As I pack to move (no, I don’t have a new job yet, but canon law gives me three months grace in the rectory before I really should be moved), I am struck with a large lack upon this blog. If I’m talking about who I am, and what has formed my journey thus far, I really need to discuss books.Most of what I own, is books. Most of what I’ve spent my life doing, is reading. My parents tell me that when I was two, I could write my own name. When I was four, I was reading Archie comics.
I fondly remember the public library near where I grew up, and the school library at my elementary school. I read Mr. Mugs and Mr. Men books. I polished off Choose Your Own Adventure books by the handful. I devoured books by Beverly Cleary, Judy Blume, Eric Wilson and Gordon Korman. I learned a lot about what adult women remembered going through as young girls, because most books I came across had female protagonists. In grade five, I was introduced to the works of Madeline L’Engle. In grade six, I discovered Arthur C. Clarke. Rendezvous with Rama. Rama II. The Songs of Distant Earth. Project Solar Sail. the Ghost from the Grand Banks. 2001. 2010. Suddenly, I was hooked on Science Fiction. Science Fiction led to Fantasy, which led to Humorous Fantasy (especially British humour Fantasy), which led, strangely enough, to Military Science Fiction, which led to Space Opera, Detective Fantasy, and so on and so on.
Archie comics, apparently, are a gateway drug.
Most of my life has been spent learning about Asminov’s three laws of Robotics, Pern’s dragons, Discworld’s practical philosophy, Skeeve’s myth-adventures, Dreamland’s form and function, Xanth’s magical talents, Rimmer’s failures, Harrington’s honor, and Recluse’s order. I witnessed as Pip and Dresden patched together their respective pasts to learn more about who they truly were. I knew Wednesday was Woden’s day before Gaiman told me, and I wait impatiently for the invention of a space elevator.
In grade twelve, I got into roleplaying games. Mostly ones written by friends of mine, then Star Wars, Heroes Unlimited, Beyond the Supernatural, World of Darkness, 7th Sea, and a splattering of others, here and there. I had resisted getting into roleplaying. I had heard rumours it was satanic. My mother had thrown out one of my Star Wars figurines when I was about ten, thinking it had something to do with Dungeons and Dragons. But my friends brought me into gaming slowly, starting with games they had written themselves. For the first year, not one of my characters had actually handled a weapon. I left that to others as I learned about telling stories in a group. Now, I am quite happy to play the greatest swordsman to ever grace the shores of Castille.
I consider myself lucky that I was in seminary before I heard someone say that they thought imagination and creativity were unchristian. I was able to inform this particular young man about Creation theology- when the book of Genesis records that we were created in God’s image, the only description of God given at that point in the Bible was that of Creator; thus, we live out God’s image to the extent that we create. I was also able to share that Adam was “inspired” with God’s breath of life. The opposite of inspiration is expiration. You’re either using your imagination, or you’re already dead.
It was later that I learned that others close to me had been worried for years about my choices of subjects to read upon. Suddenly Harry Potter was the boogeyman, teaching witchcraft and bad Latin to our children (after they found a unicorn hair to power their wands with, I suppose). Yes, ruckus had been raised about Rowling’s books before this time in my life, but not by anyone I had ever taken seriously. I came up with a pseudo-justification for my reading tastes. The best stories, in my opinion, are about what it means to be human. By immersing myself in what it means to be human, I can learn more about God, who created us in His image.
Weak, I admit. But, as far as I’m concerned, no weaker than worrying about the “occult knowledge” in the Philosopher’s Stone.
Sometimes I’d love to be the sort of person who reads classics, theses, the early church fathers or the cutting edge of science. Instead, I am the sort of person who knows three websites from which I can order books through interlibrary loans and I wait impatiently for Jim Butcher’s newest book, Small Favor, to be published.
I love stories, especially stories where the hero triumphs against all odds. I love worlds that I can populate in my dreams, and hints that humanity still has the potential to be more than the lowest common denominator.
Some of my favourite books include:
Good Omens – T. Pratchett & N. Gaiman (Go, get a copy of this one, and read it!)
Echoes of Honor – D. Weber
Dead Beat – J. Butcher
The Road to Mars – E. Idle
Last Chance to See – D. Adams & M. Carwardine
Waking in Dreamland – J.L. Nye
Grunts – M. Gentle
I’ve heard that your library shapes your mind. I can believe it. If you were to read these seven books, you might know even more about me than reading this blog would tell you.
This is who I am: a reader; a dreamer; a storyteller. Losing God hasn’t changed any of that.
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Inquiring minds want to know: can you finish the quote in the title without referring to Google, Wikipedia, or any other online source?
I am amused to discover that one of my favourite books is at the top of Richard Dawkins’ list of his favourite books.