Apologies for a slow month of writing here in January. Many things have kept me occupied and traveling, but things are finally looking like a bit of smooth sailing. January was a bit of a cheat month for me in terms of bumping up my reading numbers for the year. With the release of the new Percy Jackson series on Disney+, I decided to revisit the books since I haven’t read them since… maybe early high school? The books really are aimed at middle school and slightly older readers, so getting through them quickly is quite easy. I’ll be treating the first four books of the series together, here.
The Lightning Thief, The Sea of Monsters, The Titan’s Curse, and The Battle of the Labyrinth, Rick Riordan
I found these about as enjoyable as I remembered from my previous read. For an author who picked up the pen professionally fairly late and almost by happenstance, Riordan’s writing is engaging and humorous, and the plots interesting enough to keep you reading. Readers do become very invested in the main characters, though there is some unevenness in their portrayal and characterization as the series develops. And, importantly, I do enjoy anything having to do with Ancient Greece.
On that note, however, I have to risk sounding like a grumpy boomer shaking his fist at the clouds by saying I’m not totally sure how to feel about the relatively sanitized Greek mythology on offer, here. Obviously, children are usually introduced to these stories in watered-down summaries that strip away some of the most uncomfortable bits. But the same things that troubled Socrates about these myths when he suggested that poets should be put out of the ideal city in speech should still trouble us today; the gods are fickle, cruel, poor exemplars of human virtue, and all the rest. This doesn’t mean the stories shouldn’t be read, studied, and enjoyed. It does, however, make me cautious about a portrayal of these characters, gods and heroes, that shies away from some of the real ugliness at the heart of Greek religious devotion. Portraying Dionysus as a grumpy camp counselor temporarily deprived of wine is a far cry from the more true-to-the-sources portrayal of depraved Dionysian frenzy in, e.g., Donna Tartt’s The Secret History. I hope to inspire a love for “classics” broadly conceived in my children, and I’ll just need to do more and better thinking about what role a series like this could play in that endeavor.
Reading While Black, Esau McCaulley
This work is a fascinating contribution to ongoing conversations within protestant Christianity about the importance or role of race in both our politics and our theology. A professor of New Testament at Wheaton College, a theologically conservative Anglican, and a black man, McCaulley explores what his experience as a black Christian and his training as a theologian bring to the table in the Church when brought together. He expresses some frustration both with progressive Christianity, that seems to forsake what he takes to be orthodox fidelity to scripture, and with the aspirational colorblind Christianity offered by some conservative Evangelicals. McCaulley uses history and scripture to outline what he calls a Black ecclesial tradition, one that is orthodox in its approach to scripture, but distinctively Black in the way it brings the experiences of Africans and African-Americans to the front in its reading and preaching of scripture. This tradition, he argues, both simply exists to be studied and can teach contemporary Christians much about how to read and apply scripture. McCaulley touches on topics ranging from the presence of Africans in the Jewish and early Christian communities, to what the New Testament might teach the Christian about the power of the state and its use of the police, to the hope enslaved people in America found in the narrative of scripture that spans from God’s liberation of His enslaved people to His promise of freedom in Christ. McCaulley sheds light on familiar passages, and brings to the fore many thinkers and interpretations of scripture that his readers may lack familiarity with. On my reading, he makes a very compelling case, and I look forward to recommending this book and discussing it further with others.
The Wise Men Know What Wicked Things are Written on the Sky, Russell Kirk
This is a short collection of lectures delivered at the Heritage Foundation by Russell Kirk from 1982-1984. The venue and the format mean that some of the topics at hand are “dated,” in the sense of referring to policy proposals and candidates at issue in the 80s that a current reader simply wouldn’t care as deeply about. But, consistent with his other published work, Kirk’s thoughts are always drawing on timeless sources, guiding his hearers and readers toward the “permanent things,” and so there is much of value here. Particularly of note are two of the later lectures in the volume, one on “the conservative purpose of a liberal education,” and one on “humane learning in the age of the computer.” The latter shows Kirk’s tendency to be prophetic, as his pronouncements on the still-fledgling computer industry and its creeping influence on education hold up quite well today, as educators grapple with generative AI and other new challenges. Perhaps I’ll write a piece here specifically on that essay.
The Birth of the Republic 1763-1789, Edmund S. Morgan
This is the short historical summary of the American revolutionary and post-revolutionary period that I assign in my course on the Political Thought of the American Founding. Morgan has a delightful talent at summarizing a messy set of facts in a relatively tight chronological frame, as well as taking appropriate steps back to ask bigger-picture questions of his readers: were the colonists sincere in their seemingly ever-changing but nonetheless principles arguments against Parliament’s actions, or were they opportunistic and self-interested, willing to argue whatever would lead to a lower tax bill (Morgan believes the answer is the former)? Was independence from England an inevitable outcome or a preventable accident, a failure of management and vision on the part of key political leaders of the day in England? And, importantly, how do we assess the records of those who so strongly advocated for the principle of human equality while enshrining severe inequality in the institutions they both created and maintained? I would heartily recommend this compact work to anyone wanting a refresher on the overall arc of the arguments of the period, while avoiding getting bogged down in the historical weeds.
The Boys in the Boat, Daniel James Brown
This book has obviously been popular for quite some time. Many people in my family read or listened to audiobook recordings of it this year, and I decided to tackle it in advance of seeing the recent film. The premise, frankly, could not have sounded more boring to me at first glance. I don’t know anything about rowing as a sport, nor did I particularly care. The reader is given the outcome from the start (we know that Ranz, the main subject of the book, wins gold at the Berlin Olympic games), and the bulk of the path to get to that victory is a series of roster-wrangling discussions and minor and major races across the country. But, interwoven throughout are interesting reflections on the role of wartime propaganda in Nazi Germany, discussions of the Depression and Dust Bowl and their effects on many of the people in the story, and excellent philosophical reflections on sport sourced from quotes by George Yeomans Pocock. This is, in short, an excellent story told well.
The film was, by the way, fine. Not great, but fine.
Hangmen, Martin McDonagh
I am an unabashed fan of Martin McDonagh as both a film director and a playwright, but I have unfortunately only made time to read a few of his plays. I’ve decided that this year I’m going to fix that problem, and decided to start with one of his most recent, Hangmen. Like all of McDonagh’s work, this is a blackly comic story with real humor and real heartbreak. The story centers on one of several professional hangmen, now out of work after the banning of hanging as a method of execution in Britain. Harry, the main character, now owns a pub, and we are witness to many conversations about the ban, hanging in general, and Harry’s own personal reflections on last moments spent with those doomed to die. One case in particular begins and ends the play, the execution of a man who went to the gallows protesting his own innocence in a brutal assault. Harry has to reckon with his conscience, his loss of a vocation, and the intrusion of a stranger into his pub with suspicious designs on his young daughter. All in all, a very intriguing read, and a play I hope to see on stage as soon as possible.
Wise Men Know is one of the best books on American education. Hands down.
The Percy Jackson books were my favourite books as a kid, I think I read them through at least seven times