Review of Legion; posted @ Amazon

Though I've revered the film, The Exorcist, for years, I only recently decided to start reading William Peter Blatty's books. I wish I hadn't waited so long! I was pleasantly surprised, when I read The Exorcist, at how well-written the book was, how economical, concise, and how breezy a read. That might sound daft, considering the horrific content of the novel mentioned, but it's quite true nonetheless: the book was a breeze, as far as actual time spent with it is concerned.

On to Legion, which is the sequel to The Exorcist. I had only a vague idea of a film that was made based on the novel, but no real familiarity with the story. What chiefly interested me in the novel, besides the obvious reason that it was penned by Blatty and associated with themes I revere and enjoy, were some of the reviews here at Amazon. As a lover of philosophy, naturally I was not intimidated by the frequent mentions of the novel's protagonist William F. Kinderman's forays into philosophical ruminations. Some have referred to these ruminations as "navel-gazing" asides, distractions, or interruptions in the narrative; but on a deeper understanding of the author's faith and intention in the work, such broodings and mentations are as welcome in the novel as Hamlet's are in the play of that name.

The ideas of good and evil, of cosmic or divine justice, the sad fact of catastrophic human suffering, the capacity of the human nervous system with respect to the toleration of pain, as well as the effects of suffering on human psychology, are integral and essential to Mr. Blatty's work, and of keen corrolation to the details of criminal investigation and pathology.

I'm glad that I had the voice and image of the great Lee J. Cobb in my noggin as I read the book. I'm certain that this was a great help in my enjoyment of it. I don't see the character as a Jewish stereotype, nor do the occasional Yiddish terms and phrases bother me. As a Christian, I have a deep love for the Jewish people and a great interest and love for Judeo-Christian culture, theology, history, and literature. My favorite book, object wise, is my beautiful edition of the Tanakh. I truly don't understand the objections to the Kinderman character in this novel. He is a man of high intelligence and is deeply humane and compassionate. Incidentally, a carp in a bathtub should be so off-putting? So what? We have traditions. Give the book a read, you might like it. Couldn't hurt.

Legion is terrifying, but it's also a pleasure, and important.

Review of Adam Bede posted @ Amazon

What about Seth?!! was all I could think as I neared the end of the George Eliot novel, Adam Bede. Being a second son, and certainly not as good looking as my older brother, and a couple inches shorter no less, how could I not sympathize with Seth Bede, the younger brother who, by the amazing machinations of a brilliant writer, Mary Ann Evans, manages to let his feelings for a woman he admires dwindle away to irrelevance while simultaneously supporting his elder brother's burgeoning affection for that very same woman?

As crazy as it may sound, I am now going to try to explain why Mary Ann Evans was such a great writer, and why her subtle genius points the way to the very reality of nature itself, though it is to many an uncomfortable reality, and to some others still, a hostile, and even malevolent one. I will admit, I was rooting for Seth all the way through the novel. He was enamoured of Dinah Morris, but was keenly aware that she did not return the feeling, and yet still hopeful that in time she might come to love him and think of him in a romantic sense. How many men (and women) have lived in that kind of melancholy hopefulness? I know I have, and many times. It's not easy. In fact, it's an extremely harrowing and painful experience, and I do not recommend it to anyone. But that's the way things are. Nature, despite man's civilization and refinement, is as it always was. There are certain things that are immutable, unalterable, and constant, no matter how clever or sympathetic our race manages to become.

Evans was not a physically attractive woman herself, at least not in the common sense of the term. I am sure she was keenly aware of this, and I'm also sure that she was governed in her art by a kind of Spinozan submission and reverence to the natural order of things, and, far from letting that diminish or spoil her intelligent zest for life, she gave it exquisite expression in some of the most venerated and popular novels of all time. Adam Bede, her first novel, is a crystal clear example of such literary expression. Before I go on, I do not mean to suggest that physical appearance and personal charm are the sole criteria upon which we humans base our judgments and affections toward others; that would be narrow-minded and silly; but, whether we like it or not, such attributes do in fact exert a strong force and influence when it comes to sexual attraction. It may not be fair, but that's the way it is.

For all intents and purposes, Adam Bede is the classic alpha male, though Evans gives him a serene and genuinely sensitive side that would be entirely missing from a protagonist in a novel by Ayn Rand, another candidly plain looking woman who took Evans's honest and often sacrilegious reconciliation with nature to what many would say was an irrational extreme; but no more of that. Evans is such a good author that every reader would know that if Seth had claimed to still be holding a candle for Dinah, Adam would not have pursued her. As it happens, Seth comes to feel quite literally happy about the fact that his older brother has stolen the heart that was once the object of his affection. He is happy to be brother to Dinah and uncle to Adam's children. Many have suggested that this was sort of an authorial cheat, or foul play on the part of Evans, that in real circumstances the younger brother would most certainly be deeply hurt by the doubly-painful knowledge that not only did his beloved not find in him a man that she could love as a husband, but in fact had fallen in love with his older brother instead! Wouldn't any man be hurt by such a turn of events. I know I would.

But that's the difference between life and art. Art, in the hands of a genuinely good artist, is a means of not only understanding, appreciating, and celebrating the rich pageant of life, but also of coming to terms with painful truths and realities which a lot of us would rather not confront; and which cause certain well-intended but misgiven people to wreak nothing but havoc by the often absurd pseudo-intellectual deconstruction or denial of long confirmed fact and simple common sense.

My heart will always root for Seth, but my intellect allows me to see that Adam was the obvious object to which Dinah would fix her affection. We second-born, homelier, shorter little brothers will generally just have to deal with it, get over it, and move on.

But, wait a minute. Or, as Monty Python would say, "and now for something completely different! -

The Hetty Sorrel and Arthur Donnithorne characters, who I haven't even mentioned, are a whole 'nuther dimension in this wonderful novel, and serve to remind us, though this may sound contrary to what I've already said, that all that glitters is not gold. Which is to say, at least with respect to Hetty, physical beauty, or material perfection, does not always adorn a beautiful soul, and that the reptilian part of the brain must always be moderated by sound reason and rationality.

And that's that, and it is what it is.

And A is A ('cos God says so).