Happy New Year 2020!

Hey y’all! I hope you’re looking forward to the promise of new things in 2020, not just a new year, but what many say is a new decade. I won’t get into when a decade starts, though there’s sometimes much disagreement over it. Who cares, really?

I always enter into new things filled with hope and excitement. I even ended up starting a new journal today. Full disclosure, I manipulated how much I wrote these last couple of days to fill up the journal yesterday so I could start a new one today. Hahaha. I’m not even embarrassed to say it. It’s fun and gives me a little joy to open up the book and see the creamy pages beckoning me. I know … you can’t get nerdier than that.

I hope you have found a little joy today. Maybe your team won or you went out for brunch. Maybe you got to sleep late or got some really good news. Maybe, if things have not been going great, you find some consolation this year.

God bless you!

Review: Star Wars

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker possesses just the right combination of nostalgia, archetype, arcs, surprises, and closure, not to mention explosions and impressive battles. I’ve enjoyed the Star Wars Saga since I was a teenager when the first film premiered in 1977, and have more or less liked every episode since that first one (minus the silly scene of the “family portrait” at the end of The Return of the Jedi and the incomprehensible Jar Jar Binks).

While I won’t say this is a franchise that defines me or has somehow dramatically impacted who I am, I do acknowledge that it has a meaningful impact on the culture.

In fact, Star Wars has been an excellent tool in my literature classes because of its great themes and archetypes.

I can love these films and wear the critic’s hat. The stories are predictable. The dialog is sometimes terrible. The resolutions are obvious. But the stories! They inspire and uplift me. I’m all about the both/and capabilities. The critics can point out what they want — the films speak to us in ways that delight and entertain. The bottom line is simple; the films are successful. They entertain us, make us laugh, make us cry. They give us heroes who are flawed and still manage to prevail. They give us a universe in which Good triumphs over Evil.

While we might discuss the themes of mercy and redemption throughout the series, with prodigal sons who descend into the Dark and then find the Light, we need only look back to the first episode release, Episode IV, to understand what this series is all about. When it first played that summer of 1977, it was just named Star Wars. The subtitle, A New Hope, came later, and is, to me, the key to understanding the whole story.

Evil — through chaos, war, oppression, and injustice — assaults the galaxy throughout the saga. Nevertheless, our heroes do not fall into despair though they do come close a few times. They long for peace, justice and love to prevail. Nothing is more poignant than Leia and Han’s love for their son, Ben, and their hope he return home. Or Rey’s conviction that the Light is worth fighting for, despite her own fears. Or Luke’s faith that the Light will, in fact, prevail.

Our heroes put their hope in the Light, giving them the strength to persevere in the fight. We love these films because the good guys win. Because hope, as we understand it as Catholic Christians, “keeps man from discouragement; it sustains him during times of abandonment; it opens up his heart in expectation of eternal beatitude. Buoyed up by hope, he is preserved from selfishness and led to the happiness that flows from charity” (CCC 1818).

Hope permeates the Star Wars Saga and that is why it resonates with so many people. Not a hope that is filled with happy endings and good luck, but the deep desire and longing for happiness that is rooted in the Good.

some thoughts on books and writing

the employees at the local bookstore leave their recommendations as bookmarks

This is kind of a book review of a book about…books, and a review about a book about a writer. It’s also a super meta post about me and my love of books and my faltering and wonky identity as a writer, being Catholic, and loving Mary. It’s all kind of mashed together. Isn’t who we are and what we do kind of all mashed together?

A book about books

I first picked up The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend by Katarina Bivald a couple of years ago, and it got lost in my pile of books to read. I was diligently making my way through the pile, but I would add books to the top and never make it through to the bottom. I finally mixed it up a bit and got down to the business of reading this most delightful book, new to me in 2019 but published in 2016.

What a lovely read. The characters are quirky. Revelations come via letters, and there are endless references to books and authors. Everything about it appealed to my nerdy book sensibilities. Of course, the plot, a rather unconventional love story about a Swedish young woman who falls in love with a whole town in rural Iowa and finds a home there, entertains and offers a lovely lesson about how books have the power to change us.

A book about Mary

An unexpected bonus from this book was my desire to reread some of the books mentioned in the novel. I even embarked on a perusal of my bookshelf, looking for books worth reading again. I’m currently making my way through the shelves, reading some for the first time, and a good many to reread with new eyes. Our Lady of the Lost and Found by Diane Shoemperlen falls into the latter category. I read it some years ago, a gift from friends. This recent reading has spoken to me in a most intimate and endearing way.

The narrator, a novelist, encounters the Blessed Virgin Mary standing in a corner of her living room. It’s not the typical apparition, as Mary is just looking for a quiet place to lay low for a while. Of course, the visit is exactly what the narrator needs at this point in her life.

This Mary is everything I’d want if the Blessed Mother decided to show up in my living room for a visit. While a work of fiction, it gave me a great deal to think about — especially cultivating a friendship with Mary. I really would open up my home, and heart, to a visit from Mary. We’d cook together, chat over tea, maybe have a glass of wine on the porch and watch the sunset. Even go to the mall. Why not? What better way to spend time with a dear friend?

I want to write like that!

Both books have appealed to me as a writer, and I often returned to passages that seemed to speak directly to me. It’s not that I would like to write books like these, though that is true. It’s more a case of finding myself in these books.

It has been decades since I immerse myself in a book in this way. Perhaps it’s an occupational hazard of teaching literature — I haven’t given myself permission to get lost in a book for the shear joy of reading. It has inspired me to return to writing fiction, and the important art — to dare sharing it with others. We’ll see where that goes.

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