Good Books, Bad Times, and a Nifty Blog

The fine folks over at HarperOne (HarperCollins’ spirituality imprint) have a launched a blog recommending and celebrating “good books in bad times”. In the words of associate marketing director Laina Adler, the blog is ”designed for readers who are searching for thoughts, ideas, and wisdom from trusted sources to help them face life’s challenges.”

Though right now the recommendations are mostly from HarperOne’s own roster of titles, the bloggers are welcoming submissions from readers, booksellers, and other publishers. “In order to make this a true resource for readers we understand the need to cast a net much wider than our own catalog,” reads the Good Books in Bad Times website. HarperOne is an all-inclusive publisher and does not limit its repertoire to any one religion or spiritual preference.

Here are a few of the GBiBT suggestions thus far:

  • Plant Seed, Pull Weed by Geri Larkin — No, I didn’t say Pack Seed, Smoke Weed. Larkin’s book is an homage to the healing and transformative powers of gardening.
  • Celebration of Discipline by Richard J. Foster — In Foster’s words: ““Superficiality is the curse of our age. The doctrine of instant satisfaction is a primary spiritual problem. The desperate need today is not for a greater number of intelligent people, or gifted people, but for deep people.” Amen to that, Mr. Foster. Amen to that.
  • Rumi: Bridge to the Soul by Coleman Barks — An inspiring collection of the great poet’s most transcendent work.

How is it that Vanna Speaks is not on this list yet?!?!? (I kid.)

You can visit the Good Books in Bad Times blog here.

 

Story Source  Good Books in Bad Times via Galleycat  |  Image Source  rumibook.info

January 7, 2009 | Filed Under Newsies, Spirituality & Religion | 2,101 Comments 

Are You There, God? It’s Me, Anne Rice.

In a perfect story for Halloween Eve, Yahoo News has published an interesting profile of famed author Anne Rice, who has gone from being the Queen of Vampire Fiction to — cue horror movie scream — an emerging voice in Christian literature. Yes, gone are the days of ravenous bloodsuckers Lestat and Louis, not to mention the sexual escapades of Sleeping Beauty humping her way through the castle, and in their place we have a decidedly different Anne Rice.

In Rice’s new book, a memoir entitled Called Out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession, the 67-year-old writer recounts her journey from Catholic youth to Existentialist college student to adamant Athiest — and her eventual voyage back to Christianity. In the late 90s, after the death of her beloved husband, the poet and artist Stan Rice, and she herself facing health problems, Rice returned to Mass and found her spiritual home.

But remaining true to her mystical leanings, Rice also tells of the more supernatural elements of her religious transformation. In a string of epiphanies, mostly on pilgrimmages to European cathedrals, Israel, and Brazil, she remembers the dizzy euphoria of rediscovering Christ. In Brazil, when she visited Rio de Janeiro’s monolothic Jesus statue, Rice writes of her “delirium” and religious intoxication, recalling equally-blissful events in her Catholic childhood (as a girl, Rice wanted to be a saint).

Refreshingly, she doesn’t disown her series of wildly successful vampire novels. ”I do think that those dark books were always talking about religion in their own way,” Rice said. “They were talking about the grief for a lost faith.”

This time, though, her goals are a bit loftier than just entertaining the masses. ”My objective is simple: It’s to write books about our Lord living on Earth that make him real to people who don’t believe in him; or people who have never really tried to believe in him,” she said.

While I’m sure many of Rice’s die-hard fans are put off by her recent change of faith — or at least her decision to write about it so intimately — I myself am happy for Ms. Rice. Our religious views may be different, but I’m all for an artist exploring his/her world in whatever method he/she may choose. In an uncharacteristically UN-snarkish bit of commentary, I welcome Rice’s transformative journey and how it has enriched her life. When an artist does the same thing over and over again, there is a sense of static, a lack of evolution, if you will. When an artist grows and changes, in whatever ways, it shows us that a) he/she is human, and b) there is a constant supply of new and wondrous things to investigate. So even though the New York Times called her memoir “the literary equivalent of waterboarding”, I applaud Anne Rice.

Called Out of Darkness is available now. Two other Christian-themed works by Rice, Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt and Christ the Lord: The Road to Cana, the first novels of a four-part, first-person history of Jesus, were released earlier this year.

 

Story Source  Yahoo News

October 30, 2008 | Filed Under Authors, Newsies, Spirituality & Religion | 5 Comments 

Book Review: 90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper

A more appropriate title for this review would be “Holy Shit”, but I at least have couth enough not to write an offensive title that would emblazon a curse word at the top of my web page. I can, however, write a damned offensive review. And so I shall.

Let me begin by saying that 90 Minutes in Heaven is not a book I would normally read. At my former job, the employees started a monthly book club, and this particular book was the pick for the inaugural meeting. I borrowed a copy from a colleague, and thank Jebus I did. I would’ve been supremely pissed off had I laid down a single cent for this pious turd of a book.

Actually, even calling it a book is being generous. The word “book” implies certain standards. Books offer new ideas, new experiences, new adventures. Books make us think about the larger, more vital questions of this life. Books make us feel less lonely. Books are entertaining.

90 Minutes in Heaven has none of these. It’s more a long-winded pamphlet of Christian cliches and ideologies, masked in the guise of a preacher’s journey from a soul-saving, gospel-spreading Man of God to, well, a soul-saving, gospel-spreading Man of God.

Let me explain.

The author of this potato (let’s just call it a potato, since it’s clearly not a book) is a minister named Don Piper. In 1989, he was in an awful car accident, in which he was hit head-on and his vehicle was pretty much flattened. In this accident, Don Piper died. For ninety minutes, anyway.

Now this is where it gets tricky. A 205-page potato that boasts a title, cover and description declaring the author’s real, one-of-a-kind visit to the real, one-of-a-kind heaven, only contains fifteen pages actually about heaven. The rest of the story consists of the details of Piper’s recovery.

At this point in my reading, I was still more than willing to give it a chance. My partner was also in a terrible car accident many years ago, and his recovery process was long and arduous (and in some ways, still continues to this day). I thought Piper’s experience, while not giving me the secrets of heaven as promised, would hopefully give me some insight into what my partner went through.

But ah, ain’t wishful thinking grand? Because while it is true that the author goes into detail about the physical ramifications of the collision, he really says very little about the emotional or spiritual ones (outside of the typical platitudes and bumper-sticker-speak). And there is good reason for this: Don Piper is not a writer. He’s simply not, there’s no kind way to put it. Yet I gotta give Don a little credit, because he had sense enough to hire a co-author, Cecil Murphey, to write his story. I’m assuming he put it on paper with Murphey’s collaboration and guidance. Maybe I’m wrong, but isn’t this what a co-author is supposed to do?

Maybe Mr. Murphey called in sick on the day Piper decided to write the potato. Not only does it feel like it was written in a day, but there seems to have been no editing process involved whatsoever. The story lacks any real depth or discovery, which is truly tragic since this horrible experience could’ve served as a catalyst for some mighty, benevolent change in Don Piper’s world. And possibly even the worlds of other crash survivors.

Let’s visit those few pages that actually take place in heaven. First of all, the entire description of Piper’s heaven can be summed up in two words: “It’s indescribable.” He makes it a point to say this, repeatedly and ad nauseam, throughout the two chapters devoted to the celestial resting place in the sky. Everything, from the sights to the emotions to the music, is just not describable. This bothered me a lot. Piper clearly shouldn’t have written a book/root vegetable if he couldn’t put words to an experience. Because that’s what a book is.

The few bones he does toss us are positively trite. Pearly gates, streets paved with gold, choirs of angels. My first thought when I read these things was Damn, heaven sounds boring as hell.

As I mentioned, the remaining 190 pages chronicle Piper’s recovery after he was inexplicably brought back to life by another minister, who just happened to be driving by. This second minister squeezed into the mangled car and prayed all over Piper till he woke. These pages are as equally uninteresting and uninspiring as the few that take place in heaven. In writing his story, Piper has managed to do something that is indeed miraculous: he has left out the story itself. There are no dramatic arcs, there’s no coherent progression, and this hero we are rooting for undergoes no important spiritual or emotional changes.

The hero’s journey can be broken down like this:
1. Car accident. Bad.
2. Dies for ninety minutes. Goes to heaven. Indescribable.
3. Brought back to life; undergoes torturous recovery. Bad.
4. Continues with the same job, same life, same beliefs, same views held pre-accident. Good.

The other players in this drama, namely Piper’s wife, kids, and colleagues, play virtually no role in this retelling of events. In fact, I was a little offended by the author’s portrayal of his wife. Not only is she almost nonexistent, but what little he does say about her paints her as an irrelevant and incompetent “helpmate”. He even goes so far as to point out her inability to handle those oh-so-manly things like finances, writing checks and paying bills. This poor woman suffered just as much as he did with this accident, and she deserves better. Though Piper does claim that his pre-accident attitudes toward his wife evolved into something softer and more respectful, there’s little evidence in these pages to support that idea.

There was, though, one character and one instance that I found truly touching. After Piper has returned home to convalesce, his mother comes to take care of him when his wife steps away for a breather at Bible camp. He is embarrassed by his bed-ridden state and the fact that he has to use a bedpan. But his mother is unfazed: she falls into her role with delicate ease and nurses her son with no judgment and no discomfort. It’s really a beautiful scene, and I wish it hadn’t been relegated to a couple of paragraphs. This story — the man who has spent his life saving and caring for others is forced to be saved and cared for by the only person who really can: his mother — should have been the focus of the book. It would’ve made a far better story.

In the last chapter of the book, Piper does something I found profoundly distasteful and a furthering of the stereotypes that all Christians are out to save our souls and preach that their way is the only way. The author dismisses claims of other people’s near-death experiences. He doesn’t mention any names, but he points out some other folks who had NDEs and wrote books about their experiences. And then proceeds to blow them off with an arrogant attitude of, in so many words, “MY experience is the only REAL experience”.

I am not discounting, judging, or making light of the experience through which Don Piper lived. Trauma, brain injury, the boulder-strewn path of recovery…I live with these things every day. Nor am I questioning his claims of a heavenly visit; I find it relatively easy to take a leap of faith, think nonlinearly, and consider different possibilities when it comes to life and death. What I am questioning is the presentation of Piper’s experience as it is in 90 Minutes in Heaven, which pretty much craps on what was obviously a life-changing moment. Several times throughout this book, I thought, “Wow, this would make a great book!”.

Too bad he already tried.

And came up with a potato.

Now that you’ve heard me tear this book a new one, I’m tempted to tell you to go read it. It’s like that old SNL skit where one guy smells the sour milk, immediately winces, and says, “Oh that smells awful! Here, SMELL IT!” –and thrusts the carton at the other guy. It can be fun to see just how bad bad writing can be. I kinda want you to experience just how awful this book really is.

It’s…indescribable. Grade: F

Book Title 90 Minutes in Heaven

Author Don Piper

Publisher Revell

Year Published 2004

ISBN 0800759494

Snarkbytes Don Piper now runs his own ministerial empire. The ministries’ website has a page titled “How to Go to Heaven”.

August 23, 2008 | Filed Under Biography & Memoir, Spirituality & Religion | 9 Comments 



      WHAT IS A SNARK?




      The Snark is a creature created by Lewis Carroll in his poem "The Hunting of the Snark". To give a proper description of Snarks, one must look no further than Carroll himself, who summed them up in one word: Unimaginable.

      But this much we do know: some have feathers, some have whiskers. Snarks sleep a lot, yet they are an ambitious lot -- with very little sense of humor. They love bathing-machines and tend to bring them wherever they go; they are also handy for striking a light. Snarks live on a far-off island, a place filled with chasms and crags, and are constantly on the lookout for Snark-hunters. Their mortal enemies are hope, care, thimbles and forks.

    • Archives

      • The Book Snark's Pick for Best Book of 2008




      Special web hosting offer - LIMITED TIME ONLY

      PerformancingAds


      Picnik: photo editing awesomeness