July and August Reading Log

Buckle up, it's a loooong one this month. That's because at this time last month, when the time came to post my latest log, I was stuck in the middle of three books and hadn't written any entries up to that point. Overwhelmed by responsibilities at work and unable to devote the time to finishing those books or those entries, I bailed.

So you get two months of reviews this time around. I'll try not to make that a habit. Enjoy!

3 Articles I Like This Month

"You Ain't Never Been No Little Girl, Taylor Townsend" by Taylor Townsend, The Players' Tribune. 28 minutes.

Taylor Townsend is a world class tennis player, but her weight, race, and self-image have repeatedly been used as an impediment by others to keep her from pursuing her dreams. In this moving personal account, she describes her journey to self-confidence.

"Leon Bridges After Dark" by Casey Gerald, Texas Monthly. 44 minutes.

A deeply personal, incisive profile of one of Texas's brightest musical stars.

"Now What?" by Ed Yong, The Atlantic. 16 minutes.

Since the beginning of the pandemic, The Atlantic's Ed Yong has been doing the most insightful, matter-of-fact journalism out there, carefully laying out the facts on the ground while offering sensible predictions about what may happen next. In light of the Delta variant's surge, he does it again here, explaining what needs to happen at a societal level for COVID-19 to become endemic instead of life-altering.

Reading Through the Fantastic Four- #120-153, Giant Sized FF #1-3

More Bronze Age fun this month, as the writing reins were handed over to Gerry Conway with John Buscema continuing to hande art duties. Featuring some old villains making their dramatic returns (most notably Gideon, Mister Miracle, and Diablo), romantic troubles in paradise, and even a costume change, this was a period of "try something new and see what sticks."

The biggest change in status quo involves the aforementioned romantic problems, starting with the breakup of the Human Torch and his lady love, the Inhuman Crystal. If you remember from my last log, she had returned to the Great Refuge due to her inability to handle Earth's pollution. Well, it seems that in her time back home, she met and fell in love with the mutant Quicksilver, leaving Johnny out in the cold. Scandalous! Issue #150 sees the breakup cemented with Crystal and Quicksilver's wedding.

The other, more notable relationship troubles came courtesy of Reed and Sue, whose marriage nearly came to and end due to Reed's very 1970s-dad mindset that Sue needs to stay home with baby Franklin instead of going on dangerous Fantastic Four missions. Sue refuses and leaves both the FF and her husband for a time as a result, replaced on the team by the Inhuman Medusa. Only after a new crisis rears its head (and after a little meddling from onetime foe Namor the Sub-Mariner) do they patch things up.

This was another fun couple months of reading. While the 1970s FF doesn't pack the creative punch it had in the Silver Age of the 1960s, they're well told superhero stories with enough soap opera drama to keep you going month to month. Not the kind of stories you're likely to return to again and again, but definitely a fun way to start my mornings.

CHRIST-CENTERED PREACHING: REDEEMING THE EXPOSITORY SERMON by Bryan Chapell

One thing about which I feel very strongly is that there is a difference between teaching and preaching. Teaching is when you analyze a biblical passage and, accounting for context, relate its meaning to modern life. So if you've ever heard a message on "5 Tips for Biblical Finance" of "10 Godly Steps to Human Happiness," that was teaching—it can go any number of directions. Preaching, on the other hand, always has the same point: to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ. There are many different angles from which you can present that gospel, naturally, but it must always come back to the saving work of Jesus.

Bryan Chapell, it turns out, agrees with me, and Christ-Centered Preaching is his renowned textbook for how to write redemptive, expository, gospel sermons. In the book he goes through all the basics of sermon preparation—how to exposit a passage, how to connect sermon illustrations, how to improve delivery, etc.—and then concludes with an emphasis on the focus that permeates the entire book: every sermon must ultimately find its way to the cross.

As preaching textbooks go, this is an excellent one, notable for both its content and style. The author's Reformed leanings become evident early on, but are never a distraction in the way that is typical of others in that camp (most notably John Piper). One of Reformed theology's tentpoles—that life is first and foremost about glorifying God—really fits the theme of this book, and is difficult if not impossible to argue with.

For other preachers, I'd recommend this book in a heartbeat. It's not light reading, but neither is it difficult, and the content is golden. If you want to go beyond teaching and really preach, this book will help show you the way.

THE PRACTICE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD by Brother Lawrence

I love a good devotional book. The problem is, they're very hard to come by. Most devotional books are shallow, barely biblical, and more about therapy than spirituality. So I'm always grateful for those in church history who have gifted us with texts that still resonate today. The Practice of the Presence of God, at less than 50 pages, is one of those texts.

Written by Brother Lawrence, a Carmelite monk, this little pamphlet lays out the importance and the process of making every moment an act of prayer. By focusing on God's presence above all else, Brother Lawrence says, jobs become vocations and tedium becomes glorification.

This little book is a challenge for anyone, from pastors to plumbers. But it's captivating in its call to all of us to seek the Lord in everything, not just the "churchy" things. As my highlighted, underlined copy testifies, this is a devotional book worth your time.

SELECTED STORIES by Alice Munro

FAMILY FURNISHINGS by Alice Munro

It is often said by writers that nothing is more difficult to write than a short story. Yet somehow Alice Munro, the 2013 winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, has spent her entire career writing them, devoting herself to the practice of creating 25-40 page worlds and characters. So I spent all of July and a good chunk of August reading 1,000+ pages of her best work in two "best of" collections, Selected Stories and Family Furnishings.

While it's difficult to summarize and bring together 50+ stories, there are some commonalities in her stories. For one thing, they are all set in the "real world," and usually the present day, often in rural settings. Her characters tend to be unremarkable people, and the plots move slowly and undramatically. The climax of each story is rarely an event so much as a realization, an epiphany by the protagonist. In short, Munro's work is not that of advancing the plot, but speaking life into characters.

I'm not always a disciplined reader, so I admit that I sometimes found the neglect of plot to be dull—sometimes you just want something to happen! Nevertheless, I couldn't help but admire the skill with which Munro inserts you into a new world in story after story. Even when the stories themselves don't go far, you find yourself marveling at Munro's simple, elegant prose and the fully formed characters she manages to create in tale after tale.

Am I likely to pick up more Munro? Admittedly, no...1,000 pages is plenty to digest from most authors. But the next time she puts out a collection—and it'll be soon; she's prolific—do yourself a favor and give her a try.

ALL TOO HUMAN: A POLITICAL EDUCATION by George Stephanopoulos

One of the least interesting, most predictable, bestselling genres in literature is the political tell-all, in which an administration official, staffer, or confidante burns bridges in pursuit of fame and fortune. Most of the time, such tell-alls are digested by the public through headlines, where the juiciest details pop out instantly. But every now and then there emerges a book with substance to go along with the sizzle, a point of view that transcends gossip and opportunism. In its best moments, 1999's All Too Human reaches this high bar.

For those my age, George Stephanopoulos has always been a journalist at ABC, whether at This Week or Good Morning America or, more recently, as chief anchor of World News Tonight. But prior to his entry to journalism, Stephanopoulos was a political wunderkind, one of the chief architects of Bill Clinton's 1992 electoral victory and a key strategist during his first term. In All Too Human, Stephanopoulos gives a blow-by-blow of how he was drawn into the Clinton orbit in the earliest days of Clinton's candidacy, how he navigated a chaotic first year in the White House, and how he battled everyone from pollster Dick Morris to First Lady Hillary Clinton to his own insecurities in the never-ending quest for power and influence.

When the book initially came out at the height of Clinton's adultery scandal and subsequent impeachment, most of the talk was about Stephanopoulos's criticisms of Clinton, best stated by the book's last phrase: "if only this good president had been a better man." But while these moments were juicy gossip in 1999, what better stands the test of time is Stephanopoulos's own self-reflections about his willingness to skirt his ideals in pursuit of victory. Stephanopoulos paints himself as a ruthless, power-obsessed political animal, and the entire tone of the book is one of regret.

I'll admit it: I like a good political tell-all, shallow though they tend to be. But I can report to you that this one, though it bears most of the genre's hallmarks, is far from shallow. There's meat on this book's bones, and any political junkie would do well to take a bite.

WONDER WOMAN: DEAD EARTH by Daniel Warren Johnson

Everybody loves a good dystopian tale, and Wonder Woman: Dead Earth certainly delivers in that respect. It tells the story of a post-apocalyptic, Mad Max-style world in which gigantic monsters roam the Earth and only a few roving bands of people remain. Into this world, Diana, Princess of the Amazons, awakens from a centuries-long slumber to save those who remain. With no memory of what has come before, Diana must come to terms not only with the world, but with herself.

As a casual Wonder Woman fan, I enjoyed this simple story for what it was, a character study set against the backdrop of a dystopian world. The choice to remove all the trappings of the DC Universe—in this world, even Superman has died—removed all complications and reduced the character's mythology to the bare minimum, which is helpful for someone's whose complicated history can be a stumbling block at times.

But the star here is the art, which is a perfect fit for a post-apocalyptic tale. It's rough, never sexy, and emphasizes the horror of the world, and reminded me a lot of r.m. Guera's work. I liked the story, but loved the art.

If you like Wonder Woman or are a fan of dystopian fiction, this is a relatively short (4 chapters) story and an easy read that doesn't require any outside knowledge. A great book to put in a friend's hand if they want to try comics.

X-MEN: X OF SWORDS by Various

There's been a lot going on in the X-Men the last few years; let me catch you up real quick. Led by Professor X, Magneto, and Moira McTaggert, all mutants now live on the living island of Krakoa, which has been recognized by the U.N. as a sovereign nation and a homeland/sanctuary for mutants. Furthermore, thanks to technology unique to Krakoa, the mutants have defeated death—anytime a mutant dies, they can be resurrected in a new body that perfectly matches the deceased one. Finally, the mutants are all coexisting in relative harmony, including villains like Apocalypse and Mister Sinister; humans are the enemy now, not fellow mutants.

With all that groundwork laid by visionary creator Jonathan Hickman, X of Swords is the latest of that famous X-Men genre, the multipart crossover event. It begins by establishing more of Apocalypse's backstory, explaining that, as one of the first mutants, he knew Krakoa back when it was a larger island, before it was split into two parts, Krakoa and Arakko, by an enemy wielding a powerful weapon called the Twilight Sword. With the aid of his wife, Genesis, and his original Four Horsemen, Apocalypse managed to drive back the enemy into their dark homeworld of Amenth.

In X of Swords, as you've perhaps guessed, Amenth is preparing to invade Earth again and destroy Krakoa once and for all—something they are capable of, since the X-Men's resurrection protocols are ineffective in Amenth. Genesis, who spent generations fighting against Amenth on behalf of Arakko, has now been possessed by a demonic force that gives her control over Amenth's armies but not of herself. To defend Earth, the queen of Otherworld (are you lost yet?) sets up a tournament in which the champions of Krakoa battle the champions of Arakko to determine Krakoa's fate.

As you can see, it's all very complicated and very exciting, which is a good summary of most things Jonathan Hickman writes. I routinely only understand 60% of what's happening in his stories, and in this case it may have been more like 40%. Nevertheless, it's certainly an epic event, and one that will undoubtedly shape the X-Men books for years to come. Would I recommend it? For hardcore fans, yes. For anyone with casual interest in the X-Men (like me), I'd think long and hard first.

MONSTERS by Barry Windsor-Smith

Barry Windsor-Smith is probably best known for his early work on Conan the Barbarian and later in the magazine-sized Savage Sword of Conan, where his work really blossomed. But for over 35 years he's devoted himself to the massive graphic novel Monsters, a tour de force of pathos, history, power, and redemption. And let me tell you, it was worth the wait.

Monsters is the story of Bobby Bailey, a mentally disabled Army private who is experimented on by a U.S. government program borrowing from the Nazis. When a brave Army sergeant intervenes on his behalf, it sets in motion a chain of events that ultimately show that the truer monsters are not those damaged on the outside, but those who do the damaging.

The book is a slow burn, never rushed for the sake of meeting a page count. But that deliberate pace is never a detriment, as it gives Windsor-Smith time to flesh out the characters, make the trauma all the more real, and gives the reader more and more of his astounding artwork. And trust me, not enough can be said about the art—not detail is spared, no panel is overlooked.

Evocative, emotional, and deeply moving, Monsters is Windsor-Smith's magnum opus, and a worthwhile read for anyone. Indeed, it's probably the best graphic novel I've read in years.

THE BEATS: A GRAPHIC HISTORY by Harvey Pekar, Ed Piskor, et al.

Before the Hippies walked the earth, there were the Beats, those roaming, countercultural poets of the 1950s who aimlessly wandered America describing its post-WWII state with free verse. Led by Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and William S. Burroughs, these drug-infused, sexually fluid iconoclasts could not have been more different from the straight-laced ethos of their time—and the art they produced has endured as a result.

The Beats: A Graphic History tells the story of those three writers and the lesser-known poets and authors who worked alongside them, all in the format of a graphic novel. Half the book (the best half) is 3 short biographies of Kerouac, Ginsberg, and Burroughs, written by American Splendor's Harvey Pekar and illustrated by The Hip-Hop Family Tree's Ed Piskor, a favorite of mine. In these three connected accounts you get a factual, entertaining, occasionally hilarious look at the wild lives these three men led. In reading, I was constantly amazed they managed to produce anything, so notorious were their exploits.

The second half of the book, made up of shorter stories of and by lesser-known talents, is more scattershot, and I admit to getting somewhat lost in a sea of unfamiliar names. But the wealth of information speaks to the amount of research that was done for what could have otherwise been perceived as a vanity project—this book, despite its unintimidating 208 pages, is encyclopedic.

For those interested in the Beats, this is a great starting place. I bought it at City Lights Bookstore, the famed San Francisco bookshop and publishing company that published Ginsberg's poem "Howl," and I can think of no better souvenir to bring home with me to Texas.

SILVER SURFER: PARABLE by Stan Lee and Moebius

In 1988, Stan Lee returned to a character he had no hand in creating (the Silver Surfer, by his own admission, was 100% Jack Kirby's) and yet loved deeply. Lee's introduction to the character in the Fantastic Four's famed "Galactus Trilogy" of issues #48-50 led to several guest star appearances and, eventually, the 40-page Silver Surfer bimonthly comic, scripted by Lee and drawn by John Buscema. It was in that book that Lee let his ambitions run wild, waxing philosophical through the mouth of the Silver Surfer about both humanity's fallen nature and its potential for greatness. But despite critical acclaim, the book died an ignominious death after twenty issues, leaving a surfboard-sized hole in Lee's heart.

So when the announcement that Lee and French artist Moebius would be teaming up for a Silver Surfer graphic novel was big news. What would Lee, no longer a young buck, have to say now? What new story did he have to tell? What richness did he have to offer?

As it turns out, not much. Silver Surfer: Parable is a thin metaphor told through a thin story  written by an over-the-hill scripter. Only the art, which is indeed beautiful, makes this book worth the trouble.

The conceit of the graphic novel is interesting enough (albeit completely and intentionally ignorant of all Marvel continuity post-Galactus Trilogy): Galactus has returned to Earth and is being worshiped as a god by much of humanity; his plan is not to destroy the Earth but to watch humans do it themselves. Only the Surfer can stand against him and show humanity the way of truth.

The story, influenced by Moebius's art, is European in style, and it's an awkward fit for Lee, who's as American as they come. Lacking his trademark humor and trading it in for pomposity, the writing is a drag to read, and the connective tissue between panels is often virtually invisible. And the metaphor about religion and humanism is so clear from the opening pages that it becomes tiresome by the end.

The art's pretty though. Like, really really pretty. So if you want to buy this just for that, I wouldn't blame you. But if you're expecting a character-defining story, look elsewhere.