Jon Krakauer: All religious books are of questionable veracity

One example of Krakauer’s futile attempts to transfer his criticisms of Mormonism directly to all religions is his paragraph on the veracity of The Book of Mormon and other religious texts:

“Those who would assail The Book of Mormon should bear in mind that its veracity is no more dubious than the veracity of the Bible, say, or the Qur’an, or the sacred texts of most other religions. The latter texts simply have the considerable advantage of having made their public debut in the shadowy recesses of the ancient past, and are thus much harder to refute.”

Preceding this paragraph, Krakauer lists a collection of scholarly arguments calling into question the veracity of The Book of Mormon: lack of original sources (the gold plates from which the book was translated), lack of archeological artifacts supporting the civilizations described in the book, historical inaccuracies regarding both animals and technologies found in the New World at the time of Christ, and lack of DNA evidences for the claim that Native Americans were originally a Hebraic race. All of these arguments are compelling reasons to question the claim that The Book of Mormon is inspired.

On the other hand, the assertion that other religious texts (including the Bible) are equally unreliable is made without any proofs whatsoever. The one argument made for the unreliability of other religious texts is that it is harder to prove them false because of their age. If this is true, it should also be harder to prove them true–yet one of the religious texts Krakauer mentions has been proven to be correct in multiple instances.

While the Book of Mormon is said to have been “translated” from golden tablets presumably written in the seventh century after Christ, the earliest extant manuscript is Joseph Smith’s single “translation” published in 1830. Compare this with the Bible, which has literally thousands of independent manuscripts and manuscript fragments dating to within a century of the originals.

While no archeological evidence exists to support the Book of Mormon’s claims of a “Nephite” civilization in the Americas, abundant archeological evidence buttresses Biblical claims. Furthermore, while technologies such as iron and animals such as horses are not known to exist in the Pre-Columbian Americas (as the Book of Mormon claims), archeological evidence supports the accuracy of Biblical accounts of ancient Middle Eastern technologies and practices. Cities are where the Bible says they are. Peoples (such as the Hittites) not previously known to exist apart from Biblical records are found to indeed exist as archeology advances. Individuals named in the Bible are also found in contemporary secular accounts, with details that corroborate the Biblical account. The more archeologists find, the more the evidence mounts that the Bible is factually accurate regarding ancient Middle Eastern people, places, cultural activities, and events.

What’s more, while DNA evidence fails to support the Mormon claim that Native Americans are descendant from a Hebraic race, DNA evidence suggests that the Bible just might be right in its own claims of descent. It just so happens that analysis of human DNA finds that the closest common male ancestor of all humanity (the so-called “Y-chromosomal Adam”) is several thousand years younger than the closest common female ancestor of all humanity (the so-called “mitochondrial Eve”). This is exactly what one would expect based on the Biblical account, which indicates that the earliest common male ancestor of humanity is Noah, while the earliest common female ancestor of humanity is Eve.

So, Krakauer’s arguments against The Book of Mormon fail in every account to be transferable to the Bible. Instead of evaluating the evidences for and against specific religions or even religion in general, Krakauer makes blanket statements about all faiths without any rational or logical evidence supporting his assertions.

He is an unashamed bigot, guilty of the same blind faith he accuses all religious believers of and making the same leap into intolerance that he so hates in the religious.


Here ends the Krakauer rants. You’re welcome.


Jon Krakauer: Mormon Fundamentalism = All Religion

Prologue: My brother messaged me yesterday in comment to this mini-series. “Jon Krakauer really got you riled up.” I suppose he’s right. Krakauer did get me a bit riled.

But this series of extended rants is more indicative of my current case of blogger’s block. I just don’t feel like I have anything worth saying. Narrative is out since I’m pretty much just working these days–and if I talk about my job I end up whining. Thoughtful, insightful posts are out since I don’t have time to clearly articulate my thoughts or to dig to hone my thoughts (which is why the theology of food series isn’t progressing). Heart spillage? That’s out too, since I’m currently in a “treasuring these things in her heart” season.

Which means that you’re getting rants. Sorry.


Bigot: a person who is obstinately or intolerantly devoted to his or her own opinions and prejudices; especially : one who regards or treats the members of a group (as a racial or ethnic group) with hatred and intolerance

~Merriam Webster Online Dictionary

So far, I have discussed Krakauer’s accusation that religion is the most potent force for inciting evil and his argument that faith is necessarily irrational.

Readers of my discussion so far might be inclined to think that Under the Banner of Heaven is an atheistic tract about religious abuses. But it isn’t.

Instead, it is a history of evils committed by so-called “Mormon Fundamentalists”, specifically those who hold to “Section 132” of the Doctrine and Covenants–that is, to the practice of polygamy.

Yet Krakauer clearly desires to carry his criticisms of these “Mormon Fundamentalists” first to all Mormons and then to all religions or religious persons.

Generalizing the practices of the “Mormon Fundamentalists” to that of mainstream Mormons (of “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints”) may or may not be justified. If the abuses of the “Mormon Fundamentalists” can be shown to logically stem from the “doctrine” of polygamy, then mainstream Mormons still have something to answer for. The founder of their religion, and the initial “prophets” in their religion, both taught and practiced (even commanded) this “doctrine”. Furthermore, Section 132 remains in the official “Doctrine and Covenants” of the “Church of Jesus Christ for Latter-Day Saints”.

On the other hand, the official position of the “Church of Jesus Christ for Latter Day Saints” is that so-called “plural marriage” is not to be sanctioned or practiced since it is against the laws of the land. Anyone within the LDS “church” who does practice “plural marriage” will be subject to church discipline. So certainly modern mainstream Mormons are opposed to the practice of the doctrine capable of such abuses, even if they have not abolished the doctrine entirely.

Krakauer’s jump from “Fundamentalist Mormonism” to all other religions is far less justified. He makes assertions but no logical arguments for the irrationality of all religion and for the propensity of all religion to incite “evil”. Essentially, Krakauer is a bigot, obstinately clinging to his prejudice against religion and spewing libelous statements against all religious peoples without making any rational argument to justify his hatred.


Jon Krakauer: “Faith is the antithesis of reason”

Krakauer’s accusation that religion is the most potent force for inciting evil (discussed here) is only the beginning of his baseless attacks on all religion.

Later in the prologue to Under the Banner of Heaven, Krakauer writes:

“Faith is the very antithesis of reason, injudiciousness a crucial component of spiritual devotion.”

In the sixth chapter, he repeats this refrain, saying:

“All religious belief is a function of nonrational faith. And faith, by its very definition, tends to be impervious to intellectual argument or academic criticism.”

Krakauer makes clear that his functional definition of faith is “belief without basis in fact or reality”. If his definition of faith is correct, then his accusations against the faithful are also correct. If this is so, then faith is antithetical to reason and is impervious to intellectual argument and academic criticism.

But is this an accurate representation of faith?

It is not.

Krakauer commits the intellectual fallacy (ultimately a straw man argument) that John Lennox points out in his definition of faith:

“Faith is not a leap in the dark; it’s the exact opposite. It’s a commitment based on evidence… It is irrational to reduce all faith to blind faith and then subject it to ridicule. That provides a very anti-intellectual and convenient way of avoiding intelligent discussion.”
~John Lennox, quoted by apologetics 315

While I do not know enough of other religions to say that their definitions of faith are similar to the Christian definition, I do know that the Christian definition of faith bears no resemblance to Krakauer’s straw man.

Krakauer’s definition of faith stands in direct contrast to those of Christian thinkers throughout the ages, whose definitions of faith can be concisely summed up in Kenneth Samples’ statement: “Faith is belief in a reliable source.” (See “Faith and Reason” by David Marshall for a collection of quotes from 30 Christian thinkers supporting this summation.)

The Christian faith is a faith that urges believers to “test everything; hold fast what is good.” (I Thessalonians 5:21)

By the Christian definition, the majority of human knowledge is based on faith. Even in our “hardest” sciences, we have axioms that we must simply believe without definitive proof. The rest of our knowledge is then built on these proof-less assumptions. Does this mean that to assert that the sum of two angles forming a linear pair is 180 degrees is illogical? Of course not. That is simple geometry, accepted by all rational people.

But even if we somehow exclude these axioms from the realm of faith, claiming them to be self-evident, we must still admit that most of our knowledge is taken on faith.

I do not objectively know that Christopher Columbus sailed to the New World in 1492. I do not know objectively and conclusively that he commanded three ships called the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. I do not objectively know that he was funded by the Spanish Crown.

Yet I believe all these things to be true, despite not being alive in 1492, despite not knowing Christopher Columbus, despite never having seen either Spain or the three ships in question.

Why?

I believe these things to be true based on the testimony of reliable historians.

Even within my own field of nutrition, most of my knowledge is based on second-hand information. I have not personally determined the calories contained in the foods I serve my residents. I have not personally conducted the research indicating that a particular nutritional treatment is effective or not effective. I believe these things because I have read other people’s research, because I have examined their study methods, and because their conclusions have held true in my own practice.

While some people are more rigorous than others in testing a belief prior to holding it, all humans take things on faith.

Krakauer’s bigotry (his intolerant devotion to his own prejudices) accuses all religious faith of being baseless, while completely ignoring the necessity of faith (as the most prominent religion on earth defines it) for the logic and reason he claims to so admire.


Jon Krakauer: “The logical end of religious belief is moral atrocity”

Bigot: a person who is obstinately or intolerantly devoted to his or her own opinions and prejudices; especially : one who regards or treats the members of a group (as a racial or ethnic group) with hatred and intolerance

~Merriam Webster Online Dictionary

In the world we live in, the word “bigot” is almost always proceeded by the modifier “religious”. As in “The religious bigot who runs Chik-Fil-A doesn’t think gays should get married.”

Per media report, typical targets of bigotry are racial or ethnic minorities, women, and homosexuals.

Undoubtedly Jon Krakauer, who is neither intolerantly religious nor (that I know of) prone to hatred of racial or ethnic minorities, women, or homosexuals would protest loudly to having the appellation “bigot” applied to himself.

Yet his writing in Under the Banner of Heaven makes clear that Krakauer is obstinately devoted to his own opinion and prejudice–and regards members of a certain group with hatred and intolerance.

Despite the book being a expose of various horrific crimes committed by those who call themselves “Mormon Fundamentalists”, the group that Krakauer is rabidly intolerant toward is not Mormons, per se.

Instead, he is determinedly anti-religious, and opposes all who hold religious beliefs.

Krakauer first reveals his bias in the prologue of his book, where he writes of a remorseless murderer:

“How could an apparently sane, avowedly pious man kill a blameless woman and her baby so viciously, without the barest flicker of emotion? Whence did he derive the moral justification? What filled him with such certitude? Any attempt to answer such questions must plumb those murky sectors of the heart and head that prompt most of us to believe in God–and compel an impassioned few, predictably, to carry that irrational belief to its logical end.
~Jon Krakauer, Under the Banner of Heaven (emphasis mine)

So Krakauer first considers belief in God to be an irrational belief, and second, believes that the logical end of belief in God is cruel inhumanity. He trots out the usual examples for evidence of his belief that religiosity is the most potent means of inciting evil: bin Laden, David Koresh, Jim Jones. Of course, he need not explicitly mention the crusades. Everyone knows that those are a strong example for the evils of religion, such that allusion is all that is necessary.

Of course, Krakauer’s narrative misses that many of the greatest atrocities of the twenty-first century were committed not by religious zealots but by atheists and atheistic regimes. Consider Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler (although there is some evidence that Hitler was not technically atheist, since he participated in occultism and believed in some sort of spiritual world), Pol Pot, Kim Jong Il, and Mao Zedong. Together, the regimes of these five men murdered over 75 million people.

By contrast, Krakauer’s list of five religious zealots (Osama bin Laden, David Koresh, Jim Jones, Shoko Asahara, and Dan Lafferty) killed less than 5,000. Of course, one might argue that this is comparing apples to oranges since the atrocities promoted by individuals on Krakauer’s list were not necessarily murder (Koresh, for example, has no murders to his record unless you count the seventy-six people who died in the Waco raids as victims of Koresh himself–which is tenuous to say the least.) But every atrocity committed by these men (rape, molestation, poisoning, murder) was also a part of the atheistic regimes I mentioned.

So is it really true to say that “as a means of motivating people to be cruel or inhumane–as a means of inciting evil, to borrow the vocabulary of the devout–there may be no more potent force than religion”? I think rational people considering 20th century atrocities have to disagree. Religious fervor has resulted in far fewer atrocities than antireligious fervor.

Krakauer is most certainly prejudiced against religion, and his analysis of the evils of religion are based not on an objective review of religion or of “evil” but on a selective reading of history to support his thesis.


I think I might have to read it again

Have you ever read a book that you closed and thought, “Huh. I should really read that again so I can figure out what I think about it”?

I have.

Frequently.

Recently.

Harry Potter. I devoured them in mere weeks. I have no clue if they’re poorly written or well-written. I have no idea if they have deep meaning to impart or if they’re just a good story. I completely missed most of the Latin or classical allusions (I caught just enough that I know they’re there.) I just read for the sheer enjoyment. Or maybe because they’d cast a spell on me.

A Wrinkle in Time. So far, I’ve followed Charles Wallace and Meg through the tesseract, I’ve fought for Charles Wallace’s farandolae, and I’ve kythed along with Meg as Charles Wallace seeks to save the world from Mad Dog Branzillo. L’Engle raises big questions, suggests wild solutions, may not be quite orthodox but is certainly thought-provoking. But I haven’t thought about her ideas. I’ve merely immersed myself in her world. Echthroi and Farandolae and a cherubim. It’s like time disappears.

The Extraordinary Education of Nicolas Benedict. As interesting as its predecessors, well worth thinking about. But I am too busy with the story to think.

I might have to read them all again. Read them more slowly. Keep myself outside a bit more. Detach myself from the story.

Or I could read them again like I did at first, getting lost in the reading without bothering to think.

I can’t decide which is preferable just now.


Truth and Consequence in Prince Caspian

Chronicles of Narnia Reading ChallengeThe time has come to close this year’s Chronicles of Narnia reading challenge–and I, as usual, have not managed to quite accomplish what I set out to do.

My plan, per my introduction post, was to explore how the different characters in Prince Caspian responded to the truth. I also intended to read Roar: A Christian Family Guide to the Chronicles of Narnia–and I checked out one of the old (think, stuffed lion) videos of Prince Caspian out of the library.

I ended up doing only the former–and not as completely as I had intended.

First, I looked at how the four Pevensies came to the conclusion that they were back in Narnia.

Next, I looked at Caspian’s childlike faith and discussed the role of fairy tales in revealing truth.

Third, I discussed how the Telemarine’s suppressed the truth in unrighteousness, inventing ghosts to fear rather than fearing and worshiping Aslan.

Finally, I talked about Trumpkin’s skepticism and his personal road to belief.

I had intended to go one step further and discuss Lucy.

Lucy’s role in Prince Caspian is reminiscent of her role in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. While all four children enter Narnia together this time, Lucy still ends up being something of a guide–with more knowledge than the rest.

Her more knowledge, of course, is a direct result of being the first of the children (and Trumpkin) to see Aslan when He returns from over the sea.

Just like in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the rest of the children don’t believe Lucy’s story. They don’t think she’s lying, like they did then; but they still believe her to be mistaken about having seen Aslan. How can Aslan be there if they can’t see Him?

Because the others don’t believe Lucy, they are unwilling to take the route she suggests. So Lucy finds herself miserably traveling an opposing route–a route that turns out to be ruinous.

When Lucy at last finds herself face to face with Aslan, He comments that much time has been lost that day.

“Yes, wasn’t it a shame?” said Lucy. “I saw you all right. They wouldn’t believe me. They’re all so–”

From somewhere deep inside Aslan’s body there came the faintest suggestion of a growl.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, who understood some of his moods. “I didn’t mean to start slanging the others. But it wasn’t my fault anyway, was it?”

The Lion looked straight into her eyes.

“Oh, Aslan,” said Lucy. “you don’t mean it was? How could I – I couldn’t have left the others and come up to you alone, how could I? Don’t look at me like that…oh well, I suppose I could. Yes, and it wouldn’t have been alone, I know, not if I was with you. But what would have been the good?”

Aslan said nothing.

~From Prince Caspian

Lucy knew the truth. She had seen Aslan, had seen him directing where they should go. But when the others refused to listen to her testimony, she turned aside and followed them along a foolish path.

She knew the truth but did not walk in the truth.

In this case, Aslan offers mercy and gives Lucy another chance to follow him. This time, the rest of the group reluctantly give in to follow and all turns out well.

Lucy didn’t know that, couldn’t have known that. She needed to be willing to walk where Aslan led whether or not anyone else came with her.

Of all the things that we can do with the truth, this is the one that I most closely identify with. I know the truth. I believe the truth intellectually. But when it comes to walking in the truth, acting on what I affirm, I often take the path of least resistance.

Oh, that God would work in my heart that I might will and do His good pleasure.

“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.”
~3 John 4 ESV


This has been my wrap-up post for this year’s Chronicles of Narnia Reading Challenge. Follow the link to read what other people have been doing and thinking during this year’s challenge. (If your interested in my past participation in the challenge, you can check out my Chronicles of Narnia Reading Challenge tag.


Trumpkin: The Modern Skeptic

“Do you believe all those old stories?” asked Trumpkin.

“I tell you, we don’t change, we beasts,” said Trufflehunter. “We don’t forget. I believe in the High King Peter and the rest that reigned at Cair Paravel, as firmly as I believe in Aslan himself.”

“As firmly as that, I dare say,” said Trumpkin. “But who believes in Aslan nowadays?”

~From C.S. Lewis’s Prince Caspian

Trumpkin is the best sort of modern man, except that he’s not a man at all but a dwarf. He’s loyal, practical, and not willing to put up with any nonsense.

Unfortunately, he considers Aslan and the kings and queens of old and Cair Paravel and the sacred How among the “nonsense”.

When the Dark Dwarf suggests introducing Caspian to an ogre and a hag, Trufflehunter argues that they would not have Aslan as a friend if they were to add such to their ranks. Trumpkin cries out bravely “Oh, Aslan! What matters much more is that you wouldn’t have me.”

Trumpkin doesn’t believe that blowing Susan’s horn will do any good–in fact, he is rather disgusted that it may lose them two fighters–but he is loyal to his king and will go in search of the help he is sure will not be coming. “I might as well die on a wild goose chase as die here. You are my King. I know the difference between giving advice and taking orders. You’ve had my advice, and now it’s time for orders.”

Once he finds himself (rather circuitously) dropped in the laps of the Promised Four, he is willing to let them be the children from the stories–but is less willing to believe that they’d be any help. It takes being beaten twice, once by Edmund at a sword fight and a second time by Susan at archery, for him to believe that they are indeed the Expected Help.

Even still, Trumpkin holds out. Yes, he is forced to admit that magic must exist (inasmuch as it has brought the Pevensies to Narnia), but that is all he will admit.

Like the modern scientist forced by the reality of this universe’s beginning to acknowledge the need for a greater cause, Trumpkin grudgingly admits to magic. But his god, like Stephen Hawking’s, is a deistic, impersonal first cause; not the Aslan of Narnian legend or the God of Scripture.

Lucy’s testimony, likewise, is unable to convince the hardened skeptic. “Her Majesty may well have seen a lion. There are lions in these woods, I’ve been told. But it needn’t have been a friendly and talking lion any more than the bear was a friendly and talking bear…He’d be a pretty elderly lion by now if he’s one you knew when you were here before! And if it could be the same one, what’s to prevent him having gone wild and witless like so many others?”

At last, Trumpkin comes to believe, but only because he has been in the lion’s mouth.

“The Dwarf, hunched up in a little, miserable ball, hung from Aslan’s mouth. The Lion gave him one shake and all his armour rattled like a tinker’s pack and then–hey-presto–the Dwarf flew up in the air. He was as safe as if he had been in bed, though he did not feel so.”

Trumpkin is no longer skeptical. He has come flesh-to-flesh with the reality of Aslan. Aslan the Dangerous, who could have killed him with a single crunch of His jaws. Aslan the Merciful, who put him on his feet and offered him friendship.

Trumpkin no longer has a choice. He can no longer deny. He can only agree with Aslan.

Chronicles of Narnia Reading Challenge


This post is another part of my investigation of how different characters in Prince Caspian relate to the truth. I am reading Prince Caspian as part of Carrie’s Chronicles of Narnia Reading Challenge. Follow the link to see who else is participating in the challenge–and to read some of their posts.


Nightstand (July 2012)

This month, I’ve been reading…Harry Potter. Period.

Okay, not exactly, but I’m definitely Potter heavy.

I had a dream about Harry Potter. I can’t remember any details, but still.

It’s horrendous.

On the upside, I’ve read all the J.K. Rowling my branch library owns.

Top shelf

Top Shelf of Nightstand

This month I read:

Adult Fiction

  • Austentatious by Alyssa Goodnight
    Nicola James intended to give the vintage journal to her cousin, but when she spills tea on it, she ends up keeping it for herself. She jots off an entry and stows the book next to her set of Jane Austen. When she retrieves the journal the next day, her entry is gone–all except for the words “Nicola James will be sensible and indulge in a little romance.” Thus begins Nic’s strange journey away from “The Plan” (which she created at age 14 and has been following ever since), led by none other than Jane Austen herself. The concept of this book is intriguing, but I should have known better than to pick up any book whose cover describes it as a “sexy novel”–even if it’s Austen-inspired.
  • Chasing Mona Lisa by Tricia Goyer
    I actually read this last month, on my Kindle. Sad disadvantage of the Kindle is the lack of a paper copy of the book to set on my “to be logged” pile. My thoughts were very similar to those of Barbara H.. Couldn’t figure out why it was labeled Christian, thought it was pretty graphic violence-wise, but really enjoyed the story.

Adult Non-fiction

  • Barnheart by Jenna Woginrich
    A memoir of a 20-something who takes up homesteading of a sort. It was okay, but I think I prefer the 70’s homesteading manuals still.
  • Cooking for the Week
    The concept of the book is that you make a large fancy meal on the weekend and then incorporate the (intentionally made) leftovers into meals throughout the rest of the week (with four “weekday” meals). I made the roast chicken week and very much enjoyed it, although I found the recipes still rather long on time and high on pan use. Nevertheless, I’ll probably be getting it out of the library again (if only to copy down that amazing chicken pot-pie recipe, but probably also to try a couple more weeks.)
  • Counterfeit Gods by Timothy Keller
    Good, powerful, Christ-centered look at the idols we worship. I read this twice while I had it out of the library and I’ll be reading it again once my Amazon order comes through. God definitely has used this (in combination with His word in I John) to point out idols in my life.
  • Radical-in-Chief by Stanley Kurtz
    Supposed to be a history of Obama’s ties to socialism. Really more a history of socialism in America. It didn’t exactly grab me, but I waded through.
  • Real Men Don’t Apologize by Jim Belushi
    Next up in the 817 (Humor) section at my library. Basically all about sex and in the crastiest terms. Ick. Also, not funny.
  • Thirty Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She’s 30 by the editors of Glamour
    An expansion of the famous list. Not fantastic, not awful. Just meh.

Bottom Shelf

Bottom Shelf of Nightstand

Juvenile Fiction

  • Au Revoir, Crazy European Chick by Joe Schreiber
    I read devoured this after reading a couple of reviews of it (especially this one on edj’s May Nightstand). It was a lot of fun. Think “Killers” with Ashton Kutcher except with teenagers (and no baby on the way.) Perry thought he was just taking his family’s boring, mousy, ugly foreign exchange student to prom. Little did he know that he’d end up having the night of his life–and possibly end up accessory to murder. (My little sister, who ended up reading this immediately after me, says it’s also somewhat like “Salt”-which I haven’t seen so I can’t really comment on the likeness.)
  • Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
    Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
    Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
    Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
    Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
    Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
    Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
    The Tales of Beedle the Bard
    Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
    Quidditch Through the Ages
    by J.K. Rowling

    And with that, I have added “Muggles” to my vocabulary and finally understand why my younger siblings thought it was so funny that I call my little brother and his wife (Dan and Debbie Menter) the “D.Menters”. I have also “closed” J.K. Rowling. So there!
  • When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead
    I think I would have really enjoyed this story if I hadn’t listened to the audiobook. Cynthia Holloway’s voice majorly annoys me. I’ll probably be looking for her name on future audiobooks so as to avoid them. Ugh. Otherwise, a really interesting story involving time travel and middle-grade friendships (with the sad-but-inevitable first romance, bleh!)
  • A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle
    I’d never read this one, never knew anything of the plot. I checked it out of the library at the same time as When You Reach Me, but had no idea that this would turn out to be the favorite book of Stead’s main character. The sneak previews that I got there had me raring to hear this one–and it did not disappoint. Why didn’t I read this as a child? It’s great. I’ve stocked up on the rest of the series. Next thing you know, I’ll be dreaming of Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, Mrs. Which and the Tessaract.
  • Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis
    Read as part of Carrie’s Chronicles of Narnia Reading Challenge. I’m making notes and will make more before the challenge is up.
  • At least 15 Children’s picture books

Can you see how much I’ve decreased my reading lately? I actually only have 47 items out of the library right now–which I’m sure is a six year low.

Don’t forget to drop by 5 Minutes 4 Books to see what others are reading this month!

What's on Your Nightstand?


Suppressing truth, inventing ghosts

“…We believe it was far from here, down at the mouth of the Great River, on the very shore of the sea.”

“Ugh!” said Caspian with a shudder. “Do you mean in the Black Woods? Where all the– the–you know, the ghosts live?”

“Your Highness speaks as you have been taught,” said the Doctor. “But it is all lies. There are no ghosts there. That is a story invented by the Telmarines. Your Kings are in deadly fear of the sea because they can never quite forget that in all the stories Aslan comes from over the sea. They don’t want to go near it and they don’t want anyone else to go near it…And the Kings and great men, hating both the sea and the wood, partly believe these stories, and partly encourage them. They feel safer if no one in Narnia dares to go down to the coast and look out to sea–towards Aslan’s land and the morning and the eastern end of the world.”

~From C.S. Lewis’s Prince Caspian

Prince Caspian heard the truth about Old Narnia and believed it with simple childlike faith, dreaming of the days when all was right, when animals spoke, and Aslan ruled.

Others learned or knew the truth and were terrified.

The Kings of Telmar had plenty of reason to fear the talking animals of Narnia, the dryads and the naiads. They had plenty of reason to fear Aslan.

They were cruel and heartless kings, kings who ruled with injustice and demanded what was not theirs. Old Narnia would have no reason to be kind to them should Old Narnia awake.

Frightened of the implications Aslan’s return might have for their future and power, these kings blocked off every route to Aslan. Using nature and superstition and tradition, they turned the people’s eyes away from the Eastern sea.

They suppressed the truth, claiming that stories of Old Narnia were mere fairy tales, spun by old wives without sense.

They traded their fear of Aslan for a new fear–fear of the ghosts they’d invented, the ghosts they claimed inhabited the woods beside the sea.

The funny thing is that even those who knew perfectly well that the woods surrounding the Sea weren’t haunted, even those who invented the stories of the woods being haunted, found themselves enslaved in the lie of their own making.

They started to half believe it, this tale that they’ve created. They transferred their terror of Aslan into terror of the woods.

By trading fear of something truly powerful with fear of something that didn’t really exist, they thought that they could somehow become secure in their wickedness. So long as they avoided the woods, they could do whatever they wanted, right?

But the kings underestimated their own power.

Aslan exists, whether anyone believes in him or not.

Their actions are deplorable and will be judged, whether they acknowledge the judge or not.

For now, Aslan has given them over to their lies, to the tales they have created to justify their lives, to obscure the truth.

But the lies will not remain forever, the truth will triumph at last–and their foolish dark hearts will be destroyed in the lies they have embraced.

“For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things.

Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.”

~Romans 1:18-25

Chronicles of Narnia Reading Challenge


This post is another part of my investigation of how different characters in Prince Caspian relate to the truth. I am reading Prince Caspian as part of Carrie’s Chronicles of Narnia Reading Challenge. Follow the link to see who else is participating in the challenge–and to read some of their posts.


Fairy Tales: Truth Veiled

The young Caspian is the epitome of child-like faith.

Enthralled with the stories his nurse has told him, longing for days long since past, his faith finds voice when his uncle asks him what he might wish for that would be better than being King of Narnia.

“I wish–I wish–I wish I could have lived in the Old Days.”

The power-hungry Miraz, always alert to threats to his authority, is suddenly watchful, now slyly seeking information from his unsuspecting nephew.

Caspian, too young and too naive to recognize his uncle’s tone, blathers on about the wonders of the Narnia of yesteryear.

Finally, the usurper’s edict comes down. Those were mere fairy tales and Caspian was not to talk–nor even think about such things again.

Fairy tales.

Curious things these.

Lewis recognized their power, their ability to go beyond morals to convey truth.

While scheming parents (or modern ones, as we see in Caspian‘s sequel) quell the fairy tales in favor of cold, hard fact; Lewis gives fairy tales prime time.

To Lewis, fairy tales aren’t wishful thinking–they’re whispers of lost reality. They’re echoes in the heart that hearken to a word once spoken but now lost.

The young Lewis felt a thrill as he read Norse fairy tales. He felt the power of those stories, even when he did not understand it.

The adult Lewis came to believe that those stories were true. Not factually accurate, but true portrayals of reality. True tales of spiritual realms, of hearts’ longings, of epic bravery.

Is it surprising that the tales Miraz derides as “nonsense”, a “pack of lies”, and “silly stories” turn out to be true in fact?

Of course not.

For Lewis, fairy tales were the truth, veiled.

The childish wonder at a fairy tale is only one step away from fully mature faith.

Even if Caspian no longer believed those fairy tales to be true, he dreamt that they were. He longed for a reality beyond himself.

It was this longing that made Caspian into the man he became. It was this longing, rooted in his childhood faith, that made him the King he became.

Longing for the fairy tales, once he discovered that they were true, made him into a man worthy of tales.

Chronicles of Narnia Reading Challenge


This post is one part of my investigation of how different characters in Prince Caspian relate to the truth. I am reading Prince Caspian as part of Carrie’s Chronicles of Narnia Reading Challenge. Follow the link to see who else is participating in the challenge–and to read some of their posts.