Book Report

Since I'm not working many hours yet, and since I'm living in apartment with quite a few books I've never read before (and close to a bunch of awesome libraries)... I've been reading a bunch.

I'm sure that you're all shocked.

So here's what I've read in the past month.

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The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.

Since Mom reads the Happiness Project blog and sends me random things from it sometimes and talks about it, when I saw her book sitting on the shelf, I decided I may as well read it.  It was fun -- she writes very conversationally and has some good and motivating ideas.  I wouldn't say it was life-changing, but there you go.  It's worth reading, or skimming at least... but probably not buying.

Lulu in the Sky by Loung Ung

After being in Asia, I find that I'm way more interested in reading other books about... Asian things.  Duh.  Anyway, my friend Dominic's passion for Cambodia made me really curious to learn more about the country, culture, and people.  This book was heart-breaking because there is so much pain in the recent past of the Khmer people, but I really enjoyed getting to read a personal story.

River of Stars by Guy Gavriel Kay

See the note on the above about reading books about/set in Asia.  However... not my favorite book.  Kay is a decent author, but he often uses far more words than I think necessary or beneficial.  So while it was an okay read, it wasn't something I'm likely to pick up and read again.

Maze Runner/Scorch Trials/Death Cure by James Dashner

No.  Not worth it.  This is a sort of dystopia/sci-fi trilogy, and while the first book had some good ideas, the story and characters got increasingly flat and the ending was disappointing.  I finished it because I was curious and all three of them were sitting on the shelf, but my recommendation is just don't bother starting.

Jam by Yahtzee Croshaw

What would you do if you woke up one morning to your city being flooded with man-eating strawberry jam?  This is a fun story (if you like things in the zombie apocalypse vein, minus the zombies, plus a lot of sticky cannibalistic jam).

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski

Okay, so I had never heard of this book or this author and had no idea what genre it was in, but this was a really good read.  Warning: it's definitely sad, a little suspenseful, and a little creepy.  But I enjoyed his style of writing and story telling a lot.

And I want a dog.

Also, I miss sign language.

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss

Jonathan recommended this book with something close to a blissful ecstasy in a time when I was in dire need of books.  Knowing how he was sometimes inclined to be, uh, more rapturous than I would be about certain experiences (such as eating food), I took his recommendation with a grain of salt.  We do have fairly similar tastes in stories though, so I kept it in mind.

He did not exaggerate.

This is probably the best book I've read in the past year.  The author's use of language was masterful and the story was solid.  Usually I am content with reading books quickly, but this one I was torn between not wanting to set it down and wanting it to last forever.

~~~

So, that's what I've been reading... there are a couple more that I haven't finished yet, so they'll have to wait for another day.

Any new recommendations?

All the Things!

Most days, there is no shortage of things that I want to do and things that I need to do and things that I ought to do.  Being bored really is not usually a problem.  (I mean... there are more books to read... there are more languages to work on...foods to cook...)

I think that chaotic combination of way too many things is a huge part of what I love about story writing.  It's probably true of any kind of creative crafting -- everything sort of layers together and one thing leads to another and before you know it, you're in over your head.

Recent example:  I decided that characters should have some sort of tattoo indicating what religion they follow.  This led to quite a lot of obvious questions (such as how did I want to divide up the religions and what do the tattoos look like and is there a standard placement for them?) and then some connected questions (what does modesty look like? what is the climate like?) and then some google searches like exercise clothing in Thailand and how is silicone made.

In between those steps there were conversations about psychrometrics (between storywriting and living with an engineer, I get to learn all sorts of things) and design and... you get the picture.

Writing is great because it's an excuse to talk about and research pretty much anything.

(And the picture really is not connected.  It's from a walk I went on.)

Waiting to Cross

I was on the corner of the sidewalk, waiting for the signal to cross the street.  Next to me was a man who had been there when I crossed the first time; his job was to bounce around a sign advertising $5 pizza at Little Caesar's.  I was not especially inclined to talk to him for at least these two reasons:

1. There are a lot of sketchy people.  (I could have a blog of bus "friend" stories.) I don't live in Detroit, but the area here isn't the most, uh, friendly and reputable either.
2. I was kind of in a hurry to get across the street and to my interview at Panera.

Am I wasting my time just standing here?

Shouldn't I be talking to him?

The questions came into my mind suddenly.  But I'm in America now, I don't have status as a "foreign expert" that I do in China -- why would he listen to me?

And what would I say, anyway?  "Hello, sir, you look kind of sketchy and I look like a high school student (or maybe college, if you're feeling generous) but I wanted to say Hi and How's your day going? and How's your relationship with God?"

So I stood there, waiting for the walk signal to light up, and kind of ignoring him beyond whatever initial quick eye contact/smile/nod/acknowledgement that there's another human we had done.  (It was a long light.)

"Hello!" he said cheerfully.

"Hi," I said, thinking about how much I didn't want a pizza right then.

He said something else, I don't remember what.

"It's a beautiful day," I remarked, because clearly the decision had been made for me and we were talking to each other.  Which was okay.  (Did I mention this was a long light?)

"It is.  Jesus loves you!" he told me.

I grinned.  "Yep, He does," I agreed.

Apparently heartened by this response, he continued with growing enthusiasm.  "God is good!"

"God is good, all the time," I said, at this point probably grinning like a maniac.

We talked about where we go to church and how long we've been Christians and had gotten to introducing ourselves.  "Hannah," I told him, and when he said he didn't know what it meant, I said, "Gracious, because God is gracious to us."

He thought about this for a moment.  "God is gracious to us."

His name was Richard.  I asked if he knew what it meant.

(Did I mention -- this is a long light?)

"It means a mighty warrior," Richard said.  "And I'm an intercessory prayer warrior --"

The light changed, and I crossed the road after a hurried, "Bye Richard, nice meeting you," and "Goodbye sister, God bless you!"

He did.

Kid Hotel

Showing a picture of my siblings to my students generally resulted in great reactions.  Faced with a situation that even many Americans feel awkward about responding to (“Boy, uh, your sister looks a little... darker than you...?") Chinese students often went the route of a confused series of glances between the pictures and me.

I know, we don't look much alike.

I wouldn't trade them for anything.

There are so many things that I love about my sibs, things that make me realize what an incredible blessing they have been in my life.  Having four siblings is stressful.  Being the oldest is stressful.

But I really wouldn't trade it for anything.

I thought about this today while AJ was driving me all over creation as we did crazy missions getting last minute gifts for Mom's birthday.

I thought about it when C was lounging on my bed, working on making the list that I was dictating to her, filling in categories of ways she could spend her free time.

I thought about it tonight when Ib and I were building a cooking fire, a process fraught with competition (some friendly and some not-entirely-so-friendly.)

I've had the blessing of many incredible friends and communities throughout my life -- but none of my friends have been with me through as many parts of my life as my sibs.  None of my friends can finish each other's sentences and fill in each other's memories the ways we can.  

I love seeing them growing up and doing things that I can't do.

I love teasing them because, no matter what, I'm always older.  And I know where they're ticklish.

I love the way we share memories and quotes and friendships and have shared so many years of life.

Wherever we go, that's where the party's at.

And sometimes I just look at them and think, Dang, I love these kids.

If the Foundations are Destroyed --

Last night I went with a few friends to see The Dark Knight Rises.  I was somewhat afraid that it would be a disappointing end to a strong trilogy, but it wasn't.  It was engaging and it lived up the first two in raising serious questions, proving to be more of an intense, messy look at politics, society and human nature than it is just light summer entertainment.

There were two different verses that it really brought to mind.

Twice in Jeremiah, God says,

Were they ashamed when they committed abominations?
No, they were not at all ashamed;
they did not know how to blush.
Therefore they shall fall among the fallen;
when I punish them, they shall be overthrown.
[Jeremiah 6:15 and 8:12]

Throughout the movie, there are times when there is not only injustice, but there is a total mockery of justice. There are trials that are so obviously twisted that it is sickening, because it's wrong dressing itself up and pretending to be right, and it's simply ugly.

The other verse was Psalm 11:3:

If the foundations are destroyed,
What can the righteous do?


I wouldn't say that any character in this trilogy is wholly righteous.  Some seem more innocent -- Alfred, Blake -- but overall they are portrayed as human, messy, broken, fraught with their own issues of anger and selfishness.  Even when they try to do good, it sometimes goes horribly awry.  But that does seem to be one of the overarching questions of the trilogy:  when the foundations are so rotten, when the powerful are corrupt and evil thrives in the sewers and, in the face of disaster, the citizens are quick to destroy one another rather than attempt to save each other -- what can the righteous do?

The Dark Knight Trilogy doesn't provide a lot of answers.  Sacrifice.  Hope.  Believe.  Risk.  They are kind of vague.

But it raises a lot of the right questions.

And that is what I enjoy in a story.

qing wen (ramblings on questions)

"Qing wen" is a polite way to begin questions in Chinese, basically meaning, "May I please ask a question?"

I want to become better at asking questions.  I am remarkably bad at it, and I think that it is time to begin consciously working on it.  My younger brother Ib asks questions about everything.  He is a constant source of why and what if and how come and so forth.  So I'm trying...

Riding Greyhound across the US gave me some fun opportunities to ask questions.  One of the people who I sat next to on the way from Indy to Dallas had worked as a Navy cryptologist.  "You probably don't even know what a cryptologist is," he grunted. 

We had a great conversation.  I kept trying to think of more questions to ask him every time his stories seemed to be winding down (after all, the man knew Spanish and Russian, I think; he wanted to own a restaurant, and was on his way to hopefully get a job with a trucking company, and it was more interesting than staring out the window!) and it was quite a lot of fun. 

Then I ended up sitting next to an older woman on my last bus jaunt.  We talked for a while; I don't think there were any great questions that I asked, but I now know more of what she thought about living in South Dakota and what she knows now that she wishes she had known when she was 21 (how to take care of babies and how to cook.)

As I read through my books in preparation for getting my teaching certificate, I think of questions that I wish I had asked in China.  There were a few people at English corner who spoke very good English, and I want to know how and why their English was so good.  What motivated them?  How did they learn?

One night in China a bunch of us were sitting around outside a restaurant waiting for tables to become available.  To alleviate boredom (yes, people do get bored in China!) we began coming up with questions to ask each other.  I think that Kent took the prize that night for the best question asked:  If you had to go into a field totally unrelated to what you're in now, what would you choose?  It was a simple enough question, but it made everyone think and it exposed pieces of all of us that hadn't been seen before. 

So...

How do you cultivate inquiry?

What are some of the best questions you have ever asked or been asked?

lessons from an older brother

It was a long bus ride from Pittsburgh to Indy, especially when it started at 2 in the morning.  By the time I was seeing the city, it was about 10, and I was more than ready to get off of the bus.  So I made my way into the bus station.  I was looking for a bathroom and dragging my suitcase behind me, trying to remember if I had crossed a time zone or not.

And then I heard my name.  I turned around, because who else in this place that I've never been before would know my name except Tim, who was coming to meet me?  I hadn't seen him in six months, and the last time was in the airport in Xiamen.  He took my suitcase out to the car while I found the bathroom (and after I had smashed my face into his shoulder; apparently trying to hug someone and hand them luggage and speak in two languages at once and not cry does not really work) and then he took me home.  

I was there for only a few days before I caught another bus for Texas, but it was plenty of time to think -- especially as I prepare to go back to China.  I'm an oldest child.  He's been teaching me what having an older brother means.  I've been learning a lot about what it means to be a younger sister of Christ; too often I bring my "oldest child mentality" into how I see everything in life and miss out on what is good about not being the oldest.

It takes a lot of fear and uncertainty out of going to unknown places, like Indy or China.  If Tim, who I know and trust has been there, why should I worry about it?  It increases my confidence.

It means that I am much more likely to love and to want to love what I find.  I'm more likely to assume that there must be something good, something worth loving.  Tim gets excited about China, about airports, about tons of stuff that I wouldn't on my own -- but his eagerness to find out about things, and to experience them, encourages me to be eager.

And I was thinking about these things and how it is teaching me about what it means to follow Jesus.

He knows everything that I am going through, everything that I will face, far better than anyone else does.  The book of Hebrews makes a clear point that He is a sympathetic high priest because He was made incarnate and suffered more than I ever have.  And the author of Hebrews tells me that such is my reason for confidence as I approach even the throne of God.

It also means that I have a reason to love this world, the people in it -- everything -- fully and joyfully and sacrificially.  Because obviously, there's something worth loving.

    For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.

    For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.
(Romans 8:15-18)