How a book is loved

You can tell a book is loved, when it has been

highlighted
underlined
annotated
scribbled all over.

The spine is a bit worn, the pages well-thumbed.


That is how you know a book is much loved, and its words are much valued.

True Spirituality - The transforming power of the gospel

It is at the cross that we cast away all our pride and self-sufficiency and admit to God what idolaters we really are. It is at the cross that we stop covering up our lack of spiritual reality. It is at the cross that we humbly admit to God that our hearts are spiritually cold and hard. It is at the cross that we find rest for our souls.

I am not presenting just one more plan or program for spiritual self-development. Instead, I am presenting a person, Jesus Christ, who says not only "repent and believe the gospel" (Mark 1:14b-15), but also "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28-30).

- Steve Childers

Reflections on "Preaching the Whole Bible as Christian Scripture" by Graeme Goldsworthy

TL:DR version - read last 3 paragraphs.

Goldsworthy starts his book with an anecdote. In Sunday school, a child was asked what is gray and furry and lives in eucalyptus trees. Puzzled, the student replied “I know the answer is Jesus, but it sounds like a koala!”

Though amusing, the anecdote does raise a good question - what does it mean when Christians say “Jesus is always the answer”?

While the pithy slogan sounds a little silly, there is profound truth undergirding it. The person of Jesus is absolutely central to the message and meaning of Christianity. Although we know that in our heads, we need only examine the habits of our instinctively narcissistic selves to see that we don’t always act that way – even in our “Christian” practices.

This attitude pours over into the way we read our Bible as well. Do we read it only to find “inspiration” for ourselves? Or do we read it to understand God more? The way we read and draw out meaning from Scripture points to how we view our relationship with God.

Goldsworthy is at pains to illustrate how reading ourselves into the Bible is an unhelpful enterprise. Even if we read in it “instructions” to be a good Christian, we very often are inclined to put ourselves as the centre and cut Jesus out of the picture. As Goldsworthy writes:

“It is clear from the New Testament that the ethical example of Christ is secondary to and dependent upon the primary and unique work of Christ for us. Yet this does not seem to be clear to many when it comes to the Old Testament. The message of the Old Testament is too easily reduced to the imitation of godly example and the avoidance of the ungodly example.”

As an antidote, it is crucial to see the gospel (i.e. Jesus’ death and resurrection for our salvation) as the essence of the Bible, even in the Old Testament. Goldsworthy continues:

“At the heart of this saving work is not the ethical teachings of Jesus, but his obedient life and death, his glorious resurrection and his ascension to the right hand of God on high.”

For Goldsworthy, if we are to take the Bible seriously, there are basic principles on how the Bible should be viewed and read, and he addresses them in the chapters of the first part of his book:

1. The Centrality of the Gospel
2. What is the Bible?
3. What is Biblical Theology?
4. What is preaching?
5. Was Jesus a Biblical Theologian?
6. What kind of unity does the Bible have?
7.  How does the Gospel Function in the Bible?
8. What is the structure of Biblical Revelation
9. Can I preach a Christian sermon without mentioning Jesus?

Goldsworthy proposes that everyone is an interpreter of the Bible, which, even in a postmodern world, is a claim that no one would refute. But despite what postmodernism asserts (haha), there is correct interpretation and there is wrong interpretation. For someone to be a good interpreter of the Bible, he / she should be a Biblical theologian.

Biblical Theology, is a very loaded term, and the chapter on it, given Goldsworthy relatively academic style, can be bewildering for a layperson. Basically however, according to Goldsworthy, Biblical Theology upholds that all Scripture should be read as one unity, rather than seen as separate chunks that do not interrelate. It is seeing each narrative / passage in the Bible as contributing to one greater narrative – that of the redemption history that God achieves through Christ alone.

Even if we are convinced that all Scripture is the one story about Christ, resolving to know nothing but Christ crucified is ironically quite a tricky undertaking. Goldsworthy shows that there are themes that develop consistently across Scripture, and there are certain motifs that are specific only to that time and context. Therefore, it is important to take into account the rich variety of literary genres, the historical development across the books, and the progressive revelation of the redemption story. It is important to develop a sensitivity in distinguishing between elements of continuity and discontinuity.

Thus, there is a tension in the way we interpret Scripture: to see the Bible narrative as one unity, but to also recognise the variety of its different books. But Goldsworthy doesn’t leave us without guidance on how to handle this tension. He divides the Bible into three very broad epochs:

• Type (Historical epoch: creation to Israel’s decline)
• Type confirmed (Prophetic eschatology: prophecies of kingdom to come)
• Antitype (New Testament fulfilment: Jesus Christ and the church)

These are broad divisions, but it gives some structure in the way we can navigate the timeline of the Bible. He then dedicates the second half of the book to illustrating how different genres link to Christ: 

• Historical narrative texts
• Old Testament Laws
• Old Testament Prophets
• Wisdom literature
• Psalms
• Apocalyptic texts
• Gospels
• Acts and Epistles

Pulling out specific passages for each genre, he works out both the unique themes of that passage and how it would appropriately find its fulfilment in Christ.

Personally, although the book can be academic in its tone, there is much to gain from reading it, even for the layperson. The gist of it is that we cannot put ourselves in the shoes of the original readers without first seeing how the text finds its significance in Jesus’ death and resurrection. My biggest takeaway is understanding that even in the epistles, which are closest to our contemporary context, there still needs to be care in the way we relate the apostles’ writings to our current situation. Certain adjustments still need to be made.

Goldsworthy belabours the necessity of reading Scripture in a Christ-centred way, but not because of pedanticism. It’s because the centrality of the gospel is essential for us to know God through Christ. It’s because it does spell out different implications in the way we live our lives as Christians than if we had merely lifted the passage out of its context.

Some may balk at the idea of having to make the connection to Jesus every time they read a Bible passage. Certainly I was more than a little annoyed when I was told this too. “It is too tedious!”, “Repetition would bore people!”, “There is no need!” may be some of the objections. But tediousness is no excuse for laziness, nor is repetition for complacency. And maybe we could say that there is no need to link the text to Jesus – if it weren’t for the fact that Jesus himself said that all Scripture points to him (Luke 24: 44-45).

As Goldsworthy writes,

“It would not appear that Paul’s determination to know nothing among his hearers but Christ and him crucified led him into the trap of predictability. Of course, if by predictability we mean that people will come to expect every sermon to expound something of the glories of Christ, then let us by all means be predictable! Since there are inexhaustible riches in Christ, and the implication of these for our Christian experience are endless, I doubt very much that there is any need for a preacher to be boring and repetitive.”

Book Review: "For Whom the Bell Tolls"

Contrary to the John Donne sonnet from which its title was taken, the novel For Whom the Bell Tolls reflects not the common adage for which the poem was famous - “No man is an island” - but it instead speaks of the total isolation that man faces in the midst of war.

The poem that Hemingway references aligns with the novel’s themes in that it echoes the universal tragedy that occurs after a loss of a life. There is a common sadness, a common grief that is to be shared when even one individual suffers death and pain. But interestingly, instead of badgering the readers with platitudes about the horrors of war, Hemingway also pulls at the tension between the tragedy of war and its necessity. His tone remains one of neutrality: it is horrible, it wounds and hurts men, bringing out the worst in them; yet it is necessary for them to fight.

There is a kind of putting away of self in taking up a cause, a forgetting of one’s own interests for the sake and advancement of that cause. “[War] gave you a part in something that you could believe in wholly and completely and in which you felt an absolute brotherhood with the others who were engaged in it. It was something that you had never known before but that you had experienced now and you gave such importance to it and the reasons for it that your own death seemed of complete unimportance only a thin to be avoided because it would interfere with the performance of your duty.” As much as crises bring out the worst in men, it gave them reason and opportunity to rally behind something, to throw their entire energies into that purpose.

But it would be wise to remember that this line is part of Robert Jordan’s thought processes, one of his many veering thoughts that attempt to rationalise and make sense of the circumstances he’s in. The notion that crises brings about an “absolute brotherhood” is uncomfortably questioned. Jordan is the only American in the small band of guerrillas that has been tasked to bomb the bridge. While he seems to make connections with the group, at the end as it was at the beginning, he is alone. The refrain “His mind was very good company” which occurs throughout the book points to his solitude.

The book’s blurb according to my edition (Arrow Books, 1994) advertises the story as a romance, highlighting the relationship between Jordan and Maria. But after reading it, I was not much compelled by Robert Jordan and Maria’s relationship. It was beautiful in some sense, but it did not have the emotional weight I expected it to have based on the blurb.

Jordan’s soliloquys in trying to drown out his self-interest and trying to concoct some semblance of rationality in the war were I think the thrust of the book. And it culminates in the actual execution of the bomb operation. It was duly suspenseful and thrilling, which makes slugging through the first 200 pages worthwhile. But what was interesting was how although the operation itself needed to be orchestrated harmoniously by a few key players, the mission played out in silos. There were many instances of the aloneness of the individuals in war: the lone messenger delivering the message to the General, the guerrilla member Pablo betraying and sabotaging the operation, Robert Jordan having to coldly calculate and dissect each person’s loyalties and capabilities.

Even when they are supposedly on the same side, people are still moving in their own orbits instead of really moving towards one common direction. Thus ironically, for a book whose opening poem was a bold declaration that “no man is an island”, the novel also rings aloud with the isolation in which men insulate themselves during times of crises. 

Book Review: "God's Plans for You" by J. I. Packer

I thought the book would be a wishy-washy, hyper-spiritualised kind of book that you would find at the "New Age" section on the bookstore shelf. Haha, me and my prejudices. Genuinely, however, the trouble with books of these titles is that it tends to puff people up with self-absorption and self-obsession, and leads people to think that God is some kind of wizard to fulfill all your wishes.

But Packer's book is packed with good solid theology, and is - thankfully, and quite rightly - focused on God's actual plans for us, rather than what we want God's plans for us to be.

Packer sets the right tone by expounding on what a theologian essentially is. A lot of us, including Christians, tend to think that a theologian is a ponderous academic, a religious pundit almost. But in reality, we are all theologians. We all have ideas about whether God exists, what He's like. That's really what theology means - what we think about God.

He then later goes on to talk about God's plans for us. But before Packer gets to God's plans for us in our day-to-day lives (which we are most keen to know about, being instinctively self-interested), he addresses God's grand plan for the whole of humanity: that of human salvation accomplished through Christ's incarnation, death, and resurrection. The book reveals God's plan to make Christ lord of all, and that all things shall be united with Christ as head (Ephesians 1:10), for Christians to have a perfect relationship with Jesus, for them to be able to approach God's throne with full confidence (Hebrews 4:16), and for His spirit to conform us to Jesus' likeness (Romans 8:28-29).

Interestingly and importantly, although Packer does acknowledge that Christians ought to prayerfully seek for God's guidance in their decisions and lives, he does also emphatically state that trying to pin down "God's will" through some supernatural means can actually be harmful, and for me personally, doing that may hint at a sinful heart that does not trust God.

He writes:
"The source of anxiety is that a desire for guidance is linked with uncertainty about how to get it and fear of the consequences of not getting it. Such anxiety has an unhappy way of escalating. Anxious people get allured by any and every form of certainty that offers itself, no matter how irrational. They become vulnerable to strange influences and do zany things."

Wanting to know God's "will" then, can be distorted to become a way to manage and control God, and instead of leading us to humble dependence on Him, leads us to muscle through in our own way somehow.

After Packer truly establishes that God's purpose is to be found in trusting Christ as Lord and Saviour, Packer goes on to how this would look like in practical terms, i.e. in our daily living. He draws out what it means to be a Christian in sad times and in good times, and how being a Christian leads to self-understanding and also love for others.

Overall, it's a really good book that starts out very strongly by laying the foundation of God's grand purpose for mankind, before delving into the nitty gritty of how this plays out in all our small, but joy-filled lives. Packer does not make this an explicitly doctrinal book (in that, he does not explicitly elaborate on Christian doctrines and creeds), but it is a very helpful book to have in order to gain perspective on God's bigness and how we should re-orient our lives around Him.

On a side note, I received this book from such wonderful Christians when I was baptised. And I'm grateful for them.

The Fault in our Characters

Characters were usually what makes a book interesting for me. I can appreciate stories with deeply intricate plotlines and thought-provoking ideas, but the stories that I love -  the stories that I keep close to my heart, that stirs my spirit and leaves me feeling melancholic when I turn that last page - are often stories with compelling characters I can sympathise with. Jem from To Kill a Mockingbird, Rudy from The Book Thief, Sydney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities, just to name a few.

But there is a danger of liking the book solely for its characters. We get so attached to them, that we are blinded to the bigger picture.  Like in real life, when you are too taken with someone, there is a tendency to overlook their flaws. And flaws are important, because they point to some of the important themes the author is working hard to flesh out.

One of my biggest pet peeves, literary interpretation-wise, is when Romeo and Juliet is said to be the synonym of an epic romance. I do think that Shakespeare is trying to showcase the beauty and ecstasy of falling in love, and the tragedy of when it all falls apart. But he was also depicting the impulsiveness of love, how rash and unthinking and foolish we are when we are infatuated. Is it any coincidence that Juliet's young age was specifically mentioned? Or that Romeo was mooning over Rosalind just before he fell for Juliet?

[Side note: I think Franco Zeffirelli produced the most faithful R&J film; the actors were young and they portrayed characters that were impetuous in proceeding with their newfound love. Yet, there was something endearing about it, something that reminds the viewers of the rush and sting of one's first love].

There is King Lear too. Yes the audience is meant to sympathise with him. Who can watch Lear grieving over Cordelia without shedding tears of commiseration? But Lear was by no means a guilt-free character. He was the one who banished Cordelia in a petulant tantrum, despite having it carefully arranged that she was to (rightly) inherit the best portion of his land. More than that, while people are outraged at Goneril and Regan's cruelty, can anyone say the fault is entirely theirs when Lear refused to relinquish control even though he had already handed over his kingdom to his daughters? [An excellent essay of this was written by George Orwell]

The story that I personally feel is the most misinterpreted is Wuthering Heights. All of the films focus on Cathy and Heathcliff, with most of them ending the story after Cathy senior dies. But the romance of Hareton and Cathy is of equal importance, I feel, as a foil to Heathcliff and Cathy's love. Heathcliff and Cathy's love is fascinating and intriguing, but one watches it with a mixture of repulsion and morbid curiosity: it was not to be admired or emulated. In fact, Nellie, the central narrator of the tale, was repulsed by the amount of self-centredness, loathing, and obsessiveness that govern the relationship. And in the end, their toxic relationship exploded, bringing misery and pain to everyone around them. But Cathy and Hareton were an example of how loving someone means encouraging one another, and forgiving past wrongs. It was tamer, and I suppose, less dramatic than Heathcliff and Cathy's tumultuous relationship, but it was significant enough to be dedicated a half-book worth of writing by Bronte.

Characters that fascinate us, that we sympathise with, that we even identify with, are not necessarily characters to be emulated. When we get so caught up with a character's story, we overlook the big message the author is trying to tell us.



We sometimes do that with the Bible as well. We get shocked when so-called "godly" people marry multiple wives, when they commit murder, when they get drunk and appear naked in front of their children. But while the Bible shows how God used these men for His greater purposes, their flaws and faults and shortcomings are important because it ultimately points to the fact that humans are sinners, and we have such a huge, huge need for grace.

It is tempting to read the Bible and say "Clearly, God wanted me to be more like these people, so what can I do to follow their example?" When we do that, we lose the plot of the bigger picture. We lose the plot that there's someone bigger, more perfect, more important to look out for. When we are hung up with Heathcliff and Cathy, we forget Hareton and Cathy Jr who are infinitely better and nobler than Heathcliff.

So with the Bible. If we focus our attention on wanting to be like Jonah, or Abraham, or XYZ, we forget Christ who became man to deal with our sins by dying on the tree, and who defeated death by being raised to life.

Go Set a Watchman

SPOILERS ahead. 

Sequels are usually not good. Sometimes it’s because it’s merely a lazy rehashing of the original. At other times, it tries to do something new and creative that fails to meld perfectly with the original plot. Most often than not, though, sequels are doomed from the very start because the audience expects – even demands – for the movie to possess all the elements of the first story, and wants these elements to surprise and astonish them anew.

When it was announced that Go Set a Watchman would be published as the sequel to Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, I was wary more than I was excited. It had been decades since Lee published her writing and she had said before that she would not be releasing any more novels after Mockingbird 

There had been huge controversy over the novel. Prior to this, Lee had not made known any plans to publish he novels. Many critics had noted that the announcement came a mere two months after the death of Lee sister and caretaker, Alice. The circumstances seem to point to Lee having been taken advantage of by lawyers, literary agents, and publishers.

Yet, putting aside the questionable publication of the novel, the novel sold like hotcakes. People were excited by the prospect of reading the sequel to a beloved classic.

Some, if not most, came out feeling disappointed.

I’ve read some of the reviews and opinions of the book, and having read the summary, I knew to expect the revelation of “another side” of Atticus Finch. A Wide Sargasso Sea-esque twist that tramples upon the reader’s original opinion of his character.

I was dreading it. I was dreading it not so much at having to witness dirt being thrown at a much adored character, but more so because I was worried that it would not be handled delicately. That it would be exaggerated. Sensationalised. And quite frankly, lame. I’ve not been impressed with Dumbledore’s “dark past”, just because the way he talked, the way he acted – his motives, his actions, really jar with what we know of him throughout the books. And I think it was even worse when he was explaining his backstory. It’s fine if he’s done a complete U-turn in his life, but Dumbledore just acted so strangely after the big reveal.

So I was readying myself for a “transformation” or a “retelling” of Atticus a la Dumbledore.

But as I read the novel, (admittedly I bought the book despite the controversy), I was pleasantly surprised. Maybe I had low expectations of the book in the first place, but I’m glad to say that the book was gripping and had me devouring its narrative quickly.

There are flaws in the novel, however. No doubt about that. For one, the cast of sparkling, diverse characters in the original is not there. We  have a few interesting characters by way of Uncle Jack and Henry Clinton, but even they were not explored in-depth for us to have insight into their inner lives. Jem, my favourite character from the original, is announced to have been dead on page 13. It was hard for me to accept.

The writing, crisp and smooth in the original, is uneven here. There are passages that are downright clever. But there was a lack of clear structuring, a lack of pruning. There were times when Lee used more Modernist techniques like stream-of-consciousness, or even pastiche by weaving in little ditties or hymns. But these seem really out of place with the rest of the novel.

There can be a lack of subtlety in the language as well. Everything seems to be right on the surface. While in the original – poignancy was overlaid with a host of other emotions, this novel can at certain points seem like a hysterical rant.

Yet despite its technical failings, the novel could have potentially been a great artistic masterpiece simply because the ideas and complicated tensions it raises are in truth much richer than that of the original. Writer Ursula Le Guin notes that Lee explores a lot of questions the original evades. In TKAM, right was right and wrong was wrong. Atticus was the hero that every reader was rooting for, and it was easy for us to pledge our allegiance to him.

But what I love about this novel is not that we are given new “horrifying insight” into Atticus. Jean Louis had her perception of Atticus crumble, as do ours. But I thought Lee handled this shift brilliantly. Atticus did not pull a 180-degree turn, he didn’t have a dark history that we stumble upon, he wasn’t secretly racist all this while.

Atticus wasn’t a Dumbledore. He didn’t suddenly act strangely after the big reveal. He was still him, everything he says or does is in keeping with the character we know.

In the novel, Jean Louise becomes disillusioned when she discovers her father, who had defended a black man who was falsely accused of rape, is fighting against a Supreme Court’s decision to declare state laws establishing segregation as unconstitutional.

Yet the “moral case” here is less straightforward. I don’t personally agree with Uncle Jack’s assertion that “every man’s watchman” is his own conscience or that there is no such thing as a “collective conscious”. In short, I don’t think that ethics and values are relative or subjective. But I think that Lee was fleshing out the implications of imposing moral values upon people who live by a different ethical coda.

There are those who are utterly sickened by the thought that Atticus would oppose the Supreme Court’s decision, or the efforts of the NAACP, the organisation that serves to advance the education and rights of African-Americans. Yet Atticus challenges the normative views by raising interesting questions. Can what the Supreme Court decrees be imposed upon counties in the South – whose sociological fabric is much different from that of its northern neighbours? Does the NAACP care about how to systematically bring about education and welfare of the blacks in the South, or are they merely concerned with giving unlimited democratic power to a group who may or may not be ready to govern themselves?

I think what was interesting too is how Jean Louise goes from railing against the racism of her family, to realising her own bigotry. As much as Jean Louise is disillusioned about her father’s moral judgment, it was a great moment when she had realised her quickness in shunning the opinions of others. Her inability to give elbow room for the opinions of others ironically exposed her fragile faith in her own convictions. If one were to truly hold strong to one’s belief, accepting and understanding (though not necessarily conforming to) other views becomes okay.

I think I was especially enraptured by the novel, given the current political climate in the US. I see some parallels in the way members from both parties dismiss the views of the other. And the way some label those from the South as uneducated and ignorant; and how those from the North are labelled as being uppity and “elitist” to an extent. Instead of coming into a dialogue with them, they have shut them off.

These were interesting issues that have huge relevance in our time as much as in Lee’s. Had it been crafted more lovingly, it would have been a  perfect standalone book.

The thing is, however, this “sequel” was actually the first draft for To Kill a Mockingbird, lending greater credence to the assertion that Lee had been coerced into publishing it. I detest sensationalism, and how sequels have typically been marketed to offer a “retelling” that most often than not should have remained untold.

But I think keeping in mind how Lee used this draft as a means to shape her ideas for TKAM, the novel doesn’t disappoint. In fact, some of the complex questions it raises adds to the novel rather than detracts from it. It is a message of seeing things through the eyes of another, which is drawn out in the original, but explored in a more layered, nuanced way in this draft-sequel. 

Peninsula: A Story of Malaysia

People move about fluidly nowadays, so much so that mobility is seen as a gateway to happiness and fulfilment, and is even regarded as a right. Never has the adage “the world is your oyster” been more real than in this century, in an increasingly cosmopolitan society stirred up to seek fortunes, security, and adventures the globe over. To settle down in one place seems too confining, too suffocating, too constraining.

Yet this book reminds us that no matter how far our travails take us, a piece of our heart is still attached to that place we call our homeland. Rehman Rashid takes us on a journey through Malaysia:  literally, through reporting the tangible scenes, facts, histories of different places in Malaysia; and literarily, through blending his keen insight of Malaysia’s socio-political climate with the compilation of anecdotes and stories that he’s gleaned from the land.

The book doesn’t just sit in the memoir category. The author’s skills as a journalist are drawn out by the extensive research he’s done, and the rational, astute observations he makes on the beauty and ugliness of Malaysia. Yet, the tapestry of loaded details, references, and allusions that he’s woven into this memoir resists prosaicism. There is such emotion, such poignancy dripping from the words that it truly feels like you are sitting with the author, listening to him as he tells his story. In this book, the author makes a sweeping exploration of the land, conducted both temporally and geographically. The result of that twofold exploration is the story of Malaysia, carefully lifted out from the dusty forgotten annals of history, and breathed out in all its heartbreaking splendour. 

Mere Christianity

Mere Christianity is one of those books that has become such a huge Christian classic, that it is not unusual to find its numerous quotable quotes inserted into sermons, shared on Facebook, or discussed among Christian friends. Its words are almost ubiquitous amongst Christian circles. Knowing our own proclivity to dull ourselves to what we think we already know, it is important to (re)read this gem with fresh eyes and an open mind.

C. S. Lewis challenges those who dismiss Christianity as merely another religion or those who are apathetic towards it, while clarifying the basics of the Christian faith for the believer. What is so wonderful about this book is Lewis’ commitment to keep his language simple, using everyday metaphors to illustrate a point. Yet the message of which he is speaking is profound, and his treatment of the subject matter is rational, incisive, careful. He organizes his thoughts in such a clear, precise manner – bringing us from the notion of sin, to pointing out the solution found in Christ, to declaring the gospel-centred life Christians can live. Despite the meticulous way he structures his broadcasts and essays, this book never lacks heart. Whatever he writes, he writes with the greatest sincerity.

The word “mere” in the title might fool one into thinking that this is a straightforward and easy explanation of the Christian faith. But what we have is a grand tour de force of the Christian belief. It is a book that is not easy to read, for it deals with things close to the heart, and is thus are hard to swallow. Yet, its one key message is simple and plain: God, in the person of Jesus, came to save us, sinners, by dying on the cross and being raised to life. 

"I'll have my bond": The Concept of Justice in The Merchant of Venice

The Merchant of Venice is so often seen as a commentary of anti-Semitism that it's hard to see the message of the play as anything but. The play's most famous line "If you prick us, do we not bleed?" seems to affirm Shakespeare's sympathies towards Jews.

But alas, the meaning of a play does not hinge upon the popularity of one line (or, more accurately, a few lines, as in Shylock's speech). No doubt Shakespeare shows that he disdains prejudices or anti-Semitism through these famous words; but I would argue that he writes these words not because he is trying to paint a favourable picture of Shylock. Apart from this scene, Shylock is not meant to be likable; and in fact, throughout the play, he is depicted as the antagonist.

This isn't to say that Shakespeare himself was anti-Semitic. In fact, these lines do clearly show the awareness that Shakespeare has towards the individuality and humanity of Jews. But I read these lines as a sort of disclaimer to say that he is not prejudiced against Jewish people, before he finally moves on to address the meaning of the play.

It is interesting that Shylock's speech, starting out as a plea of for sympathy, for some human connection, dissolves into this angry diatribe about revenge. And I think why Shylock's speech ended the way it did was because, although Shakespeare is not insulting Jews per se (as we remember from his "disclaimer"), he is trying to show the skewed concept of justice that we as humans have.

The play as a whole teases out the tension between the supposed dichotomy of justice and grace. It seems as if they are both opposing ends of a spectrum, and are generally irreconcilable. And the danger is when people fall into either extremes. On one end, there is the exacting, self-righteous, sanctimonious Shylock, who wants justice and disdains mercy, without realising that he himself is in need of grace too. As Portia (disguised as Balthazar) tells Shylock,

"Though justice be thy plea, consider this:
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy."

But Shylock is unable to see this. He is unable to understand the concept of grace. So when Portia finally turns the law against him, he sees how much he falls short of it, and how he too cannot be perfect under the cold, hard law.

But this does not in any sense mean that Shakespeare is endorsing lawlessness, or that the law should be ignored. That would be veering to the other extreme: to think that the law could be bent, flouted, ignored, or twisted to how we want it to be is equally dangerous. There is this part which I found really significant,

Bassanio:     [...] And, I beseech you, / Wrest once the law to your authority. /  To do a great right, do a little wrong, / And curb this cruel devil of his will.

Portia:           It must not be. There is no power in Venice / Can alter a decree established. / 'Twill be recorded for a precedent, / And many an error by the same example / Will rush into the state. / It cannot be.

Very adamantly, Portia says that the law cannot be wrested, as Bassanio advises her to do. The law cannot simply be done away with.

What Shakespeare is basically getting at here is that "mercy seasons justice", that the notions of grace and justice are not antithetical... at least not in a Christian context. Grace does not supplant the law. Without understanding the law, without understanding how far we all have fallen short of adhering to it, we would not be able to understand our need for grace.

Measure for Measure deals with a lot of the same themes as well, and it's interesting that Shakespeare draws his title from Matthew 7:2, hinting at the hypocrisy of humans who demand justice, when we too are found wanting. In this play, there is more explicitly the depiction of grace as being something given, something granted by the offended person. It's interesting that the spotlight is on the Duke in this trial, which points to the importance of a judge, of a person who is able to interpret the law correctly, who doesn't make a calculated decision that is literally by-the-law, but instead judges based on the character of the guilty as well. What does means is that grace is given to those who are repentant (Angelo), and that justice is dealt to those who aren't (Luccio). The Law alone is not a sufficient judge of who is in the wrong or in the right - because a person's intentions, attitudes, motivations factor into a crime. It takes a judge to be able to weigh up all these factors and decree the appropriate sentence. That is the original principle of "measure for measure", "eye for an eye" statement in the Old Testament that many people distorted. It wasn't advocating retribution or revenge, it was in fact showing how the punishment should befit the crime. Thus, the play ends with the Duke, the allegory of God, who metes out justice and grace accordingly, by his perfect and impartial judgment.

The Economics of The Iron Heel

The Iron Heel is not one of those books that a person reads for leisure; a huge chunk of the book is devoted to intellectual / philosophical discussions about socialism, and at times it reads more like a socialist tract than an actual novel. But despite the dry, academic tone in certain chapters, The Iron Heel does posit solid, logical arguments for socialism, and it helps that some of the supporting evidence for socialism - and even its objections - are dramatized through dialogue. It’s certainly livelier reading the arguments and counter-arguments through the lenses of different characters, than if I were to read an economics textbook, for instance.

One chapter I found fascinating was “The Mathematics of a Dream”, because it explained in such simple terms the unsustainability and shortcomings of a purely capitalist system. The basic premise is that because capital begets capital (i.e. retained earnings, profits), this leads to it being reinvested in other ventures –  by bonds, shares, etc. Eventually the amount of capital accumulates, and other industries and markets have to be searched out in order to dispose of the excess capital. But what happens when all the industries in your country are thriving? When you hit saturation point? You would then have to go on investing in “developing” countries, and so on and so forth. But these countries would go on to become developed themselves, and soon would be searching out other countries in which to invest. Ultimately, everyone would run out of space and countries to dump their excess capital. And eventually an economic slump is created.  

I don’t presume to be an expert in economics. But in my own simple understanding, I think that as much as Jack London manages to point out many flaws in the capitalist system (the wastefulness, the misallocation of resources, the pitting of labour against capital), I’m not entirely convinced that socialism is the be-all, end-all solution to the problem.

One of the things that London foresees is the rise of labour castes. He narrates that there will be skilled labourers who abandon the socialist cause in exchange for higher pay, higher job security, benefits like housing, etc. In today’s terms, they would be the white-collar workers. London portrays them as traitors, and that there will be very strong altercations between them and the proletariat, or the blue-collar worker. But what London didn’t anticipate is the growth in literacy rates and school attendance rates. And he certainly didn’t expect the emergence of a knowledge-economy. The demand for white-collar jobs grew, and the supply grew along with it (or vice versa). So his vision of the “proletariats” rising up in a sort of brotherhood against the skilled labourers remained only a vision. In reality, people were more concerned about becoming white-collar labourers themselves, to move upwards in the “caste” system. They didn’t want to rally against them, they wanted to join them.

London keeps forgetting the very first premise with which he himself started: that the average man is selfish. When faced with the choice, most people would opt to work within the system for the sake of his family or his own livelihood, rather than have to work against or revolutionise the system. Sounds bleak, but this was the proposition that London himself recognized, and verbalized through his main character.

This oversight, I would say, is the major flaw in his argument for socialism. In the chapter “The Machine-Breakers”, London shows what he perceives to be the foolishness of small capitalists and manufacturers. He says that they are pushing against the stream of social evolution, because although these smalltime capitalists recognize that oligarchs and big corporations are more efficient at producing goods, they are bullheaded in demanding from the government a more competitive market. It’s true that there are many laws that are in place to promote competition, and there are so many regulation bodies and watchdogs to make sure that a competitive market stays that way. But London’s idea that there is simply no place for smalltime capitalists in the economy is faulty. There are many niches in which smaller businesses and entrepreneurs can thrive, and we only have to take a look at the many small businesses and start-ups that have sprung up over the past decade to see that people don’t necessarily go for the big corporations.

I would argue, though, that the biggest flaw in London’s own argument is that socialism is the alternative to capitalism, when eerily, capitalism and socialism have similar modes of operation. If the flaw of capitalism is that power is concentrated in the hands of the rich, the flaw of socialism is that power is concentrated by those actually in charge of making decisions. Theoretically, socialism is a system in which everyone, every person, gets a say on how resources gets allocated. Practically speaking, there will only ever be a select group of people who would be involved in the actual process of distributing resources. We can take a look at Animal Farm. It starts off well enough, but to be sure, we can’t have everyone making decisions. So the decision-making power goes to the pigs. But power corrupts, and boy, does it corrupt absolutely.

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EDIT (01/02/2016) - This is an interesting quote from Herbert Spencer, a biologist-philosopher that London himself greatly admired:

Every one is from time to time surprised by others' behavior, and even by the deeds of relatives who are best known to him. Seeing, then, how uncertainly any· one can foresee the actions of an individual, how can he with any certainty foresee the operation of a social structure? He proceeds on the assumption that all concerned will judge rightly and act fairly; will think as they ought to think, and act as they ought to act; and he assumes this regardless of the daily experiences which show him that men do neither the one nor the other [...] - The Man versus the State

 

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If man is selfish, therefore, what makes the centralisation of power in the socialist system any better than the centralisation of power in the capitalist system? Can we really trust that the people in charge of making decisions in a socialist system are nobler than the ones decision-makers in a capitalist system? Ultimately, what I’m saying is that both economic systems have flaws. It may be a cop-out statement, but I think it’s essential that these two systems stop being seen as polar opposites, when both are clearly flawed, and both are clearly imperfect. 

Review: Memento (Chris Nolan)

SPOILERS

How do we find truth?

We build it upon certain, known, established facts. So it seems as though the only way to get the whole picture of the truth is by corralling different facts which surely will cohere neatly into a unified body of knowledge.

That was the premise that Memento advertised to us. It’s a movie about a man who suffers from short-term memory loss and who has to find out about the events surrounding his wife’s murder. IMDb says so. Wikipedia says so. It’s marketed as a sort of whodunit, and the audience patiently watches Leonard’s journey as he writes down clues -  “mementos” – to build a picture of the truth from the ground-up.

In any good detective fiction, it’s normal to have assumptions. You need to have assumptions to build a hypothetical scenario of how the crime happened. But the danger lies in building an entire case around pre-assumptions, i.e. prior knowledge that you think are certain and that you never questioned. From the beginning of the movie, we are told that “Teddy is a liar”. We (Leonard and the audience) take it, we don’t question it, we think it to be true. As the movie works its way forward in time, which is itself an interesting narrative device, the statement that “Teddy is not to be trusted” seems to align with what is happening. It has the appearance of truth.

But at the very end of the movie, which is when the chronological action actually starts, we see how this pre-assumption is totally wrong. Turns out… Teddy isn’t a liar. The basic premise that we’ve been operating on, is actually entirely false. Knowing this, we then see how we’ve misinterpreted every other fact that we have assimilated into our “truth” jigsaw puzzle. And the big irony is that by revealing us events from the past, the movie is depicting the danger of building our views based on past assumptions.

Even the way the movie is marketed is an example of this. The summary shows that it’s a movie about the unreliability of memory. With this “knowledge” given to them even before they watch the movie, the viewers are lulled into thinking that the major problem in this detective story is Leonard’s memory loss. We suspect that his memory will be the “tragic flaw” that will lead him and the audience astray. But we think because we know this (a pre-assumption), all we have to do to anticipate this trap and steer clear of it. In the end, however, we see how we’ve actually misread Teddy, Leonard - the entire movie - based on that one false premise we never sought to challenge. 

Avatar the Last Airbender

Went on a nostalgia trip and started binge-watching Avatar the Last Airbender again.

For so many many reasons, Aang was - or rather, is - my favourite character of the show.

I get that some people don't like him, and that some people find him annoying. I get it, I understand it, and I'm not going to force anyone to like him.

But what bugs me is when people comment on his age, use it as proof for his so-called "immaturity". He's too young for Katara not because of his personality, or anything he's actually done, but because he's... *gasp* twelve.

Apparently, for such people, a 12 year-old is old enough to master all four elements, defeat the Fire Lord, and bring peace to the world, but not old enough to love a girl only 2 years older than him.

Watching the series again, I shall reaffirm without hesitation that as much as every character has laid stakes on my little fangirl heart (with the exception of Combustion Man), Aang's stake is undeniably the largest. He's so different from other protagonists I've seen from other shows. Aang was a character who had as many flaws as he has commendable qualities.He wasn't a brooding, anguished kid, but he wasn't a naive, goofy kid either. He's made mistakes, he carries around his brand of shame and guilt; but instead of letting it weigh him down, he turns it into motivation for helping others, for helping the world.

He has seen the world in all its ugliness and brokenness, but yet possesses the courage, the audacity, to smile, to laugh, and to cling onto the good and the beauty.


#seriousfangirlposts

50th Anniversary of the Sound of Music

50 years - I cannot believe that 2015 marks the 50th anniversary of the Sound of Music. I remember how the beautiful landscape, the timeless songs, the lovable characters, humour, the warmth. Just everything about it is perfect. I will never tire of this movie, nor its songs.

Excuse me, as I cry in a corner. THE FEELS ARE JUST TOO STRONG.

Michelle Kwan

Just a quick gushing session on how wonderfully exuberant Michelle Kwan is on the ice. I've never really seen videos of her performance before, all I know is "Oh yeah Michelle Kwan, she's a world-class figure skater".

But yesterday for some strange reason I decided to look up Yuna Kim on YouTube and that led me to old videos of Michelle's performance and may I say that it is the most powerful, joyful, beautiful performance that I've seen in figure skating. Granted, I haven't seen very many, but there is just such passion and joy radiating from her as she glides on the ice. See her leaps and bounds, look at her as she spins and floats away, witness how her very soul seems to transcend her physical body and swell up in a crescendo reaching beyond the confines of the skating rink.

It seems as though that there on the ice, she finds such happiness and release. It's breathtaking to watch.

Twelfth Night

     I found myself actually being really entertained as I was reading this play. As in, even laughing out loud at certain parts. For me, it was hilarious because I can totally envision the characters and the comedic timing and the dialogue,  just - everything. The plot worked out so nicely, with Sebastian and Viola being mistaken for the other. And at first, I was a bit annoyed at the subplot of Malvolio, but the whole bit with his cross garters and yellow stockings really got me laughing hard (Come on, it was pretty funny!). Plus who could forget the clown & co. just locking Malvolio up and playing mind games with him.

     And of course, it has many elements that comedic films have stolen of late. Cases of mistaken identity, for instance. Someone disguises himself / herself as someone else, and humorous misunderstandings ensue. O goodness, and of course playing pranks on an unlikable character always goes a long way towards being comedic gold.

     Haven't really unpacked all of the little intricacies of the play yet, but other things I liked was the fact that the female characters of the play were really strong, independent ladies. Viola and Olivia were great, smart ladies, able to stand on their own. Plus, I love that despite the clown being - well - a clown, he was the one dispensing little nuggets of wisdom from time to time.

     Loved reading this comedy, and quite looking forward to reading the others!

   

Soundtrack of my Summer

     Soundtracks of movies are my jam right now. I'm currently playing the "How to Train Your Dragon" (both 1 and 2) soundtrack over and over again. John Powell is an amazing composer, and I just loved how he infused such beautiful instruments together and created just the right atmosphere and tone for the movie. Plus, he makes Viking music sound pretty awesome, with the bagpipes in all their glory (I do believe they're bagpipes - they sure sound like them). And with the release of HTTYD2, I'm just so enthralled by the way he layers the new tunes with hints of the old, giving a fuller sound to it. 


     It never really occurred to me before this how much soundtracks just shape the mood and the whole texture of a movie. And when I replay them, they take me back to the emotions and feelings that I've experienced when I was actually watching the movies. And some of the soundtracks that I've fallen in love with is of course Disney soundtracks, Slumdog Millionaire, Guardians of the Galaxy, (500) Days of Summer, Lord of the Rings, Shakespeare in Love, etc. Such memorable soundtracks, enough to make you feel as if your soul is swelling up within you.

Transformers 4

Spoilers ahoy!     

     Honestly, there were so many things about this movie that make my blood boil at the fact that I've wasted a good three hours watching it. First of all: the plot. It seemed like a promising one at first, the Autobots were being hunted down and being labelled as threats even though they were clearly not. And everything seems set for a perfect action movie with the introduction of lead characters who are engineers/inventors, who might actually be able to contribute to the action. 

     Alas, it was too good to be true. 

     Elephant-sized plot holes started appearing all around. Like the fact that Cade managed to fix a critically wounded Optimus Prime in less than a day. Or the fact that Cade is able to contact Joshua Joyce out of nowhere. Because Cade apparently has the magic superpower of dodging plot holes. Plain weirdness and non-common sense reigned for about 98% of the film. Like the weird transition to China, and the convenient dino bot thingos, and the super awkward fact that the main antagonist - Harold Attinger - wanted to combat aliens by employing the help of other aliens...? Seriously, who wrote this script?

    Interesting characters gradually became paper-thin 2D characters by the end of the movie rather than being carefully and lovingly fleshed out. Tessa's character could have the potential to become the next Megan Fox character - a cool, beautiful chick who knows her way around machines and who could actually be useful to the team. But nooooo. She had to be used as the pretty face. Her character was interesting at first, she had to take care of her dad, she had to get a scholarship to go to college, her dad even said that he taught her all she needed to know about mechanics and machines. But urgh, was she a letdown. She was just used by Michael Bay as the mandatory pretty face, one whom Bay, by the way, consistently remind us is only sixteen years old. Oh gosh, if she had to be pretty poster girl, could he at least have her be a little street smart? She ran into a car which was right smack in the middle of a battle between Optimus Prime and Lockdown. Shouldn't she, I don't know, run away from the car instead? Ooh and when everyone's running for their lives, trying to escape Lockdown's ship, she suddenly has to freak out and provide an opportunity for those alien hounds to run after them.

     Shane was an inconsistent character, I don't even know what to think of him. One time he's saying he would do anything for Tessa and the next he's surrendering to the aliens. Meh. Joshua and Cade's characters are alright, but still I don't care for them much. Mostly, I was just annoyed at them though.And then there're side characters who are just hovering in the periphery of the main plot, not far enough for us to dismiss them but not near enough for us to care for them. There was Yueming, Darcy, and Lucas, all given a fair amount of screen time, but enough for us to develop any sort of liking towards them. 

    And my goodness. The movie was sooooooo long that I literally fell asleep. There was just too much going on and the way that the plot progresses was just so confused and hazy. When the Autobots manage to defeat those robots in Hong Kong, I was elated. It was like, "yes finally the battle is over!" Then Lockwood's ship started rolling in, and I could feel my heart just burst into tears. Then I settled in for a good nap, waking up at the end of the movie when the Autobots and humans were saying their goodbyes.
     Perhaps the only thing I liked about this film is the scenes with just the robots, sans the humans. The Autobots were interesting and they had a nice dynamic between the different characters. I can actually tell them apart now, which is a huge improvement from the previous movies. But it's really rather sad of a movie when the only thing good about it is the CGI-ed robot interactions rather than the acting skills of live humans. Ah well, maybe that's why even Optimus Prime decides to leave earth by the end of the movie. Perhaps he's had enough of Bay's shenanigans.