Paul

Incredible book. Epic. But I'm still trying to process the ending. Very odd, in my opinion.

Damn. What an incredible, incredible book. A more tender book than McCarthy's others, but just as raw, merciful, brutal, and soft as any of his novels.

Not quite the awe and wonder that the first book was, but a basically necessary reckoning with what occurs in the book. It's a little messy, but the prose is still beautiful and the characters compelling. He introduces a few too many new aspects to this world that don't make sense not to have been mentioned in the first book, but still, the essential exploration of human nature and complex political statecraft is just as strong here. Herbert is still a master.

We all have those pieces of art–be they movies, books, music, what have you–that upon first exposure we fall in love. We turn the last page or exit the theater or concert hall certain that this will surely be added to our list of favorites and long-held companions. Yet, how many times do we say this and a year or two down the road someone mentions that very piece of art and we find ourselves thinking, “oh yeah, I did read that, didn't I?” or “I had forgotten how much I loved that album!”

So often we get swept away in the immediate experience of something skipping upon the waters of our soul, leaving little ripples and echoes dancing in its wake. But these dimples and dapples merely play on the surface for a time, returning once more to their source, leaving the waters ultimately undisturbed–the liquid plane unbroken; the deepest depths untouched.

There are other times, however, that we encounter a piece of art–or rather, it encounters us–and we are changed. It transcends mere rankings of “favorites” and “Top 10s” and weaves itself into our fibers. We do not critique and assess it, so much as it sizes and weighs us. The surface tension is broken and we are plunged beneath, staring humanity's unvarnished truths in the face. And in so doing our own humanity is enlarged, a spaciousness expands in our souls, and we feel more human–even as our foundations are shaken.

John Steinbeck's 1952 magnum opus, East of Eden, is just this kind of piece of art. It's the kind of book people say they will read “someday”, only to read it and wish “someday” had come a lot sooner. So if you haven't read it. Do so. Start today.

The Beauty

Just like other art that has so deeply affected me–Terrence Malick's Tree of Life, Mark Rothko's Orange, Red, Yellow, and Miles Davis' Kind of Blue–East of Eden is about both the most mundane and most profound of human experiences and knowledge.

At its most basic, East of Eden follows a few generations of two families, the Hamiltons and the Trasks, and how they interact and intersect. At a slightly deeper level, it is a retelling of the first few chapters of the biblical book of Genesis.

The book takes its time. It's long, moving with the easy-going gait of a sauntering elder recounting legends burrowed deep within his soul. Entire sections simply describe the way a car engine works, or give extended quotations of whole chapters from the Bible. Even in its seriousness, it is not an earnest book, by any means; it isn't trying at lengths to convince you of its beauty and power. Rather, it is poised, secure, and relaxed in its seduction of the human heart. And boy, does it seduce.

There are other stunningly beautiful books–The Great Gatsby comes to mind–but even those books take some breaks in their poetry for some “mere” exposition. Steinbeck's novel, however, is aesthetically relentless. From beginning to end, page after page, the limits of the English language are pushed to break one's heart over and over and over again by awashing it in such beauty and imagery and metaphor, bringing life and light even to the dead and dark in the pages.

And this vivifying force extends to the deep humanity Steinbeck has for his characters. You will scarcely find another novel with even one character as fully realized as those in East of Eden, much less the huge numbers found here. None is a caricature or an over-simplified distillation of generic human qualities. Every person mentioned, even in passing, is so distinct as a human being, in all their complexity, comedy, and tragedy.

And ultimately, it is this that most exemplifies the heart from which this novel is poured and the place to which it draws us. East of Eden is a staggering piece of beauty and depth, offered by an artist with such compassion and love for the dignity and complexity of humans, even in their deepest sin and darkness.

The Vision

One conversation, I believe, offers us the clearest picture of the book's vision, sweep, and thesis. I've edited and removed all specific mentions of character and plot to avoid spoilers (you're welcome). I think this same conversation could be offered between every human–lovers, friends, enemies–and even within every human's own soul:

“Do you hate me?”
“No, but you hate me a little. Why is that?”
“I—I'm afraid of you.”
“No need to be.”
“I've hurt you more than you know.”
“But I'm glad you told me.”
“Why?”
“Because now I know I didn't make it all up. I feel free now. And I think I love you.”
“But I'm not good.”
“I love you because you're not good.”

The lack of “good” mentioned here is not playful, flirtatious, or salacious. The badness spoken of is the deep pain and darkness that exists in all of us. East of Eden emphatically tells us that we do not find life by drawing close to those on what we imagine to be the “right” road–who see all things as pure and good and have little capacity to hold the brokenness of others' in their sights; nor is it found with those that live solely on the “bad” road–whose lives turn inside on themselves such that they become less human and treat others likewise.

Rather, life in relationship with others is found by drawing close to those who, as one character puts it, are “crammed full to the top with every good thing and every bad thing.” It is when one sees their own darkness and accepts their “not good”-ness, and in turn draws close to others of the same realization, that the light can begin cresting upon the horizon.

The Invitation

East of Eden invites us into a slog, a journey, a work. The book has such compassion for every one of its characters–even its most vile ones–and invites us to do the same, even as we hurt others and they hurt us. And this is so hard.

Yet life and meaning can never be found in relationship with those that are “good”, but only in those that have experienced they are “not good”–meaning that they have seen themselves as what we all most truly are.

This raw, elemental, basic truth of humanity is what stares at us from beneath the surface of the waters. It is the mirror that East of Eden holds to our souls. It is the judgment laid before us, and it is that rarest and sweetest form of judgment: one devoid of all nihilism, one that acts as both a sword that cuts and a balm that soothes, and one which invites us to work for what is most meaningful in our lives–hard, but beautiful relationships. Relationships only held in existence by the tenacity of forgiveness and grace, even against radical sin.

Northern California's Salinas Valley is the first “character” we meet in the book, and it serves as the backdrop for the rest of what follows. In it we see a beautiful metaphor of where we are invited to find light in the midst of such darkness: relationships forged through the fire and valley of human depravity and pain, and up the other side into life, freedom, and forgiveness.

Steinbeck and East of Eden, therefore, offer us a choice. Will we live our lives pushing away and protecting ourselves from all the “bad” and hurt in the world, thus missing the depths of relationship that can come from mercy, forgiveness, redemption, grace, and compassion? Or can we see others and ourselves in the full truth of our “not good”-ness and still love them–growing our capacity to hold both the light and darkness of others within our hearts, not loving them in spite of what's most broken in them, but precisely because we see them for who they truly are?

It is a daily choice. It is fitting that this novel is a retelling of the opening of Genesis–a book of beginnings. For even in the book's finality and end, its invitation and vision are offered to us not as an ending, but rather a beginning: of new life, new love, and a new world. It is a call to a hard, but beautiful life; a life whose hope is not founded on whether we will or will not choose the beautiful road of brokenness and compassion, but in the freedom and dignity of being human, in which we are imbued with the honor that we can and “mayest” choose such a road of blessing, beauty, and brokenness.

What will you choose?

What a remarkable book. Avoids so many clothes of similar Christian books, written with warmth and winsomeness. But more, it is immensely helpful and potentially life-changing in very tangible, real ways. It is a beautiful invitation which I pray my family has the courage to really follow through on and respond to. Comer is undoubtedly right in his diagnosis of our culture and our souls, and is truly recapturing ancient biblical wisdom in his prescription. Though many may quibble with some of the specific lengths he goes to in some of his recommendations, he is not so much of a radical that the book is inaccessible. We always need prophetic voices who will carry the message to lengths we never will in order to model for us what life could be and where we want to go. And for that, I am so grateful for the life change that led Comer to inhabit the life that led to this book. I pray we all may do the same.

It's tough to know what to say of this book. It is beautiful, passionate, and absolutely convincing in its argument that America cannot be some “Christian Nation”; that it is closer to a New Babylon than New Jerusalem; that the marriage church and state is an idolatry for which we need to repent. And so for that, it is a five star book. It is effective and I believe its argument is unassailable.

Where it loses a star is what happens in the reader as they muse on the book further when they put it down. People (as well as opponents) will inevitably have “well what about...” questions which are never answered in the book. They are not questions which prove the core argument wrong, no matter how hard the critics wave their hands while asking them. But they are still questions worth pondering and exploring, which Zahnd does not do here.

Things like: Where does police action end and military action begin? Can smaller, non-imperial states be “Christian nations”? Can Christians serve in politics? If so, how do they apply these principles in their realpolitik engagements? If lethal police action is okay for the common good, is individual lethal action by private citizens allowed? Why or why not? Etc. Etc.

Granted, Zahnd could say these are beyond the beyond the scope of this book, or (more likely) the questions themselves are unanswerable in generalities and have to be on a case by case basis–that it takes discernment in the course of following Jesus and we need faith in his Spirit to guide us. Those would be valid responses, but they are not offered here.

Instead you get some of the clearest, most robust arguments in favor of drawing a bright line between one's allegiance to Christ and allegiance to a country–and not compromising an inch. I love this book and want you all to read it. It will not answer all your questions, but it will give you a framework from which to ask them.

Man, do I love Emily Oster books. Your first book in this series, expecting better, was incredibly formative for how we are experiencing our first pregnancy. It was so helpful to get clarity on the multitude of opinions that exist around pregnancy and childbirth.

However (as she herself says in this book) after delivery, there's a lot less absolutism we can glean from data around raising kids. There are often multiple approaches that work better depending on who the kid ends up being, which you will never know before you actually have the kid. And for that reason this lost a star. Admittedly, these are for reasons beyond Oster's control, and where she is able to deconstruct and correct the predominant narrative, she happily does so; but it feels like the main point of this book is more to help parents trust themselves and trust their guts that there are multiple healthy routes to guide your kids down, and so as long as you have good intentions and due diligence, you will be fine.

I appreciate this message, and I find it really helpful. If anything, the data deconstructs the idea that there is one right way to raise a kid. But I feel like these books are sold under idea that they will help parents make data-driven decisions about their kids. But for nearly every topic she covers, the data are conflicting, lacking, inconsistent, or have some flaws. Again, this is helpful to know. But it's not why someone would open this book. She does give more information to help with the decision-making process, but in an individualized way, and not in an objective way.

So in the end, I leave this book feeling more at ease with entering parenthood, even if I don't necessarily feel more equipped to do so. Because no one can actually be fully prepped before hand. And that lesson made this book absolutely worth reading.

What an odd book. The premise sounds enticing enough: a dystopian novel in which in habitants of a large island have to endure government enforced “forgettings” of every day objects. It's a terrifying premise in one sense. On any day, the citizens may wake up to see that their memories of something have been erased and everyone has to destroy destroy all of those items. They are made to forget birds, perfume, ribbons, emeralds, boats, etc. The Memory Police also terrorize the island, destroying what remnants of these items remain, as well as arrest and round up the requisite dystopian resistance movement and those that, interestingly, have a genetic difference that keep them from succumbing to the “forgetting”.

Fascinating idea, right? That's about where the interesting parts end. However, the last few pages of the book get so weird, are so unexpected, and leave you in a state of shock it ALMOST makes the book's shortcomings seem more intentional and of a whole. But first, let's talk about it's issues.

The narrator is flat and two-dimensional. She speaks of her past and longings, but only as much as moves the story along. The types of things an ACTUAL human in such a situation would recall and muse about never arise. Has she ever had a romantic feeling or dalliance before the time we meet her? Has she ever had a job in this society other than the books she writes? What does she cook? What does she know of the history of the island, it's government, etc? We never know. We hear about her parents and her schooling–that's about it, and we spend the entire time in her head as she muses about the world in which she lives.

She repeatedly does things for which there is no prior indication she would ever do. In the beginning she seems an incredibly passive “keep your head down, don't rock the boat” kind of character, and then in a moment she's building a secret bunker underneath her house to hide families and friends in this underground movement. There's no growth or thought or moment of crisis, decision-making, or being pushed to this. It just... happens, and there's no subsequent reflection on it.

Every other character is only flatter. Her editor that she hides away is a married man and they begin sleeping with each other. Do they ever talk about how they rationalize it? Or do they feel ANYTHING about it? No. She has a line or two about “needing” someone in all the stress. But that's it. Is there any tension or romance? No. But it's also not purely mechanical as people's humanity is stripped away in such a society. It's just a thing that happens a few times.

The plot is even more difficult to get through. It is slow and unexciting, and there are moments that are supposed to be “exciting” but it tries too hard with weak prose to build tension, convey “action” and it falters. There are SO many massive logical gaps in the way this world is structured. Now, in a sci-fi dystopian set-up, I'm find with not everything being spelled out or having an answer. It's fine to have just one premise and play with it. But at least let that premise itself be thought out for more than a few minutes.

This book's plot is filled with every single of the mundane and boring dystopian novel tropes, with none of the exciting ones. It has an underground resistance, a secret room, a dead parent who left behind clues against the “regime”, a visit to the government headquarters, a party by dissidents which is broken up by an unexpected visit from the police, the “tense” police search of the residence while the character sees the one thing out of place that could give them up, the character that seems to know everything about this regime and how to fight it, but didn't let us know that until way too late in the book, people sleeping together because they're just around each other, caricatured “evil” government officials that are just one-note brutes that have no coherent philosophy about WHY the government does what it does. So and so forth.

The more interesting tropes are missing, though: fighting against the regime (she's hiding a “fugitive” in her basement, but for what end?), learning more about how the world became this way, meeting up with the resistance, experiencing the arrest of our heroes and ushering them into the inner workings of this society, finding out what happens to rebels, discovering what all these scientists are doing once they're invited to work for the government, enjoying a philosophical sparring match with government officials over life, society, and what makes us human?

I do need at, though, that there is an odd mechanic employed here of a “novel with then novel”, that is interesting in its own right, though not much more so. The narrator is writing this novel and there are portions of the book that are excerpts from what she's written. They're interesting at moments, but not enough to turn this book around.

That ending, though. Really, it's just the last few pages, but it's so haunting, it's still with me days after finishing this. My concern, though, is that it almost seems like the novelist had this premise and this end in mind, and then just did a bunch of filler to get us there. This could have easily been a fantastic short story. I do feel duped having read this. The premise is exciting enough that you're like, “oh wow, I've GOT to see what she does with this!”

It's just sad that the answer is an overwhelming, “oh wow, not that much.”

What a stunningly beautiful and passionate poem. Wow. I didn't know Shakespeare got this sensual. Dang.

I'm going to write more after I sit with this for a while, but I think this is hands down one of the most soul-shaking books I've ever read in my life. This is what the contemporary religious novel needs to be. I can't remember the last time I cried more tears or felt more of the secret whispers of my own soul given shape in form and language. I'm still processing this. Just get this book and read it.

I was really expecting to love this book. But I was incredibly frustrated and disappointed by it. I will write a fuller review in the days to come. But in the meantime I should note that this is probably more of a 3.5 star book, though I'm putting it lower than that to try and correct for all of the over the top and, in my opinion, undeserved fawning this book has received. The characters are flat and run together, the plot is over-sentimentalized and forced, and, perhaps worst of all, even though the book is obviously a trying to give agency and voice to characters of color, it robs those characters of their complexity, ultimately robbing them of the dignity they deserve.

Anyway, this was such a frustrating book, especially in its latter half. Again, I will be writing a much longer review in the next several days to explain this more fully. But suffice it to say, the book does not meet the hype.

What an incredible translation of the book. Translation is always tricky. Translations of Homer err on the extremes of either woodenness or flowery-ness. This one excels in plain-ness and clarity which, according to Wilson's INCREDIBLE introduction in the book, is ACTUALLY how Homer's Greek would've been experienced in the ground by his audience. So while this isn't as “poetic” as other translations, it is beautiful in how it captures Homer's timelessness and expression of the transcending human condition–aspects I never really “got” before reading this particular translation.

Additionally, this being the first major translation by a woman, I must admit that there is a dimension this adds. There is a tenderness and restraint in certain moments (and it's incredibly effective), and Penelope has been brought to the fore in her strength, intelligence, and cunning in a way I never noticed before–in a way that seems plainly closer to Homer's intention towards her as a character. Indeed, Wilson's translation brings dimension and subtlety to all the major women characters who are usually flattened out as mere roadblocks or temptresses to Odysseus. In fact, Odysseus and the men have their flaws and weaknesses shown as just that–flaws and ways of being that ought to be interrogated and lamented rather than wholesale celebrated and admired as archetypes of strength of masculinity.

Lastly, a note. Having studied translation in a couple of languages, I ought to stress for those that haven't: me saying that certain aspects are “brought out” or “emphasized” in this translation does not at all mean that she has veered from the text, added things in, ignored other things, or has had an “agenda” driving her work. This is not a “Feminist” reading of The Odyssey. Wilson speaks for herself quite capably in her Translator's Note on how her own experience as a woman might affect her translation, and I encourage you to read that. Suffice it to say that her experience as a woman in academia has actually led her to have a GREATER fidelity and care to the text tjan most male translators, who approach their task more as an act of submitting the Greek text to English forms and language rather than immersing the text with its own integrity to see it as it emerges on its own–an approach I feel suffused Wilson's work here. It is remarkable and fantastic and deserves to be read.

In fact, in my humble opinion, it deserves to be the new dominant text used in high schools and undergraduate institutions; not simply because a woman did this work, but because she has produced the greatest example I know of balancing both absolute faithfulness to the text with a stunning colloquial clarity that goes down so smoothly and easily, you inevitably will forget to stop and marvel at how difficult a task that is with ancient texts. She makes this Promethian task look so easy; which, after all, is what women have been having to do for millennia.

Amazing book. I cannot recommend it more highly.

This is one of the most powerful, winsome books on personal growth and change. It shows us that the 12 steps are for all who feel some sort of ache that they are not who they want to be–in other words, all of us. Through beautiful and profound insights, narratives, and a whole workbook section, Brand shows us that there is hope, however like hell it'll feel like to get there. Amazing. Can't recommend it enough.

What a remarkable book. Certainly one of the greatest feats of writing in the English language (at least). This book is a journey to which I will return repeatedly in my life. All should read it at least once in their lifetimes. It is worth the effort.

Really good. Luckily this isn't one of those “5 steps to the awesome you” sort-of leadership books. It is about spiritual formation with an eye towards leadership. This is a devotional book, not a leadership book. It is a slow and meditative. I'm in impatient reader, and can frequently find myself thinking, “okay, just tell me the ‘point' or the ‘lesson' you want me to get and move on.” Barton is wise enough to not let us get off that easily. She makes us sit in these truths and meditate on them with her deeply.

Also, Barton moves in the spirit of midrash in how she treats the Moses story through the book, which she uses as her launching point and paradigm. This is a Jewish interpretive method, and so for those that lean more “conservative” and “liberal” theologically, this can wrongly distract from the point she's trying to make. Conservative Evangelicals might frequently think “that's not in the text!”, while those on the other side of spectrum, especially those steeped in biblical studies might think she's trying to make historical claims in her words–claims that biblical studies would deny. This is not what she's doing. She pressing the story through the filter of human experience to pull lessons that transcend history and the text in order to shape and form us. Wherever you land on those issues, don't let it distract you ro keep you from seeing the beauty of this book.

This book is incredible in every way. Profound beyond comprehension, more practical than you could ever days have hoped. For those that want to experience their union with God all the more, there is no better book that serves the historical, theological, poetical, inspirational, and practical role in such a small package for the beginner and experienced alike.

A remarkable book for its first 2/3. Genuinely. It hits topics and themes and ideas that are fascinating and bold. The book is worth reading for that on its own. The last third, however, jumps the shark a bit as it seems the author rushes to figure out how she's going to end the amazing tale she's woven. Looking back, it makes the book as a whole feel less character- or even idea-driven and reduces it simply to a wild plot. At times, it seems certain descriptions or scenes exist only as a pitch for some studio to make a film from this (which, in the right hands, would be a pretty kick ass film, hopefully with moments of depth and profundity).

And yet, before I could give this book three stars for the lackluster ending, there comes an epilogue just as mysterious and fascinating as the “appendix” to The Handmaid's Tale, from which this book gets great inspiration. That epilogue brings this book back to its place of mythic excellence and does in itself make the last bit of the novel worth getting through.

It's weird. I think this is a “better” novel than the first, though it is not as “interesting” or impactful as the original Foundation novel, hence the lower rating. I appreciate how Asimov, in this book breaks the formula of his previous book a bit. It doesn't cover as much time, it's not as many small stories, but a few larger chunks of narrative. So rather than feeling like a short story collection, it feels more like a proper novel.

In this book, we continue the history of the Foundation–the eponymous organization created in the first book as a haven for human knowledge in anticipation of the Galactic Empire's imminent collapse.

The first book saw the Foundation come out victorious over several enemies due to the careful planning of the mathematician-prophet Hari Seldon, who anticipated a series of what became known as “Seldon Crises” based on the natural profession of nations. In this book–again, following historical precedence–we see what happens after the Foundation becomes the de facto Empire, having conquered those competing interests in volume 1 to find themselves now looking very much like Empire they hated.

We see another few Seldon Crises and how the Foundation and its leader navigate them according to Seldon Providence. How these stories play out are always fun and fascinating with interesting twists and reveals along the way.

But the real meat of the book follows the introduction of a person who could not have been factored into Seldon's original formulae that anticipated humanity's history. And so, “the plan” get thrown off course. Or does it? Previous entries maintained a sense that all that was happening was according to the “plan”. But not here. For the first time in the series, our humans encounter real and genuine uncertainty, and a fascinating exploration of free will and providence.

These are heady ideas, told in beautiful prose, even if a little opaque sometimes. I do feel like–to a greater degree than in the first book–each story takes quite a while before you get your bearings. I can appreciate Asimov's “show, don't tell” commitment and dropping us in res media, but he really just starts each story off without us having much of a clue of the who/what/when of the story and trusting us to figure it out.

Again, I respect it. And I admittedly could have been a slower, more attentive reader to have a better sense. But still, as an experience, I regularly lost track of names, events, and plot lines and just barrelled on through trusting I'd get back on track eventually. And I did. But it could be a frustrating process.

Asimov's “Foundation and Empire” is a worthy follow-up to the original. It changes and switches the formula enough that it is fresh, and it slows down the pace so we can sit with some characters for quite a bit of time, and even has more action. I look forward to the installments to come.

Best one of these books so far, I think. Wow.

Okay, finally read this book, which is the beginning of what is considered the greatest scifi series ever written. As one who usually doesn't seek out science fiction in his reading, I've got to say, this was fantastic, and represents what everyone says about the best sci-fi: the actual science and premise itself isn't so much the point as it is seeing the human condition play out against its backdrop.

And in that sense, this is a great book. I really thought it would be nerdy and spend all this time with the conceits of the book–but it doesn't. I had to keep reminding myself that this book was written in the 50s, as it reads like a very, very contemporary book. Asimov is a beautiful, literary writer and he seamlessly blends the science elements into casual conversation and asides, rather than didactic speeches.... about the science, that is.

There are plenty of didactic speeches here. It's perhaps the primary way the plot moves along. As has been pointed out in every think piece about how this series is “un-filmable”, the most “exciting” parts of this story happen off-page. Entire multi-year wars are described in a single sentence; huge swaths of time pass between stories; we are dropped into different periods of time between two people and don't get to see what caused their relationships to change in the interim. This is all fine, though, and Asimov moves the stories along and great pace with ingenuity and cleverness.

But about that cleverness. I'd say that is perhaps the only weakness here. As you begin reading this, you will come to realize that, structurally, every vignette and story here is exactly the same: a clever, over-confident (but endearing) man is able to outwit people more powerful and more annoying than him and save the day.

Really. Every story. The primary character has lots of external obstacles thrown in his way, but always keeps his cool, knows he's going to outsmart everyone, and without any effort or difficulty at all (just a lot of forethought and planning) calmly reveals at the end that he's been in control the whole time, knew everything that was going to happen, and worked it all to his favor.

To be sure, it's pretty fun to see how the particular main character pulls it off when everything seems stacked against him, but it can seem a little contrived and too clever by half sometimes.

Nevertheless, this book is so fun, and the continuity of human nature between now and this imagined future tens of thousands years away is fascinating. They are still dealing with politics, trade, economics, and basic human desires. And the winners are able to leverage these to their advantage. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the books to see if he breaks the formula while still exploring the nooks and crannies of this world he's created–a world that spanned nearly every other major work of science fiction since. It certainly deserves such reverence.

I am so confused by this book. People whose literary tastes I deeply respect have suggested this book and it did so little for me. The main character feels like a caricature of a type and not even after hundreds of pages of being in his head does he feel any more like a real human. I think he's supposed to be endearing to us and somewhat tragic, and yet he is none of these things. This single dimension character does not grow, does not learn, and does not reflect.

There is a narrative device employed in this book which is fairly pointless. In its essence, we the reader are served the musings and stories of the past from an old English butler as he takes a trip through the English countryside to see a female coworker from his past. Along the road trip, his remembered stories move chronologically and tell us about the history between the Wars as experienced by him, a butler in the house of an influential British gentleman. And yet, this framing serves no narrative or thematic purpose and makes little sense for how the protagonist's recollections unfold. His stories from the past are entirely disconnected from what's going on around him on the road trip, and there's no reason why it would take six days for him to think of and share with us the story of his former employer's ruin and disrepute at the onset of WWII.

The supposed romantic “tension” with the female lead here is absurd because there is no reason why any other human would want to be with the main character. And so the book's big “reveal” that she has had surges of love for him throughout their life around one another sounds more like dysfunction on her part rather than wistful romance of what could be.

One person who suggested this book to me called it beautiful. I've got no idea what book they were reading. Some quaint descriptors here or there, and very “clear” prose, sure–but beautiful? Nope. There is no poetry in these pages. Straightforward meandering descriptions.

I suppose the book is meant to be a witness to the loss of innocence and sense of propriety and “dignity” (a word/theme brought up with little subtlety throughout) as England moved into its post-empire, post-war self. It wants us to see the naivety of the “old ways” and mourn the savagery of realism and “growing up” to human nature on the world stage. And yet, the book, its narrator, its structure, its language, and its “romance” fail to make this hit home.

What a fantastic book. I may be in a different place in regards to my precise theological convictions, but this book guides people through deconstruction into a path forward. It gives one hope for how to find a faith in the 21st-century that is mystical but also rooted in the real world. Read this book. Share this book. This is perhaps the best book to give for those exvangelicals in your life or those on their way to that place. It just may help them keep their faith and find a way forward.

This will, hands down, go down as one of the most impactful and influential books of my entire life. At least this moment, I'm entirely convinced of Hart's arguments in this volume. I will just have to do a deep dive into the counter arguments. But the logic and framework of reality that he's working from here seems to be unassailably correct. But a framework can be logically consistent, whole, beautiful, and make sense of almost all aspects of reality and intuition, and still probably be incorrect. This book is a tour de force onslaught in favor of universalism and against all competing variations of it's rejection. To me, the only sticking point the scripture itself. Hart recasts many of the key texts involved in this debate in such a way where it makes total sense and has changed the way I look at scripture in so many aspects of it. But there is still sections in parts and verses that I can't quite fit into this framework, and that makes me uneasy.

That is where this book loses a star. Hart knows very well what his opponents will say and where they will turn, but from the outset he assumes bad faith from them for a whole host of reasons and literally says that he expects this book to not convince anyone or change anyone's in mind. I think general cynicism is warranted, but to absolutely and completely just give up the entire enterprise of persuasion makes this almost feel like a useless book. Now, maybe that was a rhetorical device in the first place to disarm people were to give himself license to say what he really feels rather than couch it in ways that others could receive more easily. But throughout the book he has no amount of understanding nor ability to empathize with why the majority of the church for the majority of its history has disagreed with him. He does deal with that argument to some extent, but he's so alienates, insults, and belittles anyone that would possibly disagree with him, I don't know what to do with this book. It was hugely impactful for me, but I don't feel comfortable suggesting it to anyone else that may disagree with him. And indeed, the few negative reviews and counterpoints to this book which I have read have all focused on his tone and seeming appeal to emotion as an argument. It allows them to not actually have to deal with his real arguments. And that is a shame.

So this is a five-star book in terms of content and argumentation and accomplishing what he says out to do. It's a three-star book in terms of its place in the broader debates and conversations on these and related issues. It could have been more, and I wish it was. But either way, this book is going to stick with me the rest of my life, and I'm still trying to process its implications for everything else I feel called to do in ministry and the world.

But nevertheless, I am comforted by the central truth of this book, that God truly is good and he will be all in all.

P.S. on a side note, I know this was not his intent or desire at all, but Hart actually strengthened me in my Calvinism with this book. He has just made me a calvinist universalist, and he sounds a lot like one too. His musings on the will, it's bondage, and the myth of its freedom sound like something Luther or Calvin (or even Edwards!) would have written, it is some of the most profound and compelling thoughts on that topic you will find in any book. And frankly, those musings are worth the cost of this book by themselves even without drawing out its implications for eternity.

Man, what a frustrating book. I mean, every little ingredient for a true masterpiece is there, it's just missing.....something. There are beautiful moments of language, some of the action sequences are pretty thrilling, and the characters are MOSTLY developed and feel real, though not entirely.

This book is Rajaniemi's follow up to his Sci-Fi trilogy “The Quantum Thief”. It has been critically-acclaimed, though I have not read it. This makes me think the book is a misfire of sorts as he clears his mind for his next great writing project.

My main issue with this book is probably with the world that's built here–or rather the one he ATTEMPTS to build here. There is so much to the sci-fi/fantasy elements to this world and Rajaniemi just does not do a good job at creating it in our minds. Major parts of the way this world works is only presented to us when the plot needs it. So you can't help but think he just makes stuff up to solve a plot problem and creates the rules as he goes along. There's not coherent sense that's ever achieved as to the basic rules, rhythms, and regularities of this world. I still have no idea what's going in this universe or how it works.

This problem is so bad that in the final climactic battle, this story that has been filled with interested dynamics between only humans and ghosts suddenly has a character turning into a tentacled, bug-like creature to vanquish the foes. I mean, really? You spend hundred of pages telling a story of humans in this world and the next and throw in some sort of mutation/monster thing in the next to the last chapter? If this were a feature of this universe, surely there'd be common knowledge of this phenomena and people trying to take advantage of it.

Another smaller example: the last few paragraphs have the protagonists getting into this world's version of an airplane to travel somewhere. The plane sounds interesting and how it works sounds fascinating, and it's integrally connected with the building around which so much of this story has revolved. And yet we've never heard of the existence of these things, the way they work, their history or anything. They're just plopped into the story in the next to the last paragraph. Then, THE END.

Outside of that, the female hero feels a little thin as a character. Just your generic middle-aged strong woman trying to make it in the world and prove her mettle. So when she makes mistakes, tries to make things right, has hard choices to make, I didn't really find myself caring. Very little of the plot seems to unspool logically from the points that preceded it. It all just feels a little arbitrary and forced.

And yet, you can't help but see the beauty and imagination of what's here. It's a whole alternative history in between the World Wars and that choice alone makes the setting so utterly fascinating and interesting. The mix of old and new gives a freshness to the futurism dominating a lot of such books in the genre nowadays. It's a fairly fun read, though for those of you not looking for too much depth and just want some fun, the incoherence of the world building and how much you have to read and re-read whole sections just to figure out what the hell is going and can take away from that. And for those of you fantasy nerds that obsess over world-building, I can just hear how you would tear this book apart.

So perhaps this is a beach read that will make your mind work a little harder than it wants, for both good and bad reasons.