One Minute Review: A Serious Man
One Minute Review: A Serious Man from Thomas McKenzie on Vimeo.
One Minute Review: A Serious Man from Thomas McKenzie on Vimeo.
This entry was posted on Friday, November 6th, 2009 at 2:26 am by Thomas McKenzie and is filed under Story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
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.
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).
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.
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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.
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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.
Yes, I just said that the Book of Job is emotionally unsatisfying. Several people have disagreed with me, which came as a surprise to me. Do others think that the Book of Job is emotionally satisfying? Does it answer the big questions in a way that puts your heart at rest?
I would have to agree that, if we are honest, the book of Job is emotionally unsatisfying. Did Job know why God allowed such horrible things to happen? Was he ever told about the conversation between God and Satan? Maybe not. Like you said, I can’t imagine that Job’s heart was put to rest concerning the big questions that he had. Maybe his heart was just put to rest concerning the bigger question of the character of God.
It does seem interesting that the “open-endedness” of Job seems to resonate with these Coen films.
Overall, did you like the film?
Just got back from it. I loved it. The actors were great, the script was wonderful, and it kept my eyes glued to the screen. The existential questions that each rabbi brought up were great.
I did call what the final rabbi would have. Score!
I’ve really enjoyed the 1-minute reviews, and have found them insightful and enjoyable. Thanks so much for doing them!
I actually think Job is one of the most emotionally satisfying answers to the problem of evil and pain I’ve ever found. I agree that it’s a very difficult book, and I think it took a long time for me to find it satisfying, but now I do. What I find satisfying about it is precisely that it ultimately does not offer a philosophical answer to the question of evil. Job asks all his questions, and the only answer he gets is God. But he does get the direct attention of the Creator, and he gets the Creator’s own lavish descriptions of His work. If God attends so faithfully to creation, if He pours out such mysterious power on stars and dust and Leviathan, is He not also attending to us? As an agnostic friend of mine said, Job gets roughly the answer, “There is a design. Here’s the Designer.”
This might still be emotionally unsatisfying, though, if there weren’t a second Christian answer to the problem of evil, one which is also not propositional, or not mainly so. The best answer I’ve ever found to the problem of pain is God, in a body, on a cross. Pain is not ultimately a philosophical problem, and God’s answer is not ultimately a philosophical answer. In sharing our suffering, our blood and sweat and sorrow, God offers not explanation but understanding - and ultimately, rescue.
Hannah
I can’t wait to see this movie again.
I’m with Hannah T-Mac. Like I said on FB its not about emotional satisfaction, its about wisdom. Life in general is not emotionally satisfying because we live in a Fallen world shot through with the effects of our sin. We will not find our rest in any sense until we find our rest in Him. Maranatha!
Job does remind me of another Cohen brother’s movie that I saw in college — Blood Simple. That is a story where the audience knows more than the characters — so its frustrating from a narrative standpoint. But in the case of Job, we are meant to learn something not just be touched or provoked by it. Job falls into the context of Wisdom literature, so its not just some story we read and give it our thumbs up or thumbs down.
However, I’ll take your bait and venture another question.
Was Lord of The Rings emotionally satisfying to you? I think Tolkien dives into similar issues with that great work. Frodo goes from his idyllic life in the Shire and by the end of the story he’s not able to return to it – unlike Job. The scars Frodo carries have ruined that for him. I don’t like that, but in the context of the story, it was necessary for the survival of his people and all the others saved by his sacrifice. He dies to that life in order that his servant Sam can live. Sam didn’t like it either, but he did live and I’d daresay he lived much better knowing the price that was paid for his freedom.
But that still might beg the question, why? Why suffer at all? I agree, but it goes back to this line from Job in chapter 13 “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him;” God is our only hope and that hope finds its fullness in Christ alone. He is the only One we can find completely satisfiying in heart, soul, mind, and strength because He is the only One who loves us completely. While sin and its allies (the World and the Devil) may cause pain in this life — this is but a mist James tells us that will soon disappear and to quote Sam “all the sad things will come untrue.” Can’t get much better than that, eh?
I really liked the thoughts here. Thanks
Hanna - thanks for that comment. I will take it with me.
And I do need to do some rereading of the Lord of the Rings.
Actually, I think The Lord of the Rings might be the most emotionally satisfying thing I’ve ever read. And I don’t mean that as hyperbole.
I agree with Pete. LorR is entirely satisfying. Perhaps overly satisfying, with its multiple endings. And as to Pete’s concern about my enjoyment of the movie, I’m trying to let folks know if they will like the movie or not. I think that folks will be all over the place, depending on how they respond to something like Job. Or perhaps Waiting for Godot.
I personally liked the film but didn’t love it. There were too many things about it that distracted me for me to really love it. I enjoyed the comedic parts, and I resonated with the frustration of the main character. I especially liked the advice of the three Rabbis, none of whom were in the least bit helpful to me (though I was actually expecting them to be). And that is the funny thing about this movie, and about Job. I want there to be an answer, and I actually expect that someone will eventually give it to me. But the only answer I’m going to get from these sources is “you just don’t understand.” Which I already knew.
I agree that Christ is the only answer to these questions. God telling Job to shut up isn’t satisfying to me. God becoming like Job and suffering like Job, and past Job, now THAT is satisfactory. Most of the time, at least.
God telling Job to shut up isn’t satisfying to me.
T-Mac, that’s how you interpret this passage from Job?
Job 40:1-6ff
The LORD said to Job:
“Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him?
Let him who accuses God answer him!”
Then Job answered the LORD :
“I am unworthy—how can I reply to you?
I put my hand over my mouth.
I spoke once, but I have no answer—
twice, but I will say no more.”
Then the LORD spoke to Job out of the storm:
“Brace yourself like a man;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.
Then from 40:8 through chapter 41God gives a series of questions to Job to which Job replies in chapter 42:
Then Job replied to the LORD :
“I know that you can do all things;
no plan of yours can be thwarted.
You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?’
Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me to know.
“You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.’
My ears had heard of you
but now my eyes have seen you.
Therefore I despise myself
and repent in dust and ashes.”
That is hardly “shut up!” At least not from God. Now, you could say Job tells himself to shut up, but even that seems a bit abrupt.
There is frustration in a narrative like this for the reader because we know more about the details of the story than its characters, but that’s the point, we know more of the story and are expected to learn from it and in most casees, like Job, repent.
I would submit, for Frodo, his story was frustrating like Job’s story. A lot of narratives work off this type of tension – especially great stories like these two.
There is a great cartoon short of LOTR where they just take those eagles and fly over to Mount Doom to destroy the ring. Very quick, no need for any sort of suffering on any one’s part. It’s all neat and tidy.
I read a book many years back by Peter Kreeft called “Making Sense Of Suffering”. In the chapter entitled “Seven Clues From Artists” he references Job. Here’s some of what he says:
“…[Suffering] leads to wisdom in the long run but not in the short run…short-range folly is a price worth paying for long-range wisdom. Job, the classic sufferer, admits his pain makes his words unwise: “My suffering is more than I can bear. What wonder then that my words are wild?” Yet Job learned from his suffering and from his folly. (Yes, folly. We are all fools, and no one more than one who thinks he is not.) And we can learn too. In the end, as we saw in our fairy tale, we ourselves, like Job, admit that it was worth it.
But why was it worth it? Why is wisdom worth suffering for? Why is wisdom worth more than pleasure? Why is foolishness worse than pain?
Because of what we are. We are not animals. We are human beings, with minds, souls, spirits, wills, psyches. Wisdom is the food of our souls. Without it, we starve. Just as hunters make sacrifices and endure suffering in order to capture prey and get food to survive, so do we philosophers, we hunters of wisdom, that far more elusive and far more precious quarry.
But why is it necessary to sacrifice? Why do we learn wisdom only the hard way, by suffering? Why are we such poor learners, such fallen creatures?
Here the paradise lost story comes in. The clues are beginning to fit together and make up a coherent picture. Whether the picture is true or not is up to you to decide. “
Good stuff, I’m going to have to go back and re-read this one. I love Kreeft.
If you’ve not read or heard of him, here’s a great lecuture he did on LOTR a few years back:
http://www.peterkreeft.com/audio/28_lotr_christianity.htm
Never posted a comment in November 2009 and is indifferent to the thoughts here.
A Jeff Schinella impersonator in the Rabbit Room? Who will be next Brad Pitt, Harper Lee, Aaron Roughton?
Speaking of Harper Lee, I was surprised that there wasn’t a mention of her work recently given the 50th anniversary of To Kill A Mocking Bird. This indifference is becoming epidemic.
I fail to see the jolly in this abominable situation.
I would have bet anything you couldn’t use jolly and abominable in the same sentence. Well done!