Fools Rush In

Have you ever heard the saying, "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread"? Did you realize that this idiom is based on Scripture. No lie. Chan titles his first chapter in Crazy Love "Stop Praying." Are you confused? So was I, but that phrase makes a statement that entices the reader to well, read further. So I did. By the second sentence I realize that Chan was admonishing me to stop praying at God. My God is holy & awesome--why do I dare to foolishly barge in where even the angels cover their faces?

After sharing a stunning presentation of how infinitely vast our universe is, Chan asks why God created such an infinite place that His masterpiece creation (that's you & I) can never truly grasp. "Do you think maybe it was to make us say, "Wow, God is unfathombly big"? Or perhaps God wanted us to see thes pictures so that our response would be, "Who do I think I am?" (26). Give you a hint, go with the second choice. Who am I compared to a God that can hold the entire univers in the palm of His hand? (Psalm 8:3-4) Go ahead, look at the palm of your hand; infinite time and space fits in the space between God's thumb & pinkie finger. And I'll bet He has room enough to spare.

As if that picture of God doesn't blow your mind, Chan reminds us how creative our God is. Every snowflake is infinitely unique to the others it accompanies to the earth. God knows every hair on my head & has a special name for every star in the sky. The illustration that got me? "God didn't have to creat so many kinds of laughter. Think about the different sounds of your friend's laughts--wheezes, snorts, silent, loud obnoxious" (27). Anyone who knows me knows that my laugh (or laughs) definetly showcase God's extensive creativity! Mankind is God's masterpiece. (Psalm 139) He created us to glorify Himself. The problem is, we forget.

Chan closes the chapter by giving short explainations of a few of God's characteristics: God is holy, eternal, all-knowing (omniscient), all-powerful (omnipotent), fair, & just (30-34). Chan takes us directly into God's throne room when he references Revelation 4 & Isaiah 6. John & Isaiah saw God & lived. Does that mean anything to you?

As I finished the chapter & answered some rather soul-searching questions in  the workbook I realized something. I've been a fool. All too often I've rushed into the throne room of God, not caring about who He is or being affected by His awesome power, no, I ran in head & hands uplifted expecting God to give me what I wanted. Sad.

Before you leave this post & set out to complete your TO DO list for today, I ask that you take 15 minutes to watch the video below. Just sit back & think about the God who not only created you, but also loved you enough "to give Himself a ransom for many" (Matthew 20:28; Mark 10:45).

Crazy Love: Preface

Chan, like any great author, grabbed my attention with the first line of his text. And he can't truly take the credit. Chan introduces the thesis of his book with a quote made by Francois Fenelon in The Seeking Heart, "To just read the Bible, attend church, & avoid "big" sins--is this passionate, wholehearted love for God?" Great question--a question that drives home: is my love for God defined by such temporal things & limited to ministry without purpose?

Chan continues his presentation by reading my mind. Literally. He voices the thoughts & concerns I've had for years. The Americanized Christianity that I witness everyday can't be the same faith that the disciples & early church gave their lives for. We modern Christians are faithless & selfish beings. Somewhere in the last two millennia, we've lost focus & crammed a mighty, infinite God into a genie bottle that we pull out on weekends or during tough times.

New York Times' bestseller list tells me that Chan hit the nail on the head when he wrote Crazy Love, but somehow I feel that God led Chan to write this book just for me. I do "want more Jesus." I am bored with selfish, American Christianity. I don't want to plateau & I do believe I would die before I forsake my God-given convictions (21). If New York Times is right & Chan's book is what our society needs, then why haven't we seen a radical change since the book was published in 2008? Because we have yet to truly start Living Crazy Love.

Chan states that "The core problem isn't the fact that we're lukewarm, halfhearted, or stagnant Christians. The crux of it all is why we are this way, & it is because we have an inaccurate view of God" (22). Did you catch that? While we can be classified as halfhearted, lukewarm, stagnant Christians, we don't need more vitality, zeal, & commotion. We do need a proper view of God. Chan isn't saying that Christians aren't falling into those categories (at least, I don't think he is), he is pointing out the root problem of those characteristics: an improper view of Christ. And I agree. And yet, I am guilty.  Remember, "God never had an identity crisis. He knows that He's great & deserves to be the center of our lives. . . . He commands everything from His followers" (22). Christ didn't save me because I was going to be some great benefit to his plan, but the mentality that God needs me is exactly the mindset that has gotten American Christianity where it is today: nowhere.

You & I have a choice to make & I can't say it any better than Chan. Our choice is "to adjust how you live daily or to stay the same" (23). For me, staying the same just isn't an option. What about you?

Crazy Love

For the past year or so I've heard people rave about Crazy Love by Francis Chan. As one who is generally cautious about any book I read, I am especially cautious when selecting a book about my Christian walk. I stick with the authors I know: Eric & Leslie Ludy, Elizabeth George, Joni Eareckson Tada, Max & Jenna Lucado, Joshua Harris, & Cary Schmidt (to name a few). Even this short list was based on recommendations from trusted family & friends. So, I have to admit that when I saw that New York Times had listed Crazy Love as a bestseller, red flags went up & I became more cautious than ever. I mean, Times isn't exactly known for its God-centered point of view.

But Crazy Love kept popping up. After recommendations from several trusted friends, I finally caved to the peer pressure & told Mom I'd be interested in reading Chan's 2008 publication. Guess what I unwrapped Christmas morning? Crazy Love & Living Crazy Love by Francis Chan.

Throughout the next several posts (as long as I can stay on top of reading & posting to you) I'll be discussing what I am learning about being "overwhelmed by a relentless God." It's time to pick up your own copy of Crazy Love & read on.

The Name of This Post is Secret

I can't tell you the plot of this story, not because I signed a contract or made a pinkie promise, but because I would ruin the intrigue that Pseudonymous Bosch (& yes, that's a pseudonymn for his real name) has set up with his title: The Name of This Book is Secret.

Pseudonymous Bosch would encourage you not to read this book. He warns you (& me) that secrets are dangerous things. However, in my case, . . . "curiosity killed the cat." Not that I'm a cat. In fact, I generally dislike cats. Kittens are okay, but I can't stand those diablos called cats (this dislike can generally be blamed on my aunt's cat that bites my achilles for no apparent reason).  

As I said, before I was distracted by the subject of cats, I'm a curious individual so I did read The Name of This Book is Secrect. And, I have the audacity to recommend that you read it as well.

I know you'll enjoy meeting Cass & Max-Ernest, but I can't tell you why.
I know you'll be wrapped up in the mystery, but again, I can't tell you why.
I know you'll enjoy Pseudonymous Bosch's unique voice. I can't tell you why because . . . well, you'll figure it out.

You should read The Name of This Book is Secret.

Why? Because you can't stand not knowing what the secret is. 

Forsaking All

After reading five fictional books in four weeks, I was ready to take on something a little more serious and life changing. Since I first read Authentic Beauty in the summer of 2007, I have been captivated and encouraged by Leslie Ludy. Her books motivate me to become more like Christ each day, making Him not just prominent, but preeminent in my life.

My latest Ludy purchase, Sacred Singleness, is my current summer read. While Ludy's book is shorter than every book I read last month, I know Sacred Singleness will take me more time to read. Why? There's more to digest because God is sure to work on my heart--and I admit that I may not be completely willing to change.

The book begins with a reminder that in order to become more like Christ, I must be willing to forsake all--even the one thing society believes every girl dreams of: marriage. Ludy notes that "Our fulfillment cannot be found in marriage, children, or fairy-tale dreams come true. Until He is our all in all, we aren't truly living the Gospel life" (16).

Like so many Christian young ladies, I have struggled with this "curse" of singleness . . . but (as Ludy points out) singleness is not a curse, it is a gift! I can minister to the Lord as a single person in ways that I could never minister if I were married right now. Truly, as the song says, "Jesus Christ is made to me all I need."


So, am I completely content in Christ 100% of the time? Of course not! In fact, there are even times while reading Sacred Singleness that I want to throw the book down and complain that "Leslie just doesn't understand . . . after all, she's married!" But I know the true cause of my frustration: God want to change me--He wants me to be content in Him, but I'm still struggling to give Him every area He asks for. 


The Lord used Leslie Ludy to slap me in the face. Total surrender--"forsaking all"--isn't a cake walk. In fact, God tells us that walking in His steps will be hard. Elisabeth Elliot hit the nail on the head when she wrote that "None of us likes pain. All of us wish at times we did not need to 'go through all this stuff.' Let us settle it once and for all: we cannot know Christ and the power of His resurrection without the fellowship of His suffering" (20). Complete commitment to Christ requires sacrifice. God doesn't say what the sacrifice will be, but He does command that we willingly lay aside everything to follow His will.


So far, I'm loving Sacred Singleness, even if I do have a hard time swallowing the truths Ludy presents. My God wants to change me and I must be willing to forsake all.

Summer Reading

Can you believe that summer is here? Summer is a wonderful time to work on that tan (or, as is my case, accumulate more freckles), work around the house, raise money for next semester's college bill, and, of course do some summer reading!

I love summer vacation because I can finally read the books I want to read without being distracted by completing 18 credits worth of course work. As soon as finals week began in late April, I began compiling my summer reading list and got started on reading. 

All the books I have read in the month since returning home from college I happily recommend to you. I warn you that I've been on an adolescent literature kick, but I'm sure you'll enjoy them as much as I did.

May's Must-Reads

• A Swiftly Tilting Planet (L'Engle): This is the third book in L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time series. The book stretches the imagination as the reader travels with Charles Wallace through space and time. If you enjoy science fiction, this is a must read (of course, I recommend that you read the other novels in the series as well).
• The Throne of Fire (Riordan): If you don't know me very well, I should warn you that I have become quite obsessed with all three of Riordan's young adult series: Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, and the Kane Chronicles. The Throne of Fire is Riordan's newest release and the second book in the Kane Chronicles. Before you pick up The Throne of Fire, make sure you read The Red Pyramid. Riordian uses these series to lay a foundation of Greek, Roman, and Egyptian mythology for adolescent and mature readers alike. I warn you, these you may become addicted to reading, but don't worry, the second installment of the Heroes of Olympus is due to release in October.
• Fairest (Levine): Have you ever heard of Ella Enchanted (if you've only watched the movie, you are missing out on the majority of Ella's struggle with her curse)? Well, Fairest is another great retelling of a classic fairy tale (I won't tell you which one, you'll have to discover that for yourself). Levine does a wonderful job telling an old story in a new way. If you got a few hours, pick up Fairest and get lost in the beauty of music.
• And Then There Were None (Christie): Once known as Ten Little Indians this book is a fantastic thriller mystery (which isn't too surprising). Get wrapped up in the mystery--pick up the book at Barnes & Noble for around $13.
• The Phantom of the Opera (Leroux): Andrew Lloyd Webber did not do this classic mystery justice. Leroux proves his creative and deductive genius when he supposedly retells the story of Paris' opera phantom. To get a proper understanding of the book, don't skip the introduction or epilogue--the back story will blow your mind. You can follow Christine, Raoul, and the Phantom through the opera by downloading the book for free through websites like Project Gutenberg or by downloading it to your nookcolor (nook or kindle) for around $1.

Archaic Junior Highers

Junior high love—who isn’t both touched (and a little creeped out) by those innocent, intimate crushes? But we all know that junior high crushes do not just take place in adolescence—anyone can experience this awkward love at anytime of life. Norris makes this clear when he introduces the sweet, awkward relationship of Old Grannis and Miss Baker.

Old Grannis is, well, and old gentleman who runs a veterinary hospital. He is quiet and keeps to himself, binding old books and pamphlets in the evenings to keep himself busy.

Miss Baker is the petite retired seamstress who lives next door to Old Grannis on the flat. She spends her days caring for and talking with her friends. In the evenings, she rests in her rocking chair with a cup of tea.

Maria is convinced the two are in love. And yet, the two have never met! They have never spoken a word to each other. But both leave their doors open just a crack as he binds pamphlets and she sips on tea. They are “keeping company”—they are archaic junior higher in the midst of an overwhelming crush.

In the midst of a dark, cynical, evolutionistic tale, Norris includes a ray of sunshine—a breath of fresh air. The reader cannot help but giggle (or at least smirk) when Old Grannis and Miss Baker meet for the first time. Can’t you feel their uneasiness as Marcus flamboyantly introduces them? Your breath catches when Miss Baker unwittingly turns to Old Grannis at the McTeagues’ wedding and says, “Don’t you just love children?” You blush with the dear lady as she becomes overwhelmed with the “impropriety of the situation.

But then, they meet. On the stairs. All alone. Will this be it? Will they finally speak to each other? NOPE. In fact, both become so nervous that Old Grannis knocks the little seamstress’s grocery basket right out of her hands. Lettuce and produce fly through the air and tumble to the bottom of the stairs. Who will save the situation? (dun-duh-dah!) MARCUS TO THE RESCUE!

As the situation with the McTeagues worsens, hope seems to flee the story. More than once I wanted to put the book down and let it gather dust. Then Norris let the junior high crush blossom to its full potential.

One evening, after selling his binding machine for a great deal of money, we discover Old Grannis sitting alone in his room with nothing to do. Poor dear man! He feels he has sold his happiness for money and he was disgusted with himself. He listened as Miss Baker made herself tea and rocked in her chair.

But then, something changes. Rather than making just one cup of tea and sitting in her chair so close to him for the rest of the evening, Miss Baker acts outside of character. With boldness she can’t explain, she makes two cups of tea and . . . and brings the tray over to Old Grannis. Once she has offered the tea (and he responds with silence) her courage expires and she begins to retreat to the safety of her room.

Then Old Grannis speaks.

For the rest of the evening those two archaic junior highers “keep company” with each other. In the same room. Holding hands.

(549)

Gold Fever

Maria is crazy. No one really needs to be convinced of that—they woman introduces herself with the phrase, “I had a flying squirrel, but it ran away.” Really? How nuts (pardon the pun) can you be?

But that’s not the only thing that makes the maid-of-all-work crazy. No, there is something worse. She claims that when she was growing up in South America her family owned a set of golden dishes. Not golden plated dishes, but solid golden dishes. See? The woman is completely off her rocker.

Once a month, Maria collects junk to sell to the junk man Zerkow. And at each meeting Zerkow offers Maria alcohol and has her tell the story of the golden dishes---over, and over, and over again. Soon, the pathetic, grimy weasel is consumed with Maria’s story. He is crazier than she is—he believes her story is true! For a man of his passions, this can only have a horrible ending.

Maria and Zerkow are married and the situation goes from bad to worse (told ‘ya so). After delivering a still-born child, Maria really loses it. Actually, she just loses it—the story of the golden plates. She denies ever telling anyone about the golden plates and tells everyone they’re crazy themselves. Zerkow, who only married the woman in hopes that she would lead him to the vast fortune, becomes enraged. Greed consumes him. He watches his wife’s every move and accuses her of hiding the immense treasure from him.

The obsession drives him to the edge.

In cold-blooded desperation, Zerkow cuts his wife’s throat, ending any hope he had in finding the elusive golden dishes. With the treasure gone, Zerkow vainly tries to collect whatever he can—tin and brass pots and dishes. Search is made for the heinous murderer. And they find him—floating in the river with a bag of useless dishes in his hands.

Gold fever—it’ll kill you.

(322)

Trina's Hoard

A hoard is a horrible thing. The accumulation of wealth simply for the false joy of piling all the glittering things. Dragons in romantic novels hoard treasures, killing adventuresome men who come seeking quick wealth. Both the dragon and the thief harbor the same problem: greed.

The sweet, beautiful Trina, with her tiara of raven hair, characterizes herself as “economical.” Now, when someone has nothing and saves well, they are economical—living practically with income and expenses in mind. In short, an economical person lives within their means.

The question is, “Is Trina economical?”

Well, yes and no.

Innately, Trina is economical. She is used to stretching nothing as far as it goes. She has lived well on a meager income, taking care of herself and wanting virtually nothing. But then, the dragon within her is awakened.

 $5000—wonderful sum of money. Winning that lottery changes Trina’s life forever. She was set—with her economical mind, she would be able to live comfortably for some time. $5000—she had money enough to get married and begin a wonderful life with McTeague.

$5000—a glittering pile of money. Once the news set in, Trina became consumed with saving—being “economical” as she put it. While Marcus became angry with McTeague for stealing his girl and all that money, while McTeague struggles to understand the whole of the situation, while her family and friends congratulate her on her winnings, Trina begins to hoard her new, glittering possession.

Dependent on her “economy,” Trina invests the $5000 into Uncle Obermann’s business and resolves that she and McTeague will live off the $25 interest and income of their jobs. But is she really being economical?

I believe a monster has awakened within. Trina’s grip on her hoard will only become tighter as more time passes. Her hoard will grow and her life will become consumed with gaining one more dollar.

(315)

The Lottery

The lottery. That fantastic game of chance that could make princes of paupers. American society is filled with poor, destitute persons who use their last dollar to gamble on the lottery. A wasted last dollar for the majority—each grappling for a mirage of wealth and fame. Few win and “fate” ironically rewards the rich or middle-class over those who have given all to the gamble. But every once in a while, “fate” aids the struggling. Every once in a while, the prize is given to the unexpectant—like Trina.

Trina bought her winning ticket on accident—an accident that would change her life forever. She spent a measly dollar—one dollar—to rid herself of Maria. Not for the chance to will thousands, but for the momentary reward of peace and quiet.

When she and McTeague return from the show, the little flat on Polk Street is anything but quiet. As soon as she enters the apartment, Trina is swarmed by nearly every resident. Has she heard the news? What will she do with the reward—the $5000?

It’s almost too much to take in. But Norris doesn’t just reveal Trina’s thoughts and emotions, he dives into each character. This prick of interest—this $5000 lottery, begins the downward spiral of greed for most of residents of Polk Street.

Trina becomes consumed with saving. Like Rockefeller, she will be satisfied with one more dollar. She becomes stingy and hostile—regretting spending $200 dollars on her wedding and refusing to assist her husband in any way. The $5000 must not be touched. It must be saved for a rainy day . . .

Mac sees the money as opportunity to live a warm, comfortable life. Truly, if he had his own way the money would be gone in a week due his immense simplicity. After all, what else is money for, but to make a man comfortable and happy?

Marcus turns jealous and vengeful. That $5000 is rightfully his! Didn’t he give Trina to McTeague? Wasn’t he there when Trina bought the ticket? McTeague has stolen everything from him—his girl and his immense fortune. Marcus won’t be slighted—you just wait . . .

(365)

McTeague's Simplicity

How many times can a man be called a simpleton and idiot before taking offense? Apparently, Frank Norris was not concerned that the massive, blonde brute of a dentist he created would be coming by to haunt him. McTeague is referenced as simple and stupid in every chapter and on nearly every page.

McTeague is a huge, brutish man with only his strength to recommend him. Every character in the novel, from the friend-turned-enemy Marcus to the petite little wife Trina, remarks and jests at McTeague’s incredible simplicity.

Though the man may be simple-minded, I don’t really believe there is anything simplistic about Norris’ ignorant character.

Truly, at the beginning of the novel, the reader wonders how Norris is going to make this big, burly, bone-head an interesting character to follow. I mean, the guy is a dentist. How many of us really care to follow the boring life of a dentist? Especially one from the turn of the last century. I have to admit, I was not at all excited about reading McTeague after the first couple pages. I just don’t see how Norris can take this story anywhere with a dentist as the central character!

But, as I continue to read, McTeague reveals the layers we all hide. Poor guy, he reminds me of nearly every awkward person I’ve ever met. The man has no idea how to relate to people—especially women. He never dreams that he is in love with Trina until the “animalistic desire” comes over him suddenly after putting her to sleep for a dental operation. I nearly laughed out loud as I imagines this idiotic brute fumble and contemplate the emotions reeling inside his head.

Maybe he is a fool—he doesn’t seem to follow anything. The brute met with Trina for weeks before he realized he was falling in love—and I’m not even sure I can use that terminology. He simply felt that he must have her at any cost. Now that, is simplistic thinking.

(334)

"McTeague" and "The Great Gatsby"

As I began reading McTeague, I was struck with a strange feeling of déjà vu. Haven’t I read a story like this before? When? What is this vague familiarity I feel with a book I know I have never read before.

Then it hit me. McTeague reminds me of The Great Gatsby.

The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald) depicts the realistic, riotous nightlife of the 1920s. The nightlife of New York City revolves around the young, mysterious Jay Gatsby whose sole goal in life is to win back the love of his life. The problem? She’s married. To add to the tangled mess, her husband is having an affair with a married woman. The reader is experiences the confusion of passion through the eyes of a rather confused young man.

At the conclusion of the story I felt depressed and wondered why I picked up the novel in the first place. . . . Oh, I had to do reading for US History and I was told it was an American classic. Right.

As I began reading McTeague the same sense of hopelessness overwhelmed me. Both stories seem to drag along (though I have to admit, I have gotten through them both. Emma on the other hand . . .) But my lack of interest isn’t what connects McTeague and The Great Gatsby in my mind.

It’s the authors’ naturalistic views of humanity. In both works, the characters are motivated by their natural instincts. While F. Scott Fitzgerald simply retells the depressing party-life of the 1920s, Frank Norris actually discusses the animal passions of human nature. McTeague’s “love” for Trina is not driven by a Biblical care and love, but by animalistic desires to control and claim Trina as his own. McTeague, and the other characters of the book, seemingly have no control over their animalistic instincts.

In both novels, characters are bound to their natural instincts—they cannot escape their desires toward lust and greed. What a sad life.

And a sadder thought is that our world is consumed with the same lifestyles. We are constantly tol that whether life is a riotous party or commonplace life, all life is captive to animalistic instincts. Don’t fight against it—your struggling is futile.

That view, my friends, a lie.

(379)

The Well

When you were a kid did you ever sing “There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, she had so many children she didn’t know what to do so . . . she threw them out the window, the window the second story window!”?

No? Well, then you’ll have to excuse my analogy, but I believe that Twain has his own method of getting rid of unwanted children . . . or in his case, characters.

In the break between Puddin’head Wilson and Those Extraordinary Twins, Twain relates his frustration in writing the story that he had in his head. No matter how he tried, the characters took control of the story, leaving his intended central characters in the shadows.

What does an author do with disobedient or disappearing characters?

Twain found his answer, not by throwing them out of the second story window, but by drowning them in a well. First one, then two more . . . but soon the well filled up. After all, wouldn’t the readers get a little suspicious of all these “coincidental” drownings in a family well? What’s an author to do?

For Twain, the answer was obvious—write two stories. The first, Puddin’head Wilson, would be the story commandeered by the characters; the second, Those Extraordinary Twins, would be the story he intended to write from the beginning.

So, next time I’m faced with opposition from my fictional characters (which I honestly can’t think of when this could happen, as I do not write fiction), I’ll take a lesson from Twain and drown them in the well. Once that fills up, I’ll write a supplementary novel.

Of course I could always “throw them out the window, the window the second story window . . .”

(294)

Tragedy or Farce?

Which has more literary value, the tragedy Puddin’head Wilson or comedic farce Those Extraordinary Twins?

I’m not trying to trick you. That’s a loaded question that can be answered by you alone. Personally, I like the tragic Puddin’head Wilson far better than Those Extraordinary Twins. Why? I’m glad you asked.

First, Puddin’head Wilson is a well-rounded, intriguing, complete story. I was drawn in at the beginning (partially because of the Missouri connection) when Roxanne switched the two infants. Right from the beginning, I knew this story was going somewhere—who wouldn’t want to find out what happens when the mix-up is discovered? (If you are one of those uninterested persons, then I question your sense of curiosity.) Though Twain claims that these characters took over the original story, the characters in Puddin’head Wilson are deeper and more developed than those in Those Extraordinary Twins.

Second, enjoy reading more realistic tragedies. As I have already admitted, I enjoy pieces by Hawthorne (The Birthmark and The House of Seven Gables) and Poe. Even contemporary novels and short stories, like A Separate Peace and The Lottery, captivate my attention.

Third, I felt that Those Extraordinary Twins was a stretch. Whether comedy or tragedy, I like to sense a degree of realism in what I read. I want to believe that what is taking place could really happen. Conjoined twins whose legs change ownership on the stroke of midnight of a new week? A town who hangs one twin believing the other will live? Nonsense. There is absolutely nothing plausible, realistic or appealing about a story like that.

Whatever your  choice, I can firmly say that, in this instance, I would choose the tragedy hands-down. Maybe I like Puddin’head too much. Maybe I just got annoyed with the conjoined version of Luigi and the ridiculousness of the leg-ownership. Whatever the case, I’ve made my choice—what’s yours?

(313)

Twins Called Parallels

Puddin’head Wilson and Those Extraordinary Twins are filled with twins—and I’m not talking about Tom and Chambers or Luigi and Angelo. I’m talking about parallels. Twain uses several parallels in his conjoined novel that challenge the reader to think about and evaluate a variety of deep topics.

·         Black & White: Twain grew up in a restrictive era in one of the most controversial regions of the country. Was slavery right or wrong? Growing up, Twain accepted the institution of slavery as fact, but as he began writing he used his pen to speak out against the world of his childhood. He addresses this controversy in Puddin’head Wilson through Roxy’s deception. From the age of eight weeks, Tom and Chambers lead each other’s lives. No one, not one person in the community outside of Roxy, knows the switch has been made. Twain blurs the distinction between Blacks and Whites in his portrayal of “Tom.”

·         Male & Female: Now, I know what you’re thinking, “how could Twain challenge the reader’s perception of male and female? Do you think I’m stupid?” No, I don’t—and neither does Twain. Like his meld of Black and White, Twain shows readers that things aren’t always what they seem. Puddin’head Wilson is sure he saw a woman leave the Judge’s house after his murder—but it wasn’t a man that was fleeing. In St. Louis, Roxy avoids  recapture and being sold “down river” by dressing as a man.

·         Slave & Master: Who is really in control—the slave or the master? In Puddin’head Wilson, it is hard to say for sure. Once again, Twain blurs conventional lines to challenge the distorted moral views of his era. The slave’s son enjoys the life and privilege of his master’s son while the privileged young man works for his meager living. Even when the novel ends and “wrong is made right” nothing really changes. How can a man, who has lived his entire life as a slave, suddenly be accepted and accept himself as his own master? The task is truly daunting.

(346)

2-for-1

Twain’s books Puddin’head Wilson and Those Extraordinary Twins are a two-for-one deal. Literally.

First, if you read one, you must read the other. Why? Because you cannot fully understand Twain’s purpose for the books without doing so. And this reading includes the introductory material that so many readers mistakenly skim or skip over.

In Puddin’head Wilson the two Italian twins we meet are “attached at the hip” in a symbolic, not realistic, sense. The attachment between the twins is that of close friendship, which is why they choose to do every activity together—even sleep in the same room and go to political rallies opposite of personal views. They are the best of friends, they have gone through great trials together, and they could not imagine life as anything but twins. While Luigi and Angelo make interesting characters in Puddin’head Wilson, they are not main characters. Their intriguing story is set aside for that of the slave Roxy, her misplaced son “Tom,” and the town fool-turned-success Puddin’head Wilson.

The first story the reader meets is intriguing, but does not follow Twain’s original storyline. Not by a long shot. Twain remarks that the characters hijacked his story—which is why the American and national readership can know enjoy the tragedy of Puddin’head Wilson.

No, the original plot focused on a silly country girl and conjoined twins from Italy. Sure, those three characters made it into Puddin’head Wilson, but their real story is found in Those Extraordinary Twins. That, friends, is why you must read both novels.

In Those Extraordinary Twins, the small Missouri town of Dawson’s Landing is shocked (and somewhat horrified) to discover that their two newest visitors are really one . . .or at least they are one from the waist down. The whole town (excepting that silly girl) is befuddled. Is it “them” or “him”?  More mesmerizing (and perhaps disturbing) are the hands that feed the wrong face and the legs that switch ownership at the precise ending of a week. In the comedic half of the novel, Twain focuses on introducing the reader to the “horrific events” in the life of conjoined twins.

Whether you like Puddin’head Wilson or Those Extraordinary Twins better is completely your choice, but remember, when you read one, you must read the other. Like Luigi and Angelo, they are a two-for-one deal.

(390)

Twain's "Poor Richard's"

Ignorant readers are easily preyed upon. In 1732, Benjamin Franklin introduced Poor Richard’s Almanack to the unsuspecting American public. The almanac addressed the typical prophecies concerning the weather and astrological signs, but Franklin slipped short bits of wit and wisdom between the calendar entries. The American public took to Franklin’s proverbs like a pig takes to mud. Even now, nearly 400 years later, American quote the timeless truths: “Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” “A penny saved is a penny earned,” and “God helps them that help themselves.”

With sayings just as witty, but possibly not as timeless, Twain uses Puddin’head Wilson’s Calendar to insert his own philosophical proverbs into the American culture.

Tacked onto the beginning of each chapter are quotes from the Calendar that immortalize Twain’s sarcastic wit and open cynicism toward the human race. So, sit back and enjoy a laugh as I share with you some of my favorites from Puddin’head Wilson’s Calendar for 1894.

January: “Nothing so needs reform as other people’s habits.”
{I cannot count how many times I have thought the same thing—don’t people know that my way is best?}

April 1^st: “This is the day upon which we are reminded of what we are the other three hundred and sixty-four.”
{Can’t you picture him with one eyebrow cocked and a smirking twitch at his moustache uttering these words of wisdom in his tenored Southern drawl?}

July 4^th:  “Statistics show we lose more fools on this day than in all the other days of the year put together. This proves, by the number left in stock, that one Fourth of July per year is now inadequate, the country has grown so.”
{This quote brings back hilarious family memories—including the year I finally scrapped up the courage to hold the Roman Candles. I think I jumped four feet in the air when the first projectile left the cardboard tube in my hand. I dropped the still-active firecracker on the ground as it sent off the remaining six or seven cartridges. I don’t think I’d ever seen my dad and brothers move so quickly . . .}

August: “Why is it that we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a funeral? Is it because we are not the person involved?”
{What a way to think about life! As a Christian, I should be looking forward to “going home.” But as a human, I am all too attached to those God brings into my life . . . }

October: “This is one of the particularly dangerous months to speculate stocks in. The others are July, January, September, April, November, May, March, June, December, August, and February.”

(452)

Twain vs. Stowe

In Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Stowe introduces possibly the most well-known bi-racial characters in literature. While she conforms her Black and White characters to the conventions of the time (Blacks speak with the garbled language of the uneducated while Whites speak with clear and proper English), her bi-racial characters, specifically seen in George (a mulatto) and Eliza (a quadroon) Harris, present somewhat of a conundrum. Eliza  and George both speak with the perfect, flowing, flowery language used to represent Whites. Is Stowe’s depiction of these slaves accurate or has she romanticized reality in order to sell her story?

Mark Twain, on the other hand, depicts his bi-racial characters (who are “less-Black” than Eliza and George) with the broken, garbled language of the other slaves. Roxanne, though only one-sixteenth Black, speaks no differently than the slaves with a more solid heritage.

So, which author is properly depicting the bi-racial slaves? Is it Stowe, the little lady with a message, or Twain, the sarcastic humorist, who can give the reader a realistic picture of life in the 1830-50s?

While I thoroughly enjoyed Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I must admit, my confidence lies with the crass and sarcastic Twain.

Why? Let’s look at the lives of the authors.

Stowe was born and raised in the North—in fact, she never actually lived in a state that allowed slavery. Her story is based on a belief and written from testimonies and distant observation. She never actually experienced or observed the brutality of slavery. Does that make her story less pertinent or her cause less just? No, but it may mean it is less realistic.

Twain was born in a state torn in half by the slave issue. Though it entered the Union as a slave state, Missouri citizens were unsettled concerning the slavery issue. In The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Twain creates a fictional story with factual basis. Huck’s greatest struggle rests on his belief concerning Blacks: are they people or aren’t they? He boldly lays aside his life for his belief that the slaves are the same as anybody else and deserve the same freedom.

Kinda sounds like an uneducated version of Stowe’s thesis, huh?

But Twain’s depiction of the bi-racial characters is in direct opposition to Stowe’s—how can this be? The difference exists because Twain drew from personal experience. He wrote of the life he heard, smelt, and felt as a young boy. His dialectical representation can be trusted because he doesn’t use it because of conventional beliefs—he uses the native language of common people to create realistic characters, with all their quirks, that will forever represent the small, river town of Hannibal, Missouri.

(442)

Nature vs. Nurture

Puddin’head Wilson presents an age-old question: which is more affective to child rearing, nature or nurture?

The advocates of the nature argument say that the child is what he is because of his heritage and circumstances. A child becomes a thief because of his heritage or ethnicity or because he was driven to do so by circumstance. The child’s attributes are inherent. In Twain’s day, slaves were characterized as troublesome and mischievous because of their heritage and because of their circumstantial environment of being a slave (nevermind that they had no opportunity to change their circumstances due to the slave system).

The advocates of the nurture argument propose that a child is what he is because of how he is treated. The nurturing hand of his mother (father, grandmother, or guardian) determine the characteristic outcome of the child. The child’s attributes are learned. In complete contrast to their assumptions of slaves, the Whites of the 19^th Century believed that the good and bad attributes of “free men” (generally middle to upper-class Whites) were learned from a variety of influences. If a man became a drunk it was because he learned to do so. If he became a good, compassionate master, it was because his father was one.

Twain challenges the reader’s stance concerning nature and nurture when Roxy “saves” her son by switching him with her master’s son. Which argument is Twain defending? Does he support nature or nurture?

In my own humble opinion, he supports neither—and yet he supports both.

The outcome of the lives of ‘Tom’ and ‘Chambers’ can be defended by both parties. According to the era’s assumptions of nature, ‘Tom’ behaves like a thieving, mischievous slave and ‘Chambers’ embodies the  . . . uh . . . humility of his aristocratic ancestors. And yet, the boys’ nurture must receive some credit—would ‘Tom’ have become a drunken gambler if he had never been to Yale? Would ‘Chambers’ have been as strong had he not fought for ‘Tom’? Did the constant rebuke and reminder of his status make ‘Chambers’ humble?

While studying education, I have come to a similar conclusion. The answer is not nature OR nurture, but nature AND nurture. The two work together to create a man. One cannot be separated from the other. I am who I am because of my heritage, circumstance (environment), and the instruction and models of those authorities in my life.

(402)

Clemons' Frankenstein

While sitting at a party with her husband and friends, Mary Shelley created the world’s most well known and beloved monster: Frankenstein’s monster. Since Frankenstein’s exclamation “It’s alive!” critics have disputed the humanity of the creature that has become a household name.

But this post isn’t about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

On November 30, 1835, a young lad was born in the little Mississippi River town of Hannibal, Missouri. Samuel L. Clemons grew up dreaming of life on the river. As a young man he fulfilled his dream by becoming a riverboat captain on the Mississippi. For Sam, life moved with the ever-changing flow of the river. The river was his life source and passion. But the river was also the inception of Clemons’ own monster.

After the death of his younger brother, Clemons left Hannibal and the Mississippi for the booming West. Out west, Clemons revived his writing talent and published several short stories in the local paper, the most famous of which is “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County.” As his popularity increased, Clemons created his alter ego—his penname—Mark Twain.

The monster Clemons created displayed a will of its own. Just as the monster Frankenstein created by grafting together dead body parts. The creator no longer had reign over his creation. Frankenstein spent the bulk of his existence chasing the shadow of his monster. So much so, that our culture attributes the name ‘Frankenstein’ to the creation, not the creator.

Such is the life of Samuel Clemons after the introduction of the bold, sarcastic, and brilliant Mark Twain. Though Twain’s works creatively retell the memories and adventures of one Samuel Clemons, no one remembers the old riverboat captain. In fact, I would go as far to say that most of the world would be stumped if asked, “who is Samuel Clemons?”

Samuel Clemons struggled against Mark Twain’s overwhelming popularity for the rest of his life. No one cared about Sam Clemons, the family man—they wanted to know Mark Twain the humorist and brilliant author of common American life. 


Clemons created his monster and spent his life reeling in the shadows of Mark Twain.

(358)

Impractical Religion

Scripture is the backbone of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Page after page of the novel contains some reference to Scripture—I don’t think two pages go by without the Bible being referenced in some way. Obviously, Stowe sought to defend her abolitionist views with the same weapon of the slave owners: the Bible. As I read Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I was encouraged spiritually—Stowe’s use of Scripture challenged me to use and demonstrate my faith in every area of my life.

But, I must agree with the critics that Stowe’s use of Scripture may have created an impractical character.

Jane P. Tompkins, a 1970s feminist critic of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, outlines Stowe’s thesis as one focused on “the saving power of Christian love.” Stowe demonstrates and personifies this thesis through Uncle Tom and Evangeline St. Clare. Both characters humbly give their lives in service to others. Uncle Tom sacrifices himself for the salvation of Shelby’ other slaves and eventually gives his life for the freedom of Cassie and Emmeline. Eva, the little evangelist, takes the sin and trials of others to heart. She dies calling her loved ones to Christ, just as her name suggests. I love these pictures of faithful Christian witness.

At this point, the title to my blog post may confuse you. I am not suggesting that Stowe should not have used personification of Biblical characters in her novel. Quite the opposite, in fact. But I must grudgingly admit that some of the critics were right when they concluded that Uncle Tom was too religious to be real.

So, what got me to this point—that Uncle Tom is impractically religious? In the article that appeared in London’s The Times on 3 September 1852, the journalist notes that not even pre-fall Adam could life up to the perfection Stowe gives Uncle Tom. At first, I wanted to disagree. I wanted to shout, “BLASPHEMY!” so all could hear my distain for such a comment. But then, I started thinking about Uncle Tom—a man who was saved in late life at a camp meeting, a man who served as a pastor, a man who consistently witnessed to those above him, a man who died bringing others to Christ—all while under the bonds of slavery. Would I be able to show such faith under the same circumstances? As I read, I began to realize that Stowe may have, indeed, created an impractical religious character.

As George Holmes cynically noted in his criticism, “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report they are found in Uncle Tom.”

(477)

Oh the Irony

While I thoroughly enjoyed Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I must admit that several situations in the novel were, well, a little too ironic for practicality. Yes, the story captivates the audience, but there were a few occasions when, with a squint in my eye and a twist in my neck I cringed as I “accepted” a situation that just seemed out of place.

For example, Eliza flees unprepared into the night to protect Harry from being taken by Haley. No one knew that Eliza was leaving. She runs North to Canada only because George had mentioned doing the same thing. Her plan is impulsive—she has only one goal in mind: cross the Ohio River. What will she do next?

George carries out his plan and escapes to the North dressed as a Spaniard the day after he hears of Eliza’s flight. George acts with boldness and caution as he travels through Kentucky. He has taken every necessary precaution—he has colored his skin and mutilated the scar on his hand—to ensure that his escape would be successful.

The couple has separated because of necessity: one flees North unprepared, the other slips North with a cautious, meticulous plan. Their destination is the same, Canada, but it is unlike that they should ever meet again.

But wait! Under the most unlikely of circumstances, the little family meets while under the care of the Halliday family in Indiana. Ironic? Well, let’s just say my neck turned half an inch and my eye started twitching a little.

Stowe doesn’t stop there. My greatest criticism lies in the blatantly forced irony at the close of the novel. Not only does Stowe push reality with the meeting of George and Eliza, but she ties up nearly every other loose end concerning their stories! On his way back to Kentucky after finding Uncle Tom dead, Master George Shelby meets up with Cassie, the sexually abused slave on Legree’s farm. Cassie reveals that she is a runaway slave and the young Shelby assists her and Emmeline in their flight to freedom. While on the Mississippi, Shelby and Cassie meet Madame de Thoux, a former slave who married her master and is now a free woman. In less than a page Stowe reveals that Thoux is George Harris’ long lost sister and that Cassie is Eliza Harris’ mother! If your eyes and neck aren’t twitching by this point you must be blind . . . or stupid.

Oh the irony! Truly, according to Stowe, this is a small world. But she doesn’t stop there—Thoux and Cassie meet up with George and Eliza in Canada . . . then they all move to Liberia, Africa and may or may not have run into Topsy, who is now a missionary.

What audacity! After going through such lengths to create a realistic story of slavery in 1850, Stowe’s ending seems to be a conundrum. Please, Mrs. Stowe, respect your readers. The book would have done well to skip “the rest of the story” and end with the Harris’ in Canada, Uncle Tom memorialized, and Cassie free from Legree.

(518)

Critiquing the Critics

So, for a class project I got the opportunity to do some additional research on Uncle Tom’s Cabin—mostly critiques. Let me tell you, the critics from 1850 (all male) were brutal!

I read five criticisms included in Norton’s Anthology of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, 2^nd Edition, edited by Elizabeth Ammons. If you have read Uncle Tom’s Cabin and have access to the Norton Critical Edition, I would encourage you to look through the criticisms by George Sand, William Allen, George Holmes, “anonymous” (London’s The Times), Charles Dudley Warner, and Jane P. Tompkins. Their critiques give a balanced view of Stowe’s work “then and now.”

Ironically (but not at all surprising), the early critics’ greatest argument against Uncle Tom’s Cabin was the gender of the author. All admitted, though somewhat grudgingly, that Stowe’s story was compelling and emotional, but argued that she had stepped outside her bounds by writing on such a political topic. Tompkins, whose criticism was released after the feminist movement of the 1960s, was the only critic to give Stowe any credence as an author. And rightly so. When you consider the mentality of the world in 1850 (a male-dominated society), it is understandable that the men wished Stowe would have stayed at home. But she told the story the world needed to hear.

I must, however, laugh at the obstinate, bigoted criticism of George Holmes. Holmes published his critique in The Southern Literary Messenger  in October of 1852, shortly after Uncle Tom’s Cabin was published. Holmes is probably the most belligerent of the critics concerning Stowe’s gender. In relation to talent as a writer, Holmes says, “Possessed of a happy faculty of description, asn easy and natural style, and uncommon command of pathos and considerable dramatic skill, she might, in the legitimate exercise of such talents, have done much to enrich the literature of America, and to gladden and elevate her fellow beings” (505). Sound nice, right? A polite compliment of a Southern gentleman . . . but wait, there’s more. “But she has chosen to employ her pen for purposes of a less worthy nature. . . . to sow, in this blooming garden of freedom, the seeds of strife and violence and all direful contentions.” Now, I could be wrong, but I don’t think the Civil War is the fault of Harriet Beecher Stowe—even if President Lincoln did say, “So this is the little lady who started this great war.” Again, at this point Holmes probably hasn’t gone any further than other contemporary critics. Even when he remarks that Stowe (and other women of New England) should not be treated equally and should, as a female, keep her mouth shut concerning politics. He even has the audacity to quote I Timothy 2 (“Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.”), which I’m quite sure he has taken out of context.

Holmes has other criticisms concerning Uncle Tom’s Cabin—the seeming disunity of the two stories, the fact that slaves are viewed as good and slave owners as evil, the unrealistic piety of Uncle Tom, and Stowe’s supposed misrepresentation of Southern slave laws, just to name a few. But the kicker, the remark that sent me reeling in a mix of laugher and scorn was his closing sentence: a single suggestion that the author open her Bible to Exodus 20 and take to hear the words, “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.” Really sir? You have the audacity to misquote Scripture, not just once, but twice and defend a practice so inhumane . . . well, at least we know how that turned out. It appears, sir, that Mrs. Stowe was right after all—American society—specifically the cruelty of slavery—had to change. And it did.

(646)

Modern Day Joseph

Stowe’s extensive use of Scripture throughout Uncle Tom’s Cabin is amazing. Truly, one must have a knowledge of the Bible in order to fully understand many of the author’s driving thoughts. We’ve enjoyed several laughs as the editors of the Norton Anthology consistently take Scripture references out of context or reference the wrong passage all together.

Despite Norton’s rather ineffective insight on Biblical references, I have learned much from the inclusion of Scripture in Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Multiple times throughout the novel Stowe references Uncle Tom as a modern day Joseph.

Joseph, sold as a slave by his jealous brothers, found himself in the home of Potiphar, one of the most influential men in Egypt. Though a slave, Joseph won Potiphar’s trust and eventually became the overseer of all of Potiphar’s property. Genesis 39:2-4 says, “And the LORD was with Joseph, and he was a prosperous man; and he was in the house of his master the Egyptian. And his master waw that the LORD was with him, and that the LORD made all that he did to prosper in his hand. And Joseph found grace in his sight, and he served him: and he [Potiphar] made him [Joseph] overseer over his house, and all that he [Potiphar] had he put into his [Joseph’s] hand.”

As Stowe introduces Uncle Tom’s character through a discussion between Haley, Shelby says, “Tom is an uncommon fellow; he is certainly worth that sum anywhere,—steady, honest, capable, manages my whole farm like a clock” (2). Like Potiphar trusted Joseph with all he had, Shelby blindly trusted Tom to manage everything.

After Tom is sold to Haley and then to St. Clare, Stowe reinforces Tom’s connection with Joseph. In the first sentence of Chapter XVIII Stowe remarks that, “Our friend Tom, in his own simple musings, often compared his more fortunate lot [living with the St. Clares], in the bondage into which he was cast, with that of Joseph in Egypt; and, in fact, as time went on, and he developed more and more under the eye of his master, the strength of the parallel increased” (185). The careless St. Clare recognizes Tom’s management skills and places the care of the household finances in Tom’s hands. What remarkable trust! Tom could have done anything—he “had every facility and temptation to dishonesty; and nothing but an impregnable simplicity of nature, strengthened by Christian faith, could have kept him from it” (186).

Just as Joseph fled from the temptation of Potiphar’s wife, Tom fled from the temptation of misusing the trust given him by God. You can almost hear him incredulously quote Joseph to skeptics: “how then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” (Genesis 39:9).

(453)

The Flight of a Slave

Driven to debt by selfish indulgence, Shelby sells Uncle Tom and little Harry Harris to the conniving Haley to cover his debts. The plan has gone of smoothly—he will meet with his wife in the evening to inform her of the sale, too late for her to correct the situation. Everything is going as well as could be expected . . . or is it?

Eliza Harris, Harry’s mother, overheard the transaction between her Master and the slave trader. Were she asked to do anything else for her Master, she would—but part with her son? It just cannot be done. Quickly and quietly Eliza packs a bag for herself and her young son. At midnight she slips from the Shelby house and heads for the rows of slave cabins. She must find Uncle Tom.

Tom and Chloe hear a soft rap on their door just as they are heading to bed—the evening’s worship and praise service went well into the night and the last slaves just left for their own cabins. Who then, could be at the door? As the door opens, Tom and Chloe see Eliza, pale and nervous, anxiously standing before them clutching her young son. 

No power of persuasion will convince Uncle Tom to flee North with Eliza and Harry—not the cries of his wife, not the thought of the harsh slavery in the South—Tom knows his place, and it is serving his Master, whomever that may be.

But he won’t discourage another slave from running.

With a blessing from Uncle Tom and Aunt Chloe, Eliza runs into the darkness, desperately seeking to save her son from the New Orleans slave auctions. Eliza hurries along motivated by pure adrenaline until she reaches the Ohio River. Stranded on the Kentucky side until the ice breaks up, Eliza lays Harry down and rests uneasily as the morning breaks.

Eliza runs for freedom and for love. By leaving the Shelby’s, she risks separating herself from the only world she has ever known—knowing that she will never see it again. Will she and Harry make it to Canada? Will she find her husband along the way? Or is the flight of this slave just another sad story for the martyrdom?

(375)