Fiction Writing Reading List

So I’ve promised my famous writer friend Jacqui Robbins that I will continue to read to the end of her 15 Classics in 15 Weeks challenge (no matter how long it takes; the challenge began in Summer 2008), and I’ve promised Fr. Tyler that I will read a favorite of his, Brideshead Revisited, next (especially since his first recommendation, East of Eden, proved to be perhaps the best thing I’ve ever read). And so I shall.

In the meantime, however, I’m diving headlong into fiction writing, because, quite frankly, it’s about damn time. Sorry, Coach Robbins, this isn’t the book you’ve seen parts of. This one requires more from me, but it’s already giving more in return. I’ll say no more, except that it’ll be like nothing I’ve every seen before, and I’ve compiled a reading list, along with a few flicks, to help guide this journey. (If you make it to the end of the list, I have a few questions for you.)

Books (in no particular order):

Goethe’s Faust (and other tellings)
The Spiritual Combat by Dom Lorenzo Scupoli
The Book of Job
The Book of Tobit
Genesis Chapter 32: Jacob wrestles the angel
The Book of Revelation
The Rite: The Making of a Modern Exorcist by Matt Baglio
Silence by Shusako Endo
Shogun by James Clavell
Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai
The Way of the Samurai by Richard Storry
Black Mass: The True Story of an Unholy Alliance Between the FBI and the Irish Mob
The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum
Understanding Comics and Reinventing Comics by Scott McCloud

Movies and Television (also in no particular order):

Ghost Dog (1999)
Twilight Samurai (2002)
The Godfather series
The Departed (2006)
Scarface (1932)
Angels with Dirty Faces (1938)
The General (1998)
Road to Perdition (2002)
St. Valentine’s Day Massacre (1967)
Gangs of New York (2002)
Kung Fu (seasons 1-3)

That’s a decent hodge-podge of material, isn’t it? Now, the questions I have for you (all three of you):

  • Does anyone know of a solid (ideally non-fiction) account of the relationship between the Catholic Church and the mafia or Irish mob?
  • How about organized crime and the occult? (But I don’t want to go too far down the rabbit-hole.)
  • How about recommendations of books or films about saints, especially St. Nicholas (not Santa so much) or other saints and their intercessory roles after death?
  • Good explication of the biblical books and accounts above: Job, Tobit, Jacob and the Angel, the origins and history of belief around St. Michael?
  • Accounts of missionaries and martyrs in Japan (in addition to Silence)?
  • Does anyone have any of the movies listed that they would be willing to loan to me?
  • Other stories about ancient beliefs and codes colliding, sold souls, angels and demons in our world, evil appearing to be good, love and loss, fathers going to great lengths to protect their children? Recommendations?
Much of the material above is adult-oriented, but this book will not be. Basically, it’s a fantasy about a boy who is trying to regain his deceased mother and a distraught father trying to regain his lost son. With St. Nick and a samurai thrown in. As wacky as it all sounds, I think it’s gonna be deeply personal, even though it’s nothing like my life.
It’s going to be terrible, isn’t it? But you’ll still read it, won’t you?

The Second Third, Week 40: Put Up or Shut Up

This will be my final Second Third post. I had planned 52 – one per week of this 36th year of life – outlining things about myself that I hoped to cultivate or cull, change or discover, in the years between now and age 70, when I enter my third Third: the long glide to age 105, which seems like a good age to wrap things up. However, over the course of the past 40 weeks or so, I’ve noticed something: these posts are adding up to summary of The Jim In My Head (TJIMH) – the best version of me I’ve been able to conceive of, a man happy, convicted, faithful, healthy, and (most importantly) deeply content.

I used to think I was not TJIMH because he is perfect and I am not, but in the course of the last few days I was struck with a revelation: TJIMH is not perfect. He merely tries harder. I am not TJIMH because I have never tried to be. Never, even for one day, let alone many days. I have become a better husband and father (two important aspects of TJIMH) in the past few years because I decided to be, and made changes in my life to do so. I am out of shape and sore, an unpublished poet and an incomplete novelist, an occasional fisherman and infrequent hunter, because I don’t push myself in the same way. I am dissatisfied, not with the hand I’ve been dealt, but with how I am playing it.
When I was younger and tried to teach teens to write well, I used to quote Shakespeare’s Macbeth (admittedly completely out of context): “Be bloody, bold, and resolute.” Today, given the political sensitivities of even my new my job, I am painfully cautious what I publish on these pages. When colleagues in my new workplace ask what I want to be, I laugh, shake my head, and say, “Well, if I didn’t have a family to feed, I’d be writing fiction.” I’m almost apologetic, and I told a new friend the other day that it’s tough to commit extra time to completing a novel that “may never amount to anything.”
Bloody, bold, and resolute?
My last post was about getting in shape physically. This is about getting in shape mentally – and not wasting time and energy on activities that don’t make me a better writer, husband, father, man. I am a writer, and I am going to complete a novel. I don’t have time for another dozen navel-gazing Second Third posts. Got a problem with that?

The Second Third, Week 39: No Sympathy for Sympathy Weight

I’ve heard these hardheaded Russian devils eat fat. In my Second Third, I hope to feed it well.
My senior year of high school, I stood about six feet, two inches. During football season that fall, I weighed around 175 pounds; I started wrestling season alternating between 171 and 189 — wherever the team needed me — and by midseason I was a lean, mean 152 pounds, wrestling 160, 171, and 189, plugging holes in the lineup to keep us from forfeiting. I could make weight with my gear on most days, was well-fed, had good energy — and wrestled my best season (which was only a little above .500, but still…).

A year later I entered an intramural wrestling tournament at Yale, weighing in at around 185. All-you-can-eat dining halls and student lethargy were taking their toll; was exhausted even wrestling short periods, and threw up in a snowbank after my first.

I was still hovering under 200 when Jodi and I met in Wall. We married, settled in a bit, started having kids…and I have always joked that I put on sympathy weight with each child, only unlike Jodi, I’ve never taken it back off. This explains why, 15 years after we married, I’ve gained 40 plus pounds. Ten per child, see?

I’m told by friends that there’s no way I weigh 240 these days; when I insist, they say I carry it well. Perhaps so (and thanks!) — but what had long been a joke seems less funny this summer. After seven years, we’re expecting again, and I feel as though I’ve been busier and more active than I’ve been in a long time — except that the scale today is pushing 250.

Two hundred and fifty pounds? An eighth of a ton?!

I’m 36. I don’t have the energy to pack that extra weight around for no reason. Plus my 13-year-old is getting bigger, faster, and stronger by the minute. Thus far I still intimidate him. I need to keep it that way — but more Chewbacca, and less Jabba the Hutt.

So. My training komrade is a 35-pound cannon ball with a handle. It’s simple, compact, and I’m told it will kill me or cure me. I say cure, since I plan to live to 105. Wish me luck.

(Pro) Life, Without Religion, Part 2: A Little … Something

Inspired by recent ultrasounds of our tiny child resting peacefully in utero, last month I shared my response to a common abortion-rights argument: “It’s my body; it’s my choice.” In that post, I argued that, in no way could an embryo or fetus be considered the mother’s body, or even part of the mother’s body.

The question remains, then: what is it? A few possibilities come to mind: it may be a bit of foreign debris or tissue; it may be a tumor (benign or malignant); it may be nonhuman organism (like a parasite or symbiotic microorganism); or, it may be Homo sapiens – a human organism. I’ll address these possibilities one at a time:

  • Foreign debris or foreign tissue. If an embryo were nothing more than a bit of foreign matter that had somehow found its within the woman, it makes sense that her body would respond accordingly, targeting the embryo in the same way it might a sliver or a piece of shrapnel, either to eliminate it from the body or encapsulate and neutralize it. Of course, an embryo consists of living cells, so the body does not react to it as thought it were a simply a foreign object. If an embryo were living, foreign tissue, it makes sense that the woman’s immune system might react negatively to it, in the same way that it might reject a donor organ. In fact, in the vast majority of cases, the woman’s body does the opposite, suppressing it’s own immune system and laboring to provide a protective, nurturing environment and nutrients to encourage growth and development of the embryo. It is true that in certain cases (e.g., an Rh-negative mother carrying an Rh-positive fetus), the woman’s immune system may react to presence of Rh-factor in the fetus’s blood, sometimes leading to death of the fetus – however, most of the population (approximately 85 percent, I believe) is Rh-positive, so such a reaction is certainly not the norm. Nor does it change the fact that the woman’s body continues to try to accomodate the fetus even as antibodies in her blood attack the fetus’s red blood cells.
  • Benign or malignant tumor. I’ve heard it more than once “It’s just a ball of cells.” Actually, I did a little reading for this post to help ensure I’m using the right terminology, and learned that tumors are more commonly defined as a neoplasm that has formed a “lump” – and a neoplasm is a new and abnormal growth or proliferation of cells not coordinated with the body’s healthy tissue. Is an embryo a neoplasm? It is certainly a new proliferation of cells, but typically (left to its own devices), its growth is in clockwork coordination with the healthy tissue around it; in fact, the surrounding, healthy tissues of the woman’s body (left to their own devices) change to become more accommodating to the new growth – again, encouraging growth and development. To quote Arnold Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop: “It’s not a tumah!
  • Parasite or other nonhuman organism. An embryo or fetus certainly derives nutrients and protection, and at some cost the woman in whose body it resides – but is it a parasite (like a tapeworm) or some other symbiotic nonhuman organism (like our gut flora and other bacteria that exist on or in our body and are beneficial or neutral to our health and well-being)? First, consider that non-human organisms (parasitic or otherwise) are not native to us nor do they spontaneously generate within us. Instead, they are acquired. Even our gut flora are acquired at birth and rapidly afterward, from our mothers and the environment. An embryo, on the other hand, is not something caught from another person or acquired from the environment which then colonizes the uterus. And while it takes the introduction of a male gamete to fertilize an egg and ultimately form an embryo, even sperm cells cannot be considered parasites or symbiotic organisms – they have a short-life span and cannot reproduce themselves or “colonize” the woman on their own; those that do not fertilize an egg ultimately die off and are eliminated.
  • Human organism. To review, start where you like: a zygote, an embryo, or a fetus. Clearly these are not non-living things; they are living cells that use nutrients and multiply. If it were merely foreign tissue or an infection, the woman’s body would work to destroy it – no abortion necessary. If it were a parasite or symbiotic organism, it would be acquired externally, not formed internally from two cells whose sole function is reproduction. Now, consider that when a sperm and egg unite and form a zygote, the result is genetically identifiable as human – 23 pairs of chromosomes is the norm, but even some variation in this number (as in the case of Down Syndrome), when permitted to develop, can result in a viable independent organism that we would recognize as human. Some will argue that a skin cell, or an eyelash, or a cancer cell might be alive and genetically human, but we kill those all the time; certainly that isn’t murder, is it?  Of course not. But as we’ve already established, an embryo clearly is not any part of the woman’s body (it’s not even a genetic match) nor is it a tumor (it is developing in coordination with the woman’s body and the result will be a viable, independent human organism). Without a doubt, an embryo is a living, human organism.
Even some abortion supporters make it this far. At this point, the arguments become much more philosophical: abortion supporters claim is that this human organism is not a human being – it is a genetically human living thing, but only a potential human being. This raises a fundamental question: What makes a human organism a human being? I’ll share how my pre-religious mind tackled that question in my next post on this topic.

The Second Third, Week 38: Being Cross Versus Bearing Cross

I’ve had a number of conversations in recent months about the delicate ethics and art of downsizing one’s list of Facebook friends. Some are aghast that I would ever do such a thing; others wonder why I would accept the Facebook friendship of someone I might later “unfriend” in the first place. I try to assure them that, in most cases, it isn’t personal. I generally accept friend requests from anyone I am acquainted with; if, after the initial reconnect, we appear to no longer have anything to say over a period of several months, I may unfriend them. “Unfriend” is an unnecessarily harsh term – as I see it, we are just as close as we were before Facebook; we just don’t have to wade through extra content not meant for, or meaningful to, us.

In a few rare instances, however, I have unfriended folks on Facebook because being around is just too difficult. Perhaps our views are so different that I find myself constantly biting my tongue to not start a fight. Perhaps they expect too much interaction, when I don’t feel as connected or close. And truth be told, this happens in the real world, too. The older I get, the more disinclined I am to spend time around people who inspire tension or unease in my life.

I struggle a bit with this. Occasionally, I’ll feel an “unfriendly” impulse, only to, upon further reflection, realize that I am simply being impatient or selfish, and that I must take a deep breath and respond to this person as all people deserve..with love. But it’s a fine line between bearing a cross and loving my neighbor or my enemy, and simply being cross – enduring the company of a person who, without reservation or apology, pushes all my buttons and brings out the worst in me, to the chagrin or detriment of those for whom I care.

The other day I left my office and walked to rest room, passing, in the process, a person who had long been a thorn in the side of my colleagues and I during a previous job. With welcome relief, I noted that my blood pressure didn’t rise when I saw our former adversary; in my new role, these past conflicts were no longer relevant, and so the person was just a person, and I was free to have no opinion.

That, to me, is what I hope to better embrace in my Second Third: who to embrace, who to avoid, and when to gracefully bow out and feel free to have no opinion. I hope the latter option because increasingly prevalent, because each of the former two is exhausting in its own right.