My goals for 2009 were to read five of the books considered by Penguin to be the Best Books Ever Written, and to buy napkins. I am happy to say that I achieved both of these goals!
I read:
1) The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli
2) The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky
3) Fifth Business by Roberston Davies
4) The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
5) Lady Chatterley's Lover by D H Lawrence
I almost didn't make it: it was mid-December and I hadn't read a fifth book yet. The ones I had on board didn't really appeal to me, and they seemed difficult when I just wanted an easy read. But then Lady Chatterley's Lover arrived in the mail and drew me in, and I was able to finish it in time. Hooray!
I liked having this goal. It encouraged me to read more intelligent literature and to experience for myself a few of the literary classics that culture so often alludes to. At the same time that it provided a suggested reading list, it also encouraged me to deviate from that list and read other classic books.
I also valued how this goal was not restrictive: it didn't define everything I had to read all year. I had time to achieve it and also to read anything else I wanted, whatever that was.
Reading Statistics 2009
Total number of books read: 43
Fiction 27
--- smart fiction 7
--- respectable fiction 10
--- easy/silly fiction 10
Non-Fiction 16
--- food 2
--- politics 3
--- Christian reflections 5
--- relationships 3
--- philosophy 2
--- misc 2
Religious 10 (some fiction, some non)
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Annum
It's been a year. A year since I gave up on God. Remembering...
Three weeks ago I went to my ex-choir's mini chapel concert (since I couldn't make it to their real Christmas concerts). During this concert, the choir director talked a little bit about Advent. I hadn't really even thought about Advent yet this year, even though it probably started several weeks before. And the reminder took my memory back to last year.
Last year I attempted to observe Advent by nightly singing "O Come O Come Emmanuel." And it pushed me over the edge. After a few weeks of daily repeating "Come to us, O Lord," I finally started to listen to the rebellion of my soul against that request. I didn't want to keep asking; I didn't want to keep hoping. You can't stay friends with God when you don't want to invite him to be around, and that doesn't end when Advent does.
Since then I've tried to be aware of how I really feel towards God and be true to that, without closing any doors for the future. I gave up, but I didn't say that position was permanent. I still think my best option might be to go back - but it would have to be something true, something genuine, not something I can (or would want to) just make happen on my own. And despite this effort at neutrality, over the last year I've noticed my distance towards God increasing and solidifying. I'm only getting farther away.
It's amazing how much sense Calvinism and predestination make from here. God has chosen his elect, and it turns out I'm not one of them - no matter how much I wanted to be back then. The grace is that it's okay now; it's not as bad as I feared.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The thing is, all I have is a pile of experiences, pressed through a filter of interpretations. I don't have any pure knowledge of anything; all I have are these interpretations of my experiences. Experiences can be interpreted in a variety of ways, and there are different factors affecting how we read an event: reason is one of them, other assertions (ie. Scripture) are another. Christians are told to rely on facts, not feelings, and they learn that the Bible provides a framework for interpreting experiences (and in fact even trumps contradictory experiences). For me, however, it became like pushing a square peg of experience through the round hole of this particular interpretation. I could stretch the hole to make it fit, but it was getting more and more inflexible, and eventually I realized that the square peg fits much better in a square hole. My experiences seemed to indicate the opposite of what the Bible promised.
It's possible that the Bible's promises were true, and all my experiences have simply been interpreted incorrectly. But these experiences are all I have. I can't have an experience that isn't filtered through me. All experiences must yield to interpretation. Eventually I had to believe them, and to believe the most likely interpretation of them. I had to listen to his silence that indicates his lack of concern; I had to acknowledge my sense of abandonment, even though he suggested he'd never do that. I couldn't fight against the most likely answer any longer. I had already been fighting for so long.
Additionally, inner experiences don't come with a label of origin. So how can I possibly know what's God, and what's just me? How do I know if an urge was a push from God or just my own inclination, whether a powerful moment was the touch of God or just a contrived emotional situation? You can look at it through the eyes of faith, but then there is not much left when that faith runs out.
For years already I had been saying that I wanted to give up, I just didn't know how. I found out how, and I did. I ran out of hope. I ran out of faith.
Somehow everything hurts less when it's not supposed to be any better than this. The problem of evil isn't such a problem when you take God out of the equation.
Three weeks ago I went to my ex-choir's mini chapel concert (since I couldn't make it to their real Christmas concerts). During this concert, the choir director talked a little bit about Advent. I hadn't really even thought about Advent yet this year, even though it probably started several weeks before. And the reminder took my memory back to last year.
Last year I attempted to observe Advent by nightly singing "O Come O Come Emmanuel." And it pushed me over the edge. After a few weeks of daily repeating "Come to us, O Lord," I finally started to listen to the rebellion of my soul against that request. I didn't want to keep asking; I didn't want to keep hoping. You can't stay friends with God when you don't want to invite him to be around, and that doesn't end when Advent does.
Since then I've tried to be aware of how I really feel towards God and be true to that, without closing any doors for the future. I gave up, but I didn't say that position was permanent. I still think my best option might be to go back - but it would have to be something true, something genuine, not something I can (or would want to) just make happen on my own. And despite this effort at neutrality, over the last year I've noticed my distance towards God increasing and solidifying. I'm only getting farther away.
It's amazing how much sense Calvinism and predestination make from here. God has chosen his elect, and it turns out I'm not one of them - no matter how much I wanted to be back then. The grace is that it's okay now; it's not as bad as I feared.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The thing is, all I have is a pile of experiences, pressed through a filter of interpretations. I don't have any pure knowledge of anything; all I have are these interpretations of my experiences. Experiences can be interpreted in a variety of ways, and there are different factors affecting how we read an event: reason is one of them, other assertions (ie. Scripture) are another. Christians are told to rely on facts, not feelings, and they learn that the Bible provides a framework for interpreting experiences (and in fact even trumps contradictory experiences). For me, however, it became like pushing a square peg of experience through the round hole of this particular interpretation. I could stretch the hole to make it fit, but it was getting more and more inflexible, and eventually I realized that the square peg fits much better in a square hole. My experiences seemed to indicate the opposite of what the Bible promised.
It's possible that the Bible's promises were true, and all my experiences have simply been interpreted incorrectly. But these experiences are all I have. I can't have an experience that isn't filtered through me. All experiences must yield to interpretation. Eventually I had to believe them, and to believe the most likely interpretation of them. I had to listen to his silence that indicates his lack of concern; I had to acknowledge my sense of abandonment, even though he suggested he'd never do that. I couldn't fight against the most likely answer any longer. I had already been fighting for so long.
Additionally, inner experiences don't come with a label of origin. So how can I possibly know what's God, and what's just me? How do I know if an urge was a push from God or just my own inclination, whether a powerful moment was the touch of God or just a contrived emotional situation? You can look at it through the eyes of faith, but then there is not much left when that faith runs out.
For years already I had been saying that I wanted to give up, I just didn't know how. I found out how, and I did. I ran out of hope. I ran out of faith.
Somehow everything hurts less when it's not supposed to be any better than this. The problem of evil isn't such a problem when you take God out of the equation.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Alberta Countryside
Driving the back roads.
The horses are wearing their jackets.
The ditches are decorated with skidoo tracks.
Some people enjoying a sleigh ride waved at me.
It took me longer to get home going this way, and for that reason I may not do it again, but it was a nice way to go.
The horses are wearing their jackets.
The ditches are decorated with skidoo tracks.
Some people enjoying a sleigh ride waved at me.
It took me longer to get home going this way, and for that reason I may not do it again, but it was a nice way to go.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Merry Christmas from Larry
I'm a fan.
Today was my last day at work before Christmas, and I have the next four days off. Woo hoo! My schedule this week turned out so much better than Geoff's: he had Mon, Tues and Wed off, he works Christmas Eve, is off Christmas Day, and then works Sat and Sun. He works all the days around Christmas and his days off are split up. I feel kinda bad. But I guess he's just going to stick around here, and I'm going out of town. Tomorrow I'll head to Mom's house, and over the next few days I'll also end up having dinner with the extended family and spending time at Dad's. I'm looking forward to the time off work and I'm anticipating the festivities, but I'm not exactly looking forward to all the travelling, nor do I relish not being home or having any time to myself.
P.S. I made another effort at making fudge, and it turned out well this time. =)
Monday, December 21, 2009
Books Read - Fall 2009
1. The Host by Stephenie Meyer
2. The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery
3. The Guinea Pig Diaries by A. J. Jacobs
4. My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult
5. Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a A Bar by Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein
6. We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver
7. Essays in Love by Alain de Botton
8. I Am America (And So Can You) by Stephen Colbert
9. The 100 Simple Secrets of Great Relationships by David Niven
10. My Best Stories by Alice Munro
11. Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence*
Notes:
- The Host was, in keeping with Stephenie Meyer's other works (the Twilight Series), a fascinating and quick read. In fact, I read it so fast that at points I found myself just skimming, so eager to find out what would happen that I think I missed some things. Maybe that's why I didn't always see the necessity behind certain decisions the characters felt they had to make (but I suspect these were actually stretches in the story). It looks like this could be the beginning of another series, and if it is I will read it. In the meantime, I lent this one to my Mom after I read it.
- The Elegance of the Hedgehog was so, so good. Translated from French, it is a story about a couple of people (a young girl, a concierge) who hide their true selves from the world. It is an intelligent book, with abundant ruminations on philosophy and art. It would be best read in a state of peaceful alertness (which is unfortunately not the mood in which I began the book). This book has placed itself in the category of books I'd highly recommend.
- My Sister's Keeper was highly recommended to me by a friend and by the movie previews. It reminded me of another book I read though - Dana's Valley by Janette Oke. Both books are about a girl who has leukemia, a close sister, a misbehaving older brother, a family fighting through the stress of her illness. This book explored different aspects within that setting than the other one did, but the story didn't seem original to me. Also, I found myself reading the voice and characteristics of Paloma from The Elegance of the Hedgehog into Anna. The main questions of this book really made me think though. And I didn't expect the twist at the very end.
- We Need to Talk About Kevin was really really fascinating: the story of a school shooter, narrated by his mother in a series of letters reflecting back through his entire life (and hers). It's a story of parenthood gone wrong, personhood gone wrong. It inspires questions of nature vs. nurture and the inflexibility of those categories.
- I Am America (And So Can You)... Aah, Sarcasm Colbert. I wonder what he's like in real life, beneath the mocking public exterior. I wonder what he really thinks.
- So I've discovered that I have a hard time appreciating short stories. They can too often be too scattered, bringing in too many characters and leaving too many questions. After I articulated this, however, I was able to get past it and enjoy Alice Munro's Best Stories. It still made me miss English class, though, where in community you take the time to dissect and discuss stories, to search for what isn't seen at first glance. I have a hard time doing that on my own.
2. The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery
3. The Guinea Pig Diaries by A. J. Jacobs
4. My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult
5. Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a A Bar by Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein
6. We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver
7. Essays in Love by Alain de Botton
8. I Am America (And So Can You) by Stephen Colbert
9. The 100 Simple Secrets of Great Relationships by David Niven
10. My Best Stories by Alice Munro
11. Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence*
Notes:
- The Host was, in keeping with Stephenie Meyer's other works (the Twilight Series), a fascinating and quick read. In fact, I read it so fast that at points I found myself just skimming, so eager to find out what would happen that I think I missed some things. Maybe that's why I didn't always see the necessity behind certain decisions the characters felt they had to make (but I suspect these were actually stretches in the story). It looks like this could be the beginning of another series, and if it is I will read it. In the meantime, I lent this one to my Mom after I read it.
- The Elegance of the Hedgehog was so, so good. Translated from French, it is a story about a couple of people (a young girl, a concierge) who hide their true selves from the world. It is an intelligent book, with abundant ruminations on philosophy and art. It would be best read in a state of peaceful alertness (which is unfortunately not the mood in which I began the book). This book has placed itself in the category of books I'd highly recommend.- My Sister's Keeper was highly recommended to me by a friend and by the movie previews. It reminded me of another book I read though - Dana's Valley by Janette Oke. Both books are about a girl who has leukemia, a close sister, a misbehaving older brother, a family fighting through the stress of her illness. This book explored different aspects within that setting than the other one did, but the story didn't seem original to me. Also, I found myself reading the voice and characteristics of Paloma from The Elegance of the Hedgehog into Anna. The main questions of this book really made me think though. And I didn't expect the twist at the very end.
- We Need to Talk About Kevin was really really fascinating: the story of a school shooter, narrated by his mother in a series of letters reflecting back through his entire life (and hers). It's a story of parenthood gone wrong, personhood gone wrong. It inspires questions of nature vs. nurture and the inflexibility of those categories.
- I Am America (And So Can You)... Aah, Sarcasm Colbert. I wonder what he's like in real life, beneath the mocking public exterior. I wonder what he really thinks.
- So I've discovered that I have a hard time appreciating short stories. They can too often be too scattered, bringing in too many characters and leaving too many questions. After I articulated this, however, I was able to get past it and enjoy Alice Munro's Best Stories. It still made me miss English class, though, where in community you take the time to dissect and discuss stories, to search for what isn't seen at first glance. I have a hard time doing that on my own.
Friday, December 4, 2009
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