Tuesday, October 31, 2006

We interrupt our usual gusher of good cheer to bring you this rant.

As you know, in addition to being a national sugar high, tonight is also sacred to the nation's growing number of cognitively-impaired parents. Yes, once again it's National Tart Up Your Daughter Day! [Scroll down a bit--you'll know it when you see it.] Where parents can once again abdicate their responsibilities to a culture all too happy to commodify children and negligently send their flesh and blood off looking for all the world like a farm team for Flavor of Love.

This year, I direct my Socratic examination of the degenerating state of the Slutoween holiday wardrobe at a new audience. Not at like-minded parents praying daily for the Chapter 7 liquidation of MGA Entertainment. Nor at the corporate sellouts who market this--the people whom Chris Buckley immortalized as the employers of the American Nuremburg Defense: "I haff a mortgage."

Instead, this is for the parents who actually participate in NTUYDD.

Yes, delinquent asshats, I'm talking to you.

Come on over here and sit down. Ignore the Mossberg. Strictly ceremonial. Ditto the Louisville Slugger--a man has to have his enthusiasms, don't you know?

And no, those aren't "brass knuckles" on my right hand. Don't be silly. It's one of those magnet things that help with blood circulation. Works like a charm.

Are you sitting comfortably? Good.

What the hell is wrong with you?

No, really: what in the hell is the matter with you?

This is not "cute." This is not "funny."

This is warped.

This is wrong.

And you, more than anyone else, are responsible for it.

Because you won't get off your dead ass and be a parent--instead of a friend--to your children.

Because you think buying your kids what they want = "love."

Yeah, I know--I'm a hectoring moralist. One of those "social conservatives" the news is always warning people about. Probably even a "theocrat" (but my nuclear program is woefully behind schedule, worse luck).

Well, you see, I'm a judgmental jerk for a reason--I can't wall my family off from the world. There are only so many levees I can build against moral decay. We're all breathing the same polluted air--and I don't need you burning styrofoam next door. It affects us all, folks.

Let me put it more simply, right down to earth, in a language that everybody here can easily understand:

Cause. Effect.

Worried yet? You'd better start.
Happy Halloween from our house to yours!


Maddie says "no puking pumpkins this year."

Spoilsport. Eh--nobody said a thing about them last year, to my great disappointment.

As a consolation, I'm going to roast the seeds instead.

Good luck with the sugar rushes, fellow parents and candy donors.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Life around the Manor.

Busy weekend. Even with the Parental Bonus Hour called "Daylight Savings." Which isn't much of a bonus given that the kids' internal clocks just go off an our "earlier."

1. We have a hyperactive nephew, N, who is basically a good kid. But his favorite activity seems to be pummelling or viewing the same. I wandered into a conversation between my wife and mother in law yesterday about N the Viking:

M-i-L: "N is going to be the Grim Reaper."

Me: "Sounds about right. Say, what's he going to be for Halloween?"

Heather and M-i-L: [The Look™, followed by stifled laughter.]

Me: "Oh, riiight. Like you weren't thinking the same thing."

2. Rachel has glommed on to my voice (I can read music and carry a tune without causing the dog to howl), insisting that I sing at least one song before she goes to sleep at night. Her favorites are "Waltzing Matilda" and "Men of Harlech" [Zulu version]. Alas, she requires the annotated versions of each song: "What's 'billabong'?" "What's 'rebounding'?" Kinda throws the rhythm off.

3. I can't recommend enough changing the words to the kids' favorite shows. A surefire way to start an argument (and distract them from the unblinking eye).

Noggin is a pretty solid network for the younguns--between 6am and 6pm, the network has no commercials, and no agendae, either. The programming can be soporific, but it's about the safest thing out there (short of loading the DVDs). None of these virtues apply to the programming that runs between 6pm and 6am on the same network, renamed to the faux-cool "The N."

Noggin has its flaws, though--did I mention "soporific"? So much so that Heather and I often yearn for what we call the "Egyptian Brain Treatment." This is a reference to a favorite part of the mummification process where bladed device is shoved up the corpse's nose into the brain cavity and swirled around long enough to liquify the cranial contents, which are drained out and used as part of the embalming process.

Anyway, back to the word change: for some reason, all of the kids enjoy "Wonder Pets," an animated show featuring a duck, a turtle and a guinea pig who go out and rescue other animals in (very slight) peril. Cute to a saccharine fault, it wears thin for adults after two minutes. But the kids love it.

So fun with the theme music is a sanity-preserving necessity.

"Come on, son--wouldn't this be better with tougher animals? Say, a badger, an ankylosaurus and an eagle? It'd be called "Thunder Pets!"

[In a basso profundo:]

Thunder Pets/
Thunder Pets/
They're on their way/
To punish the wicked/
And save the day...

Heather is especially fond of "Blunder Pets"--imagine the slapstick possibilities. Ditto "Dunder Pets."

After fifteen minutes of watching, my personal favorite is "Chunder Pets."

Sad to say, all our suggestions ever receive are howls of outrage.

Which, of course, is the point.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Meme-ories.

Dave tagged me a while back with this musical quizzer. My belated replies:

Best title ever for a piece of music - Another Floyd offering: Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving With a Pict. Syd Barrett, RIP.

Most underrated guitarist - Alex Lifeson of Rush. Everybody talks about Neil's drumming, but Alex wields the axe with the best of them.

Music that moves me to tears - Lamentations of Jeremiah the Prophet by Palestrina.

Most unusual lead instrument in a piece of music - The flute in "Aqualung" by Jethro Tull. For an explication of all things Tull, go here.

Coolest name ever for a Rock 'N Roll band - The Dead Milkmen. Yes, I owned their albums. Yes, one by Black Flag, too. RIP, Dave Blood.

Worst genre of music ever - Adult contemporary. Had to listen to it at 5am during my salad days working at the grocery store while in college. So much so that I am open to the argument that Michael Bolton is the Beast of Revelation.

Best guitar jam - "Big Bad Moon" by Joe Satriani. The man does everything but play the guitar with his teeth in this one. Ignore Satch's rare attempt at singing and instead marvel at the pyrotechnics.

Music that's ever scared your kid - Still working on that. I'll do what Dave did and say what creeped me out--Night on Bald Mountain. You can start picturing the cultists with ease on this one.

National Anthem that most gets the blood pumping - The Star Spangled Banner, of course! Try it with a couple of beers first.

Consider yourself tagged. Starting with Heather.
Sawing your own branch.

O Christians, do not give Caesar a precedent to render unto you.

1. There were complaints about a room being set aside at lunch time for Muslim students during Ramadan. This action deserves applause, not whining.

2. After a long and wholly unnecessary fight, the wife of a Wiccan soldier killed in combat gets symbol on his headstone. About time.

Though neither a Wiccan nor a Muslim, I can't shrug this stuff off. If it's not obvious by now, let me hasten to reassure you that my motivation is not closet indifferentism bubbling to the surface--"Behold the Modernist!"

Rather, it seems pretty obvious to me that if we do not stand against Caesar's refusal to accommodate (as opposed to promote) religious belief, we are implicitly asking him to do the same to us. In a world becoming increasingly secular, I don't think he needs the encouragement.

[First link via Rich Leonardi.]

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Weekend at Bashir's.

James Carroll, novelist and op-ed columnist at the Boston Globe is the examplar of a common type of Catholic who emerged in the turbulence following the Second Vatican Council. Believing that the millenium was upon them, they cast aside every Catholic distinctive with a speed that a Deja Vu pole dancer would consider unseemly.

However, since the millenium failed to arrive on schedule, and as the Anni Horribli of John Paul II and now Benedict XVI stretched into decades, they resemble nothing so much as a support group for the perpetually embittered and carping, lifting their heads from bowls of chaff only long enough to repeat the same gripy canards, over and over and over and over again. Unfortunately for the rest of us, this is good enough for the only audience that still pays attention (and salaries) to them--the opinion shapers in the MSM.

Carroll is in the running for the title of Most Tiresome of these skipping records. Given his fangs-bared hatred for the Church, he's best described as the Noam Chomsky of Catholicism.

As a consistently Catholic-hating Catholic, Carroll hasn't offered up a thought about the Church that hadn't already been pre-chewed by the leftism to which he owes his unquestioning allegiance. But you have to admit, it's a helluva gig, and it plays to a certain audience just like Mozart.

The sad fact is that Carroll, while a novelist of some ability, is an embarrassing failure as a historian and pundit about his nominal religious affiliation.

His recent Pollock-by-numbers column about the Regensburg address offers damning evidence.

ROME HAS SPOKEN. Once, that meant the question was settled. Now that means the question has been inflamed. In this case, the question is whether to accept Osama bin Laden's invitation to the clash of civilizations. Sure, why not?

Of course, he has a clash whether he wants it or not. His response is to pretend that his tired blend of multi-culti tolerance (read: contempt for the West) and shrill denial isn't unconditional surrender.

Ask the French how that's working out for them. Feel free to wait a generation--there should be a lot more of them over here to ask by then...

Pope Benedict XVI celebrated the fifth anniversary of 9/11 by citing, on the next day, a 14th-century slur that Mohammed brought ``things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached."

Behold--the novelist at work! Because that misquote creates a neat alternate history of Carroll's own imagining. Here's the entire relevant quote of the brilliant Manuel II, along with the essential context provided by the Holy Father (and omitted by the carping Catholic Chomsky):

In the seventh conversation, edited by Professor Khoury, the emperor touches on the theme of the holy war. The emperor must have known that surah 2, 256 reads: "There is no compulsion in religion". According to the experts, this is one of the suras of the early period, when Mohammed was still powerless and under threat. But naturally the emperor also knew the instructions, developed later and recorded in the Qur'an, concerning holy war. Without descending to details, such as the difference in treatment accorded to those who have the "Book" and the "infidels", he addresses his interlocutor with a startling brusqueness, a brusqueness which leaves us astounded, on the central question about the relationship between religion and violence in general, saying: "Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached". The emperor, after having expressed himself so forcefully, goes on to explain in detail the reasons why spreading the faith through violence is something unreasonable. Violence is incompatible with the nature of God and the nature of the soul. "God", he says, "is not pleased by blood - and not acting reasonably is contrary to God's nature. Faith is born of the soul, not the body. Whoever would lead someone to faith needs the ability to speak well and to reason properly, without violence and threats... To convince a reasonable soul, one does not need a strong arm, or weapons of any kind, or any other means of threatening a person with death...".

IOW, the Emperor condemned only that which new in--i.e., original to-- Islam, not Muhammad's thought in toto.

As the the Pope made clear, he disagreed with that statement. I agree with him on that, too. There are, in fact, "new" things from Muhammad that are laudable--the explicit condemnation of female infanticide, for starters.

But Carroll twists the quote into a blanket condemnation. Holding true to form, he dishonestly loads the dice against his erstwhile co-religionists, making it an effective smear for his audience, most of whom are too narrow-minded to bother to pick up the actual address. The fix is in, which was probably the idea. Given his inclinations and history, it is silly to give Carroll the benefit of the doubt.

The patently false characterization of Mohammed's teaching, displaying an ignorance of the Koran, of the magnificence of Islamic devotion, and of history was offered almost as an aside in the pope's otherwise esoteric lecture about reason and faith. After Muslim uproar, the pope, while not really apologizing, insisted he had meant no harm.

From the context of this hit piece, "esoteric" = "dismiss after speed-reading." When you're a Card-Carrying critic of the "institutional church," you can automatically dispense with technicalities like contextual reading. It's from the big, bad Beast by the Tiber--he's read it all before. It's his job to filter it out to the Globe audience via the Gospel According to NPR.

In fact, if you think of Carroll as a Unitarian Gantry, you have him nailed.

As to the rest--Oh dear. The novelist properly rebuked for his amateur-night history of the Catholic Church's relationship to Judaism now styles himself as an expert on Islam.

The woodshed is ready and waiting.

And, for the record, please do show us precisely what is false about it, O Columnist? Sura 9:5 seems...free of nuance. Any possible flaws in Islam? No? Good dhimmi! Your jizya will be extracted with minimal head-swatting.

So long as it's paid on time, of course.

President Bush famously used the word ``crusade," then backed away from it. But playing by bin Laden's script, Bush launched a catastrophic war that has become a crusade in all but name.

Bush Derangement Syndrome in full-flower. If Carroll was assigned to write a column on continental drift, he'd manage to work in a reference to Chimpy W. McHitlerburton.

Now Benedict has supplied a religious underpinning for that crusade.

You mean the same fellow who unequivocally condemned the plans to attack Iraq?

Oooooookay.

[The Card also excuses carriers from any need to display intellectual rigor or consistency. Membership has its benefits.]

Claiming to defend rationality and nonviolence in religion, the pope has made irrationality and violence more likely, not less. Bush and Benedict are in sync, and bin Laden is grinning.

"Grinning," eh? Most likely. Flesh-free skulls do that. Score one for the fictionist, I suppose.

But just how did the Pope make irrationality and violence more likely?
Even abstracting from the offending citation, the pope's lecture reveals a deeper and insulting problem. Benedict properly affirms the rationality of faith, and the corollary that faith should be spread by reasoned argument and not by violent coercion. But he does so as a way of positing Christian superiority to other faiths.

And Carroll, as a good Unitarian in Catholic drag, simply will not have that. Carroll is convinced that if Jesus were still alive today, he'd sound an awful lot like, well, Jim Carroll.

That was the point of the passing comparison with Islam -- which, supposedly, is irrational and therefore intrinsically violent, unlike Christianity which is rational and intrinsically eschews coercion.

But this ignores history: Christianity, beginning with Constantine and continuing through the Crusades up until the Enlightenment, routinely ``spread by the sword the faith" it preached; Islam sponsored rare religious amity among Jews, Christians, and Muslims in the very period from which the insulting quote comes.

Hilarious. Grimly so, but still hilarious. The one doing the ignoring of history is our white-washing columnist. He is painfully, stupidly, gothically wrong about an alleged Kumbaya moment in fifteenth century Islam. When Manuel II wrote, the tattered remnants of Byzantium were struggling against the surging Ottoman tide, a tide that would swamp Christendom's queen city of Constantinople in 1453 and butcher Manuel's heroic son Constantine in the process.

One of the handiest tools in the Ottoman kit was the Janissary, a fierce and devoted Muslim soldier loyal only to the Turkish sultan. The Janissaries would be the first soldiers to break through the Byzantine defenses on that bleak morning of May 29, 1453, and they would ensure the fall of the City of Constantine.

Where did the Janissaries come from? I'll solve, Pat: "Devshirme." Turkish for "gathering," it was the process by which Christian families under Ottoman rule had their sons taken from them. With Koranic justification, of course: Sura 8, verse 41. To be fair, the verse refers only to a taking of goods, but sadly, the Sultan Orhan, who initiated the practice, didn't have Carroll there to set him straight.

The practice of devshirme saw Ottoman troops march into Christian villages and remove the best and brightest of the sons from their families under penalty of death. Those sons were cut off from their families and raised in isolated schools that inculcated Islam, loyalty to the Sultan and trained them in the arts of war. Said warfare being directed at the Sultan's enemies, of course. First and foremost, the beleaguered Christians of Byzantium and the Balkans. That's some "sponsorship of amity" all right.

Carroll is a fierce critic (and rightfully so) of the taking of the six year old Jewish boy Edgardo Mortara from his family by papal troops in 1858. The devshirme was Edgardo Mortara times 200,000, across three centuries. Not that he cares, of course. The willfully ignorant will not be denied.

Yeah--I don't know about you, but I can just feel the tolerance Manuel II was so impudent to criticize.

[Those of you looking for some cheer can consider the fact that devshirme had one immortal case of blowback in the form of the Albanian hero George Castriota, better known to history as Skanderbeg. With apologies to the Scots, Skanderbeg's exploits make Wallace look very much junior varsity.]

But let's pretend for a moment that medieval Islam was All Andalusian Cordoba, All the Time. There's only one tiny little flaw all those tolerant, oh-so-multicultural I'm OK, You're OK Muslims share:

They're all very, very dead.

Waving them as totems is Weekend at Bernie's for the Boston set--hence, Weekend at Bashir's.

Spin that tale of supposed medieval tolerance to Abdul Rahman, Lina Joy, Steve Centanni and Olaf Wiig, all of whom have seen the business end of the "no compulsion in religion" religion.

Those episodes have happened in the last two years. Unlike, say, the Crusades.

The descendants of the Muslim medievals seem remarkably resistant to their sires' alleged ideals. You'd think it would behoove Carroll to wonder why.

You'd think, but you'd be wrong. He's too busy doing his Sinead O'Connor impersonation and "fighting the real enemy."

More significant, though, for any discussion of reason and faith is the fact that Christian theology's breakthrough embrace of the rational method, typified by St. Thomas Aquinas's appropriation of Aristotle, and summarized by Benedict as ``this inner rapprochement between Biblical faith and Greek philosophical inquiry," was made possible by such Islamic scholars as Averroes, whose translations of Aristotle rescued that precious tradition for the Latin West.

Alas for Islam that Averroes--and Avicenna--were condemned as heretics, and that Islam, unlike Catholicism, was unable to assimilate Aristotelian thought.

Inconvenient facts--always screwing up a good whitewashing.

Benedict makes no mention of this Islamic provenance of European and Christian culture.

See above. At most, they were caretakers, not "providers."

Indeed, he cannot, because his main purpose in this lecture is to emphasize the exclusively Christian character of that culture. The ``convergence" of Greek philosophy and Biblical faith, ``with the subsequent addition of the Roman heritage, created Europe and remains the foundation of what can be rightly called Europe." Europe remains Christian. That is why the pope, as Cardinal Ratzinger, opposed the admission of Muslim Turkey to the European Union.

Benedict seems to have forgotten that the European rejection of violent coercion in religion
came about not through religion but through the secular impulses of the Enlightenment.

Did it, now? Well, you can certainly find evidence of tolerance in Christianity, too--I Nicaea's call to leave Jews alone, Emperor Leo III building a mosque in Constantinople in the 720s, the Navarese nobles refusing to let the Inquisition near their Muslim peasants, the accommodations following the wars between Catholics and Protestants. To name but a few. Arguing that it sprang from the Enlightenment like Athena from the brow of Zeus seems...simplistic. Then again, consider the source.

The separation of church and state, in defense of the primacy of individual conscience, was the sine qua non of that rejection of religious coercion -- an idea that the Catholic Church fought into the 20th century. Even now, Benedict campaigns against basic tenets of Enlightenment politics, condemning pluralism, for example, and what he calls the ``dictatorship of relativism."

Again, entirely too simplistic, or otherwise good Catholic men like John Courtney Murray and the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council wouldn't have had a leg to stand on in their decrees on the subject of religious freedom.

But of course Carroll hates the "dictatorship of relativism" line--he has no rebuttal. The Enlightenment was hardly some unalloyed good--the same process also brought us the guillotine, the exaltation of the state and the guillotine's muscular grandchildren, Zyklon B and the Gulag. In light of this, Benedict might just have grounds for a wee bit of skepticism toward Carroll's idol.

The pope's refusal to reckon with historical facts that contradict Catholic moral primacy has been particularly disturbing in relation to the church's past with Jews.

Ah, the other Carroll hobbyhorse--the Church's relationship to Judaism. Jews of the past, that is. Please note that his solicitude for Jews ends in 1948, with the founding of Israel. Judaism is just a stick to beat the Church with, and his concern for Jews is quickly discarded where it conflicts with his leftist precommitments.

Last year, he said Nazi anti-Semitism was ``born of neo-paganism," as if Christian anti-Judaism was not central.

It's much more accurate to say Christian anti-semitism was necessary to the Holocaust, but hardly sufficient. Christian pogroms and expulsions of Jews stain our history, but the genocidal intent of the Nazis was something horribly new. Don't let that get in the way of a good slur, though.

This year, at Auschwitz, he blamed the Holocaust on a ``ring of criminals," exonerating the German nation. By exterminating Jews, the Nazis were ``ultimately" attacking the church.

Non-hacks would note that his very presence at Auschwitz belies any blanket exoneration. As to the rest, I call "fraud." Here's the relevant quote:

The rulers of the Third Reich wanted to crush the entire Jewish people, to cancel it from the register of the peoples of the earth. Thus the words of the Psalm: "We are being killed, accounted as sheep for the slaughter" were fulfilled in a terrifying way.

Deep down, those vicious criminals, by wiping out this people, wanted to kill the God who called Abraham, who spoke on Sinai and laid down principles to serve as a guide for mankind, principles that are eternally valid. If this people, by its very existence, was a witness to the God who spoke to humanity and took us to himself, then that God finally had to die and power had to belong to man alone -- to those men, who thought that by force they had made themselves masters of the world.

By destroying Israel, they ultimately wanted to tear up the taproot of the Christian faith and to replace it with a faith of their own invention: faith in the rule of man, the rule of the powerful.

Nope. Not what Carroll wants it to say. But why let that stop him?

He decried God's silence, not his predecessor's.

Maybe because Pius XII wasn't "silent"? A good argument can be made that he could have done more, but the silence argument is a worn canard.

A pattern begins to show itself.

In Carroll's writing, absolutely. Metronomic, even.

Forget church offenses against Jews. Denigrate Islam. Caricature modernity and dismiss it.

It is true that forgetfulness, denigration and caricature are all on display here, but only in a deeply ironic way.

In all of this, Benedict is defending a hierarchy of truth. Faith is superior to reason. Christian faith is superior to other faiths (especially Islam). Roman Catholicism is superior to other Christian faiths. And the pope is supreme among Catholics. He does not mean to insult when he defends this schema, yet seems ignorant of how inevitably insulting it is. Nor does the pope understand that, today, such narcissism of power comes attached to a fuse.


If someone wants to unpack the crowning paragraph of Carroll's shell-shocked bile, knock yourself out. But we should take heed on the "narcissism" line--he certainly knows of what he speaks.

[Thanks to Jay for the link.]

[Update: Tweaked 10/27--filled a couple of potholes that were bugging me.]

Favorite Scenes/Characters from A Meeting At Corvallis?

Curious folks want to know.

[Sorry for the raggedness and punctuation errors that fill the review. Will address that later.]

I'll start:

The battle between the Protectorate and the Bearkillers at the ruins of Salem. Tense and with great detail, demonstrating that warfare in the post-Change world is more a combination of the medieval with the American Civil War than straight Middle Ages.

I also liked Mike's joust with "dickweed," the son of the ex-Hell's Angel.

Astrid bringing her "collection" to Corvallis.

Characters: Conrad Renfrew, the Grand Constable of the Protectorate. And, unless I miss my guess, the scarring is a nod to Gothmog, the orc commander at Pelennor Fields in the film version of Return of the King.

By all means, chime in.
I have little to offer on MLB's SmudgeGate.

I didn't have a really good look at it from Section 211, Row 17, Seat 18 on Sunday night...

That, and we were too busy yelling "Weeea-ver, Weeee-ver," at the former Detroit Tigers' property.

Thanks to all who encouraged us to go--a great anniversary present for us (seven years yesterday), and one that we'll always remember.

Arranging the victory was the really expensive part, as you can imagine.

Friday, October 20, 2006

And so it ends. For now.


[For the decreasing number of newbies to the Changeverse trilogy, here are my reviews of books one and two. Please be happily advised that the second trilogy is in the works, with the first volume due in print in autumn 2007.]

I'm going to keep this as major spoiler free as possible (the exception being references to Nigel. I mean, come on--the sample chapters have been up for the better part of ten months, people). The book portends a major change (rimshot!) in the direction of the growing series, so I'm going keep a lid on major plot points.

The final book in the Dies the Fire trilogy begins at the end of Change Year 9 (AD 2007) with an audience with the tyrannical Lord Protector of Portland and his supporters (including a renegade and unbalanced Catholic bishop turned anti-pope) and ends with a funeral procession and a wedding in the autumn of Change Year 10.

The nine months in between are the most momentous of the entire trilogy, with frenzied diplomatic manuevering, raids and finally, a full-blown war between the growing might of the Lord Protector and the patchwork of free Oregon states determined to resist him. And yes, there is indeed "a meeting at Corvallis" that figures prominently in the plot.

The time since the Protector's War has seen the Protectorate trying the diplomatic route for once, attempting to neutralize the commerce-minded Corvallan city-state and separate it from the free mini-states with which it shares a border. With some success, as Corvallis has a buffer which makes the threat from the Protectorate more theoretical. That, and business is business and business must grow, as the good Doctor once said. Regardless of swordpoints in tummies, you know.

The frontline states--the Bearkillers, Clan Mackenzie and Mount Angel--are far less sanguine, with the Protector's barons spilling their blood on a regular raiding basis. Conflict becomes inevitable.

We get continuing close looks at the Bearkillers and Mackenzies, especially the latter. But we also get, at long last, solid looks at the other two major Free Oregon statelets: Corvallis and Mount Angel.

The first to be seen is the home of the Oregon State University, Corvallis. It is a finely-detailed and interesting blend of the medieval and the late 19th century, with the latter manifesting itself in methane-fueled gaslights. There is even a newspaper again, but only for the well-heeled. Corvallis is a place that has adjusted to the Change and is prospering. And wants to keep it that way, thank you. As someone has put it--when shaking hands with a Corvallan, always make sure to count your fingers afterward. There are plenty of good folk in Corvallis who see the Protector's threat, but just as many who'd rather trade with him, up to and including selling him rope.

The other realm seen for the first time is of especial interest to Catholics: the abbey, town and redoubtable fortress of Mount Angel. Any lingering concerns by complainers that the western U.S. was somehow turning into WiccaWorld are thoroughly dispelled in this book.

A salient digging into the Protector's territory, the energetic monks and citizens of Mount Angel have turned it into an unassailable fortress. As one of the Protector's henchmen ruefully notes, "20,000 men led by the Archangel Michael couldn't take the place by storm." Headed by the courageous and capable ex-soldier turned Benedictine Abbot (and now Bishop) Dmwoski, the people of Mount Angel are particularly despised by the Portland anti-pope, Leo, who is gathering the cordwood for the auto de fe. Abbot-Bishop Dmwoski becomes a minor "perspective" character (we see briefly inside his head). The good-guy Catholics prove to be likeable characters, and essential to the plot. We also get subtle hints of the growth of Mount Angel's Catholic flock, e.g., a seemingly off-hand description of "a formerly Lutheran, and now Catholic, church."

We also get, courtesy of the three British "castaways," a picture of the surviving Church worldwide: savagely battered, but intact enough to hold a valid conclave. The Swiss Guards' ceremonial weaponry proves to be handy indeed, as it were. Indeed, Nigel Loring was fortunate enough to meet and speak with an familiar surviving Cardinal at the Church's new headquarters in the Appenines.

The main characters come into fuller relief, especially the quite mad but fully-functioning (and even more fully lethal Astrid), who has taken to the Changed world like a duck to water. She moves into a former State forest and sets up an organization called the Dunedain Rangers. It is now also crystal-clear that she regards Tolkien as Holy Writ. With deliberate laughter-inducing consequences at the Meeting.

Juney is still Juney, a mystic-turned-reluctant-chief-of-state with a conscience. Ken Larsson still gets to make big contraptions that shoot pointy things, though there's a hint that he's gone eccentric himself (he's worrying about another dinosaur killer asteroid). Nigel has settled in and become an ideal military advisor to the Mackenzies. Eilir and John Hordle have become a couple, and alongside Alleyne Loring, constitute Astrid's last anchors to reality. Mathilda and Rudy become more fleshed out and less precocious, and their friendship is an honest one honestly depicted.

But in AMAC I think it is Mike Havel who comes into the sharpest relief of any of the heroic characters. Intelligent, capable and ruefully aware of his limitations, he has become King in all but name. He makes choices that in this book that will affect not only the Bearkillers, but the other Oregon lands for generations.

And the villains. Yikes. Under the influence of anti-pope Leo, Arminger has settled down somewhat. Gone are the serving girls in fetish gear, and other overt scandals. Arminger goes so far as to admit that Leo has counselled him to be more forgiving. For whatever that is worth. But apart from that, he's still the charismatic, lidless eye of evil determined to subjugate as many people as quickly as possible. As much as Norman Arminger is a charming monster, it is his wife Sandra who becomes the deadlier of the pair. The difference being, she is more patient and far more subtle, preferring to outthink her opponents. Yet both have human touches, too--their geniune love of Mathilda, a sense of humor (e.g., a prank involving the rebirth of elevator music), and rueful regrets about the pre-Change world. Cardboard they ain't.

Entering the picture is one of Lady Sandra's henchwomen, Tiphaine (pronounced ti-FAHN-ee) Rutherton, who is about as un-Tiffany as it gets. For long-time Stirling fans, she evokes images of Yolande Ingolfsson, down to the estate and her understandable motivation to hurt the good guys.

Also entering the scene is the Protectorate's Marshal, Conrad Renfrew. Ruthless, fiercely intelligent and courageous, he has the clockweights to tell Norman Arminger to his face that the Protector screwed up. In another, and much quieter, moment, he acknowledges that his atheism is shaken.

Overall, the plotting flows nicely, with none of the (necessary) converging plot lines of the Protector's War. AMAC is more conventionally linear. The descriptive detail remains top notch. It's odd how I have been able to smell plowed ground and crushed pine needles in these books, to give but two examples. Another of my favorites is the description of a female character in mourning, "looking as she would when the last of her youth left her."

It's not flawless: a confrontation between a hero character and the anti-pope does not develop further, to my disappointment. There is a detour to a Protectorate estate that also slows the book down some (though it now makes more sense with the development of the fourth book, he says obliquely). I also think the Corvallans grow complacent a little too quickly, but I have to admit that the city-state retains more of the elbow-throwing American commercial mindset than do its neighbors, so that might have something to do with it.

But the book's minor flaws are far, far outweighed by its virtues, including a stunning climax and portentious coda involving Rudi. AMAC wraps up the first trilogy brilliantly and sets the table for the second trilogy.

Again, take and read.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

"The resulting mix is similar to a pirate from Kentucky with a head cold..."

That would be Eric Weaver, describing the Michigan accent. Weaver is host and creator of the incomparable Michigan Accent Pronunciation Guide website.

As much as it pains me to admit, I think he's on to something.

The Michiganisms page is dead on, and even refers to my ancestral home by name (check out "Up North"). I'd add in the following, a verbal "period" frequently used in central and northern Michigan: "I know that." It's the equivalent of "at a minimum," or "for certain."

"He had 16-gauge ammo in stock last week, I know that."
"She's full of it--I was there at five o'clock, I know that."

What say you, Michiganders?

Monday, October 16, 2006

The clearest case of false advertising I have ever seen.

The car wash said it had "free vacuums," but that proved to be total BS.

If it were true, they wouldn't have gotten all bent out of shape when I tried to disassemble one and load it in the back of the van.

Lying frauds...

New digs for ponderings about Levantine Christianity.

   The interior of Saint Paul Melkite Greek Catholic Church, Harissa, Lebanon. I have decided to set up a Substack exploring Eastern Christi...