Tagged: christian
The New Oxford Annotated Apocrypha
The New Oxford Annotated Apocrypha (NRSV 5th ed.), edited by Michael D. Coogan, 5/5
The Apocrypha is one of those literary works that is impossible to approach without some pre-conceived expectation, since the very name is steeped in mystery. Raised Christian, I cannot remember ever being explicitly told to avoid these noncanonical ancient writings, however they were not included in my Bible and I had a vague conception of them as useless at best, and untrustworthy at worst. At some point in my spiritual meandering, I started to suspect that the Bible may have been compiled by a bunch of card-carrying HOA Karens and maybe the Apocrypha was simply too fun and awesome to be included. At any rate, I expected to encounter bizarre prophecies, entertaining stories about Jesus as a child, and lots of enticing, controversial ideas.
Not for the first time, my preconceptions turned out to be wildly inaccurate. I was surprised to find that most of these ancient writings fit pretty clearly and uncontroversially into the categories of history, storytelling, or praise, and, while I enjoyed reading these works, the Bible feels complete to me without them. My favorite book was Sirach, with its deeply relatable and often snarky proverbs. There were a couple quotes that I wished were in the Bible, but it was clear from context that Ben Sira had a lot of his own ideas and issues to work through. Overall, I found the Apocrypha to be a fascinating and occasionally inspiring collection of historical writings, regardless of any Biblical associations.
Why I read it: My husband was listening to the Book of Enoch and it sounded so wild that I wanted to check it out for myself. I just assumed it was in the Apocrypha and didn’t realize it wasn’t until I was about 80% done. Next stop–pseudepigrapha, I guess.
The Hidden Hand
The Hidden Hand by Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth, 3/5
I was annoyed to realize, after finishing this novel, that I had already read and reviewed it fourteen years ago! Interestingly, I felt pretty much the same about it this time around as I did before. However, this vintage edition was more pleasant than the previous one and did not contain so many italics. There was still an unusual (one might say, excessive) amount of exclamation points, but they did not rankle like before. Perhaps I am mellowing grammatically as the years go by.
Why I read it: a recommendation and loan from my sister.
Scary Close
Scary Close: Dropping the Act and Finding True Intimacy by Donald Miller, 3/5
Miller is an entertaining writer, but not a very convincing psychologist. While it is fun to read the story of how he developed a healthier approach to relationships and gradually found love at a relatively late age, I felt like he spent a lot of time answering easy questions I didn’t have while skirting around the most important, mysterious, confusing aspects of the topic. He claims to want to teach that “love is worth what it costs,” but the focus of the book is much more on how to pay the cost than the worth. For me, the real question isn’t what caused his previous relationships to fail and his current one to succeed (that is fairly obvious–turns out that authenticity and vulnerability make a better foundation than insecurity and manipulation), the big question is why did he suddenly feel compelled to make it work with someone in particular? Now that I’m thinking about it, this is the exact issue I had with the previous book on relationships I read. Perhaps one day, I’ll find a book that focuses on the why, not the how, but until then I guess I’ll just hope they are as entertaining as this one.
Why I read it: a family member recommended it to me.
The Book of Hours
The Book of Hours by Davis Bunn, 2/5
I don’t think I’d ever read a “Christian romance” before, but now I feel as if I’ve read every single one ever written. Almost everything about this book was cliched, from the handsome widower trying to escape his grief to the beautiful and independent female doctor who develops an immediate (and spoiler temporary) disliking for him. To be fair, the archetypes were intrinsically appealing, it was a lot less preachy than could be expected, and there were even some artistic touches: an insightful sentiment here and there, or a deft description. But ultimately, nothing could compensate for deficiencies of plot and characterization, which were contrived, worn-out and predictable all around. The plot was especially lame–a Nancy Drew take on National Treasure with some “Touched by an Angel” thrown in; however, as an antidote to my last read, Kafka, it was not entirely unwelcome.
[Why I read it: my brother’s mother-in-law thought I might enjoy it and thoughtfully gave me a copy. There was no dust cover, so I thought it was historical fiction…]
OmniRambles 