I haven’t posted anything for about a week, and I know that I’ve left unreturned various emails and such from some of you for well over two weeks. I’ve had my head down, nose to the grindstone, and all that working on my application to Seattle Pacific’s MFA program in Creative Writing. Most of the time was spent revising and polishing some stories for my writing sample, and from Wednesday through today I was trying to uncork a smashing personal statement on my development as a writer and person of faith.

Well, it’s all done and submitted now. Uploaded the statement and remitted my funds this noon. Here’s hoping that third time’s a charm.

Now I can turn my attention to all the grading, correspondance, and web work I’ve neglected these past weeks.

I’m not sure why, but this story which clearly debunks the idea that there’s a face on the surface of Mars deflated me a bit today. Yes, there are many wondrous and mysterious features of our universe to fire the imagination, but the cold, hard truth of this one seems colder and harder to me than, say, how many planets are in our solar system.

I have to admit that I keep waiting for some strange creature to up and eat one of the Mars rovers. But I suppose that’s hoping for too much as well.

Sigh.

Or, “How BP Screws Both You and the Environment in One Fell Swoop”

So, in 1994 Sherry and I got a BP Visa card, and it has been our main CC ever since. It was one of the earlier “rewards” cards, and it provided us with “free” gas as a reward for using the card. At first, the reward system was simple, made sense, and we were happy: each month, they would calculate our reward (X% for BP purchases, x% for all others) and simply credit the account for that amount. Not only was the system simple and sensible (almost like a Jane Austen novel), but it was also entirely environmentally friendly since the whole thing was just an additional accounting action.

Round about 1999/2000 things changed. (more…)

I understand why Peter Jackson would make a derivitively original film and slap a Lord of the Rings label on it: sadly, Tolkien has a huge fanbase that will slurp up whatever swill you put in front of it. What I don’t understand is why Marleen Gorris and Peter Berry would use the same strategy for an early novel by Vladimir Nabokov. The Luzhin Defence is a quiet romance that bears a striking resemblance to Nabokov’s The Defense. Both stories feature a former child chess prodigy struggling with inner demons who finds love but is tragically unable to handle life away from the chess board. Both stories feature snappish in-laws and an oily Svengali figure. And both stories include the sad demise of our title character. But that’s about where it ends.

One can understand the need to cut and reshape a novel when bringing it to the screen. Different media require different approaches. What is harder to fathom is why it is that screenwriters and directors think they know better than world-class authors when it comes to the themes and plots of great stories. In the case of The Luzhin Defence, my growing concerns throughout the film came to fruition when Luzhin jumps out of a window and there were twenty minutes left in the film. Sure enough, some foggy shots of a boat and waiting dead relatives appeared. And then the ultimate debasement: the filmmakers tried to tack on a feel-good, redemptive ending to a novel that is unabashedly tragic. It’s so base and pandering that I can’t bring myself to describe it.

None of this is to say that the film is poorly made. In fact, for the first half-hour, I was scrambling about trying to figure out if this were a Merchant-Ivory film. The settings are lush and beautiful. The film score evokes the time period in fresh way and gently nudges the viewer towards sympathizing with the socially inept chess player. John Turturro constrains his over-the-top antics to effect a fascinating portrait of a man who dwells intensely in his head while barely surviving in the physical world. I was concerned at the casting of Turturro since Nabokov describes Luzhin as a corpulent, dumpy man, but rail-thin Turturro made me forget all about that within minutes of the opening. Emily Watson is also compelling as Natalia Katkov. The compassion she has for Lushin comes across as much more than just pity. In a pivotal scene, the reclusive Luzhin fears that he has offended her by not asking questions about her, but Natalia is relieved; she can breathe when she’s around him.

And it is here, in the tender, quiet evocation of a true romance that perhaps the filmmakers stray from the novel in ways that irrevocably harm the story. They confuse a relational romance with a literary one. While The Defense does feature a romance between two people and while that love story does take up a large part of the novel, in the end The Defense is not, in fact, a chivalric tale with a happy ending. It is, in fact, a tragic tale of alienation and the loss of innocence; it may, in fact, be an early refutation of the modernist milieu present in the wake of WW I. To turn such serious and heavy material into a light romance makes it just another story about the beautiful girl who falls for the nerdy guy and is vindicated in the end by proving that he really was special.

As with PJ’s travesty of an adaptation, Gorris gets so much right that it is all the more painful when the film goes so wrong. Had the film simply been presented as a period romance, the strengths of the film could be appreciated on their own. But, by linking the film to the novel, it only suffers in comparison.

Each year I’m alarmed at the number of deaths that occur in the families of freshman college students. However, this fall the toll seems to be especially high. We’re barely into week 4, and already there have been three deaths in my one section of 21 students. In addition, Sherry seems to have had a few, and other faculty members have as well. I should say that at this point there’s no reason to believe that these reports are false; there have been no major assignments due yet.

So, my advice to you is this:
If you are related in some way to a college freshman–especially if you are a grandparent–BEWARE! Dangers lurk behind every turn. You may not realize it, but your beloved younger relative is placing you in mortal danger.

Isaiah 50:4-9
Psalm 116: 1-8
James 2:1-5, 14-18
Mark 8:27-38

The period after Pentecost is usually given over to lessons about Christian living; sometimes it’s called “Ordinary Time,” that part of the year when we’re not in a specially celebratory or penitential mood. And, properly, it is here that we hear the hardest lessons of Scripture, for it is here that we see what God would have for us every day. And what would Christ have for us, that we would “deny [ourselves] and take up [our] cross and follow” him (Mark 8:34). Christ presents a further paradox:

For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it.

Now, I’ve heard sermons aplenty on the topic of losing one’s life for the sake of the Gospel. They usually reference Romans 12 about making our bodies a living sacrifice or being open to missions work or not being afraid to evangelize even in the face of ridicule. I believe I’ve even heard the passage used to encourage ethical dealings with others: is it worth losing your soul over an ill-gotten profit? What I’ve heard precious few times is the kind of thing that the other passages in this week’s lectionary propose.
(more…)

Five years ago I walked into a classroom in northeast Georgia at 9:00am. Neither my students or I knew anything about what was going on in NYC, Washington D.C., or Pennsylvania. We spent an hour learning about argumentative moves used in writing. We walked out of the classroom an hour later to a changed world. In the days that followed, I wrote this:

Morning

Dawn cascades crushed velvet
Down from the heavens across the hill
And stipples into brilliance east of the city.

Muffled cries and struggling limbs
Stretch, claw, beat at the warm
Cover swaddling the raging child.

Warm wind wings through the street
Whispering peace as the wail creeps
Confused out of the dust choked

Mouth. Worn blanket blue
Gathers along the curve of the earth
Rising fresh from the foot of the bed,

Gently drawn by the hand of God
Over a weeping, anxious land.

–09/19/01

Nate Washington’s first regular season NFL reception was a big one. Late in the first quarter, Washington went down the right side of the field, turned around, leapt, and brought down a well-thrown ball from back-up QB Charlie Batch. Washington held onto the ball as he came down in the endzone for a touchdown, putting the Steelers up 7-0 in the season opener. Washington finished the game with 2 receptions for 32 yards and one carry for 8.

The first year that Sherry and I lived in Tiffin, we saw Washington play for the Dragons of Tiffin University. He was clearly the best player on the field for both teams each time we saw him play. He had a way of making catches that shouldn’t have been caught, which was good because the quarterbacks didn’t often throw the ball where it was supposed to go. When the Steelers signed him as an undrafted rookie free agent last year, we were impressed with the way that he dug in and took full advantage of the opportunity. Even though he didn’t suit up for most of the year, Washington did play a key role in Pittsburgh’s win over Denver in the AFC Championship game, and he did play in Super Bowl XL.

This year it looks like Washington will be getting more touches, and thus far, he’s making the most of them.

As for the rest of the season opener, yes, the Steelers won 28-17, and yes, the defense came up with two key interceptions late in the game, but, boy!, did the defense ever look like so much swiss cheese. Al Michaels kept saying how fast the Steelers defense is; the problem is that they throw themselves around the field with such abandon that they’re frequently out of position. All the offense has to do is wait for them to commit or dive on the ground,and then toss the ball to the open receiver who races down the field for 20 yards. It’s the curse of a big-play defense; either you make the big play, or the other team does. Nonetheless, the offense seemed ok behind Batch, filling in for Ben Roethlisberger who is recovering from an emergency appendectomy. Can’t wait to see Washington pulling down more passes.

“Maybe the real thing that kept me awake was thinking about the galley door being shut, and how that was an accident, not a sign of prudent thinking, and about the random way things happened out there and how depsite any skill you might have on deck or how much you thought you knew about the sea, you never knew enough, and there was always going to be a universe of things that could happen that you would never see coming.” –Toby Sullivan, “Out West: Notes from the Bering Sea”

I’m a sucker for a sea story. I’ve read Moby Dick when not required. Nathaniel Philbrick’s histories are favorites. Captain Jack Aubrey makes me smile. And what’s not to love about Pirates? (Unless you’re a ninja.)

So, Leslie Leyland Fields’s collection Out on the Deep Blue: True Stories of Daring, Persistance, and Survival from the Nation’s Most Dangerous Profession had a very willing reader when I picked it up at the Glen Workshop booktable run by bookmonger extraordinaire Warren Farha of Eighth Day Books. And I dare say that, willing reader though I am, the pleasure I had in reading this volume is pleasure that could be had by any who pick up this collection.

Out on the Deep Blue contains 19 stories written by real fisher men and women. The stories tap into the mythos of the blue-collar deep sea fisherman: a small boat on the big sea scrappling about to eke out a living while at every turn dangers and death lurk about in the forms of snaking lines, sneaking waves, and failing equipment. These are the not the romantic stories of dashing sea captains and their faithful crews; these are the stories of regular folks whose livlihood depends on hauling fish out of the fickle ocean.
(more…)

When I removed The Ego Emissions Index from the my latest New Yorker, I initially had very little interest in this monstrous insert that interfered with the proper operation of my magazine’s pages. However, as I flipped through it, something caught my eye: flying discs have a very low ego emission. In fact, the kind folks at Volkswagon have measured the amount of ego emitted from flying discs and rated them a 14. (Further investigation revealed that Frisbees have a rating of 41, so it’s important to avoid that trademark!)

Obviously a rating of 14 sounds all well and good, but without comparative numbers it’s hard to say exactly what that means. So, I did a little hunting about and discovered that the following items have similar Ego Emission Ratings:

algae, beetles (not the car), dirt, slugs, alternators, Honda Civics, car jacks (not car jackers), vans, flipflops, slippers, nose hair, canker sores, dukes, cotton swabs, toner cartridges, rubber bands, employees, atriums (or is it atria?), and dentures.

For comparison sake, the highest ego emissions from a sport come from formula one racing and basketball, both in the high sixties.

Now, it’s possible that the fine people over at Volkswagon didn’t measure the ego emissions from some disc golf players, but I like to think that our sport has a healthy regard for the environment, which includes how much ego we’re emitting into the air.