Review: Dancers in Mourning

Dancers in Mourning (Albert Campion #9), Margery Allingham. Open Road Integrated Media (ISBN: 9781504087315), 2023 (originally published in 1937).

Summary: Mean-spirited pranks against the star actor-dancer in a musical becomes something more when as has-been actresses body is thrown of a bridge in front of the actor at his home.

Have you ever looked into a situation only to sense that if you go further, you will find something that you and others would rather not know? That is the dilemma confronting Campion in the ninth of Allingham’s Campion mysteries.

His friends, “Uncle” William Faraday and Jimmy Sutane, are involved in a musical production of a book written by Uncle William in which Jimmy is the lead actor and dancer. Someone has been performing a series of mean-spirited pranks aimed at Jimmy and they have persuaded Campion to find the culprit.

He joins Faraday and Sutane at a weekend house party interrupted when guests arrive with invitations to a reception Sutane had never planned. His wife and the household staff manage to pull it off, but the butler, disgusted with irregularities like this and the temperamental houseguests who show up, like composer Squire Mercer or the washed up actress Chloe Pye, who wears outfits to show she still has “it.” It’s a bit of a puzzle how Pye made it into the production. One of the more amusing parts of the story is how Lugg fills the role of butler and befriends the Sutane’s daughter.

Things take a more serious turn the night of the impromptu reception. Sutane had been out in his car and as he approaches home a body falls from an overhead bridge right in front of his car and he cannot avoid running over her. The police find him innocent. Pye had already been dead of a medical condition. Campion, who saw both the body and the scene is not so sure that this was an accident. And the more he looks at the case of Chloe Pye, the more he fears discovering truth he does not want to find. He absents himself, pleading other business, leaving Lugg behind.

When more deaths follow, both Inspector Oates and Sutane’s wife, for whom Campion has developed a fondness, want him to return and help figure out what is going on, compelling Campion to pursue the trail of evidence where it leads, as hard as it may be. How will Campion negotiate the path between love, friendship, and uncovering a killer?

In addition to exploring this classic moral dilemma, Allingham portrays a cast of theatre characters in an unflattering light. I wonder if it was just for the story or if Allingham had deeper reservations with the theatre set of her day. Uncle William, the writer (!), seems the only one who truly comes out well here.

Review: Beyond the Clinical Hour

Beyond the Clinical Hour, James N. Sells, Amy Trout & Heather C. Sells. IVP Academic (ISBN: 9781514001042), 2024.

Summary: A proposal for collaborative efforts between mental health professionals and congregations to multiply the resources available to address the burgeoning mental health crisis,

Wherever I turn, I read about the rising incidence of mental health needs for every age group. Every counseling center I know has long wait lists to see a counselor. And clinicians are running hard and face issues of overwork and burnout. And sometimes our unaddressed mental health crises spill into the news in mass shootings, road rage, or people who died “unexpectedly” or of “undisclosed causes.” More quietly, millions struggle with depression or various forms of anxiety that sometimes constrain the full expression of their gifts.

The writers of this book contend that the mental health crisis is far outstripping the available resources of mental health professionals and the traditional model of the clinician meeting for 50 minutes once a week with a client (the clinical hour), serving roughly 200 clients in a year. They propose that by collaborating with local faith communities, they can multiply the resources available to meet this crisis. This can take various forms from consultations with pastors on pastoral care with people with mental health needs to providing or supporting facilitation of various support groups, to working with churches to set up “para-professional” care ministries with trained and supervised volunteers. In the latter model, clinicians might scale back their own caseload to work with such ministries, multiplying their own efforts.

They address a concern raised in churches with how “Christian” counseling is. The second part of the book addresses integration. The authors propose a “thick,” embodied type of integration where theology is relationally fleshed out. They begin from a trinitarian base of what it means as counselors to be attached to the Father (coram Deo), Son (Immanuel), and Spirit (Paraclete) and then to draw upon one’s clinical training to most effectively care for people. They advocate for training that fosters both theological acuity and clinical excellence and is embodied in hospitality, justice, and compassion.

The third part of the book addresses how a collaboration with the church can thrive, avoiding the result of well-intentioned but poorly trained and supervised people doing harm in the name of good. They elaborate the theological foundations of Christian care and delineate what is necessary for good oversight of church counselors. The growing field of consultation and the various ways from informal consultation to workshops and training to planning and consultation to set up church-based programs of mental health care. They introduce practices of church development and program development–extending mental health to the corporate life and mission of the church. And they discuss both the economics of creating sustainable programs and ethical standards that should govern all such efforts.

I missed any discussions of legal liabilities and legal compliance issues. Perhaps these are too specific to address in this book but it seems they might be acknowledged. I also wondered if there might be some scaling of what sorts of collaboration might be possible for churches of different sizes. It seemed to me that some forms, like a church-based, trained “para-professional” counselors staffing a care ministry would necessitate a congregation of some size and financial resources whereas informal consultation arrangements might serve smaller congregations well.

The authors of this work offer an intriguing proposal. We just can’t train enough professionals fast enough to meet our current mental health crisis. But there may well be a hidden resource in the church and the possibility of collaborations that both multiply the efforts of clinicians and enhance the ministry and mission of congregations. They offer enough stories of examples of where this is happening to make the case for exploring these possibilities more widely. And might such a collaboration renew the church’s ancient practice of the “cure of souls” bringing both theological and psychological insight into this honored calling?

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.

Review: The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse, Charlie Mackesy. HarperOne (ISBN: 9781529105100), 2019.

Summary: A graphic novel of the friendship of these four creatures who affirm the basic values of friendship, kindness, self-worth, and the love of cake!

I was in a group recently talking about books when someone asked if I had read The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse and I had to admit that I had not heard of it and joked that it sounded like one of those cognitive tests our docs like to give the over-65 crowd to test our short-term memory. Several others in the circle nodded and raved about how good this was for anyone from 8 to 80. I could stop my review right here and say, “what they said.” But I won’t.

What is it that makes so wonderful this roughly sketched (and occasionally painted) book with hand-written text supposedly smudged where the dog placed its paws and a tea cup stain left its mark? The boy and the three animals remind us of Christopher Robin and his ensemble.

The story traces the gathering of the four as the boy first meets mole, who lives in search of cake. Then they encounter a fox, caught in a trap, threatening to eat mole if he gets loose. Realizing the plight of the fox, mole gnaws the wire holding the fox. Later, they encounter a wise horse is winged.

But I think there are two things that captivate. One is the simple but profound responses of the creatures to each other, often to questions.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

” ‘Kind,’ said the boy”

” ‘What do you think success is?‘ asked the boy.”

” ‘To love,’ said the mole.”

We learn not to compare oneself to others, of the unique worth of each one, and to listen to dreams more than fears. We learn of the kindness of being kind to and forgiving oneself. The horse tells us the bravest thing he ever said is ‘Help” and that he was strongest in his weakness. He tells the boy he knows all about him and loves him still.

The other thing is that each is on a quest, the boy for home, the mole for cake, the fox in search of prey and the horse to fly without making others jealous. In each other they find what they seek, and yet that which is more–unconditional love.

Perhaps I’ve already said more than enough about a book you may read in 15 minutes but may savor for a lifetime, a contemporary Little Prince. This is a wonderful book to give those who aren’t readers. The author describes himself as such a person and yet has spun a captivating tale that in its simplicity, its quiet, reflective voice reminds us of what matters most, what endures, and is most true of each of us.

Review: Dancing in My Dreams

Dancing in My Dreams (Library of Religious Biography), Ralph H. Craig, III. Wm B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. (ISBN: 9780802878632), 2023.

Summary: A biography of the life of Tina Turner, centering on how her embrace of Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism was transformative in the fulfillment of her dreams, including that of becoming a religious teacher.

If you remember Tina Turner, most likely your memory of her was in performance, singing “Proud Mary” or “What’s Love Got to Do With It”, often beginning low and slow and climaxing in a frenzy of dancing by her and her backup singers as she belted out powerful vocals–a revival service at a rock concert.

Maybe that should have cued me to powerful spiritual roots in her life. Even so, there was much new for me in this spiritual biography of Turner’s life. What should have been evident, knowing the stories of other, was her Black church experience, beginning at the Woodlawn Baptist Church in rural Nutbush, Tennessee, and later Pentecostal Church of God in Christ churches in Nashville. Growing up as Anna Mae Bullock, she was the child of a strict religious mother and absentee father who died young, She also lived part of the time with an aunt Zelma and her uncle Richard, who she eventually would live with after her mother left, moving to St. Louis where she encountered the clubs, sang for Ike Turner, eventually becoming part of his act, becoming “Tina” and marrying her.

On one hand, Ike Turner turned Tina into the professional who could walk into a studio and lay down a vocal track in one take. But it came at the tremendous cost of physical abuse, making her life a study of partner abuse and the psychological fear and dependency that kept her from leaving for many years, even as Ike further descended into drug addiction.

What distinguishes this book is Ralph Craig’s account of the turning point in her life, resulting from a number of spiritual practices including consulting with readers, astrology, and most significantly, Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism. Through Wayne and Ana Maria Shorter and their friend Valerie Bishop, she was introduced to the chanting associated with this Japanese form of Buddhism and the peace and focus she gained from this practice and their support helped her leave Ike for good, and over several years, launch her solo career, pursuing a dream of performing in stadiums. Craig goes into depth concerning the history of this branch of Buddhism and the embrace of Buddhism in Black America.

He also describes what he calls Turner’s “combinatory religious repertoire” in which she draws upon all her religious influences although Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism remains central. A quote from Vanity Fair (1993), cited by Craig may give a sense of this:

“I do something about my life besides eating and exercising and whatever. I contact my soul. I must stay in touch with my soul. That’s my connection to the universe….I’m a Buddhist-Baptist. My training is Baptist. And I can still relate to the Ten Commandments and to the Ten Worlds [a concept from Soka Gakkai]. It’s all very close, as long as you contact the subconscious mind. That’s where the coin of the Almighty is….I don’t care what they feel about me and my tight pants on stage, and my lips and my hair. I am a chanter. And everyone who knows anything about chanting knows you correct everything in your life by chanting every day” (p. 175)

Craig goes own to recount how she used chanting to prepare herself to connect with audiences in concerts. And he recounts the slow climb from smaller venues to arenas, the struggle and prejudice she encountered with getting recording contracts with American companies and the much more favorable reception she enjoyed in Europe leading to her move to England and eventually Switzerland, where she married again.

The final chapter records her retirement after her Wildest Dreams concert tour, where she filled stadiums, in 2009. In her remaining years, she pursued one final dream, to teach what she had learned, releasing several recordings sharing religious teaching. Her life after 2013 became increasingly a struggle with declining health as she suffered a stroke, kidney disease and later, cancer. Her last US appearance was in 2019 at the New York debut of Tina: The Tina Turner Musical. She died May 24, 2023.

Craig offers an in-depth account of how Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism profoundly shaped the second half of Turner’s life, and offers her as an example of the experience of other Blacks who followed her path into Buddhism. One senses that for Turner, and perhaps others, the church remained culturally formative but failed to offer the spiritual resources found in Buddhism. As much as I wished she would have found the support to leave an abusive partner from the church (even her mother supported Ike against her) and found in the spiritual practices of the church, what she needed to sustain her in her performing life, I’m grateful for the solo career she achieved, her body of work, and the preservation of her life from the violence many women do not survive. Ralph H. Craig, III has added an important, though religiously divergent account, to Eerdmans Library of Religious Biography.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Mother’s Day Gifts from the Nursery

Where my house once stood. The tree on the left is the Mother’s Day maple

The house where I grew up in Youngstown is no longer standing. There is one thing that is still there–the maple tree we bought my mother for Mother’s Day, probably around 1970. You can see the trunk to the left side of the picture. I forget the name of the nursery where we bought it out in Austintown. All I remember is picking it out with my father and digging a very big hole in our devil strip (tree lawn for some) to give the roots plenty of room to spread out.

My mom loved that tree, guarding it as a young sapling and enjoying the shade it provided for our front porch in the late afternoons. In later years, it grew big enough that parts had to be trimmed out near the phone and power lines. The branches spread from our driveway to our neighbor’s. Mom passed in 2010 (though she’s forever in my heart). The picture reminds me of not only that particular Mother’s Day but all the pleasure that tree gave her over the years.

Mother’s Day for many of us meant a trip to the nursery. Maybe we would buy a rose for her rose garden, or a rhododendron (my mother-in-law used to have a big one in front of her house that was probably a Mother’s Day. Maybe you’d buy a flowering lilac, or perhaps like us that one year, a tree. And don’t forget the corsage for church! This J & J Gardens and Greenhouse ad from 1974 may remind you of some of those gifts.

That J & J ad also reminds me of many trips there with my mother-in-law on visits home. Sometimes, we’d take her to mass at St. Lukes, and then drive down the street to pick up some plants for around the Brownlee Woods house she lived in until she was 84 and moved near us in a losing fight with cancer.

I was delighted to learn there is still a garden center at that location, now operated by Petitti’s. We lived for nine years in Maple Heights near Cleveland in the 1980’s and bought many plants for our garden from the Petitti’s nearby. So learning they are in Boardman at the old J & J site brought two sets of good memories together.

We’ve carried on the tradition of buying flowers on Mother’s Day, usually perennials that we don’t have to re-plant each year, a reminder of our perennial love. We were at the nursery on Tuesday. So remember to honor the mothers in your life. And mothers–you are simply the best and I wish each of you a special day this Sunday!

To read other posts in the Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown series, just click “On Youngstown.” Enjoy!

Review: My Life as a Prayer

My Life as a Prayer, Elizabeth Cunningham. Monkfish Book Publishing Co. (ISBN: 9781958972106), 2023.

Summary: A spiritual memoir describing the author’s journey from daughter of an Episcopal priest, through a variety of communities as a writer and multi-faith minister.

Elizabeth Cunningham may be known to many as the author of the fiction series, The Maeve Chronicles, in which Mary Magdalene is reconceived as the daughter of a line of Celtic warrior witches. This, her first non-fiction work, traces her spiritual journey from growing up in the home of an Episcopal priest to becoming a multi-faith minister. Throughout, she describes her life as a prayer and explains what this might mean toward the end of the book:

“The prayer of oblation may be what I mean by life as a prayer. It may be what in Judaism is called a mitzvah or Buddhists mean by mindfulness. Or what Brother Lawrence called practicing the Presence of God while sweeping the floor, of scrubbing pots. The attention of Miss Sang [a mentor] gave to setting the table. what if we made all tasks, each small act, an oblation? Nothing to do with success or failure, obscurity or recognition. Just an offering. I believe that the Dalai Lama once said that his religion is kindness, and religion is only useful in so far as it helps him to be kind. If it helps to make an offering to a deity, then good. An offering is an offering even if we never knew to whom it is made or who receives it” (pp. 254-255).

This gives a good flavor of her outlook. She grew up the daughter of an Episcopal priest. Even as a child she struggled with how God was portrayed in the Bible, but more comfortable with Jesus Her relationship with her father is complicated. She respects his social conscience and activism but his faith didn’t seem to find warm expression in their family life. He seems to have had anger issues and struggled with alcoholism. She grew more distant, eventually joining a Quaker Meeting. A further stage came about the time of her miscarriage when she discovered the Goddess, who became a guide to her. She recounts a decade of hosting with Miss Sang a multi-faith retreat center and community, High Valley.

An important part of her life is the enchanted character of the natural world from the forest next to her childhood home to the land around High Valley to her own garden. This reflects the neopagan influences that sees all things as animated by gods or spirits. She also recounts her writing efforts, the rejections and how she came to write the Maeve Chronicles.

I had several responses to the book. One was that I think it is a reflection of the spirituality of many who would say they are spiritual but not religious, involving both the rejection of some traditional belief while retaining remnants of that faith combined with other practices from diverse sources with self (or the god or goddess within) as the final arbiter.

I was saddened by the account of her childhood encounters with Christianity and found myself reflecting on my very different experience of parents, relative, and a number of adults in my life with vibrant and thoughtful and gracious Christian commitments. Working in collegiate ministry, I’ve been struck by how many who struggle with faith or have rejected it had negative childhood or teenaged experiences of that faith.

I also was struck with the indeterminacy of the object of her life of prayer. To God, to the spirit in all things, to herself, her Goddess, or even a type of well wishing to others (“sending prayer”)? It seemed all of this at various points. How different from a Christian understanding of knowing that we come freely and boldly to our Father, that we are heard, and that prayer is communing with the lover of our souls.

At the same time I loved the idea of life as prayer, in the language of St. Paul, “living sacrifices.” Cunningham offers an example, albeit multi-faith of living that out that is worth observing and affirming.

Flannery O’Connor wrote of the “Christ-haunted south.” There is a Christ-haunted character to this memoir, with snatches of Jesus’ life, of Episcopal liturgy, the writings of C.S. Lewis, of forms of prayer, and more. It feels like something from which she turned away but that still has a hold on her. I wonder what the author will make of that in time to come.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher through Librarything’s Early Reviewers Program for review.

A Skimmer or a Deep Reader?

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

NPR recently posted an article titled How to Practice ‘Deep Reading.’ It’s a great interview available in both print and streaming audio. For any of us dedicated to what I like to call “the art of reading,” this is worthy of our intention.

One of the observations was that we were not pre-wired for reading–that for all of us, this is a learned skill, and like any learned skill, we have the opportunity to keep learning. It also suggests why reading doesn’t always come naturally for us. Neither does typing, playing a musical instrument, or painting. But we can develop our proficiency as we practice.

The interview explores the idea of deep reading, where we fully engage what is written with our thoughts, our questions, reflections, and even emotions–what does this evoke in me? In fact, reading with affect is one of the ways books become imprinted in our minds. I think this so true–whether I rhapsodized over the writing or an exceptional plot, didn’t like an ending, or got angry with an argument–those are the books I remember.

The article contrasts deep reading with the practice of skimming. And this caught me up short. I skim a lot of material–articles for posting, emails, and to be honest, some books, at least to a certain degree. I suspect many of you do as well. Since I read many books, an occupational hazard of a reviewer, I read books where people cover ground I’ve seen others cover before. I’m looking for what they bring to the conversation that is new.

What catches me up short is not that I do it, but seeing how doing it affects all my reading. This has been brought home to me recently by reading A Secular Age by Charles Taylor along with a friend. It is a long, dense but elegantly written book reflecting a great mind tracing an intellectual history spanning centuries and dozens of thinkers in several languages. I was trying to read 20 pages a day, and found it difficult to absorb. My friend told me, “I can only do 10 pages at a time, and I have to go back and re-read the 10 pages.”

I’ve decided that this book is my primer in deep reading. One of Taylor’s sentences often provides ample fodder for thought. I’m going to allow him to teach me to take the time to read him well and not read just to get the gist. And this practice is suggesting a rule worth applying to other things–if I only have a vague notion of what this book is saying or how this story is put together, I’m probably reading too fast.

The interview also suggests some form of note-taking helps us absorb and keep track of the flow of an argument and the things we remember. I don’t like to write in my books because I will re-sell many, and I don’t like slowing down to write in a journal. One suggestion from the article I might try is jotting down (maybe on a slip of paper) in the back of a book) page numbers of key thoughts, maybe with a key word or phrase. I’d love to hear how other note-takers do it.

Taylor will keep me busy for a while, so this will give me a good opportunity to practice deep reading. Perhaps after that, I may try to have at least one book where I follow a suggestion from the interview to “read at your own pace and the book’s pace.” Actually, it’s pretty exciting to be approaching my eighth decade and still be learning to read!

Review: Taken at the Flood

Taken at the Flood, Agatha Christie. HarperCollins (ISBN: 9780062073846), 2011 (originally published in 1948).

Summary: A young widow and her brother inherit a family fortune, stirring family resentments until a mysterious figure threatens blackmail and is found dead.

Gordon Cloade was the benefactor of the Cloade family. During the war, he meets a young widow, Rosaleen Underhay on a ship, and marries her. Two days after they arrive in England, all but Rosaleen and her brother David, who has joined the household, are killed in a bombing raid. Cloade had not had time to change his will to provide for both wife and family. This meant that Rosaleen, for the duration of her life inherited the income from the capital of Cloade’s life, depriving the family of needed support.

But all may not be as it seems with Rosaleen. Her first marriage had been an unhappy one. Her husband separated and then was reported dead. But a conversation where a Major Porter was overheard by Poirot, while sheltering in a club from a bombing raid, suggests that Underhay never died, but was abroad under the name of Enoch Arden, a reference to a Lord Tennyson poem about one thought dead who was not.

Christie introduces us to the various Cloades, in various states of insolvency. Jeremy, the lawyer, has been pilfering funds, and a reckoning approaches. Lionel is a physician, and has become a morphine addict, to the detriment of his finances. Rowley has been able to eke by as a farmer but had hoped for more, particularly as he anticipates marrying the village girl, Lynn Marchmont, who has returned to live with her mother after Lynn’s service as a WREN during the war.

Needless to say, many wish Rosaleen dead, or at least her claim on the Cloade fortune disproven. Then a mysterious figure shows up in town, identifying himself to David, Rosaleen’s brother, as Enoch Arden, and threatening blackmail. When Arden is found dead, Rowley, acting in the family’s interests asks Poirot to confirm the identity of the man named Arden. He calls on Porter, who testifies at the inquest that he knew Underhay and that the dead man was Underhay, despite Rosaleen’s denials. David, as prime suspect is arrested.

There’s a tangled web that Poirot has to unravel before all becomes clear. Two more die along the way. Poirot will say one is accidental, one is a suicide, and one is murder. But which is which and how are they all connected is for Poirot to discover, as he talks to people and learns things, while those around him underestimate his abilities.

I thought this a cleverly written mystery that also offered an instructive tale on the follies of depending on the wealth of a benefactor–from family or otherwise. Along the way, there is a diverting subplot as Lynn, finding Rowley somewhat dull after her war adventures, is drawn by the allure of the roguish David. I’m not sure I like Christie’s use of partner violence in this plot. As a mystery, I think this one of her better efforts, written at the height of her powers in 1948.

Review: What is Faith?

What is Faith?, J. Gresham Machen. Banner of Truth (ISBN: 9781800403598), 2023 (First published in 1925).

Summary: An exposition of the Bible’s teaching on what constitutes vibrant and saving Christian faith.

“Believe in Jesus!” “Saved by faith!” “I don’t have enough faith.” “We just have to have faith.”

The language of faith, even in our secular age, is bandied about a great deal. But are we all talking about the same thing? Sometimes, it seems like faith simply means some sense of the transcendent or a “religious sentiment of the heart.” At the other end of the spectrum, “faith” may be connected with affirmation of a particular set of doctrines–the faith. Faith is spoken in Hebrews 11:1 as the “substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” and yet in many minds faith is a vague feeling rather than substance and a hope in what one is pretty sure is not true.

It seems that this treatise by J. Gresham Machen, nearly 100 years old has never been so needed. He decries the fuzzy thinking, the lack of clear thinking, and the attack upon intellect in general and among Christians specifically in his own day. Nowhere is this so evident as in understanding the true nature of biblical faith, and this is what he sets out to address in this biblically grounded and carefully reasoned work.

He begins by observing that faith must have some object. For the Christian, this is the triune God. To believe in God (or any personal being), one most know the character of the one believed. This is both “doctrine,” and as it is understood becomes personal trust. All this is predicated on the idea that God has revealed God’s self. It also concerns our standing with God as sinners and how God, consistently revealed as loving Father, has addressed that standing through his Son, in whom there is redemption.

What then does faith involve? Faith combines knowledge of the truth with belief that the God may be trusted, and acceptance as undeserved gift what God has accomplished through his Son. As he sets forth these classic ideas, he engages the modernist challenge of his day with its “Fatherhood of God and brotherhood of man,” emphasizing humanitarian good works and imitating Christ as a good teacher. He speaks bitingly of the “Good American” character education of his day and argued that spiritual and moral education was not the work of schools but churches and comparable religious institutions. For those who think this is a way to Christianize society, he argues that this moralism inoculates people against a genuine awareness of sin and need of the saving work of Christ.

He continues to address modernist challenges in his chapter on faith and salvation, really a classic exposition of justification by faith, answering the question of how we may hope for right standing with God. He addresses the ever-present temptation to combine faith with our works as salvific. Rather, those saved by faith work, with work arising from, rather than contributing to their faith. In the final chapter he addresses “faith and hope” and the experience of “weak” faith. He emphasizes that while the object for all Christians is to grow in their confident faith in God, it is not the size of our faith, as if it were some spiritual force, but the gracious and powerful character off God that matters.

This is a rich work filled with practical examples as well as careful reasoning. While some of the controversies today are different (and some not so much), Machen’s insights are important to anyone committed to the task of making disciples: from communicating the gospel, through conversion, and in encouraging the life of faith. As with so many classic works, Banner of Truth has served the church well in the re-publication of this work, soon to be joined by two others, God Transcendent and The Christian View of Man.

Review: Neverwhere

Neverwhere, Neil Gaiman. Avon Fiction (ISBN: 0380789019), 1996 (Link is to 2016 edition).

Summary: When Richard Mayhew rescues a bleeding girl in the streets of London, he finds himself drawn into a world under London, the quest she is on and the evil forces set against her.

You have embarked on a conventional but successful career, are engaged to a fashionable and beautiful woman, living in urban London. Then on a date one night, it is as if a door opens in a wall, and out tumbles a disheveled girl, bleeding from a stab wound in her arm, lying in the street in front of them. This is the situation that confronts Richard Mayhew and his fiancée, Jessica. She wants to quickly move on from an awkward situation for dinner with her boss. Richard cannot. Despite the threat (carried out) of a broken engagement, he takes the girl back to his apartment. And everything in his world will change in consequence.

He quickly learns both of a world under London from which the girl has come and that she is being pursued by two sinister assassins who have already killed the rest of her family. The assassins, Croup and Vandemar, show up at Richard’s apartment but the girl, named Door (so named for her ability to find and open doors), makes herself scarce and eludes capture. Richard agrees to help by finding a figure from the underworld, Marquis de Carabas, who helps Door escape. Only Richard is changed–he has become invisible to the overworld of London. He eventually finds Door in the underworld and joins her in the quest to find the entity who ordered the death of her family–and hopefully to find his way back to his life in London above.

This will take him on what is alternately a quest and a flight from Croup and Vandemar in this dangerous underworld of phantom subway lines, courts in rail cars, mysterious night time Floating Markets in the overworld, and sewers. He faces life and death ordeals and encounters with everything from rats and their Rat-speakers, the fierce warrior woman, Hunter, who becomes Door’s bodyguard, and an angel and a hideous beast. Most of the time, he feels himself a loyal but useless appendage, yet eventually finds in himself resourcefulness and courage unknown to him. It’s a quest in which it is not always clear who may be trusted. Yet a bond grows between Door and Richard.

Gaiman does an incredible job of world making in the London underworld he creates, both the physical space and the characters with which he populates it. If you think Croup and Vandemar sinister, wait until Door finally finds who they’ve been working for! The one other fascinating aspect of the world Gaiman creates are the characters who have lived in the underworlds of other cities, including mythical Atlantis, and the mythical foes like the Beast of London, that roam the underworlds of these other cities. Having previously read American Gods (review), I appreciated being introduced to this earlier work, a novelization of a TV series.

Gaiman almost makes one wonder what lurks below our own cities….