I spent a number stressful days last week trying to write the last chapters of the next (and final) installment of the Fin’s Revolution tale: Fiddler’s Green. I’d put off those chapters for a long time because I needed to be patient and mull over Fin’s entire story and make sure that all the necessary events and emotions came together in just the right way.
After writing all day on Saturday, I laid awake until three or four in the morning with a whirl of descending character arcs and plot resolutions spinning through my head. When I woke at seven the next morning my brain still hadn’t stopped. So I got up, got dressed, shirked church and sat in the coffee shop writing. At about 3pm on Sunday, I wrote the final sentence of Fiddler’s Green. Read the rest of this entry »
The Hutchmooters had the first shot at the newest round of Rabbit Room mugs but we ordered twice as many this time so we have plenty left over including two brand new styles and new colors all around.
Three old favorites are back and we’re happy to debut “The Dillard” and “Port William.” Get ‘em while they last.
“Port William” is a down to earth vessel molded out of the richest Kentucky loam. It’s best employed in the company of good friends and dear neighbors. It prefers a wooden porch to a concrete patio and a well-kept garden to a roaring supermarket. Care for it well and you’ll find it’s full of character. “Port William” comes in two varieties: Jayber (pictured -SOLD OUT) and Hannah.
“The Dillard” is a wide-eyed mug that is as likely to astonish you with its beauty and grace as it is to amaze you with its intimate knowledge of the mating rituals of insects. We like to think the whole world looks just a little different when you’ve got your Dillard close at hand and though we don’t advise sipping a frog from it, we do recommend sipping a latte. “The Dillard” comes in two varieties: Shadow Creek (SOLD OUT) and Painted with Roses (SOLD OUT). Read the rest of this entry »
If you missed the chance to register and would like to come to Hutchmoot this weekend in Nashville, you’re in luck. We’ve had a few cancellations and after notifying the folks on the waiting list, we still have two spots open. Send an email to orders@rabbitroom.com if you are interested. First come, first served.
Also note that because the entire staff of the Rabbit Room store will be involved in Hutchmoot, shipping of all orders will be delayed until next week. We apologize for this inconvenience.
We’ve already got one post on the subject and I don’t want to beat the issue into the ground but I read this on My Friend Amy’s blog and I think it provides an important second perspective. It’s a simple, thoughtful letter to Anne that comes pretty close to the way I feel. Here’s an excerpt:
“I can understand wanting to disassociate but I feel like in so doing you lumped the rest of us together. Many of the reasons you cited for leaving I suspect I feel the same as you and it makes me sad that you’ve drawn a line and said “these are the things Christianity is.” I don’t believe that to be true and what is so beautiful and splendid about Christianity is that it’s an umbrella term for a group of people from all over the world who believe Jesus is God. That’s the tie that binds us together, the thread that pulls us close. We have many different theological ideas and beliefs, we practice and worship in a variety of ways, we speak different languages, and we experience life differently. Yes we argue. And yes we get things wrong and yes we need to learn how to give space to differing interpretations. But we’re a family, we share a heritage, and a common Father.”
Not only is this song exactly how I feel lately but one of my goals at Hutchmoot this weekend is to coerce Andy Osenga into playing a 27 minute extended version of the intro. If I’m successful, it will be awesome. I may have to bribe him with burritos.
For the past few months I’ve spent time writing Fiddler’s Green nearly every day. I like to plant myself in the back corner of Pantera Bread (because it rocks), or my neighborhood Starbucks (where they know my name and give me free stuff), or the burrito shop down the road (chips and fruit tea all day long) and once I’ve settled in with something tasty to eat or drink or both, I crack open the Macbook and get to work. Some days it might be an hour, others it might be six or more. And there’s a lot of hand-wringing going on because now thatThe Fiddler’s Gun is in readers’ hands, expectations have been whetted for the next book and the conclusion has got to satisfy.
In case you missed it, Sandra McCracken released a new record a couple of months ago. In Feast or Fallow is a mixture of Sandra’s own newly-written hymns as well as a number of old hymns re-worked. Here’s a song called “Give Reviving.” Take a minute to listen and if you like what you hear, we’ve got the entire album available in the Rabbit Room store ($12 CD / $10 download).
We wish all of you could come to Hutchmoot next month (and I’m not kidding when I say that) but just because you can’t come, doesn’t mean you can’t participate. We’ll be holding two* panel discussions, one on “Story” and one on “Song” and we’d like to open up this thread for the community to toss out some questions. We’ll pick our favorites and ask them at the Hutchmoot. You’ll get credit of course and we intend to have the panels recorded so you’ll be able to hear the answers when we release the recordings in a podcast.
The panels are:
Story: Andrew Peterson, Pete Peterson, Jonathan Rogers, S.D. Smith, Travis Prinzi, Thomas McKenzie, Curt McLey, Doug McKelvey, Sarah Clarkson, and Chris Wall
Song: Andrew Peterson, Jason Gray, Eric Peters, Randall Goodgame, Ron Block, Andy Osenga
*We decided to combine the “Cinema” and “Story” panels.
(Note: I wrote this post after the release of The Happening two years ago. I thought it might be interesting to continue the conversation now that Shymalan has again sabotaged his once-promising career.)
M. Night Shyamalan’s new film, The Happening, opened this past weekend and as a big fan of most of his work, I made sure I was there on opening day to see it.When I left the theater, I was dumbfounded.I was shocked and horrified.Is it that good?Well…no, it’s that bad.It’s a train wreck, a film so inconsistent, so incoherent, so poorly shot, edited, directed, and resolved, so carelessly crapped onto the screen that it’s a mystery to me how it came out of the same creative well as movies like The Sixth Sense and Signs.Something has gone seriously awry in the land of Shyamalan. Why is this happening?
I’ve spent the last ten years reading and writing about the American Revolution. Though I only ever had a passing interest in the time period before writing The Fiddler’s Gun, I’ve learned since that the world was a fascinating place in those days. The earth was still a mystery, still being explored and discovered. The ideals of the Enlightenment were remaking society in a very real way. The church was reeling in the wake of a man named Luther. The whims of Kings swayed nations. An ancient order of knights patrolled the Mediterranean. Barbary pirates held the trade routes of the entire world in ransom. And at the western edges of the map, a new country was stirring. What a time to live in. What a stage upon which to set a story. Read the rest of this entry »
I’m a firm believer that the best albums take a while to sink in and get under your skin. They reveal their secrets patiently over days and weeks and often years, proving themselves to be much more than a series of catchy hooks or a handful of radio singles. Such records don’t always impress themselves upon me in the first eager listenings. Instead I find them resurfacing and calling me back again and again and each time they show me something new.
I’ve had the pleasure of living with Andrew’s forthcoming Counting Stars for a month or two now and I’m confident in saying that it is just such a record. I can’t wait for the rest of the world to be wooed by its grace and beauty.
The July 27th release is just a month away but we’re happy to begin taking pre-orders today. We’re offering a tiered set of options with a whole passel of Rabbit Room exclusives including everything from a bonus track and an exclusive T-shirt to an immediate download of the entire album (yep, get it right now), a making-of documentary, Andrew’s first music video, and even a chance to meet with Andrew over coffee to discuss the varying imports of toothy cows, fancy guitars, or anything else that floats your pirate ship.
Congratulations to my little (but taller) brother, Andrew Peterson. The second book in his acclaimed Wingfeather Saga, North! Or Be Eaten, went into the ring tonight to contend for the 2010 Christy Award in Young Adult Fiction and emerged victorious.
The Christy Awards honor the best in Christian fiction in nine categories.
From the official announcement:
North! Or Be Eaten by Andrew Peterson
In Book Two of the WINGFEATHER SAGA, escape with Janner, Tink, and Leeli Igiby as they flee north, to the Ice Prairies, where they will be safe from the cruel Fangs of Dang. But first they have to survive the dangers along the way—and the dangers within themselves. Andrew Peterson delivers more breathtaking adventure in this tale for all ages.
Andrew Peterson is the author of Christy finalist On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, Book One in the WINGFEATHER SAGA, and The Ballad of Matthew’s Begats. He’s also the critically-acclaimed singer-songwriter and recording artist of ten albums. He and his wife live with their two sons and one daughter near Nashville, Tennessee.
(Do I smell a nomination for Jonathan Rogers next year?)
Once upon a time I was riding in a car full of working men (funny how that has a totally different connotation with girls) and the subject of what to listen to on the radio was being hotly debated. It quickly became clear that the majority of the car preferred music of the country variety to which I replied, “Oh, I’ve got one for you. Check out this song by Andy Gullahorn. It’s all about country music.”
So I plugged in my iPod, played the song and waited for the laughter. It never came. Each of them sat and listened with suspicious and curious expressions until the song was over. “It’s funny, see? Don’t you get it?” I said. They all looked at each other and shrugged and frowned at me as if I were the one on the outside of the joke. As if to offer me some comfort, the guy sitting beside me said, “I don’t know, man, but I sure like that part about the workin’ man.”
There’s an aspect of writing that I often struggle with in which I find that my own style is reshaped by whatever or whomever I happen to be reading at the time. I’ll write a passage one day and when I peruse it the next I’ll discover that, like the skin of a chameleon, it’s taken on the rhythm, structure, or vocabulary of someone else.
For instance, I began writing The Fiddler’s Gun almost immediately after reading Frederick Buechner’s Godric and in the end I had to completely rewrite the first few chapters because they had the same archaic and often yoda-like sentence structure as Godric. It was fun to write but it certainly didn’t fit the tone of the book. It wasn’t really my writing–I was parroting, riffing off of a better author. I find that this sort of thing happens to me all the time and often wonder where the line is between influence and imitation. Read the rest of this entry »
This Tuesday’s Song of the Day is the title track from one of my favorite records of the year, Melanie Penn’s amazing debut Wake Up Love. Have a listen but don’t just sample it, be sure to listen for the amazing finale of the song. I’m not sure but I think Ben Shive (producer) may have hired the cast of The Lion King for that ending — monkeys, wildebeests, Poomba and Timon, the whole Serengeti. Best listened to loudly, whilst driving, with the windows down. Perfect summer music.
I should have posted this yesterday but I was busy being mugged. But, although Memorial Day has come and gone, it’s never too late to post a great song, especially when that song is about a used pair of pants.
Listen to Randall Goodgame’s “Susan Coats’s Pants” then hug a veteran (as long is it isn’t me). Randall’s War and Peace album is available at a special price today ($10CD / $7 Download) and each order comes with a free Randall Goodgame T-shirt (CD only, not downloads) (let us know if you prefer a men’s or a women’s shirt).
(Random Trivia: BDU stands for Battle Dress Uniform which sounds a lot cooler than it is.)
(Random Trivia (cont’d): This is also the album featuring Randall’s brilliant tribute to Charles Schulz’s Peanuts cartoon.)
Update: SOLD OUT. Sorry folks. We’ll have some more in a couple of months.
Once again, we’re happy to announce some new arrivals to the Rabbit Room. Say hello to “Walt” and “Frederick” as well as some new varieties of old favorites “Old Jack” and “The Professor”.
The mugs are each turned individually by the folks at Sunset Hill Stoneware and feature a new and improved Rabbit Room logo. Due to issues of the last batch being delivered broken or, in some cases, never delivered at all, we’ve had to raise the price a bit so that we can afford to insure each shipment. Rest assured, we aren’t gouging prices, we’re just trying to stay in business and, as those who bought the previous mugs can attest, these are some pretty serious pieces of pottery. Not at all your run of the mill Starbucks mug.
I want to tell you why I love the new record by Jarred McCauley, but first I need to tell you about my love for a lost movie genre: The Western.
Some of my most vivid childhood memories are of being forced to sit and watch ‘old’ movies despite my repeated groans and protests. My misgivings were rooted in the perceived lameness of anything my parents thought warranted “family time” (often these perceptions were well-founded…Lawrence Welk?). In my mind, the surest sign of a hellish evening of forced entertainment was the appearance of a black and white title card on a snowy UHF-band station. These title cards were often followed by equally onerous names like James Stewart, Gary Cooper, or John Wayne.
In case you haven’t heard, Jason Gray’s “More Like Falling In Love” is getting lots of radio play these days. (Call your local station and tell them you want to hear it.) But just because he’s got a song on the charts doesn’t mean he’s abandoned his noble folkish roots.
The song of the (tues)day is my favorite off his newest album. It’s called “The Golden Boy & The Prodigal.” Like a good Bob Dylan song, it’s got about 47 verses and I dig that (even if the radio stations don’t.)
The first single from Andrew’s new record, Counting Stars, is now available on iTunes. Head over and check it out. It’s a great song (and the un-radio-fied album version is even better.) I reckon it’s worth at least 99 cents. (Har.)
The Fiddler’s Gun, A Review: Making History Come True
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Shive Arrives: A Song by Song Commentary on The Ill-Tempered Klavier
One listen to Ben Shive’s debut The Ill-Tempered Klavier will provide obvious evidence of why this young man has secured the respect of peers and colleagues on the inside of the Nashville music community. With The Ill-Tempered Klavier, Shive’s skills are now planted in the public garden.
Heretofore, there have been unsubtle hints: Andrew Osenga pronouncing Shive as his favorite songwriter, Andrew Peterson naming him as producer of The Far Country, his ubiquitous presence as a studio piano ace on a wide range of mainstream CCM records, Sara Groves choosing him to produce her next record, and the majestic arranging of the strings for Andrew Peterson’s Behold the Lamb of God, The True Tall Tale of the Coming of Christ. Like a fast growing wildflower, Shive seems to pop up everywhere, though always in the background. Now, the secret is out. Raise the curtain on Ben Shive.
I just stumbled on a copy of O’Connor’s complete short stories at a used bookstore here in Nashville and listed it in the Rabbit Room store. Years ago a friend bought me this same edition and I read it with a sense of creepy amazement; it was like nothing I’d ever read. I knew Chris Slaten was a big fan of her work so I asked him to write a recommendation for the book. We only have one copy, so if you click here and can’t find it, someone beat you to the punch.
———————-
This collection is essential to both long time fans and first time readers interested in the work of Flannery O’Connor. My first time to read a handful of her short stories I was helpless to interpret them. One would expect that reading the 1950’s work of a female “Christ-centered” southern fiction writer would be a simple, modest or at least predictable experience.
Several people in the last few weeks have commented to me about how glad they are that they discovered Wangerin’s The Book of the Dun Cow here in the Rabbit Room. It really is a remarkable book, and I still can’t recommend it highly enough. It won the prestigious National Book Award when it was first published in 1978, and was only the beginning of Wangerin’s career.
I just stumbled on his most recent novel, Saint Julian, and was so captured by it that it bumped aside the other four books I’m reading. Last Sunday afternoon–a perfect Spring day–I sat on my front porch swing and read the last half of the book, savoring the careful prose, the pastoral tone, and even the look and feel of the book itself. The cover illustration fits the epic, vivid quality of the story perfectly, and the fonts (I’m a sucker for a great font) added just the right atmosphere.
RELEASE DAY REVIEW: On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
But once a year the Sea Dragons sing just off the coast of Glipwood. With their song, life reasserts itself in the hearts of Skreeans who have long since learned to numb themselves:
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
Arkadelphia from Randall Goodgame: Music in Motion
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Walt Wangerin is a name I’ve seen in print many times. My dad had Ragman and Other Cries of Faith lying about at home for years and I remember thumbing through it at Christmas or Thanksgiving, reading bits here and there, and being intrigued by the style of writing; the words on the page had a canter to them, and a sparseness that gave them strength.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Do you have any CD’s in your collection that will be forever associated with some event or season of life—like the soundtrack to your last high school summer or what you listened to over and over again on that one road trip to wherever it was?
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
I spent a number stressful days last week trying to write the last chapters of the next (and final) installment of the Fin’s Revolution tale: Fiddler’s Green. I’d put off those chapters for a long time because I needed to be patient and mull over Fin’s entire story and make sure that all the necessary events and emotions came together in just the right way.
(Note: I wrote this post after the release of The Happening two years ago. I thought it might be interesting to continue the conversation now that Shymalan has again sabotaged his once-promising career.)
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.