May Reading Log

 

This month I tackled a literary giant (pun intended), a manifesto about pastors doing proper theology, a couple breezy books, and a whole lot of good Fantastic Four comics. Take a look and see for yourself!

Reading Through the Fantastic Four- #570-611 and FF #1-23

This month's reading was devoted to the already legendary run by writer Jonathan Hickman, a run seen by many as the best since the days of John Byrne in the 1980s. While not without its flaws, I enjoyed Hickman's years-long arc much more this time around than when I first read it.

While much too far-reaching to succinctly summarize, the gist of Hickman's story is that Reed Richards, in his lofty quest to "solve everything," encounters a council filled with versions of himself from alternate universes, who together are trying to rid the multiverse of all its problems. However, Reed's refusal to abandon his family to join them results in conflicts that ultimately involve not only the FF, but the Kree, the Inhumans, Atlantis, and Doctor Doom. Add onto this Reed's founding of the Future Foundation, a school for gifted youngsters (no, not that school) that serves as equal parts plot device and comic relief depending on the moment, and brings Valeria Richards to the forefront.

The story Hickman tells is complex and wide-ranging, but the payoff at the end really is worth the journey; while Hickman can be accused of plotting himself into corners in other series, he sticks the landing on this one. And while his run uses a number of different artists (Dale Eaglesham and Steve Epting are the standouts), all complement his story well.

My only real criticism of an otherwise excellent run is that Hickman is a writer who prioritizes plot over characterization, which is the opposite of my preference. While super geniuses like Reed, Valeria, Nathaniel Richards, and Doctor Doom all get their moments to shine, team members Sue Storm and the Thing sometimes feel more like ornaments tacked on out of necessity than the main characters they are. If Mark Waid and Mike Weiringo's also-excellent run was cartoony but heartfelt, Hickman's is brilliant but a little cold.

That critique notwithstanding, it was a joy to start every morning with a couple issues from this run. Next month will be...not so great.

THE PASTOR THEOLOGIAN: RESURRECTING AN ANCIENT VISION by Gerald Hiestand and Todd Wilson

This book is equal parts diagnosis of a problem and call to action. The diagnosis details an unquestionable reality: in modern ecclesial life, pastors and theologians are now considered to be separate occupations. Where for hundreds of years the great theologians, men like Augustine and Luther and Edwards, were also parish ministers, today's prominent theologians all work in the academy. Pastors are now seen as theological middle managers, passing down the words of the professional theologians to the laity.

In light of this, the authors of this book call on pastors to reclaim the title of "pastor theologian," to devote themselves to deep theological study in the midst of their congregational ministry. Theological inquiry, they argue, is a crucial part of the pastor's job, just like administration and counseling and teaching. Instead of ceding theological study to the ivory tower, Hiestand and Wilson call on pastors to bring it back to the steeple.

Here's the problem with the book: there's virtually no instruction on how to make that happen. While the authors offer some individualized advice—get a Ph.D, block off time for study, etc.—they are calling for a cultural shift, and seem to have no systematic path to get there.  While their goal may be admirable, there is little to no plan.

I have great admiration for academic scholars, and I agree that it's important for pastors to maintain a link to that kind of work. But for "pastor theologians" to become the rule instead of the exception, it will take more than this book.

MOBY DICK by Herman Melville

While in an excellent bookstore, Changing Hands in Phoenix, I spotted this beautiful copy of American classic Moby Dick on sale for a pittance. For a few months now, Andrew's latest fascination has been marine life, particularly whales. So I took the confluence of those two things as a sign that there was no time like the present to take on Melville's intimidating Great American Novel.

To my relief, it was pretty accessible, especially in the early going. From the narrator's immortal introduction—"Call me Ishmael"—Melville pulls the reader into the world of 19th century whaling, building anticipation and suspense as you wait for Ishmael to board the Pequod and finally meet the infamous Captain Ahab, whose obsessive pursuit of the titular white whale drives the story.

Once aboard the ship, plot gives way to theme and characterization—after all, there is no true destination for the Pequod; they will sail until they successfully kill the whale who once maimed Ahab. The ship "gams" (sailor talk for "encounters") with nine other ships in total, but these meetings largely serve simply to highlight Ahab's rising obsession rather than move the plot along.

The book slows down considerably in the middle when Melville goes on several extended digressions on everything from whaling equipment to the less-than-scientific 19th century understandings of the differences between whale species. While not as boring as I feared—Melville really is a heck of a writer—these are the kinds of sections that any respectable editor would have whacked. I am violently opposed to abridging classic books, but with that being said, these are the sections I assume most abridged versions cut out...and I get it.

The book ends, as it must, with a final confrontation between the crew of the Pequod, led by Ahab, and the great white whale himself, an encounter which only Ishmael—and perhaps Moby Dick—survive. Ahab's obsession and hubris lead not only him, but his entire crew, to a watery grave, a literary warning that has endured to this day.

All in all, Moby Dick was the kind of classic I'm glad to have read, but one I'm unlikely to revisit much. Its characters and themes have managed to endure in the popular imagination in such a way that, if you read for information rather than pleasure, you can get by with the Cliff Notes. But for those who want to continue educating themselves on literature after your school days are done, know that Moby Dick isn't as scary as you think it is.

BOOKS by Larry McMurtry

Larry McMurtry is best known as the author of books like Lonesome Dove, Terms of Endearment, and The Last Picture Show. But, while writing paid the bills, he always regarded himself first and foremost as a 'bookman,' a buyer and seller of rare books, first in the Georgetown neighborhood of Washington, D.C. and ultimately in his hometown of Archer City, Texas. Books is his recollections from a lifetime spent in the business, brief chapters (some as short as half a page) about interesting finds, strange customers, and sales worth reporting.

For a bibliophile, there's plenty to enjoy here, and it's easy to identify with McMurtry's fascination with book collecting. The book is particularly interesting in its early chapters, when McMurtry talks about how few books he had in his childhood, and how a few early gifts set him on the road he would travel.

Unfortunately, by the time his narrative shifts to life in the business, the stories get redundant and a little tiresome, sometimes feeling more like a catalog than prose. McMurtry is easy to read—and the short chapters help immensely with that—but after a while, what should be a joy starts to feel like a slog. This book isn't long by any means at 272 pages, but it could easily have been half that length.

For book lovers (and, since you're knee deep in a reading log, I'm guessing you apply), Books is a perfectly pleasant but inessential account from one of Texas' greatest authors. Read it by all means, but it probably doesn't demand a permanent place in your library.

MY MORNING ROUTINE: HOW SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE START EVERY DAY INSPIRED by Benjamin Spall and Michael Xander

As somebody who wakes up at 4:30 every morning so I can spend 2 hours reading before anyone else is up, I have a deep appreciation for morning routines, and I love hearing about other people's. So when I saw this slim little book, a collection of short interviews with successful people about how they start their days, I checked it out impulsively.

It was interesting to see how much the routines varied. One person woke up as early as 3:00, others didn't rise until after 8:00. Some used the time strictly to get themselves in the right frame of mind, others got right to work. While there were common activities you saw repeated time and again—working out, reading, meditation, etc.—it really did prove true that there's no one right way to start the day.

With that being said, I did wish there had been more variety in the types of people interviewed. Almost without fail, every interviewee was either a creative type (writer, artist, designer, etc.) or a corporate executive. The vast majority lived on one of the two coasts. What I would have given to read an interview by a plumber in Michigan or a cop in Phoenix or a lawyer in San Antonio.

Books like this one are aspirational by nature—the point is to see what the "important" people are doing so we normies can glean some wisdom. But we all have mornings, and most of us have some kind of a routine that guides those mornings. This book would have been better if we had gotten to observe how the little people live too.