2024 New Year's Resolutions Scorecard

 

It's that time again...time to look forward, set goals, and make plans. Every year I make a lengthy list of New Year's resolutions, with varying degrees of ambition. That list comes tomorrow.

But first, we need to check in on my 2024 resolutions and see how I measured up! So without further ado, here's my report card:

1. Read more classic literature.

Off to a good start! I read 9 "classics" in 2024 (my informal definition for that term was "a highly regarded/critically acclaimed book that is challenging enough that I wouldn't read it just for fun"), for an average of one every 40 days. Not bad for somebody who hasn't had a teacher giving him required reading in a decade! Here's the list, courtesy of my monthly reading logs:

* A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
* The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
* Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
* Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
* Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
* The Federalist Papers by Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison
* The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan
* The Complete Short Stories by Ernest Hemingway
* Dubliners by James Joyce

Score: 1 out of 8

2. Catch up on the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

The stated goal here was to watch every MCU film and TV show released after Avengers: Endgame, i.e. the moment most of the world (including me) stopped paying attention. And I did it, I watched it all. Even Eternals. Even all three seasons of What If...? Even <sigh> Echo.

The highlights? Beyond the obvious choices of Spider-Man: No Way Home, Guardians of the Galaxy 3, and WandaVision, I thought both Ms. Marvel and Agatha All Along were severely underrated in the culture. And I didn't think Ant-Man: Quantumania or Doctor Strange: Multiverse of Madness were *good*, but I didn't dislike them was much as everybody else seemed to.

Nevertheless, I can now confidently say that the mainstream opinion is pretty much dead-on: Marvel has definitely lost some life on its fastball post-Endgame. I'm counting on Fantastic Four: First Steps, a movie I've been wanting for more than a decade, to turn things around. And in the meantime, I'm caught up! 

Score: 2 out of 8

3. Stop treating my phone like a toy.

One of the books of the year was The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt, which argues in part that the smart phone has rewired an entire generation, making them more anxious, secluded, and lonely. I haven't read the book, but I've heard Haidt in a number of interviews, and I think he's really on to something. We've got to find ways to lessen the impact of these technological opiods in our pockets.

That bein said, maybe I need to read the book instead of just listening to the interviews. Because I sure didn't break any bad phone habits in 2024.

Score: 2 out of 8

4. Prioritize contacts with church members.

Every year, there's a resolution I'm really embarrassed to fail at achieving. Well, here it is.

Left to my own devices, I'm terrible at reaching out to people, be they friends, family, or church members. Some of it's me not wanting to bother them, some of it's me overthinking things (what if they're too busy to talk? should I wait til after they get off work?), some of it's just downright laziness. Whatever the case, it's a terrible trait for a pastor. So in 2024 I resolved to make contacting church members throughout the week a priority, perhaps to develop some kind of a personal system to ensure I didn't fall down on the job.

And then I fell down on the job. Yep, this one stings.

Score: 2 out of 8

5. Set a new personal record for pages read.

Since creating my Goodreads account in 2011, my record for pages read was 18,415 in 2020 (that was 44 books). In 2024, I wanted to beat that. Did I?

Final total: 18,576 (60 books). Victory!!!!

Favorite read in 2024? Definitely The Power Broker by Robert Caro, all 1,246 pages of it. Honorable mention to Diary of a Pastor's Soul by Craig Barnes, the best account of pastoral ministry I've ever read. Least favorite? Probably Tom Clancy's The Hunt for Red October, a thriller which never came close to thrilling me.

Don't look for me to match this goal in 2025...it took a LOT of discipline throughout the year to read this much, and I'll likely scale back in the coming year to allow time for some other goals.

Score: 3 out of 8

6. Write it down.

Part of my job is to attend committee meetings. A lot of committee meetings.

At some of those meetings, studious notes are taken, minutes are read, motions are documented, etc. It's all very organized and, if sometimes stilted, ensures orderly process and documentation for future reference. Unfortunately, at other, more free-wheeling meetings, decisions are made informally and never properly documented. Sometimes that's fine, but other times it leads to confusion down the road, when everybody's trying to remember when, how, and why a decision was made and nobody can track down a paper trail.

So I resolved in 2024 to be a studious note taker and to make sure that we weren't relying so heavily on our own memories. I got off to a good, if laborious, start when I pushed our Personnel Committee to revamp our policies and procedures document from a 2-page typewritten sheet written in the 1980s to a more expansive, modern document. That took 4 months of wrangling.

What I didn't do, unfortunately, was keep the kind of copious notes in other meetings that I should have. There's still room for improvement there. So I'm giving myself half credit on this one—I refuse to declare outright failure after all the work getting that personnel document written and codified, but I can't give myself full points either.

Score: 3.5 out of 8

7. Prioritize study.

I wanted to get back to the good old days of devoting 10-15 hours per week to study for sermon and Bible study prep, when every sermon had 2-3 pages of research notes drawn from my study of the text and accompanying commentaries, when I refused to go to bed on Saturday until I had a solid outline.

Did I get all the way back to that point? No. Bad habits die hard, and there were still an unfortunate number of weeks where sermon prep began on Friday instead of Monday. But I did a lot better than I did in 2022 and 2023. So I'm giving myself half credit, and you can expect to see another version of this resolution pop up in 2025.

Score: 4 out of 8

8. Get out of the office.

The church office should be home base, the launching pad from which I go to make visits, engage community partners, disciple church members, etc. Unfortunately, I have a bad habit—enabled by a few church members who aren't shy about expressing displeasure when I'm not available for an unscheduled drop-in—of making the office a nest instead.

This resolution required two things I'm not great at: 1) some advance planning about what the day will look like, and 2) being willing to risk disappointing/frustrating people (those folks inclined to drop in without calling first). With more commitment, I could have made it happen, and it probably would have been good for me. Alas, this one goes down as a woulda-coulda-shoulda.

Score: 4 out of 8

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Final Score: 4 out of 8, or 50%. Let's see how that stacks up against previous years:

2023- 1.5 out of 10, or 15%

2022- 1 out of 10, or 10%

2021- 4 out of 9, or 44%

2020- 5.5 out of 13, or 42%.

2019- 3 out of 13, or 23%.

2018- 8.5 out of 13, or 65%.

My best score since the halcyon days of 2018! And, maybe more importantly, a huge improvement over the last 2 years, when I was starting to consider scrapping this enterprise altogether. Things are looking up!

Tune in tomorrow for 12 new resolutions for 2025!

December Reading Log

We made it, everybody! 2024 is drawing to a close, and so is the year of reading. Here’s how I wrapped things up in December!

JESUS FEMINIST by Sarah Bessey

The word "feminist" carries so much baggage that your blood pressure may have gone up just from reading the title of this book. Thanks in part to the excesses of second-wave feminism, in part to its post-Roe pairing with abortion rights, and in part to plain ol' bad P.R., there are those who spit the word "feminism" more than they say it. Nevertheless, a basic definition of feminism, according to Sarah Bessey, is simply "the radical notion that women are people too." From that foundation comes Jesus Feminist, her accounting of what the Bible says about women and how it should motivate Christians to think and feel and act.

As the title indicates, this book is about both Christianity and sociology, orthodoxy and orthopraxy. Bessey spends parts of the book doing standard expository work on familiar "women in ministry" texts, but also has whole chapters devoted simply to the stories of women working for the Lord in ways big and small. Her mission is bigger than the title indicates, as is her scope.

This is not really a book about the role of women in the church—after all, the title is a dead giveaway of where she falls on the complementarian-egalitarian spectrum. Rather, it's a book about the kingdom of God that Jesus preached and proclaimed, and an invitation to women to join and take part in the redemptive work of Jesus. Her concern is not flipping tables, even as she acknowledges that sometimes she wants to, but in repentance, forgiveness, reconciliation, and service.

With a writing style that recalls Rachel Held Evans—who wrote the foreward to this book—Bessey has given the church much to think about, with a message that is firm in conviction but gentle in delivery. Even if you don't like the title, I think you could learn something from Jesus Feminist.

YOUR JESUS IS TOO AMERICAN by Steve Bezner

Speaking of books whose titles might irritate you...😅

Thing is, much like Jesus Feminist, Your Jesus Is Too American is about more than its title indicates. You might assume this is a book about how Christians ought to engage in politics—but, while that inevitably comes up, this is actually a book about the kingdom of God.

Steve Bezner, a Houston-area pastor, wrote this book to challenge believers to cast aside American preconceptions about Christianity and instead embrace the vision for life that Jesus taught and embodied. When you do that—when Jesus is not only the sacrificial lamb who died on the cross, but also your teacher—it affects everything from how you treat your enemies to what you do with your money to how you engage in the public square.

Borrowing heavily from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Bezner makes a compelling case for kingdom living, grounded in biblical theology and pastoral practice. For anyone who feels like the church is spinning its wheels in tumultuous times, this book will get you fired up and ready to work.

WHY WE LOVE FOOTBALL by Joe Posnanski

I don't love football, not the way I love baseball. Nevertheless, I am an American man—not only that, a Texan man. Football is right up there with country music and barbecue around here—whether it's your thing or not, it's part of the ecosystem.

So when Joe Posnanski, my favorite sportswriter, followed up his bestselling Why We Love Baseball with a companion volume, Why We Love Football, I knew two things: 1) it wouldn't appeal to me as much as its predecessor did, and 2) I would still find a lot to like about it. And I was right—for football fans of any stripe, Why We Love Football is a joyful romp through the game's greatest moments.

Over its 100 chapters, all bite-sized snacks of 5 pages or so, Posnanski narrates some of the sport's greatest highlights, players, coaches, and traditions with humor, pathos, and passion. From Knute Rockne to Bill Belichick, from Johnny Unitas to Partick Mahomes, from the Hail Mary to Philly Special, he runs the gamut. Almost every chapter, I found myself pulling up highlights on YouTube, whether to watch a play for the first time or to refresh my memory of one I'd seen before.

What runs throughout these individual moments is a love for a game that, as George Carlin so memorably illustrated in his classic bit, is just as American as baseball despite being its total opposite in many many ways. For fans of the gridiron, you'll cherish Why We Love Football.

HOW TO READ A BOOK by Mortimer J. Adler and Charles Van Doren

After all these years—I've been writing these logs for 7 years now—I figured I should probably learn how to read a book, right?

But seriously, How to Read a Book is the acclaimed text on reading comprehension, a book that purports to teach readers how to get the most out of what they're reading. From elementary-level reading—literally, your ABCs—all the way to the philosophical texts of Aristotle and Aquinas, this book is a guide to reading well.

For someone who loves reading as much as I do, there was much to appreciate about this book, which takes its task seriously and leaves no stone unturned. That being said, this was definitely a textbook—while well-written, it was pretty dry. One of its lessons was how to effectively skim certain kinds of works, and I put that knowledge to use from time to time.

How to Read a Book is considered a classic in its field, and indeed, I can't think of how it could have done better at achieving its goals. But was it thrilling bedtime reading? Not exactly.

THE BFG by Roald Dahl

On evenings where the kids went to bed at a reasonable hour—which was far from every night—this beloved story was December's bedtime reading, and it didn't take long for it to become a favorite, maybe even surpassing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or James and the Giant Peach. The BFG is the story of an orphan girl named Sophie who is kidnapped one night by what turns out to be the one-and-only Big Friendly Giant. While the BFG's size mimics fellow giants like Fleshlumpeater and Bloodbottler, his temperament and appetite do not—instead of eating "human beans" like they do, he is a kindly giant who keeps to himself and sticks to snozzcumbers. Once he and Sophie become friends, she convinces him that he must do what he can to stop his fellow giants from gobbling people up every night, and they enlist none other than the Queen of England to help them.

This book is one of the darker ones we've read so far, owing mostly to the scary giants (and the deep, mean voice Daddy used when reading their speaking parts). But the frightening parts are more than balanced by the humor, which largely comes from the BFG's Hulk-like syntax and penchant for malapropisms—for example, helicopters are "bellypoppers." All in all, this was a really fun one to read aloud, and had a story that was simple but worthy of the 200 pages it took to tell. A worthy bedtime book for the last month of 2024!

BATMAN VOL. 1-10, BATMAN: NIGHT OF THE OWLS, JOKER: DEATH IN THE FAMILY by Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo

When DC Comics rebooted its universe (again) in 2011 with its "New 52" line of 52 monthly titles, Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo's Batman book was the runaway hit. Snyder's grandiose vision of Batman and Capullo's career-defining art were a revelation for a book that had been consistent but somewhat plodding, and they injected newfound life into it from the get-go. Their first arc introduced the Court of Owls, Illuminati-like puppet masters who had operated behind the scenes in Gotham City for generations and who now, at long last, targeted Bruce Wayne. Their second arc was a Joker story that crossed over into every Bat-title and ended with Batman estranged from everyone in his family but Alfred. The third arc, "Zero Year," stretched out over more than a year and was Snyder's version of the Frank Miller classic "Year One," an origin story about Batman's initial adventures upon donning the cape and cowl.

The first half of the run, in other words, was golden. But I'd never revisited the second half (or, in fact, all of "Zero Year") since buying it in single issues. So this month I returned to the Snyder-Capullo run to read it in its entirety, from its idea-packed inception to its limp to the finish line.

The Court of Owls story (including a few crossover issues in a companion volume I purchased) was as good as I remembered. "The Death of the Family" had an amazing run-up but a somewhat anticlimactic ending, just as I recalled. "Zero Year" was way too long—again, just as I remembered—but held together and offered a different feel from the always-prepared "Bat God" most modern Batman stories depict. Unfortunately, by "Endgame," their second Joker story, I had started to figure out why Snyder got tiresome to me after a a while. For him, every tale needs to be cataclysmic, needs to shake the Dark Knight to his core, needs to be the definitive Batman story. And when you're writing a graphic novel, that works—but when you're doing a monthly book, it starts to wear thin as you try to top yourself month after month.

So by the end, when Commissioner Gordon temporarily donned the cape and cowl with the real Batman presumed dead, the grandiosity that was once captivating had become cringey. The Snyder-Capullo run (and really my criticism is reserved for Snyder; Capullo is basically flawless throughout) went a couple years too long. Nevertheless, it's a fun ride, and especially the early issues are a must-read for any Batman fan. It’s not perfect, but it’s good!

I Like the Christmas Version Best (Friday Devotional)

 

And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.

- Luke 2:52

In a memorable scene from the 2006 film Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby, the movie’s protagonist opens a family dinner by saying grace. “Dear Lord Baby Jesus,” he begins. His prayer quickly goes off the rails—this is a Will Ferrell comedy, after all—and he has to restart several times, each time with a variation of that same opening address. After one of these resumptions, his wife interrupts to remind him, “You know, sweetie, Jesus did grow up. You don’t always have to call him ‘baby.’

“Look,” he responds. “I like the Christmas version best, and I’m saying grace!”

Silly at is, there’s something to that sentiment that we all understand. There’s a sweetness and a sentimentality to the nativity that we cherish, an innocence that is universally appealing. What’s more, if we stop Jesus’ story in Bethlehem, it’s all hope and no challenge—salvation without repentance, a manger but no cross.

But as much as we all love the story of Christmas, you need the rest of the story too. You need to hear his message that the kingdom of God is at hand. You need to see how, by his power, the sick are healed and the hungry fed. You need to follow him to Calvary, to believe in his sacrificial death upon the cross. You need to rejoice in his glorious resurrection, and you need to await his return.

You need Christmas, but you also need Good Friday and Easter Sunday, because you need all of Jesus, not just the baby in the manger. So as the decorations come down and the carols start to fade, don’t despair that Christmas is over—it’s simply time to tell the next part of the greatest story ever told.

Christmas Under Construction (Friday Devotional)

 

For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart

- Hebrews 4:12

For the past week, my house has been a construction zone while our master bathroom is being remodeled. Boxes of tile sit in our front entryway. All the contents of our closet are strewn about the kids’ playroom. And, despite the best efforts of the crew to be as clean as possible, everything is covered in dust.

The thing is, this is a relatively modest remodel. New tile on the floors and in the shower, a new shower head, a built-in shelf, and that’s really about it. No walls are being knocked down, no pipes are being rerouted, and nothing heavy duty like a new bathtub is being installed. The ‘bones’ of the house aren’t changing—yet when it’s done, it’s going to look brand new.

In that way, it reminds me of how we annually commemorate this season—we try to make it new. Preachers are tasked every year with finding a fresh way to convey the Advent themes of hope, peace, love, and joy. Families search for some new family activity to try. Shoppers scour the shelves for decorations to make the lawn or the mantle or the Christmas tree just a little different this year. Our celebration of Christ’s birth is always under construction, always open to something new.

But even as we seek something novel, the bones of Christmas remain the same: the virgin birth, the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night, the angelic chorus, the Christ child sleeping in a manger. Good news of great joy for all people. Hope, peace, joy, and love. The story never changes.

So this year, I offer you dual words of encouragement. On the one hand, look for something new in the Christmas story, something you’ve never noticed or thought about before. Allow room for a fresh perspective or a unique insight into a story you know backwards and forwards. Open your heart to whatever God may want you to hear this Christmas and let him construct something beautiful.

But on the other hand, cherish the familiarity of the story, the comfort that comes from annual observance. Rejoice in the steadfastness of the story—that, just like last year and the year before that and the year before that, Luke 2 remains the same. Christmas may look different than it did 50 years ago, but Christ does not.

God’s Word never changes, but it always has something new to teach you. So this Christmas, give thanks for the old, old story and listen for the brand new message God will deliver through it.

Eat the Cake (Friday Devotional)

 

So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.

- John 16:22

A few days ago, my daughter was hungry for a piece of leftover birthday cake. Knowing exactly where to find it, she marched to the kitchen, reached up to the counter, and grabbed the glass cake stand. The trouble is, a glass cake stand is pretty heavy for a 5-year-old, especially when it’s full of cake and she’s pulling it down from a height above her head.

You can imagine what happened next. By the time Lindsey and I heard the shattering sound from our bedroom, the kitchen floor was covered in glass shards and icing, and Katherine was staring at it all with wide, teary eyes. It took every bit of 20 minutes to sweep, vacuum, and mop up the mess. And yet, even when it was all said and done, we managed to salvage some of the cake—and we all sat down and shared some together.

Sometimes in life, things break. In fact, sometimes they shatter into a million pieces. And you’re left surveying the damage, wondering how things got so out of hand. Whether it’s a relationship you valued, an institution you believed in, or an opportunity you expected to bear fruit, sometimes faith in what was is destroyed by the cruelty of circumstance.

When that happens, there are two things believers are called to do. The first is simply to pick up the pieces. Ours is a Savior who heals the sick, saves the lost, and raises the dead, and as his disciples we are called to partner with him in that work of redemption. When the world puts its brokenness on full display, it is our opportunity to do the same with our faith. When you practice restoration, it is an act of hope.

And then there is the second thing, which is sometimes even harder than the first: find ways to rejoice amidst the brokenness. Out of pain, find promise. Out of sorrow, seek celebration. Out of despair, make room for joy. Sweep up the glass, yes—but eat some cake too.

There’s plenty of sadness in our world, but in this Advent season we remember that Jesus has overcome the world. So when the world tries to steal your joy, don’t forget what God has given.

Stocking Stuffers (Friday Devotional)

 

Though the Lord is exalted, he looks kindly on the lowly; though lofty, he sees them from afar.

- Psalm 138:6

On Christmas morning, everybody’s eyes are initially drawn to the presents under the tree—the big box in the corner with the bow, the gift bags sitting neatly in a row, etc. But at some point, everyone also makes their way to the stockings, all hung by the chimney with care.

If Santa did his job, then those stockings, empty on Christmas Eve, have now been filled with all manner of small treats. Maybe it’s fun-sized bars of your favorite candy. Maybe it’s a few assorted gift cards. Maybe it’s whatever was available at the Dollar Tree on December 23. Regardless, these aren’t usually the gifts you’ve been dreaming about, nor are they the ones you’ll remember for years to come—but you’d certainly miss them if your stocking went unfilled. The presence of these little treats makes the holiday a little brighter.

Especially during this season, we often long for ways to make a big difference. We see the grand light shows, we attend the huge pageants, we read about philanthropists making multimillion-dollar donations, and anything we can do to commemorate the message of Christmas feels so small by comparison.

But it’s worth remembering that, while the Christmas story holds all the glories of heaven, it holds them in a manger bed. Jesus’ birth was celebrated by all the angels of heaven, but also by lowly shepherds. Christmas, in other words, doesn’t have to be about the big and the flashy—it’s about the humble and the sincere.

Look for ways to make a difference in this Advent season, but don’t be discouraged if your expressions of hope, peace, joy, and love seem insignificant to you. The God who sent his Son as a baby in a manger will honor your acts of faith—and for whomever you bless, your small act of kindness will make the season brighter.

November Reading Log

A really nice reading month, including the rare experience of a long, epic novel that swept me off my feet. Take a look below, and happy reading!

SHEPHERDING LIKE JESUS by Andrew Hébert

When people think about what it means to be a pastor, they often use secular comparisons: pastor as CEO, pastor as brand manager, pastor as inspirational speaker. But in Scripture, pastors (bishops/elders, if you want to be technical about the translation) are compared to shepherds, operating under the authority of the Good Shepherd, Christ himself. So if a pastor is going to learn how to lead well, he or she ought to follow the example of the Lord.

That's the premise of Shepherding Like Jesus, a book that is part leadership text, part expositional commentary by Amarillo pastor Andrew Hébert. Using the Beatitudes as his outline, Hébert explains the different traits a pastor must have to be successful. By his own admission, this is not a book about the practicalities of ministry, but about the spiritual requirements for the role, all of which essentially boil down to humility and obedience.

While the book was fine, I was frustrated by what I saw as Hébert's fundamental misunderstanding, albeit a common one, of the Beatitudes. In his telling, Jesus is giving a list of characteristics every disciple should have, a resume for the Christian. But long ago, Dallas Willard convinced me that what Jesus is actually doing is giving a list of the kinds of people whom the world has let down—the poor in spirit, those who hunger for justice, those who mourn, etc.—and telling them that, because Jesus has come, they can now be called blessed. According to Willard’s interpretation, the Beatitudes are not about telling you how to behave, but are an announcement that grace has arrived in Christ, that there is good news for people used to nothing but bad news.

Because Hébert reads the text more like commandments, it makes him stretch and over-spiritualize in certain chapters—for example, when he gets to "blessed are those who mourn," his chapter is about how pastors ought to grieve the sinfulness of the world. Not a bad principle, but one that, in my opinion, is built on a faulty exegetical foundation. The misunderstanding of the book's central text made for a constant distraction in my reading of Shepherding Like Jesus—the chapters' content is fine, but it's built on sand. I appreciate what Hébert was getting at with his core message that pastors ought to look to Jesus as their example, but I couldn't get past the questionable exegesis.

RENEGADES: BORN IN THE U.S.A. by Barack Obama and Bruce Springsteen

Following the November presidential election, I was looking for a different take on America than the one we'd been living for the last few weeks/months/years. So I turned to this coffee table book by two of liberal America's favorite men, one a former president and the other a rock star.

In 2021, Barack Obama and Bruce Springsteen recorded a series of conversations about their biographies and what it means to be American, conversations that became a hit podcast. Renegades: Born in the U.S.A. is essentially the transcript of those podcast episodes alongside a bunch of cool photos, ticket stubs, speeches, and more.

The conversations are warm, intimate, and wide-ranging, the kind of chats you'd expect from two thoughtful friends. They talk about fatherhood, race, masculinity, money, fame, marriage...just a sample of the things that have made them such fascinating figures in their careers. Drawing on their own experiences as well as their observations, the chats call to mind the kinds of talks you might have on a back porch or around a campfire.

This is a hopeful book for those who share the two men's convictions about the country, and might even be interesting for those who don't (for what it's worth, policy proposals aren't this book's project.) For me, at least, it was good medicine after a campaign season that left me feeling sick.

THE PRINCE OF TIDES by Pat Conroy

As a reader, there is nothing I love more than getting sucked into a novel. It doesn't happen often—I'm a fairly critical reader, so I unintentionally find myself reading from a remove, safely keeping my distance. But every now and then, I stumble upon a book like The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay or The Goldfinch, sweeping sagas that awaken my imagination and make me like a kid again saying, "maybe just 10 more pages before bed."

The Prince of Tides was one of those books.

The novel tells the story of Tom Wingo and his dysfunctional South Carolina family. When Tom, a football coach, learns that his mentally disturbed sister Savannah has attempted suicide in New York City, he goes there to be with her and see how he can help. Before long, he meets her psychiatrist, Susan Lowenstein, and begins a series of long conversations with her about their family history, seeking to uncover the trauma that is tormenting Savannah.

Through these conversations, we learn all about the abuse suffered at the hands of their father, the strength of their late brother Luke, the fierceness and fragility of their mother, and all the beauties and horrors they experienced growing up. The book ranges from the gritty—the descriptions of abuse are riveting and stomach churning, as is one horrific scene I won't describe here— to the fantastical (for example, the family owned a pet Bengal tiger.) Its plot is all over the place—some chapters are romance stories, some are adventure tales, still others are pure family drama.

What is consistent is the writing of Pat Conroy, an acquired taste but one I've come to love. It is not without its flaws, I'll give you that. His dialogue is undeniably corny, always too clever by half. His prose borders on purple (and sometimes more than crosses that threshold.) Especially in the early pages, when I was getting used to it, the writing bordered on distracting. But the deeper in I got, the more I came to love Conroy's use of language, the unabashed romance of his writing.

The Prince of Tides is not a cool book; it's way too overwrought for that. But I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt, it's a good book. And by the time I got to the end of its 679 pages, I was sad to see it go.

THE GIRAFFE AND THE PELLY AND ME by Roald Dahl

THE TWITS by Roald Dahl
THE MAGIC FINGER by Roald Dahl

Me and the kids' bedtime journey through the works of Roald Dahl continued this month with some of his shorter, lesser-known books. First up, The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me told the off-the-wall story of a window cleaning service staffed by a giraffe, a pelican, and a monkey, who wind up doing a duke a favor and thereby earning the protagonist, a young boy, his own sweet shop. Next was The Twits, the tale of a truly horrid married couple who, after years of making each other miserable with mean-spirited pranks, meet their demise thanks to the birds and monkeys living in their backyard. Finally, The Magic Finger is a preachy but delightful story about a girl who magically turns her neighbors, rabid hunters, into ducks in order to teach them a lesson about animal rights.

None of these slim books (each was closer to 50 pages than 100) are in the league of James and the Giant Peach or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but they're serviceable, imaginative little tales, enhanced by Quentin Blake's artwork. The Magic Finger in particular was a favorite for my kids, who laughed uproariously when the hunters-turned-ducks had to build a nest to sleep in overnight. None of these books are going to change your life, but they'll make you smile!

ESSENTIAL X-MEN VOL. 6 by Chris Claremont, John Romita, Jr., Louise Simonson, et al.

Ok, at this point we're in deep. By 1986, the Uncanny X-Men had been around for ten years, ever since Len Wein and Dave Cockrum introduced the "all-new, all-different" team of Wolverine, Storm, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Banshee, Sunfire, and Thunderbird to rescue the original team of Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Beast, Iceman, and Angel. The relaunched book had reached its critical zenith with the Chris Claremont-John Byrne run, which included the epic "The Dark Phoenix Saga" and "Days of Future Past" stories. And now the book was a runaway freight train of commercial success, Marvel's top book by a mile.

This led to spinoff books like New Mutants and X-Factor. It led to miniseries like Wolverine, Kitty Pryde and Wolverine, Beauty and the Beast, and Longshot. And it led to what would become a recurring problem for the X-Men—crossover events that demanded you buy other books to know what was going on in yours.

In this volume, that trend begins with X-Men #200, "The Trial of Magneto," where the once-villainous master of magnetism, now reformed, is tried in the Hague for crimes against humanity, somehow found innocent, and at the end takes over as headmaster of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. That feels like the kind of thing that should be a seismic event for the X-Men, but it seems to have little effect on the main team (where Magneto almost never appears); only in the New Mutants is it really an issue. Weird.

What does matter to every team is the Mutant Massacre, a crossover storyline in which the Morlocks, a group of outcast mutants living in the sewers of New York, are brutally murdered by a group of mutant hunters called the Marauders. The story is shocking for its savagery; up to this point we were still in the more naïve, kid-friendly, "Wolverine never stabs people on camera" era. While never graphic, the story isn't ambiguous either; this is the beginning of a darker time in X-Men lore, when mutant persecution is not only hateful, but violent.

As for the creative team, this remains largely a Chris Claremont-John Romita Jr. joint. Claremont is as wordy and soap operatic as ever, and Romita is really coming into his own by this time, starting to develop a style different from his famous father's (Romita Sr. was the artist on Amazing Spider-Man in the late 1960s.) Those big names, as much as anything, kept Uncanny X-Men in the spotlight during this period.

As you may have gathered, Essential X-Men Vol. 6 is pretty much more of the same readers had come to expect from the previous 50 or so issues: lots of character, lots of plot, lots of words. I'm not sure I fully understand why it tapped into the zeitgeist the way it undeniably did, but it's fun comics.