer and read them once more before returning them. I highly recommend this book for any who are curious about the early days of Christianity, and how the growing faith was viewed by the educated people of the Roman world. The book has no three-act structure, no conflict, no real angst. No thrilling plot. It’s just great writing in its style.

Please see also the next post on this blog, More Thoughts on “Lost Letters of Pergamum”.

book reviews

Book Review: Elijah

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About the time I was to begin teaching my lesson series on Elijah and Elisha to our adult Sunday School class, I came across, in our boxed away books, Elijah by William H. Stephens, (1976, Living Books, an imprint of Tyndale House, paperback ISBN 0-8423-4023-8). I began reading it in March, and finished in late May.

Stephen’s purpose, as stated in the Preface, was “Elijah’s story needs to be told today. The parallels between ninth-century B.C. Israel and twentieth-century A.D. America are striking. The current emphasis on economic power by large corporations and wealthy men, along with the sex orietation that runs throughout our society from advertising to side street pornography, together call for Elijah’s story to be told. Perhaps we can learn from his, and from Israel’s, experience.”

Stephens says he has been true to the biblical record. I find that to be so, with one exception. He fleshes out the biblical narrative found in 1st Kings and 2nd Kings with cultural items, between scene details, travelogue type narrative, and dialogue. Where the writer of Kings gave us the much abridged version due to the expense of paper, ink, copying, and distribution, Stephens tries to give us what might have been written had publishing been as inexpensive then as it is today. How exactly was Elijah fed by ravens? What exactly did he experience on Mount Horeb? How did the mantle ceremony with Elisha progress? What was it like in the midst of the whirlwind near the chariot of fire?

Stephens adds a few supporting characters, of course: a corrupt priest of Yahweh who becomes involved in Baal prostitutes; a greedy business man/farmer; people who sell themselves into slavery; other friends of Elijah. Journeys are described in considerable detail: what route did people take? What was the terrain like? How long did it take them? How did they find provisions and lodging along the way. These are the sorts of things an author might include today, but were left out in the Bible.

The one place where Stephens seems to stray from the biblical record is in the area of Elijah’s first recorded servant. On Mount Carmel, after the fire from heaven scene, Elijah had a servant that the Bible does not name. Elijah left this servant at Beersheba when he went to Mount Horeb over forty days. Stephens names this servant: Elisha. Yes, he makes the assumption that Elisha was a servant of Elijah before the mantle ceremony, but went back to farming when Elijah disappeared into the desert until Elijah designated him his successor. I find this improbable, for I would think the Bible would indicate if Elisha was the first servant, since he later becomes the prophet-designate. I could be wrong, but then again Stephens could be wrong.

This is not a page turner, but the writing is good, the characters and dialogue believable, and the read enjoyable. If anyone can find this older book, it is worth the read.

book reviews, Writing

Book Review: Coaching the Artist Within

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A few months ago a co-worker loaned me Coaching the Artist Within, by Eric Maisel 2005 New World Library. I read it sporadically for a couple of months, then mid-May I attacked it with purpose and completed it.

Eric Maisel is a creativity coach. This is a relatively new profession (see the appendix in the book), but it has educational and qualification standards. Eric works with artists of many mediums–painters, writers, actors, musicians–to help them reach their potential in creative endeavors.

The book is built around twelve skills the artist (this word used to mean anyone in the creative arts) can learn to coach themselves, to become more creative more consistently. These skills are:

Becoming a self-coach
Passionately making meaning
Getting a grip on your mind
Eliminating dualistic thinking
Generating mental energy
Creating in the middle of things
Achieving a centered presence
Committing to goal-oriented process
Becoming an anxiety expert
Planning and doing
Upholding dreams and testing reality
Maintaining a creative life

For each of these skills, Maisel presents two exercises. He also offers personal experience he has had where he worked with a client-artist to show them how to use either the skill or one of the exercises to improve their creativity. The book includes a list of references and an index.

This book helped me. I bogged down in the first chapter, as the suggested exercises seemed hokey to me (talk to yourself, moving between two facing chairs to let your creative and non-creative sides have it out). The second chapter was better, but I still wondered at that point if I should finish the book. By the end of the third chapter, however, I was rolling and learning much. I was especially helped by Chapter 6 Creating in the Middle of Things, Chapter 7 Achieving a Centered Presence, and Chapter 9 Becoming an Anxiety Expert. This last one helped me the most, I think. The difficulty of the writing process gets me down, perhaps to the point of depression. This chapter explained how that is really anxiety, and gave help to overcome that.

After completing the book, I went back and re-read the first chapter. I still found that exercise hokey, but I did get more out of it. I recommend the book for anyone who wants to create, but finds it difficult to do so on a regular basis. Eric, if you should stop by, I’m sorry my having borrowed this book didn’t add to your royalties, but perhaps this post might help.

Carlyle, Writing

Carlyle: writing contemptible to me

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After Emerson wrote to Carlyle that every writer is a skater, a sailor, and that a book has more variation than a surveyor’s compass (see my post on June 17), Carlyle had this to say in reply.

How true is that you say about the skater; and the rider too depending on his vehicles, on his roads, on his et ceteras! Dismally true have I a thousand times felt it, in these late operations; never in any so much. And in short the business of writing has altogether become contemptible to me; and I am become confirmed in the notion that nobody ought to write,–unless sheer Fate force him to do it;–and then he ought (if not of the mountebank genus) to beg to be shot rather. That is deliberately my opinion,–or far nearer it than you will believe.
Carlyle to Emerson, 2 June 1858

Carlyle is a difficult writer to understand. His motivations for being a writer are unclear, except that he could. No doubt his statement that the business of writing has “become contemptible” to him is an exaggeration, an over-statement at a time of physical or mental exhaustion. Yet, in all his correspondence to Emerson, Carlyle always complained about whatever he was writing: how difficult it was to do the research; how the book never came together as he wanted it to; how he had to change directions often in midstream; how he would go mad if he continued to write. I’m sure Emerson’s statement of the nature of writing and of the book was somewhat in response to prior complaints by Carlyle.

Carlyle was either considerably down in the dumps or revelling in over-statement to say “nobody ought to write…unless Fate force him…and then he ought…to beg to be shot rather.” Yet, I suspect these words contain a large measure of truth. While I would ascribe it to a calling rather than to Fate, perhaps the writer ought to make sure he has a calling for it, with proofs of the calling equivalent to the preacher’s proofs: grace, gifts, and usefulness. An urge to write may not be enough.

I think, in a future post, I will write about the writer’s grace, gifts, and usefulness, and see where that takes me. Not tomorrow, nor maybe this week, for I have some accumulated book reviews to post.

Engineering, expatriate life

The journey is a joy

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Today marks the 34th anniversary of beginning my first job after graduating college, so perhaps my few readers will indulge me if I make a second post today on this non-milestone anniversary.

I began work in Kansas City for Black & Veatch, one of the leading engineering firms in the nation. I remember much about that first day: the layout of the large room; the empty desk right behind my reference table, of the man who was on assignment in Duluth; the man in front and kitty corner to the front (Bill and Stan, respectively); of being told I would be drafting for the first few months (turned out to be only two), not engineering; of quickly realizing how much I didn’t know; the heat walking to and from the remote parking lot; the team across the room who flipped coins for coffee every morning about 9 AM.

I’ve had four jobs in my career, this last one lasting more than seventeen years. It would have been only two or three jobs had Iraq not invaded Kuwait in 1990, keeping me from returning to my expatriate home away from home. Most of the time the work has been pleasurable. Challenging, fulfilling, interesting, almost always giving a feeling of accomplishment. They say that if you love what you do you’ll never work a day in your life. And I have loved the engineering I’ve done, even as the career changed. First designing wastewater treatment plants, then designing lattice-steel transmission towers, then studying water distribution systems, then designing water treatment plants and other water works, then moving into a project management/department head roll of a crew mostly designing wastewater collection systems, then designing a mixture of wastewater and water works, including an award winning reverse osmosis water treatment plant, then on a major wastewater system study and related work in a management position. And that’s just the first 17 years! After that it is a blur of design, management, new roles, much work and many hours.

My interests are slowly changing, as I tumble to a retirement that, unless plans change, is only 8 years, 6 months, and 13 days away. Writing has certainly taken over the non-engineering hours, and even sometimes the engineering ones, forcing me to work the extra hours to put in my time. When someday I write my memoirs, should any one care about them besides my most immediate family, I expect the title to be The Journey Was A Joy.

Carlyle, Emerson, Writing

Every writer is a skater

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As time allows, I continue to read through my ancient volume of the letters between Ralph Waldo Emerson and Thomas Carlyle, a letter or two at a time in the evening, every few days. I came across this tidbit from Emerson.

Every writer is a skater, who must go partly where he would and partly, where the skates carry him; or a sailor, who can only land where sails can be safely blown. The variations to be allowed for in the surveyor’s compass are nothing like so large as those that must be allowed for in every book.
Ralph Waldo Emerson to Thomas Carlyle, from Concord 17 May 1858

These two friends had been writing for twenty-five years. Emerson had made two visits to Carlyle in England during that time, but Carlyle never ventured across the seas to America. In all his letters, Carlyle always complained about the books he was writing. Each one was an arduous task he would love to be rid of (I’ll cover that specifically in a future post); each was likely to cause his death; each resulting work was terrible. At present Carlyle was about done with his longest work, a biography of Frederick the Great, and he complained about it in every letter to Emerson (these letters now being a year apart, with Emerson the reluctant to write).

I think these words of Emerson might have partly been in answer to some of Carlyle’s complaints. The writer begins a piece, Emerson says, but the piece winds up only partly where the writer expected it to go. Just as an ice skater sets his direction, but is somewhat at the mercy of skates and ice (depending, of course, on the skill of the skater). The exact direction and stopping point is unknown. The writer chooses the subject of the book; does the outline; maybe even writes a synopsis of the chapters; but the book takes on a life of its own as the writer writes.

Or, as Emerson says, “the writer is…a sailor, who can only land where sails can be safely blown.” Now of course, a skilled sailor, with a good ship or boat, properly rigged and outfitted, can reduce the variability of the landing spot. I remember my brief sailing days, and the frustration at trying to get my 10 foot trimaran to do what I wanted it to do on Point Jude Pond. A skilled sailor learns how to use the variable direction and strength of the wind to his best advantage, yet can never quite tell exactly what spot of water he will be on at every given time, nor exactly where he will land.

So with the writer. The Olympian skater has much less variability in where the skates take him than do I when I get on the ice–which I haven’t in at least twenty-eight years. The writer must acquire skills and experience to allow the things he writes to be more under his control. As the vessel carrying the sailor must be properly built and maintained, the writer does not get where he wants to be except with similar preparation and outfitting. Still, just as the best skaters sometimes end up not exactly where they thought they would be, as the best sailors still have variable conditions to account for, so the writer’s work is never quite as imagined from the start.

It’s something for me to think about as I progress on this journey.

Next blog post: Carlyle’s reply.

Engineering, reading

This week in review

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It was a good week–finally!

After several weeks in which something always seemed to occur to make the week less than stellar, last week was better, much better. Hopefully it’s not because I’m batching it. Some highlights from the week:

– I completed the proposal for my study guide on The Screwtape Letters. Only a couple of days of polishing remain before I send it to the interested editor.
– I was able to concentrate on my work at work. I didn’t complete my major project, a flood study, but I made progress on it, including planning how to make it work. I organized my new work space, and completed a number of minor things that I started months ago, but had let lag.
– I tallied up my continuing education credits for the year and organized the certificates. This is important because, until this year, we had a staff member who did this, but cuts have put this back on licensees.
– I kept up with housework in Lynda’s absence, unlike previous times she’s been away.
– I worked on maintenance tasks around the house.
– I kept up with reading and blogging and e-mailing.

I’m excited about almost having the proposal done. I think this is possibly my best current work as related to being accepted for publication. And I think I did this right: plan out the book; prepare sample chapters; prepare a one-sheet promotional to show at the conference; then prepare a proposal at the editor’s request. In preparing the proposal I used Terry Whalin’s Book Proposals That Sell as a guide.

Also this week, my reading produced several ideas for future blog posts.

Macaulay, Wesley

Not Without Cheerfulness

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Continuing from yesterday with the John Wesley letter. Here’s the applicable part.

You seem to apprehend that I believe religion to be inconsistent with cheerfulness and with a sociable, friendly temper. So far from it, that I am convinced, as true religion or holiness cannot be without cheerfulness, so steady cheerfulness, on the other hand, cannot be without holiness or true religion. And I am equally convinced that true religion has nothing sour, austere, unsociable, unfriendly in it; but, on the contrary, implies the most winning sweetness, the most amiable softness and gentleness.
Wesley writing from Savannah, Georgia to Mrs. Chapman, somewhere in England, on 29 Mary 1737

Down through the years so many people have thought that being a Christian meant giving up joy. Macaulay wrote how the Puritan would ban bear fighting not because it was cruel to the bear but because it would give pleasure to man. No doubt he was exaggerating, possibly misinformed about the full nature of Puritanism. But the view he expressed was by no means uncommon.

Wesley strongly disagrees. A relationship with God, which is what Christianity is, should give pleasure, not sorrow; joy, not depression. Wesley said it well in the letter. I can’t write much to add to it, and certainly not to improve on it. I have often prayed for joy, or myself or for a loved one I was concerned about. It seems to me that loss of joy in serving Christ is the first sign that something is amiss in the Christian’s life.

Pray for joy, for yourself and others, and practice it.

reading, Wesley

Friendship Stronger than Death

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I thought I had one more post I wanted to write about the message of the unsaid, but whatever it was escapes me right now. I have a few minutes before I start my work day and want to write. As before, I find inspiration in a letter of John Wesley.

True friendship is doubtless stronger than death, else yours could never have subsisted still in spite of all opposition, and even after thousands of miles are interposed between us.
…
You seem to apprehend that I believe religion to be inconsistent with cheerfulness and with a sociable, friendly temper. So far from it, that I am convinced, as true religion or holiness cannot be without cheerfulness, so steady cheerfulness, on the other hand, cannot be without holiness or true religion. And I am equally convinced that true religion has nothing sour, austere, unsociable, unfriendly in it; but, on the contrary, implies the most winning sweetness, the most amiable softness and gentleness.
Wesley writing from Savannah, Georgia to Mrs. Chapman, somewhere in England, on 29 Mary 1737

Looking at the first paragraph in this post, how I have found this to be true in my own life. I have lived a vagabond existence, of sorts. First was the move to Kansas City upon graduating from college; then the move to Saudi Arabia in 1981; then to North Carolina in 1984; then to Kuwait in 1988; back to North Carolina for a few months in the aftermath of the Iraqi invasion; then to Arkansas in 1991–where I remain, though likely not where I will retire. I am the only one in my immediate family who has wandered so, drawn by employment and advancement.

The bad part of all these moves is leaving friends behind in each place. The good part of these moves has been leaving friends behind in all these places. It’s a two-sided coin. Rhode Island friends from school and college remain, most still in Rhode Island, though some scattered. I found one in Louisiana in April, the man with whom I was in an auto accident junior year in high school. I found him through the miracle of the Internet. In December I found a preacher-friend I had last seen at his wedding in Kansas City in 1975, and have re-established a little bit of correspondence with him. How I would like to make contact with the expatriate group we were friends with in Saudi. We keep in touch with one of those families, but what of the six or seven others? What of those we were close to in Kuwait, with whom we shared the survivors’ bond?

Warren Henry (a character in Winds of War, by Herman Wouk) decried how his family had grown apart as the three siblings moved into adulthood, freeing the parents to take an overseas assignment without them. Torn apart and blown away like tumbleweeds by the winds of war. I see much truth in that in my own life.

Yet, re-establishing relationships with those old friends is a hard thing. They haven’t seen or heard from me in 20, 30, or in one case almost 40 years. They have a life full of relationships, of activities. Is there time to get to know again a Rhode Island vagabond who now thinks he’s an Arkansas? I must hang on Wesley’s thoughts, that “true friendship is…stronger than death” and can subsist despite when “thousands of miles” and, I add, decades of life “are interposed”.

Pray, Lord, let it be so.

Bible study, Writing

Message of the Un-Said: Inner Thoughts

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I alluded to this topic in my last post. In the story being considered, no where are we given any inner thoughts of the characters. Inner thoughts are common in modern literature, and are a frequent topic at critique groups: how many inner thoughts to give; how to format them; how long to make them; how many point of view characters to give the inner thoughts for. Get in the characters’ heads, we are told by writing instructors.

The writer of 2nd Kings didn’t do that. He merely gives us the characters’ action and words. They did this. They said that. They responded thusly. We don’t know the motivation of the Shunammite woman as she first asks Elisha for dinner, then asks her husband to build a room for him. We never see her say This is a man of God; we must be kind to him; what can I do? We never see her husband say Why is this woman always wanting to spend my money? Well, he is a man of God. As I mentioned last post, we don’t know if he thought She can’t possibly get back from Mount Carmel before dark. What’s going on between this “man of God” and my wife? Instead, the writing draws us in. It insists we dig deeper, try to figure out what the characters are thinking based on he condensed telling of their actions and words.

That wouldn’t work today with a modern readership. Can you see someone with a Tom Clancy novel saying, “Now what is Jack Ryan thinking at this moment?” No, now readers want the full story–shown, not told, with limited points of view. Paper and ink are no loner objects of concern; attention span is. Still, perhaps the writer of 2nd Kings has given me something to think about, something to try to work a little bit into my writing.

Author | Engineer