Review of "The Realms Thereunder" by Ross Lawhead

My husband and I have long been fans of Stephen Lawhead. So when I saw that his son Ross was releasing a debut novel, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on an advance reading copy. The Realms Thereunder is the first book in what is planned as the Ancient Earth Trilogy (Thomas Nelson, 2011; ISBN 978-1-59554-909-0). In all fairness, I have to preface this review by saying that I wasn’t always a fan Stephen—I never could get into the Dragon King trilogy. Truth be told, I tend to favor his historical fiction more than his sci-fi and fantasy. But Stephen’s writing got better as he matured, and I hope the same will be true of his son.

Lovers of Middle Earth, pay heed. The portions of The Realms Thereunder that are set in the fantasy world of “ancient earth” seem very much patterned after Tolkien’s imaginary world. When Lawhead describes elves, gnomes, trolls, changelings, and other magical creatures, as well as the underground world of Niðergeard, I can almost see the Lord of the Rings movies playing in my head. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, so it’s pretty obvious who the author reads and admires.

The story starts slow and centers around two main characters. Freya is a student at Oxford University; Daniel lives on the streets of Oxford and does his best to survive. Seemingly opposites, the two are linked by a childhood secret that stems from their mysterious disappearance years before. Readers discover where the children disappeared to in the “Before” sections. Everything begins in a cathedral archway and then things get complicated. The pair awaken sleeping knights, meet an ancient wizard, and set out on a quest to defeat the forces of evil. Since returning to this world, Freya has been trying to convince herself that it never happened; Daniel has spent his years trying to return to Niðergeard. The two find themselves in serious danger once again when Daniel is pulled off to Elfland and Freya is held captive within her own mind (I have to say, this story element reminded me a bit of something out of a Charles Williams novel). The action does pick up a bit near the end, but then the book

Another element to the story, which I believe will prove to set up the next two books in the trilogy, is the character of Alex Simpson. Alex is an interesting bloke who fights against the forces of darkness with a sword—a really big sword. Much like special forces or black ops, he spends most of this book hunting dragons in the Scottish highlands before coming to the aid of the two protagonists. I’ll be interested to see where Lawhead takes Alex…for some reason, my mind conjures images of St. George meets the Highlander.

Overall, I like the concept of this story. Much of Ross’s Celtic mythology echoes that of his father. In reality, however, the back and forth between “Before” and “Now” was confusing, as were the shifts between Oxford and the Scottish Highlands. Being that this is a trilogy, Lawhead has two more books in which to make all of this clear for readers. I, for one, am game to keep reading and find out where the story takes us.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <http://BookSneeze®.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Book Review: Surprised by Oxford

Surprised by Oxford: A Memoir by Carolyn Weber
(Thomas Nelson, 2011; ISBN 978-0-8499-4611-0)

Carolyn Weber’s beautifully penned memoir of her personal faith journey is a delight to read. Her descriptions of Oxford are enough to make any Anglophile salivate. As a professor of English literature and an expert in the Romantic poets, she intersperses snippets of classic poetry throughout. Her ongoing references to the poetry of John Donne and John Milton especially captured my attention, their insights having been instrumental in my own spiritual walk. In the end, I want to dust off the Norton anthologies saved from my own college lit classes and immerse myself once more.

When the author is awarded a full scholarship to do graduate work at Oxford University’s Balliol College, she hasn’t an inkling of the path on which she is setting out. In the company of her colleagues and friends, and spurred on by one particular theology student who lives across the hall, she explores the deep, existential questions that have nagged her for years. For the first time in her life she reads a Bible—what she says is “the most compelling piece of creative nonfiction I had ever read. If I sat around for thousands of years, I could never come up with what it proposes, let alone with how intricately Genesis unfolds toward Revelation.” Following in the footsteps of C.S. Lewis, the truth of God’s Word eventually leads her first to believe in God and ultimately to believe in Jesus Christ as the Son of God.

Carolyn’s journey unfurls as a twofold romance: even as she is being courted by the Divine Lover, she is also courted by “TDH” (Tall, Dark, & Handsome). Conversations with this particular lover of God (and with other friends, both believers and non-believers) serve as the catalyst for her search. The questions had always been there; TDH challenges her to finally seek hard after the answers. All this set against the glorious backdrop of Oxford makes the book read more like a novel—as it should, since our lives are simply stories that play out in the context of God’s Story.

After traveling alongside the author through the ups and downs of an entire academic year, I was a little (only a little, mind you) disappointed at how she wrapped up loose ends in only a few pages of epilogue. But since the setting of the book is Oxford and the story has its resolution back on this side of the pond, I suppose that’s as it should be. I was impressed with Weber’s deep love and respect for her family back home. And I resonated at her homage to Christian professors who have so generously discipled her along the way.

In the end, I came away with two thoughts. First, each person’s journey to faith in Christ is tailor-made by a loving God who knows us and desires to be known by us. Second, God does not make us travel this journey in a vacuum but fills our lives with people to keep pointing us to His truth. Thanks be to God!

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <http://BookSneeze®.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

The Book Lady

I wish every child had a Miss Spoelhof. I can directly trace my love of reading to this dear woman. Miss S. taught kindergarten in the Grand Rapids Christian Schools, although by the time I knew her she was retired. She had delft-blue eyes and her hair was silver-white. She had never married, and like my mom, her family roots went back to New Jersey.

Miss Spoelhof was a friend of my parents, and my dad would keep her 1965(ish) Chevy Nova sedan in good working order. Mind you, this was not a muscle car. It was a white four-door with white and tan interior, I think. While Dad did routine maintenance or repairs on the car, Miss S. would come in the house and visit with my mom. She never came without a book. In fact, when I was very small and names held little meaning, Mom would simply say "The book lady is coming for coffee today" and I'd know who she meant. I was about four years old when Miss Spoelhof gave me a scratch-n-sniff book of fairy tales that I still have today. I enjoyed sharing it with Ben when he was a preschooler. The strawberry tart that Red Riding Hood brings to her grandma still smells tantalizing after all these years!

On another of her visits, Miss Spoelhof brought me little wooden rocking chair. It was painted white with gold accents, and it was the perfect size for a preschooler. I used to love sitting in that chair and reading a book or rocking my Baby Alive. I still have the chair; it's stored in my basement. When Ben was little I kept it upstairs in hopes that he would enjoy sitting in it, but he's never been one to sit still for long. So I keep it in hopes of one day, Lord willing, passing it on to a grandchild.

Once I began attending school and progressing in my reading, the books Miss Spoelhof brought became more challenging. Fly Away Free in first grade; Badger's Beech in second grade; Caddie Woodlawn in third grade; an illustrated hardcover of Gulliver's Travels in fourth grade. Then came a dictionary and a thesaurus--the latter I had no idea how to use at that time. One of the last books I remember her giving me was Cold Sassy Tree. I was probably around twelve or thirteen, and the plot went a bit over my head. But I reread it later in my teen years, and it's a story I still like today.

Miss Spoelhof grew older and wasn't driving as much anymore. She came to my high school graduation open house, but then I didn't see her for quite a few years. Shortly before my dad retired from his auto shop, she moved into an assisted living center and had to give up the Nova. I finished college, got married, and got too busy with my new life. Then one day my dad mentioned that he heard Miss Spoelhof had a stroke and wasn't doing well. By this time I was working full-time as an editor for Baker Academic. I discovered that I loved working with books, and Miss S. was someone who had always encouraged me in that direction. She was now in a nursing facility, and when I entered her room she didn't remember me. She vaguely remembered my dad taking care of her car when I told her I was Rich's daughter.

I felt awkward and thought of leaving, but then I mentioned the white rocking chair, and I saw a spark of memory in her blue eyes. She remembered that chair, and she started telling me all about how she found it. She had been on her way home one day when she saw someone setting up for a garage sale. One of the items was a child-size white rocking chair, and she had to have it. But when she pulled into the driveway and asked the price, the person refused to sell it before the sale opened at nine o'clock the next morning. So Miss S. arrived at eight o'clock the next morning and waited outside the garage doors until they opened, and she bought the chair for five dollars.

When she finished telling me the chair story, I thanked her for all the books she had brought me during my childhood. I told her that I had a degree in English and had graduated with highest honors. I told her that I was married and my husband was studying to be a minister. I told her about my job editing books and how much I loved the publishing business. I told her that God had used her to light a fire in me at an early age for the printed page and how grateful I was for that. But the curtain of memory had closed, and she asked again who I was. So I told her once more, "I'm Amy, Rich and Jule Houskamp's youngest daughter." And then I said good-bye and left.

A little over a year later, my dad called to say that Miss Spoelhof had passed away. I now had a colicky baby and lived a hundred miles away, so I wasn't able to attend her funeral. But I look forward to seeing her again someday and saying thanks again for the difference she made in my life. If only every boy and girl had someone like her to encourage the habit of books.

A Matter of Time

Last night I finished reading Time Peace: Living Here and Now with a Timeless God (Zondervan, 2007) by Ellen Vaughn. Last year I had the privilege of copyediting Mary Beth Chapman's book Choosing to SEE, which Ellen helped to write and shape. She tells stories so well, and I wanted to see if she's as good a writer when she's telling her own stories instead of somebody else's. She is, and I was not disappointed.

Even though I'm a "word nerd," I've harbored a fascination with astrophysics since Mr. Engelsma taught us about the stars back in sixth grade. After eighth grade science class with Miss Jones, I found myself pondering light and its relation to time. And if that wasn't enough to keep my mind busy, Mr. Timmer got me thinking about matter at the quantum level when I took chemistry and physics during my junior and senior years. In the twenty years since then, the world of science has given us many innovations, such as the Hubble telescope and particle accelerators, that allow us to look outward at the vast distance of space and inward at the atomic level. But for all that, I still feel mystified every time I look at the clear night sky. That's as it should be.

Ellen does a good job of explaining all the complex scientific theories in a way even I can understand. She spends a lot of time on Einstein's general and special theories of relativity, and she even touches on string theory. Weaving everything together are stories that she tells so well, I almost felt as if I knew her personally. And what sets her book apart is the way she brings everything back around to a transcendent, unfathomable Creator God who humbled Himself for a season--a TIME--in the person of Jesus so that we can know Him personally.

I chose to read this book because I often feel so pressed for time in my life. And my life isn't that busy compared to a lot of my friends. I began to realize, however, that when someone asks how I'm doing, my automatic reply is often "busy." I'm busy homeschooling Ben. I'm busy keeping up with domestic chores. I'm busy editing and proofreading books. I'm busy with small group and church boards. I'm busy trying to read through my Bible in a year. That last one may sound strange, but that's how I felt around October when I began falling behind in the schedule. I'll close with a short paragraph that is helping me to change the way I think about this elusive yet finite thing we call "time." The reality of these words challenged me, and I hope they challenge you too, dear reader.

The notion that time can become an idol may sound ridiculous. No one would set out to worship time. But does it have its claws in us? Has a habitual preoccupation with busyness, stress, pressure, productivity, and hurry crowded out a preoccupation with the glory of God, not to mention a basic contentment with His gift of life? Are we missing its viable pleasures, subconsciously assuming that at some future point "when things slow down a little" we will enjoy God and the family and friends He has given us--except that mythical future point never arrives? (p. 110)

Challenging Myself

Once upon a time, I was a writer. Stories, book reviews, academic papers, poetry. Most days I wrote in my journal and kept a written record of my heart. I even had several pieces published, for crying out loud. Now it seems that the only time I reach for pen and paper is to make a grocery list, a weekly menu, a library list, a spelling list, or an agenda for a church board. Domestic responsibilities have seemingly drowned my creativity in the mundane.

That's going to change this year. And it starts today as I write this blog instead of writing the grocery list I know I should be making. A friend who read my blog the other day asked why I don't write more often. Looking back, I realized that I wrote 9 entries in 2008, 5 entries in 2009, and 3 entries last year. I've become so busy editing other people's words that my own seem to have dried up. There's my second excuse.

It all boils down to that, doesn't it? Excuses. I'm too busy with domestic responsibilities, homeschooling, church duties. I'm too busy keeping my finger in the page of my editorial career so that someday when Ben is grown I'll be able to work full-time again.

I recently discovered Emily Freeman's blog, "Chatting at the Sky." (Okay, so it was work-related...I'm currently editing her first book for Revell. But getting this project was providential, as you'll see.) I keep going back to her entry "5 ways to know if the art has to wait." And here's what she challenged me with: "All these things [homeschooling, work, church, etc.] could be reasons why you have to wait. BUT...they could also be excuses. It is important to know if you are waiting because of wisdom, because it truly isn't the right time. It is also important to know if you are waiting because of fear." She goes on to offer some insights on telling the difference.

Those words were spurs in the sides of this old nag! My falling out of love with writing does not come from fear. And while my life is busy, it's not as busy as the lives of most thirty-somethings I know. Ben is getting older and doing more things for himself. I could make time for this. After all, I make time to watch Hawaii Five-O every Monday night. My real problem is laziness. Lack of intentionality. With God's help and a bit of encouragement from you, dear reader, I pray I will be more intentional about writing and about sharing my words with others.

Lord, you know I desire to put words on a page. And not just any old words, but words that reflect you, that tell others about your goodness in my life. I was a writer once. Help me to be a writer once again. For my best good and for your glory.

British Movie Extravaganza!

I spent a good share of my work-free weekend watching movies. As a family we watched Shrek Forever After, which turns out to be the only one of the Shrek movies that I really loved. As a couple, Sean and I were entertained by Knight and Day with Cameron Diaz & Tom Cruise. But by far the majority of my time was spent watching movies filled with British actors and scenes of my beloved England.

First up: Nanny McPhee Returns. Loved, loved, loved it! What's not to love about Emma Thompson playing a magical nanny who teaches children more lessons that Kevin Leman on speed. I wish she'd spend a week in our house...of course, there's that whole "when you want me but no longer need me, then I must go" thing. I couldn't bear to part with her.

The next entree on my silver-screen buffet was an obscure movie loaned to me by my friend Heather. Relational Values stars Dame Julie Andrews, which was more than enough to get me to watch it. The plot was a bit quirky, but a nice surprise was Stephen Fry as--surprise!--the butler. (What ho, Jeeves!) Not one I'll watch again, but it was more fun than watching Sean play Dr. Mario out in the living room. :-)

Tonight rounded out the Anglophile fest with The Young Victoria. Hey, Sean was at youth group, so I didn't have to worry about boring him with the intrigues and scandals of the British monarchy. The constumes were amazing, the music was beautiful (Schubert!), the cinematography made me want to hop a plane to London, and the story was well written. Definitely not an action film, guys. But what a love story! The scenes at Windsor Castle and Blenheim Palace brought back wonderful memories of visiting those places.

The weekend is at an end, tomorrow starts another busy week, and so I'm off to bed. But I enjoyed my little English vaca while it lasted. Maybe I'll even dream in a British accent tonight...