Sharing Christmas (Friday Devotional)

When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child.

- Luke 2:17

Every night this week, my family has spent time after dinner decorating the house for Christmas—pulling ornaments out of boxes, finding places to put nativity sets, hanging stockings, etc. Tuesday night was the big one, the night we set up our tree, and Andrew was excited to help. Carefully holding the Thomas the Tank Engine ornament Grandma had bought him, he circled around the tree until he’d found the perfect spot for it, then asked me to help him hang it on the branch. When he stepped back and admired his handiwork, he couldn’t have looked much prouder.

So we were confused a few minutes later when we saw him sitting under the tree trying to put the Thomas ornament back in its box. I asked what he was doing, and his answer has stuck with me all week: “I’m putting it away so that when everybody comes over to my house they can put it on the tree with me and they can have Christmas too!”

Without even meaning to, Andrew offered me a simple reminder: Christmas—its story, its themes, its message—is something meant to be shared, not kept to ourselves. Since the night of Christ’s birth, people have been proclaiming the good news that God is with us, and anyone who believes that to be true ought to be telling others. Hope, peace, joy, and love are too big a gift to hoard.

The sad truth is that someone in your life is trudging through this holiday season instead of relishing it. Perhaps they’re mourning the first Christmas with an empty chair at the table, or maybe they simply can’t get past the cynical commercialization of the holiday. Whatever the reason, these are the people who most need someone to share Christmas with them.

This is the time of year when we give—charities receive record donations, soup kitchens are full of volunteers, and, of course, presents are exchanged between family and friends. Amidst all the usual giving, make an effort during this Advent season to find the person in your life who seems more disappointed than joyous. And then see what you can do to make sure that, in Andrew’s words, they can have Christmas too. After all, Christmas has always been something worth sharing.

November Reading Log

It's a short log this month—thanks to a week in Waco with my family for a pair of conferences and the Thanksgiving holiday, a lot of the time I normally would have spent reading was instead spent with family. A trade-off I'll take any time. Nevertheless, I did some reading...take a look!

2 Articles I Like This Month

"Worshiping Screens in Our Temples of Consumption" by Joshua J. Whitfield, The Dallas Morning News. 4 minutes.

Much has been made of the rise of the "nones," i.e. the religiously unaffiliated. In this piece, Catholic priest Joshua Whitfield argues that this is not because of a lack of spiritual hunger, but because people are seeking meaning, community, and purpose online instead of in communities of faith. A stark, challenging read.

"This Tom Hanks Story Will Help You Feel Less Bad" by Taffy Brodesser, The New York Times. 23 minutes.

Most celebrity profiles are written with an eye for the extreme, to show that stars are not, in fact, just like us. This piece on Tom Hanks accomplishes that goal, but not by showing eccentricities or a lavish lifestyle—it simply illustrates for the reader that, in a town obsessed with image, Tom Hanks is a picture of sincerity.

BIG DATA BASEBALL: MATH, MIRACLES, AND THE END OF A 20-YEAR LOSING STREAK by Travis Sawchik

My timing could not have been worse in terms of when I chose to read this book, which chronicles how the 2013 Pittsburgh Pirates built a winning baseball team using previously unknown or underrated statistics and strategies. For one thing, the Pirates were arguably baseball's biggest mess last season, a last place team who only seemed to make headlines when they prompted a dugout-clearing brawl on the field (something which happened with absurd frequency given their pitchers' tendency to pitch inside.) For another thing, the stars of the book, manager Clint Hurdle and general manager Neal Huntington, were both fired this offseason (in fact, Huntington was fired the day before I started reading this book!) Nevertheless, this book was worth reading because it captured an important moment in time, the dawn of sabermetrics' universal acceptance by MLB's 30 teams.

The book opens with a meeting between Hurdle and Huntington, both of whom are on the hot seat after 20 straight seasons of the Pirates finishing below .500, including several under their watch. Hurdle and Huntington jointly agree to take the plunge into sabermetrics and use the season as a laboratory for strategies previously considered too radical for the big league level. By embracing on-field strategies like defensive shifting and pitch framing and mining proprietary "big data," the Pirates were able to turn a low-budget ball club into a playoff team.

If this all sounds like Moneyball II, that's exactly what it is, the story of an underdog team which used sabermetrics to overachieve. And just like Moneyball, there are some blind spots—Andrew McCutchen, who won the National League MVP in 2013, is barely mentioned. Nevertheless, it's a compelling story, one that author Travis Sawchik tells without getting too lost in the statistical weeds. If you like baseball and want to better understand how and why baseball front offices have started to seem like Silicon Valley startups, this book is a good place to turn.

THE JUNCTION BOYS: HOW TEN DAYS IN HELL WITH BEAR BRYANT FORGED A CHAMPIONSHIP TEAM by Jim Dent

I have a really hard time with this book. This is actually the second time I've read it, with the first coming in college. As the subtitle indicates, it's the story of how Bear Bryant, in his first year coaching at Texas A&M, put his team through a hellish training camp that saw only 38 players stick with the team by the end, and how those players served as the core of a team that would win the Southwest Conference Championship two years later. Jim Dent tells the story with Texas flair and respect for the old adage that "when the legend becomes fact, print the legend." Style is not my issue with Dent or his book.

My issue is that, in telling the story of Bryant's harsh training camp in Junction, Dent not only forgives but arguably glorifies coaching behavior that is nothing short of abusive. In Dent's telling, Bryant, who was obsessed with toughness, sought to weed out weaker players through fear, intimidation, and outright violence. Some of this can be waved off by saying "it was a different time": practices where players were denied water (even in 100+ degree heat), forcing players to play through minor injuries, etc. But to cite one infamous example, Dent tells a story about how Bryant, just to make a point, headbutted one of his players hard and repeatedly until he broke his nose. In another example, Bryant told his quarterback that if he refused to play despite broken vertebrae, he'd lose his spot on the roster. What are we supposed to admire about that?

In the book's second half, as the training camp in Junction draws to a close and Dent narrates the team's progression over the next two season, he makes clear that Bryant eventually came to regret his methods and mellowed. However, Bryant's repentance is limited to halfhearted apologies along the lines of "I probably should have treated y'all better," and nothing close to penance. What's more, every trace of disapproval Dent shows with Bryant is countered by testimonials from Bryant stalwarts who insist that his methods made them into the men they are today.

To sum it up, my issue with The Junction Boys, an unquestionable classic of sportswriting, is that it sends a message that winning permits any behavior, that the ends justify the means. I hear that enough these days on the news. I won't endorse it here.

THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA by Ernest Hemingway

Hard to explain what I thought of this one, an undisputed part of the American canon and winner of the 1953 Pulitzer Prize. Did I appreciate it? Yes. Did I enjoy it? That's where it gets more complicated.

The Old Man and the Sea is the story of an elderly fisherman beset by bad luck who sails out to sea determined not to return home until he has some success. Alone at sea, he comes upon a marlin of such size that is almost seems mythological; he spends days with his line in its mouth before he finally catches it and hauls it aboard his boat. However, the monstrous catch is not without complications, as he is attacked repeatedly by sharks on his way home due to all the blood from the fish. By the time he makes it home, little remains of his catch, but the journey serves as convincing proof that, despite his bout of lucklessness, he is still a man of the sea.

As I read the book, I had to admire Hemingway's craft. Essentially, this is a 140-page book about catching a fish, and yet Hemingway fills it with far more meaning than that, allowing the story to say a great deal about perseverance, pride, and manhood. Furthermore, Hemingway manages to tell the story with barely any dialogue; the vast majority of the story is a man vs. nature story, and the only voices in the narrative are the author's and the thoughts of the old man. Finally, Hemingway's prose is as advertised, matter-of-fact yet beautiful, never relying on flowery language when simplicity will do the job.

But did I enjoy the book? Look, it's a story about man catching a fish...that's a tough sell no matter how good the writing is. As much as I was able to appreciate Hemingway's craft, there were sections where reading it was a chore. Some books you love, others you merely appreciate. For me, this was the latter.

THE IMMORTAL HULK VOL. 1-3 by Al Ewing, Joe Bennett, Lee Garbett, et. al

Depending on who's writing him, the Hulk can be a lot of things: a primal beast, a source of comic relief, and a Jekyll-Hyde analogue, just to name the most popular examples. Sometimes his book is a a standard superhero book and sometimes it tries to do something more. In The Immortal Hulk, writer Al Ewing goes a route rarely traveled with the character, writing his stories as a horror book.

Ewing lays out the ground rules in the first issue. First, the Hulk is back after his latest 'death' in the Civil War II storyline, and Ewing establishes that the Hulk is in fact, as the title suggests, literally impossible to kill. Second, going back to a dynamic not used since the Hulk's first few appearances in 1962, Bruce Banner now becomes the Hulk at night and then transforms back at sunrise—"night belongs to the Hulk." Third, this Hulk is a "devil Hulk," a reasonably intelligent monster whose brutality comes not from mindless rage but from frightening purpose. Ewing, in other words, is not doing a book that uses the Hulk as a metaphor for anger—the traditional take on the book—but as a metaphor for our inner darkness.

As for the plot, we see the Hulk acting as both pursuer and pursued, acting as a dark vigilante even as is being chased by enemies with good intentions (Sasquatch, a Canadian Hulk knock-off) and bad (General Fortean and Gamma Base). The highlight comes when Hulk and Co. actually go to Hell, where he wages psychological warfare against his ultimate enemy, Bruce Banner's abusive father.

This is not a perfect book by any measure—Ewings scripts can be messy and Joe Bennett's art is a Mark Bagley-esque mixture of cartooning and realism that doesn't always fit the tone of the book. But The Immortal Hulk at least feels like a fresh, energized take on a character that has seemed stale in other people's hands. I really enjoyed breezing through these initial four volumes, any may well pick up the next few.

ESSENTIAL CAPTAIN AMERICA VOL. 6 by Jack Kirby, Roy Thomas, Steve Gerber, Sal Buscema, Roger McKenzie, et al.

After diving into Jack Kirby's wacky, cult classic run on Cap in the 1970s with Essential Captain America Vol. 5, I couldn't resist completing the run, which continues into this volume. While the King never quite achieves the heights of the Madbomb storyline which began his run, the stories continue to be delightfully imaginative and absurd, utterly unlike anything else being produced at the time. As I said last month, even Kirby in twilight is better comics than 90% of what was being put out in the Bronze Age.

And that's proven by the second half of this Essential, which sees a return to middling, aimless Cap stories once Kirby leaves the title. The primary storyline is a manufactured one about Cap seeking out information about his past, before Steve Rogers received the Super-Soldier Serum. Apparently, though it had never been mentioned in the nearly 20 years of comics since Cap was discovered and revived by the Avengers, Steve has had amnesia about his pre-World War II life. So most of the issues here are about him leaving his partnership with the Falcon and his responsibilities with S.H.I.E.L.D. to go on a navel-gazing vision quest that ultimately pits him against a Nazi supervillain because, you know, comics. If it all sounds pretty self-indulgent and even a little boring, well, I can't disagree with you there.

These stories illustrate the surprising thing I've found after reading hundreds of Captain America comics—despite being my favorite Marvel superhero, his is a pretty difficult title to keep compelling on a month-to-month basis. Cap just works better in the context of a team, or at least a partnership, and when he's forced to fly solo the stories almost always veer into angsty melodrama or generic villain-of-the-week stories. The subtitle of the first Captain America movie—The First Avenger—speaks to the core of the character; he's almost always more interesting when leading a team than when going it alone. The post-Kirby material in this Essential proves it. Look for volume 7 next month, which sees the book move past the drudgery of the Bronze Age into the 1980s and the classic Roger Stern/John Byrne run. See you then! 

Giving the Gospel (Friday Devotional)

So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.

- 1 Thessalonians 2:8

With Thanksgiving now in the rearview mirror and hordes of shoppers descending on stores, the season of giving is officially upon us. For the next month the lines will be long, the parking lots will be packed, and presents will steadily pile up beneath Christmas trees.

For Christians, the season of giving is about more than consumerism or generic holiday cheer. It is during Advent that we reflect on the awesome truth that God is with us in Christ, that the Son of God came to this earth in humility and brought us salvation. As we celebrate this gospel during Advent, we are also inspired to share it, to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ with renewed fervor. So how should we give Jesus to people in this special season of giving?

Some do so with such passion that they become combative—fearing that the world has “taken the Christ out of Christmas,” they resolve to put him back in themselves by forcefully inserting Jesus into every otherwise innocuous holiday exchange. The trouble with such an approach is that nobody ever savored a meal they were force-fed—it’s hard to appreciate the goodness of the Good News when it’s being shouted at you.

So others take things to the opposite extreme, virtually ignoring the Christmas story and counting on generic themes of joy and generosity to carry forward the specific message of the gospel. The problem with this approach, of course, is that it’s tough for anyone to learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ without ever mentioning his name. While generalized talk about hope, peace, joy, and love is fine, if it isn’t eventually tied to the person of Jesus Christ then it’s a gospel so diluted of specificity that it ceases to be gospel at all.

From Paul’s first letter to his beloved church in Thessalonica we get a look at a third way to give people the gospel, one that goes beyond words and remains true to Jesus’s own witness. Referencing his ministry in Thessalonica, Paul remarks that he is “determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves.” Paul was not content to leave the church merely with sermons about Christ’s love, he wanted to show them that love.

During the holidays, believers want to give people the gospel more than ever; we want the world to sing along with the heavenly host that Jesus Christ has come to save. But for the message to cut through the noise, we need to take a page a page out of the apostle’s book. We need to give the world more than religiosity or moralism; we need to serve when we could be indulging, to help when we could be passive, to give when we could be receiving. We need, in Paul’s words, to give ourselves for others' sakes. What could be more Christ-like than that?

Ready to Go (Friday Devotional)

For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast.

- Ephesians 2:8-9

Three hours—that’s how long it took Lindsey and I to pack on Saturday morning. Three hours of rolling up shirts, picking out picture books for the drive, selecting just the right stuffed animals, and making sure we grabbed all the necessary chargers. Three hours of coordinating outfits, rearranging the suitcase, and finally throwing everything in the trunk of our SUV. Three hours of packing, not for a transatlantic flight or a cross-country road trip, but for a 5-day stay in Waco.

And here’s the remarkable thing: the entire drive there, I kept worrying we’d forgotten something.

For many people, life is just a bigger version of that packing experience—you work and work, you think and plan, you do everything in your power to make sure you’re ready for whatever comes next. And yet even when you’ve over-prepared, even when you’ve said and done all the right things, you still feel like you’re missing something. You still worry you’ve forgotten something.

What makes the gospel such glorious news is that salvation isn’t the result of that kind of effortful, harried life. Salvation comes not by human works, but by grace through faith—it is not something you earn through hours of work and preparation; rather, it is something God gives freely to everyone who places their trust in Him.

In so much of life, we are convinced that only maximum effort and maximum achievement will get us what we want. Praise God that the greatest thing we could ever desire—eternal life—is not earned, but given.

Steadier than Texas Weather (Friday Devotional)

The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.

- Isaiah 40:8

When I left the house Monday morning, it was 40-something degrees and cloudy. I didn’t check the weather report before getting dressed and heading out the door, because I thought I knew what to expect: it would warm up to the mid-60s by the afternoon and the sun would likely come out. In my golf shirt and blue jeans, I thought I was set for the day.

So imagine my surprise when I stepped outside three hours later and was nearly bowled over by the rain, wind, and cold. In those three hours the temperature had dropped nearly twenty degrees, and the wind chill had already dipped below freezing. By the next morning, the “arctic front” would send temperatures plummeting well below those numbers, with a few school districts in Central Texas even delaying the start of Tuesday’s classes just to play it safe.

In Texas, we’re used to the weather changing on a dime (even if we sometimes fail to account for those sudden changes when we get dressed in the morning.) But no matter how long you live, none of us are ever truly prepared for the way life can change just as quickly. One announcement from the CEO, one missed stop sign, one chance meeting with a stranger—for better or for worse, a single moment can wind up turning your whole life upside down.

In a chaotic world, we look for stability, for something which remains steadfast even when our circumstances seem as variable as Texas weather. Some turn to strong people in their lives, those who seem to have it all together. Others turn to public figures who radiate confidence or wisdom. Still others think they’ll find a foundation in their careers and ambitions.

But ultimately, the only rock which is capable of withstanding life’s sudden storms is the word of God. For all the ways that life has changed over the centuries, for every revolution and new philosophy that’s come along, the gospel has endured. When you turn to the Lord, you find wisdom which stands the test of time, hope which doesn’t fade, and love which lasts forever. Life changes, sometimes far more suddenly than you’re prepared for. So place your trust in the one who is always faithful.

Grounded (Friday Devotional)

“Seek the Lord and His strength, seek His presence continually.”

- 1 Chronicles 16:11

Three days after the baby shower, the balloons were starting to look pretty pitiful.

Let me back up for a second. Last Saturday, Lindsey and I (well, really Lindsey, her mom, and her grandmommy) hosted a shower at our house for her cousin, who’s expecting her first child. The shower was by any measure a big success—everybody had a great time, we didn’t run out of food, and the mom-to-be walked away with plenty of gifts.

The trouble came when we started cleaning everything up, and our son told us he wanted to leave the decorative balloons up. We shrugged and thought, sure, what’s the harm? The next day, when we asked Andrew if he was ready to take them down now, he said he still liked them and wanted them to stay up. Same story the next day. But by Tuesday, the helium had passed its expiration date, and balloons that had once risen to the ceiling now lay limply on the floor.

So when Andrew came out of his room that morning and saw them on the ground, he cocked his head and asked why they weren’t in the air anymore. I explained to him that the balloons had been able to stay up because of something like called helium, and that the balloons were all out of it and would need to go in the trash now. Andrew looked even more confused by my explanation and my solution. His response: “They don’t need to go in the trash. They just need to be filled up again!”

We all feel like grounded balloons at times, brought down to earth by stress, sadness, and sin. Maybe there was once a time when you soared proudly, when it felt like God was with you in everything you did. But now you just feel weak, defeated, and alone, devoid of passion or purpose.

In such times, God assures us that what we need is not to consign ourselves to the trash can, but to seek His strength. When you come to Him continually—not just in crisis, but also in calm—and place your faith in Him, you find a comfort and a peace that cannot be found elsewhere. Life is difficult and has a way of bringing you low, but what Andrew said about the balloons is true in a spiritual sense for people too: you don’t belong in the trash. You just need to be filled up.

October Reading Log

Can't say I did much reading the first two weeks of October (can't imagine why!), but I'm back in the swing of things now. Here's a look at what I read the past month!

1 Article I Like This Month

"Fascinated to Presume: In Defense of Fiction" by Zadie Smith, The New York Review of Books. 25 minutes.

One of the dictums of woke culture is that you cannot speak honestly about the experiences of another person, that only they can tell their story. How does the novelist respond to such dogma? Zadie Smith, one of the world's most prominent novelists, answers in this essay.

TILL ARMAGEDDON: A PERSPECTIVE ON SUFFERING by Billy Graham

I'm on record as saying that Billy Graham, though unquestionably a dynamic preacher and faithful evangelist, left something to be desired as a writer. In reading How to Be Born Again, Angels, and even his autobiography Just As I Am, I found Graham to be stretching his material for the sake of lengthening the book and thought his folksy, oft-imitated preaching style didn't translate well to the written word. However, Till Armageddoon, Graham's book about the problem of pain, is the best of the bunch, a well-constructed and biblical take on suffering that held my attention longer than his other offerings.

Those looking for anything new regarding the subject matter should look elsewhere—the question "why does a good God allow people to suffer?" is one people having been asking since the Fall. The task of anyone tackling this question is not to provide new answers, but to communicate the biblical answers in a persuasive, compelling way. Graham, with his trademark mixture of biblical support, anecdotes, and humor, does this well, with chapters that feel like sermons (which I mean as a compliment, since Graham is probably the most famous preacher of the last century.)

The book's structure is part of its strength, with a progression from the problems of the world to the problems of individuals and ultimately to the hope found in Christ. Unlike Angels, which felt like a grab-bag of topics and lacked what I would consider sufficient biblical support, Till Armageddon always feels on target both in its mission and its foundation.

Preachers and teachers will find a collection of quotes and sermon illustrations worth borrowing, as well as an accessible resource for laypeople struggling with the problem of pain. And for anyone who's ever struggled with God's role in our suffering, going to Billy Graham for answers is certainly not a bad starting place!

THE PEARL by John Steinbeck

When Lindsey, Katherine, and I came home from the hospital, I knew I wanted to get back to reading, but also knew I needed something short and sweet, something I could easily pick up and put down at a moment's notice. In other words, that was not a week to start a giant biography. So I turned to The Pearl, a Steinbeck novella I had intended to read several months ago.

The Pearl is a moving, fable-like story about a Mexican fisherman who finds the Pearl of the World, a treasure of incalculable value, and how that little pearl manages to become a source not of hope, but dread. It's a simple but moving story (perfect for a sermon illustration) about the corrupting power of wealth and where happiness truly comes from.

Steinbeck's writing is beautiful throughout the story, vividly describing the Gulf Coast of Mexico one moment and succinctly describing the thoughts of the protagonist and his wife the next. With scarce dialogue and a simple plot, Steinbeck nevertheless manages to clearly communicate the story's themes without ever spelling them out. The Pearl is a short, tragic parable that can be quickly read but not quickly forgotten.

WE WERE EIGHT YEARS IN POWER: AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Ta-Nehisi Coates is one of the nation's best essayists, if not the best essayist. Over the last decade, his writings on race in America have provoked discussion, debate, and even a Congressional hearing. We Were Eight Years in Power: An American Tragedy collects Coates' best-known writings from 2009-2017, i.e. the Obama presidency, a time that saw the dream of a post-racial America (a dream Coates never entirely bought into) give way to racial division and white supremacy.

As I've written in the past, Coates is a provocative thinker and writer, whose perspective as an African-American makes him decidedly more pessimistic (he'd say realistic) on race than I am. But even as you feel your blood pressure rising midway through one of his essays, you have a hard time arguing with him. When he points out that the glories of American capitalism would have been impossible without the evil of slavery, he's saying something we've tried to ignore for generations, something that is no less true for being inconvenient. When he points out that white America has consistently rejected the best and brightest of black America in their time, Frederick Douglass, Martin Luther King, Jr., Barack Obama—it hurts because you know he's right.

We Were Eight Years in Power is comprised of an essay from each year of the Obama presidency, along with an epilogue leading into the Trump presidency. Prior to each essay, Coates offers an introduction about what prompted him to write the given essay, along with what he thinks about it now (like most writers, his thoughts about his past work are pretty critical.) These insights into both his process and the evolution of his thinking are fascinating glimpses into a brilliant mind, and make the book worth its price tag even if you've already read the articles themselves.

Virtually everyone will find something in Coates' writing to be aggravated by, but if you go in with an open mind, you will also find yourself enlightened and convicted. For those who want to think critically about race in America, We Were Eight Years in Power is not to be missed.

PASTORALIA by George Saunders

George Saunders, whose novel Lincoln in the Bardo might be my favorite book I read this year, made his name writing dark, comic short stories that manage to speak volumes about the human condition without ever becoming preachy. Pastoralia collects six of these stories, featuring an eclectic assortment of characters haunted by their own insecurities.

The longest of these, the eponymous "Pastoralia" is about two cave people in a modern museum, and is remarkable lesson in world building for any writer—picking up details as you go along, you're always intrigued by the world Saunders describes but are never spoonfed unnecessary information about it; the characters always come first. This knack for making the weird accessible is employed again in "Sea Oak," a story about a small, miserable family who sees their dead relative return to life as an angry, bossy, zombie.

But what I appreciate most about Saunders' writing, here and elsewhere, is his ability to make you empathize with his characters, even the ones who aren't necessarily likable. The protagonist of "The Barber's Unhappiness," for example, is a shallow, insecure little man, but when he decides to go through with his date with a girl he'd considered dumping because of her weight, you are rooting for the couple to work out despite misgivings about him. In "The End of FIRPO in the World," the main character is a mean-spirited boy racing his bicycle around his neighborhood, yet instead of holding his grievances against him, you find yourself pitying him. In Saunders' world, there are no perfect people—but that's all the more reason for us to try and understand one another.

The writing is brilliant in these stories, bending grammatical rules in a way that feels loose but never off-the-rails and that helps communicate the story instead of just seeming pretentious. I've become convinced that George Saunders is one of America's best living writers, and Pastoralia did nothing to dissuade me from that opinion.

ESSENTIAL CAPTAIN AMERICA VOL. 5 by Jack Kirby, John Warner, Tony Isabella, et al.

When Jack Kirby, the co-founder of what we now call the Marvel Universe, moved to DC Comics in 1971, it was a paradigm shift in the comics landscape, an event that DC marketed for months with full page ads proclaiming "The King Is Coming." But when that selfsame king returned home in 1976, there was considerably less fanfare. It had become clear to everyone by this time that Kirby was no longer at the peak of his powers, and his age was finally starting to show in his work, where both written and penciled attempts to portray the culture of the 1970s came off as laughably stilted. The Kirby who, alongside his collaborator Stan Lee, breathed life into Thor, the Incredible Hulk, the Fantastic Four, the Black Panther, and many more was gone. But as this Essential volume shows, even Kirby in his twilight was more interesting than a lot of what Marvel had to offer in the Bronze Age of Comics.

The early issues of this volume are a clear example of Marvel throwing work at whomever was willing to take it that month, with a rotating cast of writers and artists putting out subpar work. The stories are bland, the dialogue is trying way too hard (especially attempts to have Falcon talk in jive, which, um, have not aged well), and Frank Robbins' art is some of the most amateurish I've seen from a Marvel comic book.

But then the page turns, and Kirby is in full control of the character he and Joe Simon created in 1941. Writing and drawing every month (something Kirby insisted on by this time, despite being considerably more talented at the latter than the former), these issues are not as high quality as Kirby's Silver Age material. But especially compared with the issues that immediately preceded Kirby's arrival, they crackle with imaginative energy, dynamism, and out-and-out fun.

Kirby's first story is an extended one dealing with the threat of the "Mad Bomb," a weapon of mass manipulation which threatens to turn the United States into a nation of raging psychopaths. This bomb is, naturally for a story written in the bicentennial year of 1976, the creation of a secret society of British royalists intent on reclaiming the U.S. for the aristocratic class. When Cap and Falcon, aided by agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., finally lay siege to the castle where the secret society is headquartered, Kirby makes the battle feels as momentous as it is ludicrous...and if that's not good comics, I don't know what is.

The remaining Kirby stories are shorter and covered in a collection I previously read. In a special bicentennial issue, Cap travels through time to witness some of America's most notable moments. In a two-part story, Cap meets the Night People, Dickensian social rejects living in a dimension terrorized by monsters. And in the finale, Cap and Falcon face off against Agron, a being of pure energy who time travels from the future to occupy a golem-like body and cause chaos.

1970s Kirby stories are Marvel are all zany, unfiltered imagination. Critically speaking, they're kind of a mess, with stilted dialogue, rushed art, and thin plotlines. But they're fun...and at the end of the day, isn't that what comics ought to be about?