September Reading Log

Just 5 books this month...and with a new baby coming tomorrow, I'd expect that to hold true for October too. Here's a look at what I was reading the past month.

3 Articles I Like This Month

"All-American Despair" by Stephen Rodrick, Rolling Stone. 38 minutes.

A heavy, personal piece about the disturbing suicide rate among middle-aged white men in the United States.

"Who Speaks for Crazy Horse?" by Brooke Jarvis, The New Yorker. 23 minutes.

In the Black Hills of South Dakota there exists an enormous stone monument depicting the Lakota chief Crazy Horse that dwarfs Mount Rushmore. This article tells the story of how that unfinished monument came to be and what it says about America's relationship with its indigenous people. 

"Very Serious Journalism: I Raced Tim Dillard in the Rangers' Dot Race" by Levi Weaver, The Athletic. 7 minutes.

I think the title says it all, don't you?

A BASIC CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY by A.J. Conyers

As both a Christian and a pastor, there are times where I want a simple, concise explanation of one of the doctrines of our faith—not a long list of Bible verses or a theological tome from the 3rd century, just a simple, non-ideological primer on what Christians believe. To my delight, the late A.J. "Chip" Conyers left just such a text for the church, a cross between a systematic theology and a textbook that clocks in at under 250 pages and is accessible to laypeople and academics alike.

This was a book Truett Seminary was giving away by the stack a few months ago, and I couldn't be happier I picked up a copy. The church is in desperate need of voices willing to speak knowledgeably about the value of theology, and this book is a worthy tool for that effort. In search of good theology primers, too often we are forced to choose between resources which are too dumbed down (tracts, Wikipedia, popular but unworthy books by big names), too impenetrable (90% of books put out by publishers whose names end in "Academic Press"), or too lost in minutia, to say nothing of those which are ideologically driven or downright heretical. So A Basic Christian Theology is a breath of fresh air, a scholarly but readable book by a trusted author who isn't trying to win an argument, write a bestseller, or start a movement, but just teach the basics of what we believe.

Conyers divides the book into three sections: the first deals with God and His creation, the second with God and His redemptive purpose, and the third with God and His kingdom. Roughly speaking, this means he starts with Genesis and ends with Revelation, and the book progresses in a logical, understandable way. Conyers does a good job of explaining various famous heresies before laying out orthodox belief, and when it comes to beliefs where there is still no broad consensus (eschatology in particular) he does a good job laying out what different factions believe in an unbiased way before explaining where he personally falls.

All in all, this is a professional, orthodox, accessible book that I'd highly recommend to any believer wanting to brush up on their theology or learn a little more about how the doctrines of our faith have been revealed, debated, and confirmed over the centuries. For pastors and laypeople alike, I can't recommend it highly enough for your reference shelf.

THE GOLDFINCH by Donna Tartt

This book, which set the literary world afire in 2013 and has since been adapted into a film that's currently bombing at the box office, is big. I mean that first in a literal sense—at 771 pages, this is the longest novel I've read in a while. I mean that secondly in terms of its scope—the story crosses continents and decades, and covers everything from fine furniture dealing to heroin overdoses. Finally, this book is big in its ambition, telling a story about grief, beauty, truth, and hope.

The protagonist of the story is Theodore Decker, whose life is changed forever when he survives a terrorist attack at an art museum, an attack that kills his mother. In the ensuing chaos, he takes a painting that the explosion had dislodged, a painting that travels with him for the rest of the book as a symbol of hope even as his world crumbles around him. The rest of the book follows his life as he moves from the Upper East Side to Las Vegas back to New York City. Along the way he befriends a Ukrainian ne'er-do-well, falls in love, and engages in the fraudulent sales of high-end furniture, all before his theft of the painting finally comes to a head in a climactic series of events in Amsterdam.

It's a story that moves remarkably quickly given its length, with an author who seems just as comfortable describing the lives of the rich and famous as drug-addled nights in Vegas. The characters are compelling—sympathetic even when they're not likable—and the dialogue feels authentic. Even in the slower sections of the book, I was never bored.

And, as you'd expect from a novel with this kind of scope and reputation (it won the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, among numerous other awards), it all means something in the end. While it borders on being self-indulgent, the novel's ending does a good job telling you what the point of the whole thing was, offering Tartt's thesis on the value of art. If you like novels that make you think but are also entertaining (which, for some reason, can be hard to find!), I recommend reading The Goldfinch.

DARK KNIGHTS: METAL by Scott Snyder, Greg Capullo, and Jonathan Glapion

The nature of popular culture is that it's cyclical—styles that you never expected to see again make their return 20 years later with only slight tweaks. It's the reason why Friends is one of the most popular shows on Netflix and why all Hollywood seems to make anymore is reboots (and superhero movies). But even knowing that, I never thought comics would decide to go back to the 1990s.

For those who follow these things less closely than I do (i.e. 99% of you), the 1990s were an age of maximum profits and minimum creativity, a time when comics embraced every x-treme, sensationalistic tool in the toolbox in pursuit of a buck. It was a time of holographic variant covers, heroines with anatomies that even Barbie found unrealistic, and heroes strapped with guns as big as cars. And then it all came crashing down. The speculator bubble, which depended on readers buying special issues in the hopes they'd be worth something some day (think Beanie Babies) burst, and the industry took nearly a decade to recover, both creatively and financially.

Well, in Dark Knights: Metal, the '90s are back for some reason, and I can't say I enjoyed it any more this time around. As the title indicates, this is a story that takes the DC Universe and goes full throttle with it, embracing the metal spirit in a way that makes the characters nearly unrecognizable and makes the story a complicated, over-the-top mess.

Plot-wise, it's the story of a dark multiverse invading the DC universe, led by the evil Barbatos, and the Justice League's attempts to ward off dark mirror images of themselves. Sounds simple enough, but it's definitely not. Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo, whose run on Batman in the last decade was one of the most beloved in the long history of the character, can't help but weave some of the mythology from their Batman run into this story while also trying to alter the already-convoluted continuity of the DC universe. By the end, I was hanging onto the plot by my fingernails, if I was hanging on at all.

Stylistically, this wasn't my cup of tea. It was just too much. Plot-wise, same thing: too much. Character-wise, the gripe remains the same: nobody gets to stand out because everybody needs a moment. Too much, too much, too much. But hey, that's what the '90s were all about. if you liked that era, maybe you'll like this. I'll just be sitting over here waiting for the next pop culture cycle.

THE SHERIFF OF BABYLON by Tom King and Mitch Gerards

Without question, Tom King is one of the biggest names in comics right now, and The Sheriff of Babylon is arguably what put him on the map (though it was unquestionably 2016's The Vision and 2017's Mister Miracle which made his popularity explode.) It combines both King's fascinating background—he joined the CIA on September 12, 2001—and his auteur sensibilities to craft a complex, multilayered story as murky as the war it portrays.

The story that King and artist Mitch Gerards—who would later collaborate with him on Mister Miracle—are telling is that of an Iraqi police trainee who is murdered in 2004 in the Green Zone and how his American trainer (a military contractor), a former Iraqi policeman, and an influential, enigmatic Iraqi woman work to solve the case. While in many ways the story is a straightforward crime thriller, its setting keeps things off balance throughout the investigation, all the way until the ending, which is appropriately nebulous.

Many of King's now-trademark tics—especially 9 panel grids—are present in this volume, to mostly great effect. And while The Vision and Mister Miracle show King putting it all out there creatively, The Sheriff of Babylon is understandably more restrained, letting both the story and Gerards' fabulous art do the heavy lifting. Nevertheless, it's fun to see the King-Gerards team flex their muscles in a way that would pay off when Mister Miracle, my favorite comic of the decade, rolled around.

If I had one complaint about The Sheriff of Babylon, it is that you spend large stretches of the book unsure exactly what's going on. But that complaint is mitigated by 1) the mood that King and Gerards set 2) the compelling characters and 3) the knowledge that the story's lack of clarity is intentional, a commentary on the story's setting. If you want to read an excellent graphic novel without a cape in sight, I recommend The Sheriff of Babylon.

THE OMEGA MEN by Tom King and Barnaby Bagenda

The Omega Men concludes my run through Tom King's oeuvre, and after a rough start, it mostly sticks the landing. In this 12-issue maxiseries, King tells the story of two groups: the Citadel, an interplanetary conglomerate who have virtually enslaved the planets in their solar system, and the Omega Men, a small group of revolutionaries seeking to overthrow the Citadel. Thrown into the mix is Kyle Rayner, the White Lantern, who seeks a third way that will spare the system a bloody war.

Let's start with the big weakness of the series: there's not a lot of character work going on in this story, which is strange given the incredible work King would later do with The Vision and Mister Miracle in that regard. While King tells us the motivations of the various Omega Men, I didn't really come to identify or empathize with any of them. Only Kyle Rayner, the lone character readers would have recognized going in, is particularly easy to relate to, and that has more to do with prior familiarity than anything in this story.

As for the book's big strength: like any good sci-fi/fantasy novel, King uses the far-flung setting to ask a big, relevant question: what's the difference between a terrorist and a freedom fighter? His final answer to the question is necessarily ambiguous and, especially after reading The Sheriff of Babylon, feels tied to King's own experiences serving overseas.

The Omega Men is definitely a rougher work than what Tom King would deliver later with The Vision and Mister Miracle, both of which are masterpieces in their own rights. In fact, I almost gave up on this story after the first two issues, having found them virtually impenetrable. But for readers willing to persevere through some initial confusion, the result is a nuanced story about war and peace. Not a game changer, but a solid sci-fi story worth your time.

Cleaning the Mess (Friday Devotional)

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

- Romans 12:21

The other day, Andrew knocked over a cup of milk by accident. No big deal, of course. When you have a small child, messes happen. So my response was simple: I got a towel and soaked up the spilled milk until the mess was cleaned up.

What I didn’t do—what would have been completely ridiculous—was go get the milk carton out of the fridge and start pouring even more milk on the floor. Why would I? After all, that would just make things worse!

When the mess is spilled milk on the floor, we understand the need for cleansing instead of making things worse—but when the mess is a moral one, we often lose sight of that need. When we are wronged, our flesh compels us to retaliate in kind.  When we suffer, we want to see our enemy suffer too.

But Scripture reminds us that responding to evil with evil doesn’t make things better, it just makes the mess bigger. Christ calls us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us, to respond to indignity with grace and darkness with light. When from the cross he asked his Father to forgive those cheering his crucifixion, the Lord gave us the ultimate example of how to respond to pain: with healing.

Life is messy, there’s no doubt about it. The challenge of discipleship is to find ways both big and small to bring cleansing when others would rather make things worse. The world is crying over messes far worse than spilled milk—how will you respond?

More than Memories (Friday Devotional)

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, so that by steadfastness and by the encouragement of the scriptures we might have hope.

- Romans 15:4

When I was a kid, no trip to a ballgame was complete without buying a souvenir program. I’d eagerly flip through it before the game looking for new insights into my team—reading the articles, studying the player statistics, and, of course, readying my scorecard. And then when I got home, I’d proudly put the program on my bookshelf next to all the others I’d collected over the years.

So when my parents delivered two cardboard boxes worth of my old programs to me earlier this week (they’d been sitting in my childhood closet for the last ten years), I couldn’t help myself—I had to look through them! I felt the nostalgia wash over me as I skimmed articles about the stars of my youth and ran across the names of players I hadn’t thought about in ages. As I looked through those old programs, I found myself caught up in memories of sunny days and the teams that I’d grown up watching. Reading those old souvenir programs was a ticket to the past.

But as enjoyable as those old Rangers programs were, they had almost no relevance to the Rangers of today. Articles about Chan Ho Park don’t concern me much at this point since he retired in 2010. Knowing Hank Blalock’s season totals mattered a lot back in the day, but now that he’s been out of baseball for a decade, it’s information I just don’t need. Even articles about a legend like Pudge Rodriguez are only good for the occasional trivia tidbit. Those old programs make for interesting memories, but they don’t have much to say about today.

Sometimes it seems like we regard the Bible the same way. We learn about Noah’s ark and Daniel in the lion’s den as children, we revel in the stories and learn why they’re important, then we relegate them to the sidelines of childhood nostalgia, right alongside Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. We start to look at biblical teachings we once took at face value with a more critical eye, quick to rationalize why ignoring Jesus’s words is acceptable in this situation or that. We treat our Bibles like tickets to our past instead of guides for our present.

But the truth is that the Bible was not given to us for the sake of spiritual nostalgia, but for our instruction and encouragement and hope today. From Genesis 1 to Revelation 22, the scriptures offer us insights into the character of God and His will for our lives. The God-breathed words of the Bible are not just meant to evoke memories, but life change.

Let me encourage you to spend some time this weekend doing like I did with those old programs, flipping through some biblical passages you haven’t thought about in years. But instead of settling for nostalgia, read closer and see what God has to teach you through those verses today. If you’re willing to read the Bible with fresh eyes, you’ll find more than memories in its pages.

An Unending Season (Friday Devotional)

For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed, says the Lord, who has compassion on you.

- Isaiah 54:10

Peas just aren’t as fun as tomatoes.

That seems to be my son’s verdict based on his reaction the last few times he’s gone to look at my dad’s garden. You see, for the last few months, it was his job and his joy to help Grandad pick tomatoes off the vine, something he did virtually every time he was at my parents’ house. Andrew loved doing it, to the point where on a few occasions we came over strictly so he could get some time in the garden.

So when tomato season inevitably drew to a close, Grandad did his best to ease the transition by having Andrew help him plant peas where the tomato vines once grew. Excited at first, Andrew quickly lost interest in the planting—and sure enough, every time we go to Grandma and Grandad’s, he continues to ask if there will be tomatoes to pick. We’ve probably explained five times now that tomato season is over and that soon he’ll be able to pick peas instead, but his face says it all: he’s not interested in making a change.

We’re all like Andrew in that regard—there are certain things we want to always stay the same, certain things we wish would last forever. Nobody likes it when their favorite restaurant shuts down or their favorite athlete retires; nobody wants to see their best friend move across the country or their parents grow old. We all understand that change is a part of life, but that doesn’t mean we always like it.

So there’s reassurance in knowing that, whatever else changes, God’s love remains as steadfast today as yesterday. No matter what may come in the future, God promises that He will be with us in the midst of it, that His love is everlasting. Situations, events, and people may change, but His love never fails us.

In an ever-changing world, we can’t help but look for something or someone to hang onto, something stronger and sturdier than we are. The world offers a host of options, but none can truthfully promise what the Lord does: his love endures forever. Most of life changes like the seasons, but God’s love is an unending season.

The Thing I'll Never Forget

I still remember my reaction when a classmate ran to the door of the room we were all waiting in front of—she was running late that morning, as was our teacher—and broke the news to us: a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. My response: “Cool!”

Now let me explain, lest you think I’m some kind of a sadistic psychopath. I did not think it was cool that we were under attack, or that so many people had died, or that the building could collapse as a result—in face, none of those things occurred to me in that moment. All I had been told was that an airplane had flown into the 2^nd tallest building in the world (at the time). I was picturing just that, one huge object crashing into another huge object. I was picturing the fiery explosion that must have followed, the earth-shattering boom, the kind of special effects usually reserved for actions movies. Cool.

Then one of my more enlightened classmates asked, “Was anybody hurt?” and I was suddenly snapped into the reality of the situation. Airplanes were piloted by people, and people were in the dozens of seats behind the cockpit. Buildings, especially buildings in Manhattan, had scores of people inside of them. On the streets below, where glass and metal were falling from the crash, there were still more people who could be hurt by what came raining down. This crash, this explosion, what we would soon learn was an attack, didn’t happen in a vacuum; it wasn’t about two lifeless objects crashing into each other. This was about people.

Today is September 11, the 18^th anniversary of the attacks. All over social media, I’m seeing reminders to “never forget.” I’m never exactly sure what people mean by that, though I can guess. Some mean we should never forget those we lost. Some mean we should never forget the way we came together as a nation in our grief. Some mean we should never forget the surge in patriotism. Some, unfortunately, mean we should never forget the fear and anger we felt that day.

I choose to remember something different today. I choose to remember my first reaction to the news that a plane had hit a building: “Cool!” I choose to remember the shame I felt when my classmate asked if anyone had been hurt, a question I hadn’t considered. I choose to remember what I forgot in that moment: current events don’t happen in a vacuum. What you see on the news affects real people.

When we talk about war, we talk about freedom and sovereignty and security. But it’s also about people. American soldiers die. Innocent civilians suffer. Families are changed forever. War affects real people.

When we talk about politics, we talk about leadership and polls and scandals. But it’s also about people. Decisions made in Washington help decide whether poor children get a decent education and whether retirees will see a doctor this month. Politics affects real people.

When we talk about immigration or abortion or the death penalty or gun control or any other hot button issue, we almost always frame it in the abstract, according to the political jersey we wear. We cheer victories by our side and we curse the stupidity of the other side. It’s a game.

But this stuff affects real people. As much as we tend to treat current events like entertainment—something to talk about with our friends, something to distract us from our daily lives, something to get excited or angry about—these things are too important to keep doing that. We have to think less about winning the argument and more about the people being affected. We have to love the game less than we love our neighbors.

My middle-school boy reaction to 9/11 was to think of the objects instead of the individuals. But the truth, then and today, is that current events don’t matter because they’re controversial or exciting or made-for-TV. They matter because of the human beings who are affected.

Never forget.

It Bears Repeating (Friday Devotional)

Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

- Deuteronomy 6:4-9

Lindsey and I have a rule when we’re driving Andrew around: Mommy and Daddy get to pick the music. We’d heard too many horror stories of parents whose kids ruled the radio with tiny iron fists, parents who spent their commutes listening to nothing but “The Wheels on the Bus,” “Old McDonald,” and “Down by the Bay” every day. We resolved not to start down that slippery slope, and established early on that the radio was the adults’ domain.

But sometimes you’ve got to make an exception, and this past weekend on the long drive to Port Aransas was just such a time. As we drove further and further south, it became apparent that, despite being exhausted, Andrew was going to keep himself awake by talking nonstop. Our every effort to quiet him down and get him to close his eyes was futile—he just kept jabbering on and on until Lindsey and I were about as worn out as he was.

That’s when Lindsey had an idea. My mom had recently introduced a new kids song to Andrew—"Leather-Winged Bat" by Peter, Paul, and Mary—and she had noticed that whenever it played, Andrew would sit contentedly and, more importantly, quietly until the song ended. What if, Lindsey suggested, we took a page out of my mom’s book and played the song on a loop until Andrew fell asleep? Rule or no rule, we decided to give it a shot. After the sixth time through or so, I looked behind us and saw that Andrew was down for the count. Just to play it safe, we listened three more times—after all, if any song had earned a repeat performance, it was that one!

Some things are worthy of repetition—not for the sake of a nap, but so we can learn anew and progress forward. There’s a reason math teachers don’t just give their students one problem to solve every day, just as there’s a reason basketball players don’t stop practicing after they make one shot. It’s by repeating the same action again and again that things really start to sink in.

That’s why since the days of Moses, God has called His people to not only remember His words, but to repeat them. God’s commands, encouragements, rebukes, and revelations are not things we should take lightly, they are part and parcel of His will for our lives, worthy of committing not only to our memories but our souls.

Scripture memory often seems like spiritual extra credit, the kind of thing that’s great for pastors and Sunday School teachers, but unnecessary for everybody else. The truth is that God’s Word is important for all of us, not just those who teach it, and it is worthy of repeating until it sinks into your heart, soul, mind, and actions. Read what God has to say—and then read it again. It bears repeating.

August Reading Log

31 days in the dog days of summer means plenty of time to read. Here's a look at what I was reading the past month!

4 Articles I Like This Month

"Drop the Hammer and Pick up a Flashlight" by Peggy Wehmeyer, The Dallas Morning News. 7 minutes.

While the news media's cosmopolitan bias is understandable (since all the national news outlets are located in California or New York), it tends to create a dynamic in which the views of the heartland are treated as almost foreign. On no issue is this more apparent, writes onetime national religion correspondent Peggy Wehmeyer, than abortion, where pro-life views are given lip service but rarely explained or offered much sympathy. A compelling case from a reliable source.

"America Wasn't a Democracy Until Black Americans Made It One" by Nikole Hannah-Jones, The New York Times Magazine. 32 minutes.

In this essay, the centerpiece of the New York Times' "1619 Project" commemorating the 400th anniversary of the first slave ship landing in Jamestown, Nikole Hannah-Jones chronicles the history and impact of slavery in the United States, arguing that black Americans, who were denied freedom for hundreds of years, have nevertheless been its greatest champions. A powerful, compelling, deeply uncomfortable history lesson that I strongly urge you to read.

"My Ride on the Hot Dog Launcher with the Phillie Phanatic" by Jayson Stark, The Athletic. 5 minutes.

Every game at Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, the famous Phillie Phanatic rides a truck around the field firing hot dogs into the crowd. Because of course. In this article, award-winning sportswriter Jayson Stark chronicles his experience getting to participate in that most sacred of traditions. Pure, zany fun.

"Michelin Restaurants and Fabulous Wines: Inside the Secret Team Dinners That Have Built the Spurs' Dynasty" by Baxter Holmes, ESPN. 21 minutes.

Casual NBA fans know Gregg Popovich for his accomplishments as coach of the San Antonio Spurs, his reputation as a master tactician and motivator, and his hilariously grumpy sideline interviews. What you may not know is what an intense foodie and wine aficionado he is—and how he has used that love to foster the Spurs' legendary team camaraderie. An escapist, insightful look not only at Pop, but at the power of a good meal.

DESIRING GOD: CONFESSIONS OF A CHRISTIAN HEDONIST by John Piper

This is the book that made me decide once and for all: John Piper is just not a great writer, folks. Look, I respect his ministry, I admire his passion, and I even agree with him about 80% of the time. But this is my fourth Piper book, and probably my last. He's a great preacher, sure. But his writing leaves me cold every time.

Desiring God is his argument for what he calls Christian Hedonism, best summarized by the Westminster Catechism: "The chief end of man is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever." To flesh that out, Piper argues that all humans naturally seek pleasure, and that no greater pleasure can be found than in God, so the only reasonable thing for a person, specifically a Christian, to do is spend every second glorifying God in word and deed.

As a logical proof, it works, and there's no denying Piper's consistency or passion for the subject. But the more you read of the book, the more you start to find him stretching his theological concept into a reframing of the gospel: for Piper, Christian Hedonism isn't a lens through which to see the gospel, it is the gospel. With prooftext after prooftext (my biggest Piper pet peeve; he never found a verse he wasn't willing to pluck out of its context for the sake of making a point), he tries to make the argument that everything everything from creation to salvation to sanctification to resurrection is ultimately just about God's will and our joy. The argument works in spots, but seems out of place in others, and ultimately falls short of being the biblical Rosetta stone Piper says it as.

The result is a book that's about 100 pages too long and that wears its reader out with an argument that somehow becomes less persuasive the longer you read. The more Piper stretches Christian Hedonism beyond its limits, the thinner it gets. The more prooftexts he tosses out, the more you start to question the central premise. Desiring God is clearly meant to be Piper's opus, but it ultimately leaves the reader wanting.

With Don't Waste Your Life, his 2003 bestseller that was published almost 20 years after Desiring God, Piper managed to distill this treatise down a to more sermonic and more effective book. If you want to know what John Piper's all about, look there, not here.

TRAVELING MERCIES: SOME THOUGHTS ON FAITH by Anne Lamott

I'm not really sure what this book was, but I'm pretty sure I loved it.

Traveling Mercies was my first exposure to Anne Lamott, a spiritual writer beloved by a lot of friends of mine. It's sort of a cross between a memoir, a collection of devotionals, and a collection of short stories, all of which point to her understanding of God and faith. It's meandering, unorthodox, funny, and occasionally bewildering.

It's also excellent. Lamott is one of those writers whose prose borders on poetry, who has a way of putting words together that looks easy until you try to do it yourself. She has a talent for dropping some insightful spiritual thought in one paragraph and then a sarcastic joke in the next that's so funny you almost spit your coffee out. And no matter what material she's working with, every time you finish one of her stories, you put the book down and need a moment to think.

That quality more than any other is what appealed to me about Traveling Mercies. While many of the short stories she tells about her life function as devotionals, they're not as pat and tidy as the ones I write every week; there's no formula and no solution. Instead, the stories often end in a way that leaves you with more questions than answers. This may frustrate some readers, but it struck me as both real and brave, a tacit admission that God is beyond our comprehension and sometimes we have to accept that.

I'll be back for more of Lamott's work, I'm sure. It rare to come across a spiritual writer whose writings is this good, thinking is this clear, and faith is this pure. As long as you don't demand your Christian writers fit into a standardized mold, I recommend Traveling Mercies.

LINCOLN IN THE BARDO by George Saunders

In February of 1962, Abraham Lincoln's eleven-year old son Willie became suddenly and seriously ill and died within a matter of days. Following his burial, it was reported that President Lincoln made multiple trips to his son's crypt to hold the body of of his son and grieve. From that historical nugget comes Lincoln in the Bardo, a story that is part ghost story, part historical fiction, and part reflection on what it means to be human.

The conceit which George Saunders, heretofore known as a writer of short stories, play with in this novel is that Willie, far from resting in peace, is one of dozens of spirits residing in something Buddhists call the bardo, a purgatory-like transitional state between death and one's final resting place. The spirits in the bardo, while unseen by the living, dwell in the graveyard where they are buried and are either unaware or at least unwilling to acknowledge that they have died. Only when they come to this realization are they sent to their final resting place.

Willie Lincoln's arrival in the bardo, and his father's subsequent visits, prove to be momentous events for the other spirits there, who largely serve as the story's narrators. Their efforts to get both Willie and President Lincoln to move on end up resulting in discoveries of their own, and ultimately their freedom from guilt and loss.

The novel's layout is unlike anything I've ever read before. The story is narrated primarily by the various spirits, each of whom has a distinct voice, and reads almost like a screenplay. However, other chapters provide historical exposition by directly quoting contemporaneous and modern historical sources and biographies. This format keeps readers on their toes and has a unique way of making President Lincoln himself both a man, with all his fears and doubts, and a monument whom you always still feel slightly removed from.

Ultimately, this is a challenging but incredibly rewarding book that plumbs the depths and rises to the heights of the human experience. During President Lincoln's initial visit to the crypt, when he cradles Willie's body, my eyes welled up with tears at the spirits' description of what they saw. At the book's conclusion, when the spirits break through the impediments that have kept them in the bardo, I felt sincere joy for their experiences. I already knew Saunders was a brilliant writer from his most acclaimed short story collection, Tenth of December, but this novel proves him to be a master of his craft and a genius at understanding and conveying what it means to be human. For those willing to take a more avante garde (but accessible) ride, I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

DRACULA by Bram Stoker

Look, I spent two and a half months reading Dracula comics. If I wasn't going to read this now, it was never going to happen.

Dracula tells the story of, you guessed it, Count Dracula of Transylvania, a centuries-old vampire who can transform into a bat, command wolves, and fade into the mist, but who is repelled by garlic, sunlight, and holy objects like crucifixes. He lives by sucking the blood from innocent victims, usually women, which in turns transforms them into vampires after a period of three days. In the novel, he is pursued by a band of vampire hunters led by Professor Abraham Van Helsing, who seek to put an end to his reign of terror once and for all.

I had no idea what to expect going into this classic horror novel—other than the names of a few of the characters, this was pretty much all unknown territory for me. I was surprised right off the bat by the way the novel is told. Instead of the traditional narrative format, the story is told in epistolary novel, a compilation of diary entries, newspaper articles, and letters. This kept things fresh as the story was told and also helped break up the story, which was helpful given Bram Stoker's wordiness.

I was also surprised by the strong protagonists (a nice departure from the deadly dull heroes of the Tomb of Dracula comics), especially Mina Harker, who is arguably more interesting than the supposed hero of the story, the aforementioned Van Helsing. Serving as narrator for at least half the book, Mina is instrumental in defeating Dracula and is far from the damsel in distress I expected her to be given the time in which the book was written. Other notable heroes include her husband Jonathan, Doctor John Seward, and a Texan cowboys (because why not) named Quincey Morris.

The final surprise was how effectively Stoker creates an atmosphere of dread. I would describe the writing as so-so overall—the dialogue and descriptions both tend toward the tedious—but when it comes to setting a mood, Stoker is an excellent horror author. The novel's first 50 pages, when Jonathan Harker is invited to Dracula's castle and slowly realizes that he has actually been trapped by his host, is particularly excellent.

All in all, this was a relatively easy read and a nice chance to cross another book off the literary canon. If you like horror books, it's hard to say no to one of the originals.

3 NIGHTS IN AUGUST: STRATEGY, HEARTBREAK, AND JOY INSIDE THE MIND OF A MANAGER by Buzz Bissinger

Michael Lewis's 2003 bestseller Moneyball (and its subsequent film adaptation) changed baseball forever, sparking a sea change in the sport that saw general managers becoming the stars of the show, once-revered statistics relegated to afterthoughts, and organizations transformed from A ball up to the major league roster. One unintended consequence was that many managers, once the faces and voices of franchises, were relegated to middlemen between the front office and the players, stripped of much of their authority. 3 Nights in August rebukes this trend by taking a detailed look at the thought process and decision making of one of baseball's most legendary managers, Tony La Russa, through the lens of a 3-game series in 2003. In chronicling La Russa's thinking, priorities, and moves, author Buzz Bissinger (of Friday Night Lights fame) shows how important managers used to be—and makes the less-than-subtle argument that they should be still.

Bouncing between the action of the three games, biographies of the different players, and narrating La Russa's thought processes, Bissinger keeps things moving at a brisk pace with his customary knack for storytelling. Writing in his own voice yet telling things from La Russa's point of view, this is one of the better written baseball books I've ever read. Fans of baseball will appreciate a look at all the strategic elements La Russa had to juggle on an inning by inning basis, to say nothing of keeping his players happy.  

As far as it's opposition to Moneyball, it must be said: Bissinger (and La Russa) lost. The statheads are in charge of every front office now, and the gut decisions that once ruled the game are largely derided now. In some cases, that's probably for the best. But I'll give credit to Bissinger for making me think twice about it as I read 3 Nights in August. Far from a "get off my lawn" rant, this book makes a compelling case for the importance of acknowledging and respecting the human element of baseball. If you think there's more to baseball than what the numbers can tell you, you'll find an ally in 3 Nights in August.

ESSENTIAL TOMB OF DRACULA VOL. 4 by Various

While the mainstream Tomb of Dracula comic was telling serialized stories of Dracula set in the present day, Marvel was also putting out a more mature, oversized magazine chronicling the count's adventures throughout the ages. Essential Tomb of Dracula Vol. 4, the final Essential volume devoted to Dracula, tells these stories, organizing the stories chronologically instead of packaging them as they originally appeared.

Since each story (most clocking in around 12 pages) has a different writer and artist, the volume is understandably hit or miss, but there are a lot more hits than misses. The stories range from the 14th century to the 1970s, from the count's native Transylvania to London to New York City, and they see him encounter vampire hunters and victims of all stripes. 

Where the more traditional Tomb of Dracula series gradually became a action-adventure story, these tales almost exclusively belong to the horror genre, where Dracula is a natural fit. As such, the art tends to have either a painterly quality or sketchier line work rather than the cleaner look of your average Bronze Age comic. This departure from mainstream style fits the stories well regardless of the artist's talents and helps bind these otherwise disparate stories together.

While I'll admit that after 2 and a half months of Dracula comics, I'm read to move on to something else, this volume was a good way to wrap up the series. After hundreds of pages of Dracula comics, I fully endorse these four Essential volumes, and consider them to be the best 1970s Marvel had to offer in the horror genre by a mile.

SUPERMAN FOR ALL SEASONS by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale

If there's one question that writers, artists, and filmmakers never get tired of asking, it's this: who is Superman? Is he an alien in a strange land? Is he an adopted son trying to figure out his identity? Is he a god among mortals? Is he a big blue Boy Scout? The answer to all of these questions is, of course, yes. Superman is all these things and more, which is why we never get tired of his origin story, of what transpired that prompted him to go from Smallville to Metropolis, from farmer's boy to Man of Tomorrow.

Superman for All Seasons is the chance for the dynamic duo of Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale to write their own spin on Superman's origin story, one laced with heartland values and shining with bright colors. Their Superman spends his first year in Metropolis (ending with a brief sabbatical back to Smallville) learning what it means to help people. It's a with-great-power-comes-great-responsibility story, one that sees farmboy Clark Kent turn into Superman not because of his powers, but his acceptance of what it means to use them well.

This is my kind of Superman story, one that leans into the character's earnestness and idealism instead of being embarrassed by it. Nevertheless, I was slightly disappointed by it, probably because I hold the Loeb/Sale team in such high regard. While they hit all the right Superman notes, the resulting song is more of bubblegum pop than rich melody. I had a great time reading it to be sure, but I'm not sure I'd put it in my top 10 Superman stories ever told. A great way to spend an hour, but not a must-have for casual comics fans.

SUPERMAN: RED SON by Mark Millar, Dave Johnson, and Kilian Plunkett

Everybody knows that Superman is a champion of truth, justice, and the American way. It's as baked in as the red underwear or the spit curl; it's who he is. But what if, instead of being raised in Kansas, he'd been raised in the Soviet Union?

That's the premise of Superman: Red Son, the 2003 Elseworlds miniseries from the mind of Mark Millar that shows how the slightest deviation in Superman's origin story could have altered everything. Over the course of three issues, the story shows how much some things change—Superman ends up leading the Soviet Union and spreading communism throughout the globe, recruits Brainiac to help with his task, and generally acts as a benevolent dictator—and how other things stay the same, such as his eternal rivalry with Lex Luthor and his innate desire to help the world.

It all ends up coming together to tell a really fun story, one which manages to walk the difficult tightrope of feeling completely foreign while still staying true to the core of the main characters. Often regarded as one of the best Superman stories ever told, I now understand why: Mark Millar manages to change almost everything about the Superman mythos without losing sight of who the Man of Tomorrow ultimately is. Reading Superman: Red Son is a great way to spend a couple hours.