The Rabbit Room Podcast: Episode 1
I’m happy to announce the publication of the very first episode of the Rabbit Room Podcast.
You may have noticed that the postings have been sporadic lately, and that’s mainly because of the impending release of my new record. I’ve been busier than usual with media related stuff (which is good), and my publisher has been patiently waiting for the manuscript for North! Or be Eaten. In the middle of all this, it was time to finally put together the Rabbit Room Podcast. I’ve recorded several episodes already (the next episode features Jason Gray), and I’m planning to post a new one every Monday. I hope you enjoy it.
If you have comments or suggestions, let’ em fly.
Here’s the link for the RSS feed.
Here’s the link to the direct download.
It’s been submitted to iTunes, so we’ll let you know when it’s up.
Thanks!
The Proprietor
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.
Wonderful.
Thanks for that, AP. It’d been a long time since reading that first entry. It was great to have you narrate it for us.
I’m looking forward to future podcasts. Is there a schedule you’re shooting for (once a week, every other week) or will they be a “whenever” type of thing.
Soon as they’re on iTunes I’ll subscribe!
Of course, if I actually would have READ what you wrote above, I’d have seen that you’re shooting for every Monday. Whoops.
That’s what I get for skimming…
Thanks for a reason to look forward to Mondays!
What a treat Sir!! thank you!!!
I am sync’ing right now to listen to while I paint my church’s road sign. Can’t wait until the new CD by the way…
You don’t have to wait until it’s listed in iTunes to subscribe. In iTunes, choose the “Advanced” menu, and then “Subscribe to Podcast.” In the URL box, enter http://andrewpeterson.libsyn.com/rss and then click Ok.
Oh, yes. I do have one suggestion. And that is, I think you, Andrew Peterson, should consider recording your audio books yourself. The podcast was great. I listened to it with my eyes closed to “see” it. I think the people who enjoy your music will appreciate hearing the words of your writings in your own voice, and hear the way you express and emphasize the thoughts and ideas you had when you first conveyed them from mind to paper in the way you intended.
Thanks for taking the time to add podcasts to your repertoire of tasks. You serve Him well, and in doing so, inspire us to do the same. For those of us with singing voices that make our kids hold their hands over their ears and wrinkle their noses, we pray that somehow God will enable us to glorify Him and serve others as brightly as you.
Barliman…wonderful! Thanks for putting this together. As for the origin of the name you are in luck. My company has a division that sells library software based out of the UK. They set up a pub listing that includes a description of each pub on the list. Here is the description of The Eagle and The Child:
“This pub, nicknamed the Bird & Baby, has important literary connections. A group known as the Inklings, including C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, used to meet here regularly. Do not be alarmed if, when ordering food, the word “Rabbit” is inscribed on your receipt. The barmaid has not misheard your order…it is a reference to the middle section of the pub, known as the Rabbit Room, as a landlady in the 1950s used to keep rabbits there. It is, in any case, better to make your way to the rear of the pub, where there is a pleasant, almost conservatory-like seating area. The two tiny rooms at the front of the pub, reminiscent of compartments in ancient railway carriages, are always guarded jealously by regulars! ”
Mystery solved lad! Well, at least it is a plausible resolution.
The complete listing is http://www.lib.ox.ac.uk/gaug2002/activities/pub.html#h9
Thanks brother…. moved to worship afresh and marvel at the beauty of redemption.
Thanks, Thanks, Thanks!
One Question. Can Christ be in the story without being in the teller?
Ahhh. This went down like a hearty home-cooked meal on a cool Sunday afternoon in Autumn.
I heartily concur with Laura that you should record your own books (assuming your voice can take it). So much more of the artist’s intent could be preserved through a reading like that; it brings us closer to you on the walk.
Also, I do hope you’ll continue to post links to the podcasts here, since I have yet to submit to the shackles of iTunes.
I thought the name had to do with the “Bird and the Babe” Pub. It was a lucky guess.
I want to thank you Andrew, and the others for letting me hang out here in your section of the “Pub”, for I am nothing but a fan, with little to offer but my thanks, cheers and a comment here and there. (Unless it has to do with one of Ron’s posts - then it it is work and study, but more like a “spiritual plate of Food” and it is so much welcomed.
thank you
Wow, after listening to the podcast (I read it a while back), and then reading the comments, I found it interesting that Laura described exactly what I did while listening to it: “with my eyes closed, to see it”. Ha! She’s right, you need to record your own audio books! Thanks for all you do, and for keeping yourself open to God.
Just played this for my wife and, besides being inspired, at the end she laughed about the location of the recording - The Warren. She says thats where rabbits are kept — a warren. Having not heard the word before I missed the humor of it. A fitting bit of humor for a very well done recording.
Have a great week-end!