Wish my local paper published something like this.
You just don’t read a Seth Abramson review for the bad reviews.
The hierarchy of book publishing.
Believe it or not, growth in the digital book market is slowing.
Peter Hodgson’s Liberal Theology: A Radical Vision was something I felt that I just had to read after seeing a copy in the bookstore at the National
Cathedral. It was exactly the sort of thing I was looking for – a liberal, socially progressive view of christology. And kind of short. That was important, too.
The book is a reminder of just how non-radical a liberal vision of christian theology actually is, once you start to think about it. It only seems radical because of the way it has been hijacked by the right (religion as having been hijacked by the right – such a cliched statement as this point, but it’s just so damn accurate).
Around half way through the book, the author, Peter Hodgson, made a point that very much struck me as what the right is missing: tragedy.
Bear with me here.
Yes, you hear a lot of doom and gloom (especially now, as the economy improves, the right is very focused on a ‘it’s midnight in America’ message) and a lot of talk of sin, declining values, damnation. All that good stuff.
But not about ‘tragedy’ as Miguel de Unamuno wrote about. About tragedy as an essential part of the human condition.
If you’re not a fan of theology, you can replace concepts like ‘original sin’ with ‘the tragic aspect of the human condition.’
By accepting tragedy as something essential in our existence on this too, too solid earth, then you are more aware of human suffering as not just a product of sin, not just as something to be worked through en route to grace, but as something deserving on compassion not just in the hereafter but in the here and now.
And that’s missing from the conservative view.
Hodgson is also, clearly, a HUGE fan of Hegel. Much of his theology seems to derive from readings of Hegel. Almost makes me want to go back and take another crack at reading my old buddy Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (GW to his homies). Almost. ‘Cause he’s really freaking difficult and boring. He makes Kant and Heidegger’s ouevre read the kids’ picture books in dentists’ offices.
I”m a little dubious of this, but it’s in Washington, DC on April 16th and 17th and you can register here.
Years ago, I read Arthur C. Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama. It was very, very good. But I never got around to reading anything else by him nor felt much driven to do so. Wasn’t my style. When it comes to science fiction, I like my space opera and that’s just not Clarke’s thing.
But Childhood’s End kept coming up as being one of those books one really ought to read if one read much sci fi at all. So I picked it up for something like $1 at a library book sale around the corner from my home here in DC and finally got around to reading it the other week.
Clarke writes what one might call sociological science fiction. He’s not particular interested in individual characters and their relationships with each other, so far as I can tell, except as necessary to move the sociological (or anthropological, if you prefer) questions that really interest him.
Childhood’s End does present an interesting scenario. A highly advanced alien race shepherds the human race as we move towards our next stage of evolution, which is essentially a group mind, living, depending on how you look at it, either outside of space-time or within space-time but able to experience it as a whole. The aliens are actually unable to make that evolutionary leap themselves. They are rather like a people who have knowledge of heaven and who can show others the way, but will never be able to reach it themselves. So once one gets through all the stuff before the final 20% or so, a kind of melancholia permeates it all (increased by presenting to view of the last human, watching his former fellow humans become something else while he stays behind, so to speak).
Childhood’s End is not on my top ten or top twenty-five list for science fiction. It might be in my top hundred. I don’t know because I’m far too lazy to figure out a top one hundred list. But it’s good.
It was a great concept. The measured, yet musical poet Yusef Komunyakaa reading his poetry in correspondence to the photography/painting exhibit, Snapshots.
Except that it’s at the Phillips Collection. Which is in Dupont Circle. And it started at 6:30 pm.
Have you ever tried to get from anywhere outside the city into Dupont Circle before 7:30 pm on a weeknight?
Needless to say, I was late and missed at least one third of the reading.
Komunyakaa, fortunately, is a great reader. Relaxing, deeply felt.
He dresses like a jazz musician (the black cap, camel hair jacket) and his writing has a very melancholy quality. During the question and answer session, he described his style as based around observation, ‘but not clinical, detached,’ he said. But for me, it was the word ‘melancholy’ (which he didn’t use) that kept coming to mind.
Years ago, I’d bought a copy of his Talking Dirty to the Gods and I brought that for him to sign. He was personable and chatty, but not excessively so. If this event had taken place at the Folger Shakespeare Library, it would have been perfect.