Wednesday reading meme
piscaria did this, so I will too. Since I'm perpetually reading post-graduation, I might make a habit out of this.
Just finished: The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ, by Phillip Pullman.
I loved The Golden Compass (up until the end) so I was excited to read something else by Phillip Pullman. Continuing in the vein of religious commentary, The Goodman Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ is a retelling of the New Testament. In a Monty Python-esque take on the Nativity, another child was born that wondrous night -- except Pullman comes right out and tells you Mary had twins, one named Jesus and the other given a common name, and nicknamed Christ. The twins grow and learn together: Jesus is a sturdy, rambunctious little boy, and Christ is studious, pious, and simpering. When they grow older, Jesus becomes a fan of John the Baptist, and then becomes a traveling preacher himself. At first, Christ is annoyed at his brother's life choices; he feels that a good son should stay home and help the parents. Eventually, though, he begins following his brother, and after meeting a mysterious Greek, begins recording what Jesus says on tablet and scrolls. According to this nameless stranger, it is of utmost importance that what Jesus says be recorded faithfully, as a service to history -- and that there is no one better positioned for this task then Jesus' twin brother, Christ. I get the impression that Christ was perpetually seeking the approval of others, because I can't see any other reason for him to do this otherwise.
The Jesus we see through Christ's eyes and the Jesus of the Scriptures are inevitably two different people, and the story of how it got to be that way is interesting. Pullman is, of course, an atheist, and he obviously wrote this well-salted. Jesus as a figure, as a character in a book, is more than a little crazy. But that's the point of this exercise: how can we know Jesus was not crazy? And to be fair, the idea that Jesus could have been mad is hardly a new one, having been put forth by people as disparate as Thomas Jefferson and C. S. Lewis, among others. The strength of The Goodman Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ is that it plainly shows how telling the story of a person can quickly grow out of hand. I like the idea of a Jesus with rough edges (the cleansing of the market temple was always one of my favorites,) and I can see why a scribe in a burgeoning movement would feel compelled to omit these things, or smooth them over. By the messy and depressing end, our hero has gone from gruff moralist to raving-wizard-healer-Son of God. Jesus is the original Mary Sue.
All in all, I enjoyed this book, although I also enjoyed finishing it and giving it back to the library. This story is part of a series of contemporary retellings of myths, and I'll be curious to read some other ones. If you're a fundamentalist Christian, this book is blasphemy through and through, but that should only serve as more encouragement for you to pick it up. To be fair, though, if you're a fundamentalist Christian with a propensity to be insulted by book reviews, you're probably not reading this blog at all.
Currently reading: A Feast for Crows by George R. R. Martin. Blame quert. I told myself I'd just read Game of Thrones and be done with it, but then I had to read the next one, then the next one, then the next, and here I am now, very close to the end of this and already putting out a hold at my library for the next one. So far, it delivers everything about the world of Westeros that I love (I describe it to piscaria as a pseudo-medieval Baby-Sitters Club Super Special with dragons and beheadings,) but I'm irritated that they split this into two books. It inevitably feels bloated to me and I find myself skimming it much faster than I did the first book. I'm relieved that there's another hold before mine at the library, because I've been setting aside other books to finish these, and it will be exciting to usher in autumn with something different.
Just finished: The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ, by Phillip Pullman.
I loved The Golden Compass (up until the end) so I was excited to read something else by Phillip Pullman. Continuing in the vein of religious commentary, The Goodman Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ is a retelling of the New Testament. In a Monty Python-esque take on the Nativity, another child was born that wondrous night -- except Pullman comes right out and tells you Mary had twins, one named Jesus and the other given a common name, and nicknamed Christ. The twins grow and learn together: Jesus is a sturdy, rambunctious little boy, and Christ is studious, pious, and simpering. When they grow older, Jesus becomes a fan of John the Baptist, and then becomes a traveling preacher himself. At first, Christ is annoyed at his brother's life choices; he feels that a good son should stay home and help the parents. Eventually, though, he begins following his brother, and after meeting a mysterious Greek, begins recording what Jesus says on tablet and scrolls. According to this nameless stranger, it is of utmost importance that what Jesus says be recorded faithfully, as a service to history -- and that there is no one better positioned for this task then Jesus' twin brother, Christ. I get the impression that Christ was perpetually seeking the approval of others, because I can't see any other reason for him to do this otherwise.
The Jesus we see through Christ's eyes and the Jesus of the Scriptures are inevitably two different people, and the story of how it got to be that way is interesting. Pullman is, of course, an atheist, and he obviously wrote this well-salted. Jesus as a figure, as a character in a book, is more than a little crazy. But that's the point of this exercise: how can we know Jesus was not crazy? And to be fair, the idea that Jesus could have been mad is hardly a new one, having been put forth by people as disparate as Thomas Jefferson and C. S. Lewis, among others. The strength of The Goodman Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ is that it plainly shows how telling the story of a person can quickly grow out of hand. I like the idea of a Jesus with rough edges (the cleansing of the market temple was always one of my favorites,) and I can see why a scribe in a burgeoning movement would feel compelled to omit these things, or smooth them over. By the messy and depressing end, our hero has gone from gruff moralist to raving-wizard-healer-Son of God. Jesus is the original Mary Sue.
All in all, I enjoyed this book, although I also enjoyed finishing it and giving it back to the library. This story is part of a series of contemporary retellings of myths, and I'll be curious to read some other ones. If you're a fundamentalist Christian, this book is blasphemy through and through, but that should only serve as more encouragement for you to pick it up. To be fair, though, if you're a fundamentalist Christian with a propensity to be insulted by book reviews, you're probably not reading this blog at all.
Currently reading: A Feast for Crows by George R. R. Martin. Blame quert. I told myself I'd just read Game of Thrones and be done with it, but then I had to read the next one, then the next one, then the next, and here I am now, very close to the end of this and already putting out a hold at my library for the next one. So far, it delivers everything about the world of Westeros that I love (I describe it to piscaria as a pseudo-medieval Baby-Sitters Club Super Special with dragons and beheadings,) but I'm irritated that they split this into two books. It inevitably feels bloated to me and I find myself skimming it much faster than I did the first book. I'm relieved that there's another hold before mine at the library, because I've been setting aside other books to finish these, and it will be exciting to usher in autumn with something different.