Hiatus

"At least five times, therefore, with the Arian and Albigensian, and the Humanist skeptic, after Voltaire, and after Darwin, the Faith has by all appearance gone to the dogs. And in each of these five cases, it was the dog that died." -- G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man

Has it really been a week since last I blogged? It is 15 days into the experiment, and all has gone awry! Fifteen days, at 3.65 per would mean that I should be through 4.1 books. But I alas, I just closed the dust jacket on number three. Life happens. Then again, my romance of literature was late blossoming. This was all foreshadowed.

I didn't learn to read until I was well into the first grade. I was relegated to the "slow" readers' circle in elementary school. I just didn't seem to grasp letters and phonics. Then, it clicked. Although it is too long now to have a clear timeline, it was probably fairly closely matched to the discovery that I was, in fact, near-sighted, and required bifocals at the beginning of the second grade! Sight, after all, being a useful attribute for the act of reading...

And then, as if to make up for lost time, I began a torrid affair with books. The Hardy Boys series was devoured ravenously, plot by set-piece plot. I confess, I dabbled in Nancy Drew, and even when terribly hard-up, a Babysitter's Club. Certainly, I had not developed a distinguishing taste for good literature in those days.

Growing up in a smaller community, I had a close bond with the local library. Many an hour was spent in the stacks. I loved their books, and they loved the late fines I racked up in my absent-mindedness. I believe there may be a new wing named after me, erected solely with the trady taxes levied against me and paid by my mother most trips. Suffice it to say, I read and re-read nearly every book in the building I had any interest in.

It was not that I enjoyed books. I enjoyed them TOO much. When other kids were being grounded or lost TV privileges, I was getting books confiscated. My mom would summon me to dinner, but I was lost in my novel, oblivious to all around me. I learned to read in cars, upside down (a very useful skill in police work), after-dark (with flashlight), and most significantly- fast.

This skill, combined with my knowledge of a wide range of techno-thriller authors typically producing works in the 600-700 page range allowed me to dominate the "Reading Across America" reading contest in junior high. Tom Clancy, I still owe you a few fountain drinks at the Kerr McGee.

Books were an escape. It was exciting to enjoy a new book, and thus find a new favorite author, reading the rest of their repertoire. It was still more exhilarating to discover what authors influenced THOSE authors, to travel back by generations in literary geneology.

But to be a bibliophile can be a lonely business. The digital age has cut and cut and cut. This blog itself is evidence our reading is becoming diminutive. We no longer want the long version. "Gimme the Reader's Digest," is the frequent request. Who can take the time to read a full-length novel anymore? The avant garde, grad students, and other authors. And so, I found myself in the last few years reading less and less. Three kids and two jobs can do that. So too, the digital kudzu grows thick.

G.K. Chesterton's 'The Everlasting Man" has been placed back on the shelf. A fine, if windy read. Chesterton's style evokes a smoky conversation in a pub, preferably over Stout. It is jovial- almost jocular. His charm is his complete disregard for political correctness. He calls Darwinism a "dog". Really. He calls 'em, how he sees them, and somehow ends any major point on an uplifting note, so much so that my normally pessimistic outlook is buoyed by his accurate placement of our human predicament in the context of the history of the world. A great read for anyone who finds Christianity peculiar (it is), and therefore beautiful (it is).

And so it was that I found myself waiting for a court case while reading Walter Miller's "A Canticle for Liebowitz". This is one of my favorite books. More to come on this, but any American novel about the role of books, monasticism, and intrigue in a post-apocalyptic world is a timely read right now. Bank on it.

One can analyze my motivation for any of my more ridiculous and contrarian beliefs, but the motivation for this experiment is simple. I forgot how much I loved reading, and it's time I remembered.

Book on!

Cutting the Cord

"There are two ways of getting home; and one of them is to stay there. The other is to walk round the whole world till we come back to the same place..."

This is how G.K. Chesterton introduces "The Everlasting Man" to his readers. It is the third book I have started, and I anticipate it will be the second I finish. It is certainly a book in keeping with my theme of exploring the state of our social and cultural consciousness. Chesterton is not for the thin-skinned or faint of heart. Naturally, I love it. After the grind of the Iliad, it is nice to roll through his jocular style and self-deprecating humor. Also, after the eccentricities and viciousness of Homer's gods, it is refreshing to read about the sanity of Chesterton's God.

Speaking of sanity, there is something I need to tell you. Due diligence. I don't have television. This bears some clarification and a back story. I have never, do not, and never will own a television set. There are some ramifications for this rebellious choice. A couple of items of note:

1. I often get passed over during conversations in some social settings:
Buddy: "Yo, Dan, did you see the game/show/episode of X last night? Oh, sorry, forgot..."
2. Less visitors. Even family members have declined offers to come over, and have cited an important TV event and their need to feed the TV monster.
3. Strange conversations with telemarketers ensue:
Dexter: "Hello Mr. >mispronounces name<, I'm Dexter with DirecTV and I'm calling to talk about switching your TV service to our outstanding package of satellite entertainment. Can you tell me how much you're paying currently for cable?"
Me: "We don't have cable."
Dexter: "We don't show you having DirecTV service currently, are you using another satellite provider?"
Me: "No, we don't have satellite either. We don't have a TV."
Dexter: Uhhh....>completely off script< Well, how would you like to have 600 channels of high quality digital programming instead of just 4?"
Me: "Fine, but we don't have a TV to plug your satellite into."
Dexter:......
Me: "Are you there?"
Dexter: "No TV?"
Me: "Right. No TV set- the box with the cord and stuff."
Dexter: "Why?"
Me: "Dexter, I'm glad you asked..."

4. Extra free time. Like to read books. And talk to people. Strange, I know. People feel uncomfortable sometimes, in our living room. They have to look at each other, us even. They look around nervously for the normal focal point, the Feng Shui schwerpunkt as it were, of the modern American home. Most of my friends have one set in each room. Their cars have more TV screens inside headrests than I'll have in a lifetime.

5. Weird threats. Some guys at work think it is a great injustice, my TV poverty. They have plotted to get on Craigslist and Freecycle, getting all the old "free" TVs and making an offering. Imagine 40-50 old tube-driven, analog programmed beauties strewn about my lawn, on my cars, my porch. What barbarians would think of that?

This is a choice, of course. Growing up we had just three and a half channels (24 was real grainy) and when I moved out, it never crossed my mind to purchase a TV. My roommates had a TV in college, so I never felt obliged to shop for one. Upon living solo, I realized the great freedom of a TV-free lifestyle. Plus, money was tight. Not just for the box, but cable? Who could just have the over-air programming? My wife also never owned a set. So, when we got married, we made the conscious decision to cut the cord. And we're better off for it.

Many have asked me how I can live without a TV. I tell them its the same way they stopped smoking crack cocaine. If you never start, it's easier to do without. My family will argue that, even without a TV, we're not TV-free. And they have a valid point. Even without a TV, TV begins to crowd into your life. Online shows, videos on your computer, visiting friends who must have it on as background noise. My reading drive is a way to further break away from social programming. That's the proper way to think about TV. Who's programming you? What's the program? "Buy, Buy, Buy! You are inadequate!"

This year, I'm beating back the TV's tendrils, like a digital kudzu. It may be the "long way home", but I'm seeking a deeper independence from this culture that now finds itself with an unprecendented moral and economic crisis.

Give me Chesterton, or give me death. Book on!