Darkness at Noon

I read Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler a few weeks ago. For some reason I didn't feel like writing an immediate response to it. Probably because I felt like whenever I write about a book immediately after finishing it I tend to feel rushed and not able to clearly communicate what I thought of the complete work, but just a minute part that intrigued me. I was going to wait a day or two, but then kept putting it off until now. Hopefully I can remember enough about it to make sense.

Darkness at Noon is a novel about a former revolutionist who is arrested by the government he helped to gain power. It is set in Communist Russia in between the first and second world wars. The whole of the novel is set in a jail cell, but the main character, Rubashov, frequently daydreams about his part in the revolution and the significant things that led to his arrest. Knowing that Koestler was a former Communist who had become disillusioned with the movement after the Stalinist show trials (of which the main character is a victim) and other detestable practices perpetrated by the Soviet government makes this novel something of a historical fiction and less of a literary exploration of ideas. I am certainly more used to novels having less to do with the setting and more about the general theme, but I believe this book did have a theme that can be explored further than just taking the story at face value.

The theme I was most interested with was the suppression of ideas for the sake of a movement. The reason that Rubashov was arrested was that he disagreed with how the communist government was being handled by "Number 1"(the name given to Stalin in the novel). He had no plans to overthrow the government or assassinate the leader, but his objection to policy was enough to have him arrested and sentenced to execution. Much of the story is focused on the methods of coercion and interrogation used to convince Rubashov to admit to false accusations, giving the novel another theme (probably more prominent than the one I am addressing) of how a imprisoned and hopeless person reacts to an antagonist. Like I said, I am more interested in how the government reacts to dissent than I am the confined person.

Basically the idea that interested me was that the Russian government (and that style of communism in general) had an ideal that they wished to achieve. This ideal was a sort of utopia where all are equal in economic circumstance and workload. The problem was that they believed that it took forcing people into much worse economic conditions and much harder labor in order to eventually reach this ideal society. It reminds me of the double-speak in Orwell's 1984, war is peace, love is hate, etc. "Number 1" had his idea of how to accomplish his ideal and that was through making all who were in the country submit to his values and principals through force. Only by overpowering the people will they eventually realize that his way to achieve equality was the correct way. Only through enslavement and suffering would they be beaten enough to know his way is the correct way. It is a very logical and reasonable method, despite it being completely inhumane and during the conditioning of the people the opposite of the utopia he wishes to achieve. This is what interests me. Is it okay to do something negative if it achieves something more positive than the former action was negative.

For example, say you are a soldier at war, and a man in your sights has a trigger for an offsite bomb. This bomb is going to kill many people (Lets say they are also soldiers, not innocent bystanders). Now, you don't believe in killing, even killing the enemies you are fighting in this war (you were drafted into the military). Would it be okay for you to take on this sin of killing so that the other man doesn't sin himself and kill many people. Obviously his sin has much greater consequences than yours. You are taking one life, he is taking many. Does that make your lesser sin a worthwhile one? If you let him live, do you take some of the responsibility for the lives of those he will kill, or does the responsibility lie solely with him? We all know what our answer to this question is. Being a pacifist, I would say that I wouldn't kill him, leaving myself clean and him responsible for his own actions. Others would say that they would share in the guilt if they didn't stop him from killing, and therefore decide that they would kill the man. There are good arguments on both sides, but the real question is: Which one of these is wrong and which one right?

The communist government believed in freedom of thought and freedom of ideas, but they thought the best way to get there was to restrict said freedom for a time until the revolution was completed and there were no biases based on past economic conditions. They believed that once the people were all rooted in equal experience and not biased by their unequal past, that they would all realize the merits of communism and then be able to keep their government accountable. Until then Number 1's ideas were the only ideas permitted to speak about. It is utilitarian ethics at it's core. The suffering that they caused for a short period of history is much less than the amount joy they will eventually bring. They were killing the lives of the present in order to save those in the future. Is that right? Say they were correct in their ideas and it actually worked. Would they still have blood on their hands?

I don't really have an answer to that question, but it sure is fun to think about.

Will there be a sunrise this Summer?

From the bathroom

I heard weeping

in the kitchen.

I knew before

this telling, uncontrollable

expression had occurred.

She was ready

and out the

door in moments.

The two were

gone and I

was left alone.

One will return,

the other goes

home to weep

with her husband

who can't help

but suffer unknowing

of the pain

the bearer of

children goes through.

God gave life

unexpected. He took

life without petition.

We ask, "Will

there be a

sunrise this Summer?"

David Bazan - Curse Your Branches

The Passion of David Bazan

If you read this blog post, I advise you to first read the article "The Passion of David Bazan" linked above. If you don't read that article, this post might make less sense than I would like it.

I read this article today, but by some cosmic coincidence already have the new David Bazan album "Curse Your Branches". The article is about David Bazan's recent abandonment of traditional Christianity and his venture into agnosticism. The album is a very poignant criticism of not only the Christian faith, but of the God who put us on this earth. I am assuming this album will scare away any more of the lingering conservative Christian fanbase that Bazan's former band Pedro the Lion has built and welcome a larger fanbase of "post-Christians" looking for someone who is writing from a doubtful standpoint without the pompous and judgmental language usually used to put down the Christian faith. Not to say that all Christians that were fans of Pedro the Lion won't appreciate this new album, just that those who are akin to listening to albums approved by Christian culture and deemed "uplifting" will certainly shy away from the dark and depressing content sung in "Curse Your Branches". I hope this doesn't happen, but it is bound to be what will happen based on lyrics like in the song Curse Your Branches: "if You bully her like you've done me with fear of damnation / Then I hope she can see You for what You are." Bazan is clearly not just exploring doubtful feelings, but actually calling out the God of pop-Christianity and asking for a fight.

I would just like to share what David Bazan's music has meant to me over the years and what his latest album has said to me. Here is a little bit of background on my experiences with Pedro the Lion (David Bazan's former monicker). I first started listening to him when Control came out. This was the first album of his to really shake up the Christian music world because it included songs about adultery in a hotel room, murder, a priest denouncing his faith, and worst of all in the last song he said the word "shit." So because I was a latecomer to his music I have never really seen him as some sort of goody-two-shoes who wrote praise music for the Christian consumer. I wasn't shocked or hurt when he released albums that said "fuck" or explored his doubts about the Christian religion. I have always thought his lyricism and music made a perfect balance and his art has influenced my life in a big way. He is one of the only musicians that I feel like I want to talk to, instead of just enjoy from afar.

The reason he has had such a large impact on my life is because of his sometimes brutal honesty about the world around him. He writes songs and albums about the parts of life that aren't always clean and that don't end very positively. He explored the pain that we see every day, and the sins that we try so hard to avoid but can't always keep off our backs. He said things like "Wouldn't it be so wonderful if everything were meaningless. But everything is so meaningful,and most everything turns to shit. Rejoice." What Christian author or musician has the guts to sum up their entire work with something so honest and gut wrenching? Some might say a Christian wouldn't do that, because that negativity about life isn't a very uplifting thing to ponder, but what Christian hasn't thought something similar without the rejoice at the end? Bazan wasn't scared to let the listener decide what they want about what to do when "most everything turns to shit". He didn't end the album with a promise of better days or an alternative way to stop bad things from happening, he just let it resonate in his listener. Thinking about things like that line is what has kept my faith in God so strong. I thought about how I could intercede in other's lives to stop everything from turning to shit. I thought about how rejoicing amidst the shit was a way to communicate your suffering to God. I've been spurred to think about trenches of life time and time again by countless Bazan lyrics over the years, and have been enriched and refined because of it. To me, a Pedro the Lion album is more spiritual than pretty much any other musicians work I can recall. It is honest and grating, unlike any praise song I could hear in a modern church that demands I sing along and agree instead of listen and respond. That is what his music and poetry has done for me, it gives me a chance to listen and respond to serious issues that I feel demand attention. Singing "I love you, Jesus" over and over again doesn't solve problems or grow faith, it merely gives you self-satisfaction or tells Jesus something he probably already knows is true (or not true). Sure, sometimes we need to say things like that, but those times aren't spiritual in my experience, they are merely emotional. Maybe I am just not at a point in my faith where I can be satisfied with "I Love you, Jesus". I am satisfied spiritually when I have the opportunity learn more about Him and His creation, which is one thing that David Bazan and other gritty and honest writers have given me.

So I guess I am not going to say too much about his latest album, but I will say that despite the fact that he no longer considers himself a Christian, he is still challenging me to interact deeper with God through his honest questioning and desire to understand more about the root of our existence. He still writes important words that demand our attention.

With this album he will very likely lose his Christian audience, and that is the saddest thing about his loss of faith. I think his soul is still fine, as he told the Cornerstone audience. I am not in fear that he will be damned for his doubts. The tragedy is that the Christian world still has a lot to learn from him, but will most likely shut him out after the release of this album.

The Sheltering Sky

I got A Canticle for Leibowitz and The Sheltering Sky from the library at the same time. I decided to read Leibowitz first because it was recommended from a friend. I found The Sheltering Sky while I was researching the life of William S. Burroughs (Author of Naked Lunch, the book I couldn't finish). I wasn't sure if I was still going to read it, because I thought the author would share too many similarities with William Burroughs, but I was wrong. The story is cohesive and easily understandable. Some things in it are a bit strange, but not disturbing like the visceral scenes in Naked Lunch. I looked back at what I had read about what the two authors had in common and found out that William Burroughs actually just moved to Tangier, Morocco because of Paul Bowles fiction. There was no reference to sharing any similarities in writing style.

With that said, I am glad I read it. It was an interesting book about a husband and wife travelling through North Africa. The couple is attempting t0 rekindle their marriage, but unsure if that is what either of them wants. It is complicated by the husband's inability to focus and the wife's constant strategizing for how to win her husband back.

The first two parts of the novel are set in cities where there are plenty of Westerners that the couple interact with on a regular basis. The third, and final, part of the book is a strange and intense journey into the Sahara Desert made by Kit (the wife). My interpretation of how the book is broken into sections is that each section is a different stage of the main characters' insanity. The first section shows the general social disorders that the husband and wife have, the second shows the couple become more and more unable to function regularly by putting them in crisis situations and showing their inability to logically solve their problems, while the third section of the novel is an exploration of post-traumatic insanity as viewed through Kit's eyes.

Having the book slowly move Southward throughout the downward spiral of madness was an interesting way to show the harshness of the African terrain and society. It is clearly seen in the novel that the further a Westerner gets from their own culture, the more vulnerable they are. By the end of the novel we are in a mostly untouched African culture that takes advantage of Kit's insanity and naivety, giving the perfect setting for the chaos that is happening in her mind. This had to be an intentional effect to help the reader truly feel the intensity of the character's mental state.

The book was very well written. I found his ability to describe both the natural world and his character's emotions and thoughts incredibly impressive. His writing style and language alone make the book worth reading.

All in all, I think the Sheltering Sky is a great book. It didn't give me any epiphanies or open up too much for interpretation or discussion, but it was definitely worth reading for the compelling story and the impressive prose.

A Canticle for Leibowitz

Wow. Merely minutes ago I finished A Canticle for Leibowitz (by Walter M. Miller Jr.). This was recommended to me by a friend and I had not heard anything about it before. Little did I know, it is considered by many readers and quite a few polls to be the best science fiction novel ever written. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and I was blown away. It is very different from what you would expect of a post apocalyptic science fiction novel. The author decided to focus the story on relationships, religion, and human nature in general. When I think of a story about a civilization after massive nuclear war, I think of a horror story filled with chase scenes and ominous mutants, not the canonization of the patron saint of electronics. Nor do I think of the reinvention of electricity or the re-emergence of a cold war. Frankly, there was so much meaning packed into this three part, three hundred page novel, that I don't even know what to write about.

I suppose I want to focus this entry on the theme of human nature and sin. There are several times when these themes are brought forward directly in the dialogue and there is also a general undercurrent of the themes going on throughout the novel. The direct references are usually in the form of a sermonette from an abbott to either a certain person or just directed at the world in general. The sermonettes usually invoke the horrors of "the flame deluge" (nuclear war) and are not focused on condemning the advancement of scientific research (the Albertan Order of Leibowitz regards properly practiced science as an act of worship), but they are actually focused on the condemnation of humankind's pride in their advancement.

I felt while reading the book that the author obviously was a student of scripture and Christian tradition based on his mature depiction of what sin was and how it worked in the character's lives. After lots of study and thought I came to the conclusion that I believe sin isn't found in action, inaction or even in thought. It is only found when our motives are selfish and our selfishness in some way affects those around us. I would say that the monks in A Canticle for Leibowitz would agree with this belief, and that Walter M. Miller Jr. probably has a similar understanding of what the traditional definition of sin truly is.

With that said, while reading A Canticle for Leibowitz, you see humans throughout the novel falling into the same trap that they fell into at the time of the nuclear war. I wanted to believe that after the initial time of anarchy after the blast, the world would realize that war and hate are not going to advance any civilization or solve any problems, but just result in the eventual destruction of humanity. That didn't happen in this novel. The survivors of the initial war all have the same, built-in flaws of the original humanity before the nuclear destruction. There was hope from some of the scientists in the second part of the novel that humanity had learned not to repeat history, but some characters also sincerely doubt humanity's ability to save itself and call upon God to miraculously save us from ourselves.

I feel that though the virtue of hoping for the best is important for the continuity of personal faith, it is in vain if you aren't aware of the necessity of intervention. Whether you are a stern atheist or fundamentally religious, I believe there is a sense we have where we naturally understand that intervention is necessary if we are to become truly moral and virtuous beings. Not necessarily the intervention of gods or supernatural forces, but just that something outside of the self (nature, other humans, etc.) is necessary for us to see the error of being completely selfish. As a Christian, I believe it is necessary for Christ to intervene in order for us to bring about any type of new eden or utopian society, but not necessarily through the means of a literal second coming. This is a mere conjecture, a weak theory, but I'll share it anyways. I believe it is possible that the second coming is through His body, the church, finally realizing it's form and acting as the body of Christ through and through. I think even if you disagree with the part about Christ, and would say it just takes humans entering into each other's lives and teaching one another about love and peace and self-sacrifice, we wouldn't be too far apart in our beliefs.

Anyhow, I guess that's what I got most from this book. The fact that the only way we can prevent ourselves from complete annihilation is through miraculous intervention. And I think that is part of what Walter M. Miller Jr. was trying to say as well. Even in the novel's ending (which I wouldn't dare reveal here)* there is hope for some form of miracle to save humanity.

This was a great book, with countless other lessons to learn from it. Everyone with a brain should check it out.

*I found this a funny thing for me to say, since I only know one person who reads this blog regularly. Who would I be ruining the ending for?

Damascus Nights

I finished Damascus nights last Wednesday and decided to wait on posting my final words about the book. I was testing the lasting power of the book's impact on my life. It was a great book. I don't know if it stands up to many of the classics I have been reading lately, but it definitely is worth reading if you ever get the chance.

The story was the perfect amount of fantasy and truth. The way it did this was by placing a very small fantasy plotline into a story of modern living in the city of Damascus. There was very little magic or mystery in the story, but the one magic thing that happened opened your eyes to the stories that Salim and his friends tell. The morals of their stories are sometimes ambiguous and sometimes obvious, but the parables themselves gave me hints of spirituality that made the book incredibly rewarding to read. The characters in the book were all sympathetic and likable. By the end of the novel I wanted them to be my friends, or perhaps for the book to be the first in an indefinite series of books involving these characters.

It is always exciting for me to experience new cultures through literature. I had never really read anything set in the Middle East or written by an author from the region, so this was like a whole new world to me.* The story even touched on that a bit when one character told stories of America and none of the other characters would believe the things he said. The best of that was his story of trying to barter in department store in New York City. As I said before, the stories that were being told sometimes had simple and childish morals that were written to remind you of them in a creative way. Sometimes the stories had larger themes and were focused politics rather than simple morality. Those stories were usually very tragic and affected me in a more intimate way ( i.e. Made me want to learn more or get involved with solving the probles mentioned).

Anyhow, enough Jibber jabber. Great read! Check it out!


*(Funny that I said "a whole new world" because the story of Aladdin and the seven theives is in the book A Thousand and One Nights which is one of this author's main influences. This was done completely by accident.)