A childish book, like a childish person, is limited, unspontaneous, closed in . . . But the childlike book, like the childlike person, breaks out of all boundaries. And joy is the key. Several years ago we took our children to Monticello, and I remember the feeling we all had of the fun Jefferson must have had with his experiments, his preposterous perpetual clock, for instance: what sheer, childlike delight it must have given him. Perhaps Lewis Carroll was really happy only when he was with children, especially when he was writing for them. Joy sparks the pages of Alice [in Wonderland], and how much more profound it is than most of his ponderous works for grownups. . . . But in the battering around of growing up the child gets hurt, and he puts on a shell of protection; he is frightened, and he slams doors. Real maturity lies in having the courage to open doors again, or, when they are pointed out, to go through them.

I especially love that last sentence.

None of us will ever get our minds around a God of play who is the Ancient of Days, and we should laugh in wonder at such a thought.  And as we find ourselves in the season of Advent and looking to Christmas, let us remember that Wisdom became a child, and there was great joy in Heaven at that event.  So great that it spilled over into our dimension, and was witnessed by shepherds and sheep!  Let us imitate Heaven’s joy, and we will know something more of Heaven’s maturity and the courage it engenders.

When one sang the Midnight Verse, the rest wove new harmonies.  The song, once a simple promise of dawn’s approach, was now infused with an aching dissonance that spoke of weariness and loss, which only made the chords of its hopeful restrain stronger, opening up deep reservoirs of longing.

For the casual fantasy reader The Auralia Thread will not disappoint, and for the connoisseur Mr. Overstreet’s stories will be eagerly revisited to catch yet another glimpse of a world that is and will one day be.

As to the movie itself, I don’t want to really give anything away.  I will say that I liked the Romeo and Juliet theme that emerged; as well as the subtle Alice in Wonderland motif that seems to be there.  For more astute movie connoisseurs (which I am not), they’ll probably catch references to some of Spielberg’s past works.  This isn’t a movie for young kids.  It’s PG-13 for a reason, so take that into account.  I can’t imagine taking someone younger than 12 years old to see it.  That being said, go and see “Super 8.”  Simply go to enjoy the movie, because it’s a lot of fun.  And go to enjoy Joel Courtney’s performance, because, at least for me, that alone makes the movie worth seeing.

The Monster in the Hollows

Hollows takes Janner, Kalmar, and Leeli’s journey of identity to a profoundly deeper level.   What does it mean to be a song maiden, a throne warden, or even a king? Through the instruction they receive from their mother, their teachers at school, and the personal humiliation they must regularly endure, the children learn that their royal identity is a call to service and humility.  In fact, the Wingfeathers acutely learn who they are through what they suffer (cf. Hebrews 5:8).  Nia’s daily reminder, “Remember who you are,” acts as a refrain of one of the book’s central themes: the importance and power in a name defining identity.  In many respects, herein lies the masterful way in which Mr. Peterson weaves the heart of the Gospel into his story.  The Gospel of Mark is the story of Jesus, the Servant-King, the center of which is found in chapters 9 and 10.  After Jesus foretells of his coming death and resurrection (9:30-32), He immediately tells them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all” (v. 35).  Then in chapter 10, after again foretelling of his coming suffering and death in Jerusalem, and subsequent resurrection, He teaches the disciples again what their calling entails after James and John’s request to be seated at Christ’s left and right in glory.  Gathering all of the disciples to him, Jesus says,

“You know that those who are considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them.  But it shall not be so among you.  But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all.  For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (vv. 42-45).

Hold that picture in place and consider one of the central exhortations of Paul’s letter to the Colossians.  He calls believers to consider what Christ has accomplished (see 2:6-15), and to live according to their identity in Him (especially note 3:1-17).  Essentially, Paul is saying, “Be who you are.”  Furthermore, as kings (Revelation 1:6, 1 Corinthians 6:2), God’s people are called to a life of service and humility patterned in the life of Christ.  The Monster in the Hollows vibrantly brings these themes to life, resonating in the soul.

The consensus of the Thacker home is that this is Mr. Peterson’s best story-telling yet.  My simple proof is the two-plus hours my wife and boys sat in rapt attention last night.  As long as my voice held out there was little doubt we would get through all seventeen chapters left in order to finish the book.  “The Wingfeather Saga” is to be concluded in the fourth volume, The Warden and the Wolf King. Deborah initially vowed to be “mad” at Mr. Peterson that the last book wasn’t written yet, but has since changed her mind, so satisfying was Hollows.  I hope that more children and parents will read The Wingfeather Saga, and for the discussions it will lead to as we endeavor to remember who we are, and instruct our children in the same.

In J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Two Towers, the following conversation takes place between Frodo and Sam while resting from their arduous climb up the stairs of Cirith Ungol.  The simple eloquence, the way in which we are reminded that we have a place in God’s story of the world is profound.

‘I don’t like anything here at all,’ said Frodo, ’step or stone, breath or bone.  Earth, air and water all seem accursed.  But so our path is laid.’

‘Yes, that’s so,’ said Sam.  ‘And we shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started.  But I suppose it’s often that way.  The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them.  I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say.  But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind.  Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually – their paths were laid that way, as you put it.  But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t.  And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten.  We hear about those as just went on – and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end.  You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same – like old Mr. Bilbo.  But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in!  I wonder what sort of tale we’ve fallen into?’

‘I wonder,’ said Frodo.  ‘But I don’t know.  And that’s the way of a real tale.  Take any one that you’re fond of.  You may know, or guess, what kind of tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don’t know.  And you don’t want them to.’

Thanks be to God that the happiest of endings awaits us (1 John 3:2).

]]> http://stmarkreformed.org/pastors-page/what-sort-of-tale/feed/ 0 http://stmarkreformed.org/pastors-page/off-the-shelf-fiddlers-green/ http://stmarkreformed.org/pastors-page/off-the-shelf-fiddlers-green/#comments Fri, 14 Jan 2011 20:17:35 +0000 Joe Thacker http://stmarkreformed.org/?p=1087

I am finding these book recommendations/reviews more difficult to write.  I simply want to say, “Read the book,” and for you to understand that I really mean it.  As soon as I try to put into the words the things that I liked about the story, or the themes that especially stood out, it feels as though I’m trying to tear something away from the fabric that has been beautifully woven.  I enjoyed Pete Peterson’s first installment of this two-part adventure, The Fiddler’s Gun. Fiddler’s Green is even better.  This story will shock you; make you laugh; and possibly make you cry.  It is unmistakably a story about redemption, but fashioned in such a way as to gradually carry the reader along like a vessel upon the sea.  Perhaps what stands out to me the most is the character development that Mr. Peterson achieves in this work.  Though fictitious, these are real people.  These are people that you and I know.  People that you and I are.  And if what I’ve said doesn’t convince you, my wife loved it, too.

Parental note:  Due to the dark themes and images (including some of the illustrations ) I would not recommend The Graveyard Book for readers under the age of, say, ten.  Younger children prone to nightmares will have plenty for their imaginations to dwell upon, so, unless you especially enjoy being awakened in the middle of the night or finding an extra 98.6 in bed with you, I would wait until you think your child can handle them.