Friday, June 26, 2009

Five Favorite Picture Books

Inspired by a book meme and my recent trip down memory lane to the children’s section of the public library, here are my five favorite children’s picture books:



1. Roxaboxen. Written by Alice McLerran and illustrated by Barbara Cooney.

Barbara Cooney is quite possibly my favorite children’s illustrator of all time. Her vivid watercolors evoke a sense of a better world in days gone by. However, Alice McLerran’s story is the real reason I love this book. A small group of children create an imaginary town in the desert, complete with stores, currency, and a mayor. I always wanted to live in Roxaboxen and have my own house, edged with white stones and desert glass.



2. Tikki Tikki Tembo. Retold by Arlene Mosel and illustrated by Blair Lent.

I first remember hearing Tikki Tikki Tembo at the age of five years old, when my teacher at BSF read it to our class. This retelling of a Chinese legend quickly became a household favorite. After all, who wouldn’t want to repeat Tikki-tikki tembo-no sa rembo-chari bari ruchi-pip peri pembo over and over again? We always made our babysitter read it to us and gave her a copy when she got married last summer.




3. Bored—Nothing to Do! Written and illustrated by Peter Spier.

I think Bored—Nothing to Do! is my mom's favorite children’s book. Illustrated in detailed watercolors, Peter Spier tells the story of two brothers who were bored and end up tearing the house apart to build an airplane. I always marveled at the number of toys the boys had strewn all over their room and yard – how could they still be bored? Sadly, this book is now out of print and nearly impossible to find.


4. The Tooth-Gnasher Superflash. Written and illustrated by Daniel Pinkwater.

If you’re starting to get the impression that we watched too much Reading Rainbow as kids, you’re right. The Tooth-Gnasher Superflash sat on our shelf until our grandpa came to visit and gave each of the characters a funny voice. The book became an instant hit, as we went around the house chanting in high voices, “Buy it, Daddy, buy it!” (the five little Popsnorkles) and remarking in an airhead voice “It is a lovely color” (Mrs. Popsnorkle). Besides enjoying the characters, we thought it would be cool to have a car that turned into a giant chicken, too.




5. Could Be Worse! Written and illustrated by James Stevenson.

This tale of a fantastic nightmare has the refrain, “Could be worse!” Another of our read-aloud favorites, we made our babysitter read it over and over again. As she got to the familiar refrain, we would always chime in, “Could be worse!” (Our babysitter probably said this often to herself as my siblings and I climbed on each other and locked ourselves in closets for protection.)

What were some of your favorite picture books?

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Playing with alliteration

(Because I don't know when I will gather time to write the post I've had in mind about women, Yeats, and Memoirs of a Geisha.)

Sunday Meditation

Laud love's last work--
cross-crushed king cast
low, lately come and
quickly coming, crowned
conqueror. Long labors
laid by in lasting keep
of quickened creatures
let loose to love's labors laud.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Meadowlark Lane

The policemen put a speed trap
next to the hills beside the Hamilton exit,
so I always hit the brakes when I see the sign
for Meadowlark Lane.

It's the "T" that runs from the frontage road
along business 7 into the little dell
with five houses, two stables,
and a stone footbridge.

When I get caught in a traffic jam during
the evening commute, my mind often wanders,
passing the time by planning a picnic
on a new-mown lawn.

I found the lane once with a friend
as we drifted a little farther than usual
down the walking trail after dinner
on a Sunday afternoon.

One day, I hope we'll drive over
to buy the house with the stone footbridge
so we can have our tea on Meadowlark Lane
where time travels by footsteps.



Criticism welcome.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Roma Aeterna

In this final sonnet, Longfellow skillfully portrays Dante’s dual vision of salvation. Influenced by Virgil, Dante dreams of a political salvation that comes from Rome and spreads over the world. However, Dante also looks for a spiritual salvation (portrayed in the sestet) that comes from God through the Roman Catholic Church.

In this sonnet, the octave refers primarily to political salvation. Political strife is a dominant theme of the Comedy, running from the disreputable Florentines in Inferno to a prophecy of Dante’s exile in Paradiso. The earliest expression of Dante’s political vision is found in the works of Virgil. In the Aeneid, Aeneas’ mission is to return to the home of his ancestors (Italy) and found a new Troy. This Troy will be greater than the former city, conquering the Greeks, Carthaginians, and all the peoples of the world.

Virgil believed that the might of Rome would usher in a Golden Age, where peace would reign and wars would be no more. He first wrote of this age in his Fourth Eclogue, which speaks of the birth of a child who would bring peace to the world. This theme is continued in Book VI of the Aeneid, where the child is given a name – Marcellus. In the underworld, Aeneas sees the future glory and heroes of Rome.

Virgil is especially fit to be Dante’s guide – not just because he has written about a journey to the underworld before, but because he and Dante share a similar vision of political salvation. Peace will spread from Rome to Italy and then over the whole earth.

This vision of political salvation was particularly poignant in Longfellow’s day. After the fall of Rome in 476 A.D., Italy was divided into several kingdoms. These kingdoms were frequently at war with each other, and although Dante and others dreamed of a unified Italy, this dream did not come to fruition until the middle of the nineteenth century. Longfellow was among the first to see the fulfillment of Dante’s political vision.

Closely tied to Dante’s political salvation is the spiritual salvation shown through the Roman Catholic Church. This comes from the book of Acts, which chronicles the spread of the early church. In Acts 1:8, Christ tells the apostles, “But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you; and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth” (KJV). In Acts 2, the Holy Spirit enters the apostles at Pentecost, and they preach to all the peoples gathered at Jerusalem, each in his own tongue. This spiritual salvation is reflected in the sestet, where Longfellow uses images of wind to represent the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. The last three lines of the sestet describe the preaching of God’s word, which brings spiritual salvation to the nations (VI.12-14).

Dante’s vision of salvation is both political and spiritual. In one sense, he is seeking to create heaven on earth, with peace spreading from Rome as the new Jerusalem. He is trying to recreate the Holy Roman Empire of Constantine, where the world is united under one government and one religion. However, Dante’s vision of salvation is not limited to this present life, for he also looks for the spiritual kingdom that will be established in the second coming of Christ (VI.4). Both these kingdoms, Dante believes, will bring peace to the world.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Sonnet VI: Paradiso

O star of morning and of liberty!
O bringer of the light, whose splendor shines
Above the darkness of the Apennines,
Forerunner of the day that is to be!
The voices of the city and the sea,
The voices of the mountains and the pines,
Repeat thy song, till the familiar lines
Are footpaths for the thought of Italy!

Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights,
Through all the nations, and a sound is heard,
As of a mighty wind, and men devout,
Strangers of Rome, and the new proselytes,
In their own language hear thy wondrous word,
And many are amazed and many doubt.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Friday, June 5, 2009

Review - Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt, and Christ the Lord: The Road to Cana

Anne Rice is living proof that studying vampires leads to Christ. At least, that is a simplistic way of describing this contemporary author's spiritual and literary journey. Rice is well credentialed in historic fiction through a plethora of books dripping with vampires, blood, and intense sense experiences.[*] But, according to her testimony,[†] this research expertise helped her move back from a liberal and almost atheistic perspective to a spiritual reconciliation with the church. As her research focus moved back in time, Rice realized that her inquiries revolved around the development of Christianity. "Ultimately, the figure of Jesus Christ was at the heart of this obsession."[‡] Within the last few years, she published two novels in a series on Christ The Lord, namely, Out of Egypt, and The Road to Cana. Together they present a well-known character writer's foray into the fathomless question, "Who is Christ the Lord?"

For the most reliable history of Jesus' life on earth, the gospels would certainly make a better start. This is fiction, after all. Well researched, and grounded, yes, but not a systematic theology. As fiction, Christ the Lord reveals at least as much about the character of its author as its subject. The series is richly draped with literary, emotional, and historic development. Coming from a liberal academic social climate, Rice encompassed the remotest regions of doctrine and speculation in her research. No source could be too avant-guarde, too bizzare, or too traditional, not even Islamic authors. Unfortunately, like the Lord she portrays, Rice suffers some theological confusion in her steps to reconciliation. While her open perspective on research allows her to incorporate a variety of creative situations, the incorporation of apocryphal stories and substantial hint of Roman Catholic doctrine both provide footholds for denominational criticism. Nevertheless, a reasonable suspension of disbelief and some Christian charity can open the door to the depth of insight Rice offers.

Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt just slightly outdoes its sequel in establishing a living context with the major events in Jesus' early life. Rice's research and conjecture take her plot far beyond the meager facts of Scripture. She easily weaves in obscure gospel personalities to create the intricacy and intimacy of ancient family relationships. Then she spins the plot through the most formative events Jesus might have encountered as a child. Embarking from Alexandria, Rice's characters face the challenge of moving out of the base Hellenistic philosophy back into the pervasive Hebrew culture. The natural change from Greek to Hebrew or Aramaic dialogue is one notably historical and appropriate literary device she uses in the transition. Through dozens of other references, allusions, and events, the characters proceed to reveal the detail and meaning for rituals, contemporary strains of philosophy, and the political problems of the day. Thus, Rice helps the modern reader to a better understanding of tumultuous Jewish life.

Like the first book, Christ the Lord: The Road To Cana builds from a thorough grounding in ancient Hebrew customs and values. With more Scriptural details about his later life, however, the sequel naturally adds another level of theological development. In Out of Egypt Rice delves into the progressive recognition the Christ child might have experienced in discovering himself. Though on the border of orthodoxy, Rice's Jesus performs miracles, struggles with obedience, and even suffers disease, all in the most realistic vision of growing "in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and men." The Road To Cana adds a more mature perspective appropriate for the one who is fully God and fully man. Though the protagonist is unlike any other, Anne Rice is one of the few authors capable of making this divinity truly human. And, it is this profound insight into the godhead that makes her story particularly worth reading.

With good reason Rice is also a popular author. Having developed a talent for narrating intense sensory experience, she uses the full gift to develop scenes of temptation and reveal the intellectual and spiritual power in Christ's character. Even if one knows how it will all play out, this emotional development adds an engaging layer over the books' dry facts of lifestyle and theology. A mature believer may well appreciate this spicy crust covering the hefty meat. For a casual seeker, on the other hand, Rice's vibrant mental and material worlds may be the one temptation to taste more serious questions. Either way, it would be worthwhile, if only because it makes one continue to ponder, "Who is Christ the Lord?"

[*] "It's been my delight that no matter how many supernatural elements were involved in the story, and no matter how imaginative the plot and characters, the background would be thoroughly historically accurate." Anne Rice, “Author’s Note” in Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt (Ballantine Books: New York, 2006), 321.
[†] Ibid.
[‡] Ibid.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Planet Narnia

This particular post may go down in history as a case study in “why one should not attempt to write sensible things while sick.” But then again, it may not, so we shall see how it turns out.

Let it be known in advance that virtually nothing I am about to say is original to me. All thoughts were called from Matthew Ward’s article in Touchstone entitled, “Narnia’s Secret: The Seven Heavens of the Chronicles Revealed.” If you want to read more by him, I suggest his book, Planet Narnia.

In his article, Ward is attempting to explain a question that has been puzzling Lewis critics for years—what is the central theme that ties all the Chronicles together? Lewis was a powerful and organized writer, more he was a medievalist, all things tie together in a universal system. Yet, he drew from all sorts of classical traditions and myths: Father Christmas, a snow queen, E. Nesbit, classical mythology, even a few Norse symbols. Critics have argued for several binding themes: an analysis of the seven deadly sins, the seven Roman Catholic sacraments, and a miniaturized version of the Faerie Queen. None of them have been particularly convincing. Lewis himself said that the entire series was about Christ –an assertion that has led to more than a little confusion. Ward argues for a different interpretation—that the theme that binds all seven books together is nothing more than and extension of the gods of the seven heavens of medieval cosmology.

“Wait,” one might ask, “how does a set of pagan gods show Christ?” Well, that gets a little complicated. One of the major extension of Lewis’ writing is the essentialness of God—his overlookability. To Lewis, Christ is in all things; Christ is the obvious center of the entire world, the element that allows us to enjoy anything, to think about God, to see any beauty. Christ is, in fact, so utterly obvious that we are oblivious to his presence. Add to this, his theory of what made excellent literature was not its characters or stories, but how successfully it wove its atmosphere. An essential part of this atmosphere, to him, was a hidden element, a kappa stone that binds the entire work together. This hidden element may be nothing, but it is everything to the work. Finally, Lewis wrote a treatise on how to convey Christianity in literature, one of the methods he argued for was a pattern of transferred classicism, in which Christ is portrayed in the manner of a mere god of classical tradition. Christ is God, above all gods, but can also be portrayed within the pattern of the classical deities. Hopefully, that was not excessively tangential.

Ward presents quite a compelling picture for viewing each of the Chronicles as manifesting a specific planetary deity. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe portrays Jupiter, or Jove. Prince Caspian personifies Mars, and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is the Sun. The Silver Chair shows the Moon, while Horse and His Boy shows Mercury. Finally, the prequel and the sequel, The Magician’s Nephew and The Last Battle display Venus and Saturn respectively.

First, Jove. Jove is the king of all gods and from his name comes the English word “jovial.” He is a merry master of all. In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the line of Narnian kings is established once and for all. “Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia. Those that take the thrones reign eternally. Jupiter is also the god that punishes winter. Jove is the one that beats it back to its cage and brings the joy of spring. The way this motif manifests in the books should be fairly obvious.
There is also the concept of death and blood for redemption—namely Aslan’s death for Edmund. Jupiter is called “the bleeding planet” because winter and darkness are exiled through Jove’s giving of his own blood. Through his sacrifice, the world is redeemed. In the Arthurian cycle, Jove gave of his body to defend Pellets. It is in this spirit if Joviality that Lewis brings in Father Christmas, the sacrificial death of Aslan, and even Peter’s exclamation, “By Jove!” when he first enters Narnia.

Don’t worry, gentle reader, all seven won’t take quite that long. In Prince Caspian the story is about a rightful king taking his take back his kingdom by force—appropriately, Mars is the god of war. Also, Mars is Mars Silvanus the god of the woods, maybe even the woods that the children both appeared from and spent most of the book travelling through. Arboreal imagery appears throughout the novel. Silvans, a beast that appear in no other book, appear at the final battle, Miraz frets over his martial o policy, Reepicheep is the most martial of all creatures, and the object that proves that children are in Narnia? A knight.

Voyage of the Darn Treader is a quest towards the rising run: Aslan appears out of a sun to Lucy, Aslan as an albatross flies out of a sunbeam. God, the metal of the sun, appears throughout the story--a man turned into gold and Eustace trapped by a gold armband. Even the dying dragons are taken from Apollo, the sun god, and lizard slayer.

Fittingly, the book that shows the Moon follows on the heels of the book on the Sun. In The Silver Chair, Aslan only appears in his own country, on earth he can only be known by signs and dreams, automatically making the night mistress of the day for a time. The moon in Latin is luna root of our word “lunatic.” Prince Rilian is a lunatic who must be freed from silver chair—silver being the metal of the moon. Even the names of the horses, Coalblack and Snowflake, are drawn from the names of the horses that pull the Moon’s chariot in Spenser’s Faerie Queen. Even more complicated, the whole book portrays the medieval model of the great divide between the realm of certainty and the realm of confusion, a divide shown in their travels in the overland and the underworld.

The Horse and His Boy is Mercury, the messenger of the gods. It concerns a tale of two twins, “meeting selves, same but sundered.” Twins who is recognizable as Castor and Pollux, the Horseman and the Boxer of Homer’s Iliad and The Twins, a constellation in the house of Mercury. Lewis even takes the time to let us know that the helmet of one of the Narnian lord’s helmet is marked with the sign Mercury, a metal helmet with wings on either side.

As the only lady of the deific constellation, Venus is the goddess over the book of life, The Magician’s Nephew. The book speaks of laughter and joy in the creation of the world and the fun of “The First Joke.” Motherhood, as Digory fights to save his mother, and Helen is the first queen, and in some ways, the mother of Narnia. Even her name, Helen, harkens back to Helen of Troy, whose troubles began with Venus. Warmth and beauty are in the Wood Between the Worlds and the new-born Narnia. Also, the apples that give life hearken back to the Apple of Hesperides. More ominously, Jadis is the anti-Venus, she is in the model of Ishtar, a goddess who reigned by a powerful use of her sex and pride. Charn in described as “the great city” an allusion to Nineveh, the stronghold of Ishtar’s worship.

Finally, there is The Last Battle and if you are still reading, my hat is off to you. The Last Battle is ruled by Saturn, the god of ill-chance, treachery, and death. Aslan does not appear until all the main characters are dead. Here, God is portrayed as the God who is seen most clearly in abandonment and loss. In this story, Father Time, who was originally based on Saturn, is the great leveler. In this book, loyalty costs life, and betrayal brings madness. In this book, righteousness bears the ultimate price.

Whether it is a true analysis or not, I do not know, I am re-reading the series to find out. But in any case, it fits the medieval pattern that C.S. Lewis both knew, and was known to respect. It is in any case, very interesting and illuminating.

Ubi Caritas et Amor



Now that Dante has ascended to heaven, Longfellow looks up to the stained glass windows of the church. In medieval times, stained glass windows were used to teach the common people Bible stories, since the commoners often could not read. The saints in heaven teach Dante about Christian love and virtue. Longfellow, instead of seeing the saints in heaven, sees them in the stained glass windows and imagines that he is hearing their stories.

The centerpiece of the cathedral is the rose window, which depicts the glorification of Christ. In the primum mobile, the outermost sphere of Dante’s Paradise, the saints are arranged in the shape of a rose. This rose, and indeed all of heaven, blazes with a glorious light. Beatrice ascends to join her place in the rose, and smiles on Dante at last – he could not bear the bliss and glory of her heavenly smile before.

After describing the sights of heaven in the octave, Longfellow describes the sounds of heaven in the sestet. All the saints and all creation join in praise to God. Their worship is supported by organ and choir and bells, all united to proclaim the mystery and wonder of Christ’s sacrifice. This sestet demonstrates a portion of the bliss, joy, and excitement experienced by the communing saints in heaven.

In keeping with his ecclesiastical theme, Longfellow echoes the order of the liturgy in his sonnets.* Sonnets III and IV both contain a confession of sins and God’s pardon. Liturgical services begin with a public confession, followed by a plea for God’s mercy in the Kyrie. Not only is this order fitting for a cathedral service, but it is the pattern of all Christian life. Confession ought always to precede salvation and thanksgiving to God.

The Kyrie is followed by praise to God in the Gloria. Longfellow depicts the joyful praise of the church in V.9-11. Although Longfellow does not specifically mention the Gloria, he is probably thinking of it, because this service is full of Latin hymns (V.10). Latin hymns appear quite often in Dante – most particularly in Purgatory when the souls sing psalms as they ascend the mount of Purgatory. In the ordinary of the mass, the Gloria is followed by the Credo – a recitation of the Nicene Creed. This is also a confession – not of sin, but of belief in God.

The high point of the mass is the celebration of the Eucharist. After praying over the bread and wine, the priest lifts them to heaven (“the elevation of the Host,” V.14). All the bells ring as the Sanctus is sung. The Sanctus is a hymn, taken from heavenly worship services in Isaiah 6 and Revelation 4. It is a fitting close to this first sonnet on Paradise.

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth!
Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua.
Hosanna in excelsis!


Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts!
Heaven and earth are full of your glory.
Hosanna in the highest!




* HT to Emily for asking about speech patterns in the sonnets, which made me think about a liturgical order.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Sonnet V: Paradiso

I lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze
With forms of Saints and holy men who died,
Here martyred and hereafter glorified;
And the great Rose upon its leaves displays
Christ's Triumph, and the angelic roundelays,
With splendor upon splendor multiplied;
And Beatrice again at Dante's side
No more rebukes, but smiles her words of praise.

And then the organ sounds, and unseen choirs
Sing the old Latin hymns of peace and love
And benedictions of the Holy Ghost;
And the melodious bells among the spires
O'er all the house-tops and through heaven above
Proclaim the elevation of the Host!

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow