Summa Elvetica, by Theodore Beale
For those who know and are worrying; yes, I know what I’m doing here. Well, kinda. But I figure my weight in the literary world is non-existent, so it really doesn’t matter.
When I asked my writers’ group if anyone had a copy of Summa Elvetica to borrow, I got an interesting response. Yes, they’d heard of it. Yes, they knew of several people who had purchased or received the book. And, yes, there was a copy I could borrow.
And no one in the group knew of anyone personally who had read beyond the first few chapters.
I took that as a challenge.
In the Author’s Notes, it reads:
This novel did not proceed according to plan. It was originally conceived as a [sic] epic philosophical trilogy, in which the reader would be immersed in medieval scholastic thought and explore various facets of some of the great philosophical debates that took place both within and without the Catholic Church.
To be honest, this is actually what I expected (no, really!). Instead, we get a nice little story nestled in the framework of a theological conundrum. My only post-high school philosophy class was taught by an incomprehensible German professor with the handwriting of a five-year old and the physique of a Weeble Wobble.* So I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to follow the plot. Turns out, I needed more knowledge of the Catholic Church than the philosophy, which was interwoven more organically into the story than the Latin (really could have used a glossary here).
I think this is the type of book that you can read for the story, or meditate upon for the deeper structure over which the author so painstakingly labored. It’s my understanding that the author relied on Thomas Aquinas’s foundation of thought. Pulling down the family Wikipedia **, I find Thomas placed more emphasis on reason and experience and less on revelation and instinct.
(And here we leave the review of the book and get more into an invitation for philosophical discussion.)
That line of thought—using reason to define reality—both entices me and scares my pants off. We are products of our environment, I suppose, and mine has been…discordant. One half of the family takes their interpretation of the world around them to its most logical conclusion: the doorstep of the local militia. The other side hosts pacifist Quakers. The words of my grandma’s second husband, a retired preacher, float above the fray: “When all else fails, err on the side of compassion.” Which, I think, suited my personality nicely. I can talk and discuss and argue with the best of them, but I leave logically derived absolutes for engineering and (sometimes) balancing my checkbook.
Discuss.
(OK, we’re back.)
In an interview with Marcher Lord Press’s Jeff Gerke (through which I discovered this illustrious site and all you fine Hobbitses), it’s mentioned the author uses short stories to help develop the world of the novel. Two are included in the back of the book. They are cohesive, fast-paced background pieces; don’t skip them.
Jeff Gerke posits that most Christian fiction authors (if not books) are drawn to one of two miens: reaching the lost or edifying believers. Summa Elvetica is the former. In fact, so much emphasis is given to trying to convince the Elves that God exists it makes me wonder if a better title wouldn’t be Summa Dei. I didn’t see too much discussion on the title issue (do Elves have souls?) beyond the first two Appendices where the point is argued and concluded.
Being as unfamiliar with Catholicism and philosophy as I am, I’m sure I missed quite a bit. But Summa Elvetica is a good read. Don’t be afraid of it.
* Not that one’s physique reflects upon either one’s teaching ability or intellectual acumen.
** Not original to me, but to an Eastern Orthodox Bishop who goes by the name of seraphimsigrist on LiveJournal and publishes entertaining posts about photographs, his trips to Moscow, flamenco music, and Don Quixote.
The Vanishing Sculptor, by Donita K. Paul
In the spirit of semi-full disclosure, I should mention I am not an impartial reviewer of anything Donita K. Paul writes. The fact I’m reviewing this book less than two months after its first printing should tell you something. The fact the title page is embossed with a sparkly orange inscription should tell you something else. (Besides the fact that her sparkly purple pen must have been out of ink.) And the fact that I didn’t pay for my copy…?
The Vanishing Sculptor is set in the same world as Paul's Dragon Chronicles series, but on the other side of the world. Whereas the Dragon Chronicles books felt more to me like an “edifying the church” kind of deal (I have described the series as Anne McCaffrey meets Jan Karon), so far, this series is more evangelistic. The Dragon Chronicles dealt with introducing the main character (Kale) to her allegorically-Christian roots; this series follows the introduction of the God-allegory Wulder and the manifestation of His church, Paladin,*** to a new country.
Interesting characters abound including Tipper, a young woman trying desperately to hold her world together despite a missing father and a…confused…mother. And Tipper’s best friend and guardian, Beccaroon, a talking parrot. The wizard Fenworth and his librarian Librettowit promise to be major players in the series, as well.
Insider information: The last scene, an emotional, heart-wrenching encounter, was written in Beccaroon’s POV and not Tipper’s because the author’s daughter refuses to allow her mother’s writing to fall into anything resembling mush. And, due to overwhelming request, the author does promise to attempt an entire conversation between Wizard Fenworth and Tipper’s mother, Lady Peg. Personally, I can’t wait.
Despite the Dragon Chronicles’ spiritual growth bent, the allegory was subtle enough that the books found themselves in the hands of many non-Christians (and, indeed, in the local B&N the books are in the Sci Fi/Fantasy section – not Christian Fiction) who delved more deeply and accepted Christ. It will be interesting to see where this new series goes.
*** Totally didn’t get that until a friend explained it to me. Paladin is not meant to be Jesus, but the strength, guidance, and good will of the church body – both wise and misguided.
Soon I Will Be Invincible, by Austin Grossman
~brb personally chose this book for me to read. It’s a little disconcerting how well he seems to know me.
The book is a confusing mess. Two first-person narrators alternate chapters within the book and alternate between a somewhat shallow plot and flashbacks within each chapter. A third of the way through, the word melancholy came to mind, and stuck. The characters are fairly generic and not overly original. (Can you create a truly original super-hero or villain anymore?)
No matter. It’s beautiful. It’s what Captain Freedom attempts to be and fails. It shows the real, unrelenting, humanity of people empowered—and cursed—by circumstance or genetics with super-human powers. It takes stock characters and opens up their souls to reveal ourselves.
OK. That was probably over the top.
Anyway, I really liked it. Check it out.
(And, I promise, I had not read this book when I wrote my entry for the latest snowdog challenge. If I had read the book first, I probably wouldn’t have attempted the story.)
Kersley Fitzgerald is an unpublished wannabe who hangs around Christian Speculative sites, hoping something will rub off and make her ridiculously successful so her husband can retire from the Air Force and take his dream job as a barista at Starbucks. After receiving a degree in make-a-nickle engineering (which she's never used), she spent four years as an aircraft maintenance officer in the Air Force (which she was horrible at). She now lives in Colorado Springs, home to two out of every three wannabe Christian writers, with her aforementioned husband, her eight-year old Thai son, and The World's Most Neurotic Dog™.
Posts
