Love in the Time of Cholera, by Gabriel García Márquez

****

An excerpt of a review recently posted on Schaeffer's Ghost:

García Márquez contrasts the unexciting and monotonous familiarity of Fermina’s relationship with Dr. Urbino with the vibrant passion of her affair with Florentino. Neither relationship is portrayed as ideal, per se; there are certainly positive qualities in Fermina’s marriage to Dr. Urbino, and it’s clear that Florentino is no saint. Still, I couldn’t help feeling that there was a false dichotomy being subtly forced upon the reader: a choice between loveless and emotionally lifeless security and commitment; or tumultuous, impractical passion (with, apparently, no moral boundaries). These are the two faces of love. Which will you choose? 

The choice is a misleading one, not least because I suspect younger readers (if the novel comes their way) may come to believe that Florentino, with all his nonstop womanizing, somehow loves Fermina more than the reliable Dr. Urbino does. [...] This either/or idea fits right in with the modern romantic narrative being pitched today: Passion matters more than pragmatism; passion is what draws lovers together and keeps them there. True love is entirely free of restrictions, and any attempt to bind love with commitment or promises will do nothing but strangle that love. 

We know from Scripture that this is not the case. In the created order, commitment is the foundation of love. We see it in the first marriage, when Adam claims Eve as bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh (a clear implication of lifelong union and commitment, as nothing short of death would cause him to forsake or be severed from his own body). We see it in Song of Solomon, when the Beloved expresses ardent sexual love for her Lover, while proclaiming that ‘love is strong as death.’ We see it in God’s covenant relationship with Abraham and eventually Israel; because He loves Israel, because He has chosen Israel, He commits to Israel—and keeps that commitment even in the face of continued infidelity. We see it most of all in the Gospel, where Christ sacrificed Himself on behalf of His bride the church, in order to ensure an eternal marriage with His chosen people. Christian love has passion aplenty—passion that is only enhanced and matured by commitment.

Full review available here.

Much Ado About Nothing (2012)

**

An excerpt of a review recently posted on Schaeffer's Ghost:

In the ‘Making Of’ featurette, Whedon explains that he sees Much Ado as, essentially, a dark noir story, which makes the black-and-white film choice all the more appropriate. However, with all due respect to Mr. Whedon (and I do respect him deeply and have greatly enjoyed his previous productions), I think he’s dead wrong. Much Ado is, at its heart, a lighthearted romp. It is a classic comedy, full of humor and good cheer from start to finish: from Beatrice and Benedick’s zippy one-liners, to the farcical plot by their friends to entangle them romantically, to Dogberry’s mind-boggling incompetence, it is just fun. The worst thing that happens is a couple of misunderstandings, each of which is cleared up in a matter of hours. Yes, those misunderstandings lead to some heart-wrenching scenes, and very nearly have fatal consequences for those involved, but in the end it all works out. The villain runs off and is apprehended off-screen, and everyone lives happily ever after. Everyone is essentially good and likable except the malevolent (and ultimately ineffective) Don John and his henchmen. That’s … not really noir. At all.

Full review available here.

The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins

****

An excerpt of a review recently posted on Schaeffer's Ghost:

Classic literature doesn’t offer much in the way of strong, single, unattractive heroines. If you’re a reader, it’s ridiculously easy to become persuaded that only attractive people matter—that they’re the only ones who get to have stories. Unattractive people are relegated to the sidelines. And a single woman, well, she’s just a problem to be solved. Elizabeth Bennet is witty and charming and attractive, so she gets a (fantastic) book and ends up with one of the Catches of All Time. Juliet’s story doesn’t end well, it’s true, but it’s highly regarded as a romantic classic—and she was no dog. Wuthering Heights, Anna Karenina, Madame Bovary, Emma …these are stories about attractive women. Then there’s Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty (it’s right there in the name), Snow White … even biblical matriarchs, such as they are, skew hot—look at Sarah, Rachel, and Rebecca. Sure, Jane Eyre is no looker (and I love her for that), but even she winds up paired up with the gruff Mr. Rochester. And the unfortunate Leah, though unloved, still gets married. Only tragedies end with single heroines still single. Happily-ever-afters require marriage (or at least romance). [...]

But in the face of countless, gorgeous Disney princesses and their (admittedly dull-as-toast) Prince Charmings, it is crazy easy to believe that if you are not a) a knockout, and b) married, then you either don’t get a story, or your story is incomplete until you acquire both these things. You are incomplete until you acquire both these things.

Which is why I love The Woman in White’s Marian.

Full review available here.

The Mummy (1932)

***

An excerpt of a review recently posted on Schaeffer's Ghost:

The narrative here, like that of many monster stories, is at its heart a romantic one: Once upon a time, Priest Imhotep loved Princess Ankh-es-en-amon. When death separated them, Imhotep was so desperate to be with her again that he acted in deliberate rebellion against the gods he previously served by stealing the Scroll of Thoth in order to bring Ankh-es-en-amon back to life so they could be together. He chose human love over faith. 

Imhotep was caught in the act and, as punishment for his transgression, he was buried alive in complete mummy regalia. Now, having been accidentally resurrected by the nitwitted archaeologist’s assistant, Imhotep picks up where he left off, searching for his long lost love, whose soul apparently resides in her modern day ancestor, the young Helen Grosvenor. Along the way, Imhotep is perfectly willing to kill anyone who gets in his way. His ‘love’ for Ankh-es-en-amon results in disrespect—and violence—toward others. 

Then, it turns out that the final step in his long-planned reunion with Ankh-es-en-amon is Helen’s death—only by killing the body where the soul of Ankh-es-en-amon dwells can she be freed to be with Imhotep forever. This plan doesn’t seem to go over too well with Helen (or, it is implied, Ankh-es-en-amon), but that doesn’t stop Imhotep. What she wants doesn’t matter. His ‘love’ for Ankh-es-en-amon overrides all other considerations. He ‘loves’ her so much that he is willing to kill her—against her will—to be with her.

Full review available here.

The Sacred Search: What If It's Not About Who You Marry, But Why?, by Gary Thomas

****

An excerpt of a review recently posted on Schaeffer's Ghost:

I’ve read a lot of marriage books. Not all of them, mind you, or even most of them. But as someone who tends to believe that there is no obstacle you can’t study your way over and no problem you can’t think your way out of, I have devoured marriage books like a chubby kid eats cookies the day before fat camp. The results of this literary quest have been middlin’ at best. There have been some winners, to be sure, but I’ve been disappointed far more often than I’ve been impressed. I’ve managed to avoid many of the less- sound books (theologically speaking), but even the ‘good’ ones tend to be poorly written, overly chummy in tone, or downright unsettling. (Also, it turns out that reading books on marriage, even good books on marriage, doesn’t necessarily make you awesome at being married. Apparently there’s more to it than just reading.) 

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Gary Thomas is not only a decent writer (would that more Christian authors could make such a claim!), but also that his theology of marriage and the resulting advice were quite solid.

Full review available here.

The Top Shelf: Best Reads of 2012 Edition

As 2012 draws to a close, the interwebs are flooded with year-end lists: the best-dressed, the worst-dressed, the best and worst movies, the most memorable moments, etc. I am not in a position to offer an opinion on the best books of 2012, since I don't keep up with the latest publications, but I did make my own list--the best books I read in 2012, broken up by genre--which was recently posted on Schaeffer's Ghost. Here's an excerpt:

Best Romance: A Long Fatal Love Chase, by Louisa May Alcott 

Did you know that Louisa May Alcott, she of the quaintly wholesome Little Women, also wrote insanely outlandish romance novels? Well, she did, and they are awesome. A Long Fatal Love Chase is full of improbably named villains with nefarious intentions and a lovely heroine whose flight from said villain takes her from yacht to convent to mental institution, through an assortment of disguises, forbidden love, and daring escapes. In short, it is flat out bonkers, and I loved every minute of it. 

Honorable Mention: A Modern Mephistopheles, by Louisa May Alcott

Full post available here.

Cloud Atlas (2012)

****

An excerpt of a review recently posted on Schaeffer's Ghost:

For the Wachowkis, the unifying theme of the stories is a sense of community and human connectedness. I was struck, however, by the portrayal of injustice as a universal experience. In each story, an injustice is being committed, and in each story, the characters involved must decide how to respond to that injustice. Some characters choose selfishness; others engage with circumstances in an attempt to bring about justice. So the fabricant/clone, when confronted with the horrible fate inflicted en masse on others like herself, chooses to take a stand in defense of those whom society as deemed ‘less than human’ and thus undeserving of basic human rights, or even life itself. This decision proves costly, yet the film clearly embraces the sacrifice of self for the pursuit of justice as honorable and right. This idea of self-sacrifice for the sake of justice recurs across several story lines—a young lawyer helps an escaped slave; a freedom fighter saves a helpless girl; a man risks his life to help the daughter of a friend; a woman risks her life for truth and to save thousands, perhaps millions; and a man undertakes a dangerous journey in exchange for a cure for a sick girl. In two of the story lines, this theme is rather muddled, as the victim and the savior are the same person, and, in one story, the perceived solution to the injustice is apparently self-salvation through suicide. 

Regardless of whether we agree with the means used to combat injustice—or even with the filmmakers’ characterization of certain events and actions as unjust—this experience of injustice makes an excellent theme, for it is common to all. If there is any universal constant in a fallen world, it is injustice.

Full review available here.

The Unknown Ajax, by Georgette Heyer

****

Things have come to a pretty pass at Darracott Place. Following the unexpected death of Lord Darracott's eldest son and grandson in 1817, the family is horrified to learn that the title and the (admittedly ill-funded and rather run-down) estate will pass to a previously unknown cousin, Hugo--a Darracott, in a manner of speaking, but also a former soldier, and the son of a Yorkshire weaver's daughter. Still, Lord Darracott hasn't given up completely. He's counting on his spinster granddaughter Anthea (she is twenty-two, after all) to teach the commoner a thing or too ... and if the low-born imbecile can be bullied into marrying her, thereby preserving some measure of the Darracott line, so much the better. But when the rather enormous Hugo (hence the Ajax reference) arrives on the scene, the family doesn't know what to make of him. He is unfailingly good-natured and amiable in the face of his cousin Vincent's cutting remarks, and he genially resists his cousin Claud's attempts to improve his fashion and eradicate his appalling Yorkshire dialect (much to the chagrin of both). But there may be more to the seemingly stolid Hugo than meets the eye. Meanwhile, the local Riding Officer is closing in on a band of smugglers, and he suspects some of the local gentry may be aiding and abetting their activities. Lord Darracott, outraged by the extortionate tax rates, is certainly sympathetic to the smugglers. But Hugo suspects that young Richmond--Anthea's brother, whose desire to join the army has been repeatedly thwarted by his grandfather--may be doing more than just sympathizing. Will the Darracott heir be able to win Anthea's heart and save the family from ruin?

In other words, it's a sort of Downton Abbey redux. Except this was published in 1959, so I guess that makes Downton Abbey an Unknown Ajax redux. (The commoner-becomes-heir part, not the smuggling part.)

Why Shoot a Butler?, by Georgette Heyer

****

Dawson, the Fountain family butler, is dead. He was sitting in his car, on the side of the road, at night, and someone shot him. But who? What of the exceedingly uncooperative (and rather rude) Miss Brown, who keeps popping up in the strangest places? Could she be the culprit? What about her perpetually drunk brother Mark? Or the creepy Fountain valet with a nasty habit of listening at keyholes? And why? Was it just bandits, or is there a more sinister force at work? The police are stymied. Fortunately, young barrister Frank Amberley is in town to visit his family, and the police quickly enlist his assistance. But Frank isn't entirely sure he wants to help the police just yet. He is convinced that there's more to this mess than meets the eye--that the murder is, in fact, the least interesting part of the mystery. But before long, there's another death, and Frank must get to the bottom of it all before anyone else meets an untimely end.

Real Marriage: The Truth About Sex, Friendship, and Life Together, by Mark & Grace Driscoll

**

A day late and a dollar short is better than never, right?

Mark Driscoll, the shock jock of the Reformed world, waded into the marriage book fray earlier this year with Real Marriage, which is essentially his sermon series on the Song of Solomon distilled into book form. And not distilled all that well, honestly. I suspect many interns were involved, which may explain the rather scattered and disjointed feel of the book.

But let's be honest: Average-to-below-average writing is not exactly unheard of in the evangelical (or even the Reformed) world. And Driscoll's a preacher, not a writer. So let's cut him some slack on the presentation and dive into the substance.

The pros of this book, at least according to the many, many reviews I've seen, are twofold: 1) Driscoll sticks to his complementarian (albeit hyper-masculine) guns, and 2) he addresses the (heretofore largely unexplored) relationship between friendship and marriage. Fair enough, I guess.

No Wind of Blame, by Georgette Heyer

***

Wally Carter is a jerk. He cheats on his wealthy wife Ermyntrude, squanders her money on shady schemes, and even asks her to pay off his pregnant girlfriend (and then moans about how much it sucks for him that he's so broke he has to ask for her help with said blackmail). He's ill-tempered, greedy, and lecherous. He's an indifferent guardian to his adult ward (and heir) Mary, and completely uninterested in his stepdaughter Vicky, a young would-be actress with a penchant for making scenes and a fierce desire to protect her foolish mother from harm. In fact, pretty much the only person he gets along with is his ne'er-do-well neighbor/distant cousin Harold. So when Wally winds up dead, it's a bit of a mystery who did it--after all, there are so many choices! Was it his wronged wife, Ermyntrude? The strong, silent farmer (aptly named Steel) who dotes on her and hates to see her treated so poorly? The impoverished Russian prince who's been staying with the family and making eyes at the wealthy Ermyntrude? Or someone else altogether? When the local constable is at a loss to makes heads or tails of the matter, it becomes clear that this is a  case for Scotland Yard . . . and the delightful (and insightful) Inspector Hemingway.

As with many Heyer mysteries, the murder takes place at a country manor, and the list of suspects includes pretty much everyone staying in the house, along with a few interested neighbors.  The solution is, perhaps, a bit more convoluted than is strictly necessary, but it's still a fun story.

Duplicate Death, by Georgette Heyer

***

Murder! At a bridge party, no less! The cast of characters includes a barrister, a Lady, a secretary, a spoiled debutante, a Communist, a businessman, a ballet aficionado, a wealthy widow/parvenu, and a charming gentleman with no visible means of support. When one of them winds up strangled at during an evening of duplicate bridge, it's up to the brusque-but-intelligent Inspector Hemingway (with an assist from his Scottish assistant Grant) to figure out who done it!

Man, I forgot how fun Georgette Heyer books are!

What Did You Expect?: Redeeming the Realities of Marriage, by Paul David Tripp

****

Counselor and pastor Paul David Tripp provides gospel-focused counsel for married couples and encourages them to adjust their expectations of marriage based on the reality of sin and the glorious message of the gospel, which marriage was designed to represent.

This is quite possibly the best marriage book I have read to date (though I have not yet read Tim Keller's much-lauded The Meaning of Marriage).  Where other books bog themselves down in chummy language and depressing exhortations to physical intimacy, Tripp zeroes in on the heart of the matter:  we are sinful, selfish people, and our relationships are profoundly affected by our sin.  Certainly this selfishness can work itself out in a number of contexts--laziness, a refusal to do chores, hurtful words, poor communication, lack of encouragement, nagging, decreased sexual intimacy, packed schedules, impatience, and even infidelity, just to name a few--but the root issues are remarkably similar.  Tripp walks the reader through a series of commitments that will help protect your marriage and will better image Christ's union with His church.  And these are not "have date night once a week" commitments--they go a lot deeper.  Here's the list:

A Modern Mephistopheles, by Louisa May Alcott

***

Struggling poet/author Felix Canaris is willing to do just about anything to make a name for himself. Also, he's flat broke. So when the wealthy and intimidating Jasper Helwyze comes knocking with a tantalizing offer, Felix doesn't even think twice before trading away his freedom for the fame and comfort he's always wanted. Felix soon chafes under Jasper's dominion, and when the old man's machinations lead him to order Felix to woo and marry the naive and innocent young Gladys, Felix balks. But Felix is reluctant to give up the acclaim and prosperity resulting from Jasper's patronage, and it's not long before Jasper gets his way. Jasper then amuses himself by sending his former lover Olivia to distract the vain and handsome Felix while Jasper occupies himself with the intellectual seduction of the virtuous Gladys. Felix has to decide just how much fame means to him, and exactly how much he's willing to give up to get it. Shenanigans ensue.

Like A Long Fatal Love Chase, this is another of Louisa May Alcott's dark and lurid romances. While the story is not nearly as outlandish as A Long Fatal Love Chase (nary a convent nor an asylum to be found, let alone a secret duke or a besotted priest), it is decidedly more psychologically (and spiritually) complex. (Both books are good, but my love for ridiculous, over-the-top adventure led me to give A Long Fatal Love Chase an additional star. That book is bonkers.)

A Long Fatal Love Chase, by Louisa May Alcott

****

Young, beautiful Rosamund Vivian longs for adventure after years of being cooped up in a dreary house with her cantankerous and unaffectionate grandfather.  So when the handsome and mysterious Philip Tempest pays them a visit, she is fascinated by his stories of adventure and his allusions to a dark past.  Before she knows it, she's been swept away on his yacht, off to an exciting new life of romantic travels to exotic locales.  However, it is not long before Rosamond discovers that her new love is not all he seems.  She discovers, to her horror, that their marriage is a sham, and Philip is already married to another woman.  In he shame, Rosamund tries to flee, but the deceitful Philip is not ready to let her go.  From mountain monastery to secluded asylum, through France, Italy, Germany, and England, Rosamund wrestles with her own conflicting emotions as she tries to escape the clever and controlling Philip, but he is always close on her heels, and utterly unscrupulous in his pursuit of the woman he claims to love.  Will Rosamund ever be truly free of this monster she once loved?

Apparently Alcott, best known for her more realistic novels involving the March sisters (Little Women, Little Men, Jo's Boys, etc.), also penned several outlandish adventure romances, including this little gem.  Originally--and deliciously--entitled A Modern Mephistopheles, this book was ultimately rejected by publishers as being 'too sensational', even after Alcott tried to 'tone it down' and make it more palatable.  It languished in unpublished obscurity until the headmaster of a New Hampshire school got his hands on the original sensational version and was able to finally get it published.  And thank goodness for that.

The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country, by Cindy Woodsmall

**

Things have been tense in the Martin household.  Nineteen-year-old Annie tries to ignore her brothers' antics, but there's no denying that their drinking and swearing and gambling is a far cry from appropriate behavior for Old Order Mennonites.  When her mother sends her off to stay with her grandfather in Apple Ridge, Pennsylvania, she's relieved to get away from all the fighting.  But Apple Ridge brings its own challenges, as Annie is reminded of her affection for quiet, stuttering Aden Zook.  As a young girl, she'd admired him; as a grown woman, she realizes he's everything she's looking for in a man.  And Aden seems equally taken with her.  There's only one problem: he's Old Order Amish, and the two are forbidden to intermarry, or even court.  With Annie's grandfather threatening to put the Zook family diner out of business, and Aden's crippled brother doing everything he can to tear them apart, will Annie and Aden ever find a way to be together?  Can they overcome the obstacles in their way?  Should they?

This books marks my first foray into the growing genre of Amish fiction.  And I have to say, I suspect it may not be the genre for me.

Warped, by Maurissa Guibord

***

An excerpt from a new review posted on Children's Books and Reviews:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that little (and not-so-little) girls love unicorns. In fact, the only thing little girls like more than a unicorn is a handsome young prince with a slight streak of arrogance but also, when push comes to shove, a good heart. 

This story has both. Ok, yes, Will [...] is technically the son of an earl, but let’s be honest: any title of nobility will work in a pinch. He’s occasionally brusque, and haughty, and understandably old-fashioned in his ideas, but he’s also brave and strong and daring and did I mention handsome? That Tessa starts to fall in love with him will come as a surprise to precisely no one. [...]

All of this adds up to a fun and frothy fairy tale romance with plenty of danger and action and relational angst along the way—perfect for the not-so-little girl and the little girl that, more often than not, still lives inside her.

Full review available here.

The Philadelphia Story (1940)

****

I grew up watching this movie, and have loved it for as long as I can remember.  And not just because I have a serious soft spot for Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart (the latter of whom was awarded an Oscar for his performance in this film).  Rather, I suspect my affection for this film is rooted in its crisp dialogue and zippy one liners.  While Hepburn, Grant, and Stewart are the obvious heavy-hitters, the supporting cast turned in solid performances and earned a lot of laughs in their own right--most notably Ruth Hussey (who garnered an Oscar nomination), Roland Young, and Virginia Weidler.

Dead Reckoning, by Charlaine Harris

**

~~SPOILER ALERT~~

Another chaotic and disorganized assortment of plotlines--including a fair amount of recycled material and a rather depressing lack of character continuity.  Someone named Pelt is trying to kill Sookie!  Again!  The portal to Faery that Niall closed in Dead and Gone isn't really closed!  Eric's boss continues to be a threat!  Eric continues to be lame!  Sookie's telepathic nephew Hunter makes a brief appearance for no discernible reason! Tara is having twins! Sookie, having apparently forgotten her previous discussions with Niall in From Dead to Worse, "discovers" that her grandmother cheated on her grandfather with a half-fairy!  Sookie also discovers a magic compact that grants wishes!  Eric's dead maker promised him as husband to the vampire queen of Oklahoma!  Sookie breaks the blood bond with Eric--will she still love him (and vice versa)?  Alcide tries to seduce Sookie (again)!  Faeries are gathering for unspecified reasons!  Everyone has the hots for Sookie!  There are no unattractive people in Bon Temps, Monroe, or Shreveport!  (Unless you count members of the police force.)  Bubba is back! 

In addition to all the plot noise, there are some disturbingly uncharacteristic moments.  After breaking the blood bond with Eric, everyone goes on and on about how important it is that no one be told about it, because Sookie is much more vulnerable without the bond alerting Eric to any threats.  Not that this stops Amelia--who knows what's the what from their previous adventures--from running off to a werewolf bar to tell Alcide that Sookie is up for grabs and then bringing him back to Sookie's house (!) and letting him into her bedroom (!!) where he undresses (!!!), gets into her bed (!!!!), and hamhandedly tries to seduce her.  Sookie is of course incensed, and proceeds to (rightly) rake down all involved in this ridiculous and inappropriate situation.  However, her admonishment to Amelia--who just blabbed her newly vulnerable state to God only knows how many people--is based only on her "interference" with and "manipulation" of Sookie's love life.  There is no mention of the huge danger resulting from Amelia's carelessness.  That whole sequence was just beyond implausible.  And the idea that it was all part of Jannalyn's plot to "get" Sookie by . . . well, it's not exactly clear how this affect Sookie other than by annoying her.  As plots go, it's rather ineffective and nonsensical.  Much like this book.

Jane Eyre (2006)

****

Sooooo much better than the 2011 film version.  Here, the viewers are permitted to see Jane's thought life--to see that she even has a thought life.  She has intelligence, imagination, courage, self-confidence, curiosity, and passion--qualities kept well-hidden in the newest adaptation.  She reads books about exotic places, and delights in hearing Rochester's descriptions of his travels.   The two actually seem to enjoy one another's company, which makes their romance much more believable.  We get to see Jane's reaction to this her first real adult friend--we see her delight in his company and her turmoil when he dances attendance on another.  We see Jane truly engage with Rochester and stand up to him as few have done.  We see her absorb and react to unusual and frightening circumstances with calm efficiency.  And we get to see the strength of her resolve and her deep desire to act rightly in any given situation.

As a result, we are not completely surprised to discover that Rochester has fallen in love with her.  Speaking of Rochester, he is less the swooning poet of the film version and more the brusque grouch of the novel.  He is still a bit too attractive and effeminate to be the "perfect" Rochester, but he is undoubtedly a vast improvement.