… someone throws you a reminder.

The AARP has tried this before, but now they’re getting desperate. They’ve sent me letters inviting me to join their organization. Some mailing-list marketer probably got the idea that since I’m no longer employed by an idiot in an office somewhere, I must have retired. I’m neither old enough nor crazy enough for that. (Even if I were “retired,” I’d rather eat fried ants than to join the AARP.) But more to the point…

I’m still working!

Okay, so maybe I haven’t turned out new product in donkey’s years. That’s just because I’m incompetent. (At keeping a schedule, and at focusing on what I’ve started until I finish it. But that’s a different blog post.) The point here is that just when I remind some friend or relative for the umpteenth time that, yes, writing actually is real work, the AARP pulls something like this.

Having perceived ineffective their cries of “Join us! Join us! (You old coot),” now they’ve upped the ante. They’ve actually sent me a plastic AARP “enrollment” card. This card serves as my temporary membership card, after I send in the enclosed form along with my $16 check. (Apparently, new AARP members do not know how to use the Internet, nor do they have credit cards.)

But what a deal! Along with my $16 AARP membership, I get a free 12-month membership for my spouse (who is also not retired), the “award-winning AARP The Magazine,” which will help me “feel great, save money and have fun”— I dunno; I’m kinda having fun just writing this. Uh… I also get access to “exclusive” products, like health insurance, dental coverage, eye care, and “pharmacy.” And 10 whole issues of the AARP Bulletin!

But wait! There’s more! I also get “discounts on hotels, car rentals, cruises, home security, cell phone service, and more.” (Okay, that part about hotels and cruises kinda sounded a little good.)

And as if that weren’t enough, I get “representation in Washington and all 50 states” to lobby for a government agenda that would actually harm my children and grandchildren and that makes me throw up just a little.

If that doesn’t convince me, I also receive a “FREE Insulated Travel Bag.” (Emphasis in original.) But it seems, only if I do not send cash. (Uh, I’m sure I read that wrong.)

So, bottom line, here I am trying to convince myself that I’m engaging in something that will result in some ultimate good for the world, and every time I begin to think that I might be making headway, I find out even the AARP thinks I’m wrong.

Gee. Thanks.

-TimK

Photo © 2009 Jo Christian Oterhals CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
Click here for original image

My father over at his blog posted a two-part series on gay marriage. It started as an initial post called “Redefining Marriage,” which proved controversial enough among his theological colleagues that he felt a need to post part 2 to clarify.

What follows is in reply to part 1.

Same-sex marriage is now a fact of life with state after state endorsing it as a bonafide marriage contract. This has brought me to reconsider the subject hopefully without prejudice and just a soupçon of bias. I have come to the conclusion in studying the, so-called, relevant scripture that God does not approve. But by the same Biblical message I cannot limit God’s grace in matters of the heart. [emphasis in original]

My take:

The theology of homosexual relationships is more complex than the most outspoken Christian theologians would indicate. We pull out proof-text after proof-text, but without taking into account the cultural context—or even the moral point—the biblical writers were speaking to. Sodom and Gomorrah may have been evil, but in this case the liberals happen to be right: they were violent and did not respect the rights and needs of the foreigner (both of which are important values which show up repeatedly in the Bible); homosexual lust was not the point of their crimes. In the first century Roman Empire, homosexual conduct largely served as a means for powerful men to play out perverted sexual fantasies at the expense of their subordinate underlings, in a social structure that even modern gay-rights activists would probably agree with Paul (in Romans 1) constituted “indecent acts.”

The fact is that the biblical writers simply didn’t encounter or speak to homosexual relationships of the sort we’re dealing with in our society.

That doesn’t put God’s seal of approval on modern homosexual relationships. It only means we can’t indiscriminately pull out proof-texts, mete out condemnation, and expect to get anywhere constructive.

On the other hand, we are all struggling. And if you bother to notice in the book of Romans, that was Paul’s point. “You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge the other, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things… Or do you show contempt for the riches of his kindness, tolerance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness leads you toward repentance?” (2:1,3). To paraphrase Paul: you who rail against sexual immorality, are you sexually immoral? “You who say that people should not commit adultery, do you commit adultery? You who abhor idols, do you rob temples? You who brag about the law, do you dishonor God by breaking the law? As it is written: ‘God’s name is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you’” (2:22-24).

This is something I think Christianity could learn from the Jews. (And that section of Romans does appear to have been written to Jews in Rome, and reflects Jewish values.) Each of us is on his own spiritual journey, and part of our job here on Earth is to make the earth a better place. That means, first and foremost, that we must humble ourselves to one another in order to obey the law of love, that we not neglect “the more important matters of the law–justice, mercy and faithfulness” (Matt 23:23).

So, yeah, I think I agree with you, Dad.

-TimK

On Friday, I usually post an attempt at humor. (Some times more effective than others.) Today, however, I thought I’d tell the story of how a Gentile pastor’s kid from western Pennsylvania ended up identifying with a Messianic Jewish synagogue.

Firstly, I’m not Jewish. When I was a boy, my father, a pastor, passed on to me (at least in part) his love for the original languages of the Biblical texts along with a healthy respect for Judaism (which at the time I didn’t realize was so unusual or important). He taught me a little Biblical Hebrew (and a bit of Koine Greek).

Then, in my twenties, I married a nice, Jewish girl who believed in Yeshua (which, again, at the time I didn’t realize was so unusual or important). She had been raised Catholic—which is a completely different story that she can tell sometime, if she wants. But she had heard the stories of her family’s nascent Jewish roots.

When we first got married, we attended a local church, pastored by a long-time friend of my family’s. In time, however, my Beloved wanted to reconnect with her Jewish roots. She and our daughters began attending a small Messianic congregation that held a weekly Erev Shabbat service, and she even managed to convince me to visit a Friday or two. In general, however, I refused to go. I wasn’t against it. But I didn’t see the point. Heavily involved in our church, church life took all my spare time, and it was meeting all my spiritual needs.

She started attending Ruach Israel, a more mature synagogue. Every Saturday morning, she would take our kids to Shabbat service, and I did not object. She did manage to convince me to come to the first-night Passover seder that year, 2006. (That’s why I count Passovers to figure out how long we’ve been attending Ruach Israel.) But I still refused to go, even though she asked me—sometimes, even begged me. I still didn’t see the point and didn’t see how I could fit it into my life.

In retrospect, I now realize that I wasn’t really listening to her, paying attention to her spiritual needs. I still thought of us as members of the church where I attended, even though she had gradually stopped going. She had paperwork she had to do for work, and Sunday morning was the most convenient time—and I believe this was legitimate, not just a feeble excuse to opt out of Sunday morning service. But the result was that she was fading out of church life and taking up synagogue life instead.

And then the girls started Hebrew school.

That’s when it suddenly dawned on me that they were serious. The Autumn 2006 school year had just started, and that’s when I started attending Ruach Israel regularly. I did it to support my Beloved and the girls. But I also kept my distance. I still maintained the same level of activity in my church—as did my daughters—and we managed to fit it all in.

For Passover 2007, my Beloved insisted that we clean the house of all chametz and keep kosher for the holiday, and I thought she was kidding with me… until she clarified that, no, she was serious. So we got rid of the chametz and kept kosher for Passover, and I found some way to explain it to my folks—my side of the family—such that it didn’t seem to shock them too much. (Or at least they didn’t stage an intervention.)

Slowly, I began learning of liturgy and halakha, but always from a safe distance, experimenting, observing, trying to understand, wondering how to justify culturally irrelevant tradition left over from times past, searching for personal meaning. (Halakhically, Ruach Israel adopts the Standards of Observance published by the Messianic Jewish Rabbinical Council, for reasons made obvious from a perusal of the MJRC’s membership list.) I began playing bass in one of the Sabbath-morning bands, because they needed a bassist and I thought it might be fun. By far, the biggest shock to my system was my discovery of Jewish community, at least as shared by the congregation. Healthy community one of the most positive values I think Judaism has to offer, and how to do community—real community—is a skill that the Gentile church has by and large forgotten. And this sense of community was particularly meaningful to me when my church exploded.

I haven’t yet shared the details with anyone outside my close inner circle. The short version of the story: they kicked out the pastor (my personal friend and mentor), and the church split, scattering former members throughout the area. I also stopped attending there, because the church community—such as it was—to which I had been attached, it no longer exists. One of the ironic side effects: I now have personal contacts in a number of Christian congregations in the area. But for this telling of the story, the important side-effect was that my attachment to Ruach Israel grew. Even though I was not Jewish—and therefore, there are some roles I can never fill—I took a more enthusiastic role in the synagogue. I began to see Ruach Israel as my primary spiritual home. And some months later—after I had healed somewhat from the church explosion—I joined my Beloved as a formal member.

Looking back now, I marvel at how much I’ve adopted Judaism and Jewish religious values. I’m not Jewish. But I’m the one in the family who studies the halakhic standards and the liturgy. Because I’ve found personal meaning in Messianic Judaism. This did not happen overnight, but over years. If 6 years ago you had predicted I would be where I am today, I would have laughed politely and chalked you up as a crackpot Nostradamus wanna-be.

Maybe part of the trick is to accept that some of us at any given time will be more observant than others, and that’s okay. But the biggest part of the trick, I’m sure, is to connect with a supportive community that can be there for you as you search for meaning.

שלום
-TimK

One hell of an hilarious warp core breach!

John Stossel recently published a short piece in The Freeman about ideas having sex. This naturally explains the most lucrative business sector ever seen on the Internet: idea porn.

So, when I shared this article on Facebook, and fellow fiction blogger and Star Trek fan Neil Shurley re-shared it, I thought of that Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, “Timescape.”

(Not really, but it seemed like a good segue.)

You remember the story. Captain Picard and several others of the Enterprise crew on their way back from the most boring and diverse academic conference in the history of the future, they encounter the Enterprise frozen in time in an apparent battle with a Romulan warship. Using a skin-tight subspace field, they beam over to the Enterprise and find a ship full of mannequins who wobble when you walk by them. However, much to their consternation, they discover that the Enterprise’s warp core has breached, and if time were to return to normal, the ship would explode. At this point, Captain Picard loses control of his faculties and is committed to the colony on Tantalus V, where he and Captain Kirk ride horses together in Iowa into eternity.

(The Enterprise never returns to normal, but it is said that it is repeatedly exploding and un-exploding forever in some time continuum.)

The moral of this story is that no one ever wants to hear that the universe is not in the process of exploding. There’s a comfort in knowing that an existential danger lurks right around the next blind corner, because that means the status quo is a-OK.

An acquaintance, downtrodden, once related to me a positively depressing view from a certain professor of Harvard or Yale or one of those, a piled-higher-and-deeper type who gave a speech at some ivy-league university or another, on the subject of economics. As she described it, economics is the bane of human existence, destined to cause the failure of human society. I foolishly tried to encourage her. Don’t lose heart: there may be individual economists who are pretty backwards, but economics itself still holds much hope for the future of humanity.

Oy vey! You would have thought I had just killed her favorite puppy, the way she jumped down my throat. How dare I disagree with this venerated icon of academia, of whom I had never heard before and whose name even now I cannot remember? Do I have a PhD from Harvard or Yale or some other fancy university? (Are you kidding? Even if I had, I would not admit to it, not even at gunpoint!) How much manure do I have shoveled at the end of my name? What qualifies me to state a more qualified opinion than his?

In the same way, when ideas multiply, they threaten the status quo, because they threaten to change everything for the better for everybody. (See how I tied that back to the original point? Wasn’t that clever?)

This is why people talk of others “stealing” their ideas. I once had an idea of mine stolen: I woke up one morning and it was gone! I know had gone to sleep with it the night before. I searched under my pillow, in my sheets, under my bed. I considered that maybe it had mistakenly been put in with the dirty laundry or (even worse) the trash, and even made a thorough search, for it was a valuable idea indeed. But alas, it was nowhere to be found. I can only hope the person who stole it will make better use of it than I would have, though I don’t have much faith that he will, because he didn’t earn the idea; it was mine.

As we all know, you can’t steal ideas; you can only share them. And once you do share an idea, there are now two ideas. One of them remains in your mind; the other, in the mind of the person you’re sharing it with, mixed with all the ideas that were already there when you started. And then starts a positive idea orgy, with ideas and concepts and experiences and possible futures all mixing their DNA in new and interesting ways that no one will understand until he himself shares the idea with someone else.

The Internet was built by scientists, built on this concept of sharing ideas. Look at the Web. The whole idea behind the World Wide Web is that each page links to other pages, building on the ideas in those other pages. About 70% of the web server software currently in use is open-source, developed on the concept of sharing code and algorithms. And recent political revolutions in various countries (including the defeat of SOPA and PIPA in the US) have been possible because people have been able to share their thoughts online, organizing spontaneously to make a difference in their worlds. This may be improve life for all of us in the end, but it threatens extant power structures and can be scary, because it enforces change.

At the risk of bringing down upon me the wrath of those who would rather think the world is in the process of exploding, I don’t see this trend as scary at all. Because when people share ideas freely, we all benefit from the exciting opportunities that come out of that sharing.

-TimK

UPDATE: Serendipity. At about the time this post went live, Reason.TV posted the following video: “Ideas Having Sex” AConversation with JohnTierney and Matt Ridley…

“Where ideas have sex, is in technologies,” says author and biologist Matt Ridley, “we give far too much credit to individuals for innovation…all of them are standing on the shoulders of lots of other people.”

Très kewl!

Had you seen me a week ago Tuesday morning, you might have thought I had peed my pants, because I had an accident. The kind of accident that involves a car. And bottled water.

I was driving down the highway, when I decided to open my bottle. Stupid, yeah, I know. But My Firstborn was sleeping so soundly in the passenger’s seat, and I didn’t want to wake her.

So I reached over with my right hand, and I started wrestling with the cover. After all, I figured, I’m a young (ish), strong guy; I should be able to undo a water bottle one-handed.

So I’m sitting here in the car, one hand on the water bottle, one hand on the wheel, and both eyes on the road– I may be stupid, but I’m not crazy, not usually, anyhow. And it’s not working. So I ratchet up the effort. New water bottle, you know, and I just couldn’t break the seal. I’m pulling on the cap with my right hand, steading the wheel with my left, trying to keep the car going in a straight line at 70 MPH with other cars all around me.

And the cap slips, it moves, just a smidge. Ah! I’m making progress!

So I’m still pulling on the cap with one hand, the other on the wheel. The car’s still going in a straight line, but I’m not making any more progress with the water-bottle cap. I give one more glance at my Firstborn and consider waking her up and asking her to open up my water bottle for me, before formulating my master plan to deal with the water-bottle cap.

I hold the water bottle gently between my legs, turning the cap with my right hand, my left still on the wheel, my eyes still on the road. And it actually begins to work! But there’s not enough friction between my jeans and the plastic of the water bottle. So I apply more pressure with my legs, push down with my hand and turn in one giant surge…

And the cap comes off and a whole mouthful of water comes spewing out of the bottle all over my pants.

A cold feeling rushed all over my… uh… seat. But the car was still going in a straight line down the highway at 70 MPH.

And at least I got a nice drink of water out of it.

-TimK

P.S. Since this post came out short, I’d like also to relate to you a cute Jewish joke, recently told me by a fun-and-a-little-crazy Jewish lady I know.

Mr. and Mrs. Rosenthal decided to have the Cohens and Liebermans over for Sabbath evening dinner. Before leaving in the morning, they left instructions with their housekeeper to please set the table for six. But when Mr. Rosenthal returned after work, he found the diningroom table extended and set for ten, with a note from the housekeeper explaining that Mrs. Cohen had called and that she was bringing the Knishes and Kreplachs.

(Ba dum bum.)

Aunty Cookie's pinboard:
click here for the original image

Yes, I’m on Pinterest.

After seeing Facebook posts by Sharon Cathcart, Julie Carobini, Pamela Slim, and probably a few others mentioning Pinterest… (Charlotte Abel also has a Pinterest profile, and I thought I remembered her mentioning it on Facebook, but as it turns out, she didn’t.) After seeing a barrage of Facebook posts mentioning Pinterest, a (male) friend of mine finally suggested that I should probably get a Pinterest profile. So I did… tentatively.

Pinterest, in case you haven’t heard of it before, is a new social media site. Primarily dominated by the fairer sex, it consists of a collection of virtual pinboards, on which you can pin whatever you find interesting. I already have several pinboards:

• Stories I Love – My 5-star-rated novels, films, TV series, and so forth.
• Work I’m Proud Of – Short stories, novels, and other stuff that I’ve written or produced, with qualities that I’d like to see in my future.
• My Heroes – People, living or dead, who have had a positive impact on my life, whom I look up to and want to emulate in some way.
• Très Kewl Products – Gadgets and other geeky things that make me go “Kewl!”
• Places & Spaces – Fun places I’ve gone, things I’ve seen.
• My Style – Right now this board is empty, because I’m currently trying to slim down. As I approach my waist goal—which is another story—I’ll start a makeover project: hair, clothes, maybe even jewelry. And I’ll pin up any neat looks I find. This pinboard is there to remind me to keep the “I’m sexy and I know it” course.

These pinboards are pretty sparse still. But I’ll try to pin up interesting or personally significant images, as I encounter them or as they occur to me.

So what’s the title of this post mean? “Feigning Pinterest?” Well, I understand Pinterest. I think I get it. But I’m tentative. I’ve been on the Internet since before there was a World Wide Web, and I’ve seen these things come and go. (Remember MySpace?) For every Google, there’re a hundred AltaVistas (which interestingly is still online at AltaVista.com).

But it’s a good idea, and potential splash with potential fans of my writing. So I’ll give it my best shot. Even given Pinterest’s wacky IP license requirements, which don’t bother me personally, but could theoretically get a lot of ordinary Pinterest users into trouble— Well, with the current breed of IP-activist big-media companies, we can now get into a lot of trouble by breathing the wrong way. (“Hey, you’re breathing the rhythm to my hit song, ‘Doofus Me Doofus Does’!”)

And I’ll try not to jab the virtual pins into my fingers.

Ow!

-TimK

P.S. Feel free to follow me on Pinterest, or to follow individual pinboards.

This past week, the Little One and I watched “First Contact,” the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode. Not the Star Trek movie by the same name, but the series episode, which originally aired exactly 21 years ago this past Saturday.

Also this past Saturday, we read as part of our Torah Parsha: “Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt.” (Exodus 22:21) A happy coincidence, as they say, because it gave me the opportunity to write today about how we treat strangers, a topic that I often find on my heart.

If you’ve never seen the episode “First Contact,” here’s how it goes: The Enterprise crew is tasked with making first contact with Malcor, a planet whose inhabitants are about to develop warp drive. Commander Riker is injured while reconnoitering, disguised as a Malcorian, and they take him to a hospital in the capital city. Unfortunately, most Malcorians are very suspicious of outsiders. And as they begin to suspect that Riker is an alien, they begin to see him as a threat, because he may be followed by an invading force.

Aliens in the Torah

Exodus 20 isn’t the only place foreigners are mentioned in the Torah:

• “Do not oppress a foreigner; you yourselves know how it feels to be foreigners, because you were foreigners in Egypt.” (Exodus 23:9)
• “When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Do not go over your vineyard a second time or pick up the grapes that have fallen. Leave them for the poor and the foreigner. I am the LORD your God.” (Leviticus 19:9-10)
• “You are to have the same law for the foreigner and the native-born. I am the LORD your God.” (Leviticus 24:22)
• “If any of your fellow Israelites become poor and are unable to support themselves among you, help them as you would a foreigner and stranger, so they can continue to live among you.” (Leviticus 25:35)
• …and more.

If society helps us to meet our needs, any fair society must also take account of the needs of strangers, immigrants, and aliens.

“If people get scared enough anything could happen.”

In the Star Trek episode, the doctor at the hospital does his level best to protect Riker. He orders that Riker’s room be guarded, and that his case be kept secret, shared only on a need to know, so that people won’t freak out and do something crazy. “I don’t know what else he is, but he is still a patient in this medical facility, and we have a responsibility for his care and recovery.”

Despite the doctor’s efforts, though, Riker tries to escape, and the hospital staff nearly beats him to death when they catch up with him. How could anyone justify that reaction?

Not too long ago, a friend told me that I don’t understand Muslims, that they’re not like us, that they glorify death and violent self-sacrifice, so that they can get 72 virgins in the afterlife. He said this to justify an anti-Islamic comment he had made.

Me, nonplussed. Too busy dragging my jaw across the floor to think of a response that wouldn’t embarrass me to repeat.

It’s so much easier to glorify violence against an enemy that is different than you are, different in a way that terrifies. Because if people get scared enough, anything can happen. We too glorify death and violent self-sacrifice, “to die for one’s country,” as though to die in order to kill the enemy were somehow noble. But God rejoices in the death of no man.

The reality: Muslims are just like us, in every important way. They are human beings, seeking to meet their basic human needs, sometimes succeeding, and sometimes screwing it up, just like us. Muslims don’t want to die for their country or religion any more than you or I do, and only when backed into a corner would they even think about making such a choice, just like you and me.

“However you would describe your intentions, you still represent the end to my way of life. I cannot permit that to occur.”

In “First Contact,” the Malcorian Minister of Security, representing the extreme conservative side of Malcorian society, he gets so worked up that he hatches a plot. He shoots himself with Riker’s phaser, trying to make it look like Riker murdered him. His martyrdom would, he reasoned, incite the people against these aliens from the Enterprise, and against space travel in general. Unfortunately, he foolishly left the phaser on stun, and all he got for his trouble was an embarrassing little boo boo, and one hell of a hangover.

He was so terrified of his culture and his way of life changing, that he was willing to die to prevent it. Frankly, he would have done much better just to take a few deep breaths and let it happen. Sigh.

Here in the US, it’s those damn latinos that get everyone in an uproar. Despite our government’s protestations, they keep coming over the border and taking over our culture. “If we don’t stop them, we’re all going to be speaking Spanish!” I know people off of whose tongues roll those words as though they made sense.

I don’t believe English is on its way out. But even if I did: so what? Spanish is as good a language as any other.

And no one is accusing the Mexicans of mounting a military invasion. Rather, they’re accusing them of seeking to better their own lives by engaging in voluntary relationships with willing US citizens. Here is where the words of the Torah really make an impact. If we are to follow God’s values, we ought to be kind and supportive to the aliens among us, especially when it comes to allowing them to meet their basic needs for food and shelter.

But we’re afraid that they represent a change to our way of life, and we see change as leading us down a road of self-destruction. And that terrifies us.

But change is not self-destruction. Despite humanity’s darkest fears, life continues getting better and better all the time. Over the past century, our quality of life has improved dramatically, along with our life-expectancy. We’re living longer and better than we did in 1900, or in 1950, or even in 2000.

When this episode, “First Contact,” first aired in 1991, there was no iTunes or iPhone or i-anything. Microsoft released Windows version 2 (since version 1 had been so unstable), but it still wasn’t good enough for anyone to want to actually use it. There was no World Wide Web, not as we know today, because it had just been invented. And people were just starting to make international data connections… at telephone-modem speeds. Average life-expectancy was about 3 years shorter than it is today in the US (and 4 years world-wide). And the economy was 35% smaller than it is today.

Change is the one certainty in the world, and most of it is for the better. And if we see change as tending for the better, we should not fear immigrants, and should not demonize them, because they’re part of that change.

“Once we cross the threshold… we shall have to give up this self-importance, this conceit that we are the center of the universe.”

The Malcorians saw themselves at the center of the universe, and being part of a universal community would challenge that myth.

But isn’t that also what we, in our individual nations and cultures, are experiencing in the twenty-first century? More and more, we are facing a world without boundaries, where knowledge and wealth are shared freely. Websites like Twitter and Facebook, Flickr and YouTube serve as conduits of public information against censorial regimes. In this twenty-first-century global economy, you can order goods and services from around the world and enjoy them in your own living room.

Even in my field—writing fiction—I have found invaluable insight into my fictional characters through the work of a movement of psychologists who practice in Europe (and a few in Australia and Africa). Twenty-one years ago, this work did not even exist; and even if it had existed, I would not have access to it.

We now have access to a world full of wealth and variety, but only if we accept it.

And that’s the scary part, because it means our culture meets with all the other cultures of the world. In some cases, we may need to find an inner confidence in our own identities, so that we can meet the world without fear. In other cases, we may need to find a new identity, as elements of our culture merge with the other cultures of the world.

Regardless, however, we must remember first that God gave every human being the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And whenever we presume to vilify a class of people in order to infringe on those rights, we work against peace and prosperity, against God’s moral code, and ultimately against ourselves.

-TimK

Photo © 2008 Tiffany Dawn Nicholson CC BY-ND 2.0
Click here for original image.

I wanted to post this on Tuesday, but I was distracted by the recent holiday. Naturally, I’m referring to National Guys in the Floral Department Day.

Every year around this time, if you go into any store with a floral department, you are likely to see a dozen or so men wondering aimlessly in the vicinity, browsing from flower arrangement to flower arrangement, obviously lost but unable to ask for directions.

Why do they do this? Well, it’s the law. And if any man in a relationship of any sort fails at this task, the consequences are serious indeed, let me tell you.

Stores plans for this day, and every year they stock up on pretty young attendants to help out the guys who don’t know what they’re doing. Except for the store that I went to, which had a fat dude telling a pimple-faced guy with a scooter—and this actually happened—that they didn’t have bouquets of roses half red and half pink. Meanwhile, I thought, if he wanted a mixture of red and pink roses for his one true love, he should have gone to a real flower shop and paid more than 20 lousy bucks on an arrangement. Then he could have swept her away on his scooter, fading with her into the horizon and the setting sun.

As for me, I chose a bouquet of a dozen roses for my Beloved, pink blossoms just beginning to brown around the edges.

She loved them, especially the brown spots. Apparently, I have her well-trained to expect almost no attention from me whatsoever. Congratulate me.

(I was just kidding about that last part, in case you couldn’t tell.)

For this Valentine’s week, I wanted to tell you about three of my favorite indie romances (besides my own).

Why romances? Because Valentine’s Day, of course. And even more so, because romance stories are always about the characters—some more than others, but always to a significant degree. You can’t write a romance without talking about how the characters think and feel, how they react to each other, what their needs are and how they meet those needs, or the power of other people in a person’s life.

Why indie? Because indie authors are not bound by the same industry rules that hem in big-publisher authors. They write as much (or more) from passion as from a desire to please their publisher… Actually, indie authors are their own publishers, so the two are the same thing. So indie authors are more likely to come up with that specific combination of character, complexity, and life lesson that touches me personally, hypes me up, and makes me smile.

Indie authors also tend to maintain better touch with their fans, whereas big publishers generally don’t. (The one exception I see: Harlequin, who actually seems to understand what the readers of their various imprints actually enjoy reading.) So having found an indie author that wrote something that I like, I want to talk about it.

In the Eye of the Beholder, by Sharon Cathcart

I connected with Sharon Cathcart almost two years ago, and read her historical romance, one of the first indie novels I enjoyed reading, despite several complaints. In the Eye of the Beholder stars Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, a time following the events of the famous story by Gaston Leroux. (According to Sharon’s storyline, reports of Erik’s death have clearly been exaggerated.)

One of the scenes, in which Erik is kidnapped, caged, and forced to perform in a traveling fair, the scene still impresses itself on my memory at random moments when my mind wanders.

This is a story about the need to love and to be loved, and the compassion, sensitivity, and sympathy that true love demands. It’s probably a story I should read every year, to remind myself of these life lessons.

Enchantment, by Charlotte Abel

I discovered Charlotte Abel and this her first fantasy YA romance, when she gave me credit for inspiring her to write the closing scene of the book as she thought it should be written.

She gives me way too much credit.

Her characters immediately captivated me, especially Channie, a typical teenager. I saw in her parents the helicopter parenting that I have so sought to replace with balance in my own relationships with my daughters. And the struggles that Channie must face because of her parents’ poor choices. Rereading the story, I’m just as enthralled as the first time, always the sign of a good book (and oh so well worth the 99¢ tip for the ebook at Amazon).

But now I’m seeing a theme I did not notice before. The first time I read the story, I thought Channie would overcome, would somehow find the metaphorical innocence she had lost. Now, I see that this is a story about finding hope in life, even when you can’t go back to the hope you once had—you make a new hope instead.

Talyn, by Holly Lisle

Holly Lisle is one of my favorite contemporary authors, because her characters always compel, her stories always engross, her themes always inspire. For 20 years, she authored novels and published traditionally. Then, last year, she went indie. And my first thought was, Wow! Finally!

Intellectually, I understand why she wrestled with the traditional publishing industry. But I’m glad she’s finally seen the light. (Said tongue-in-cheek.) Just look at the headline on the front page of her website: “Read What Feeds You, Write What Matters, Love What You Write.” What she’s always stood for, that’s the definition of the indie author.

Holly has regained rights to most of her backlist, and has made these titles available as ebooks. And now Talyn, one of my all-time favorite novels, is also now to be counted in her indie backlist.

When it came out, reviewers framed Talyn as a story about war, and how peace comes from strength in war, as though it were some sort of neoconservative warmongerer’s diatribe. Frankly, the only way you can get there is with a most superficial reading.

Indeed, if you want a superficial reading, this book is probably not for you. (If you want a superficial reading, this blog is probably not for you.) Talyn contains too much depth for that. Yes, the themes of war and peace feature prominently, and the importance of freedom as an offset for power—which is more a libertarian political theme than a neoconservative one. But more prominent to my mind were other themes: community, as Talyn’s identity depends on her connection to the rest of her people; faith, hope, and love, as the Tonk are a deeply spiritual people; honor and morality, as Talyn’s warrior heritage demands them; bitterness and forgiveness, as she must deal with the unimaginable wrongs done her and establish trust with her once-enemy.

I’ve been wanting to write a review of this excellent book, and the problem I’ve been facing is that I don’t know where to start. The depth of story in Talyn makes it one of the best books I’ve ever read, and at the same time one of the hardest books to talk about.

See, what I have to do is to write a book about how to read Talyn. Cool idea, huh?

[UPDATE: At this time, BookCloseouts.com has 2 copies of the Talyn paperback available for only $3.99 apiece (sale price, I think). I've ordered from them before and have been happy with the level of service.]

-TimK

Enchantment, by Charlotte Abel
Available for the Kindle and for the Nook. Printed edition from Amazon.

You may recall, I read Enchantment this past summer. And I liked it so much that I decided to include it among my favorite indie romances.

I’m collecting printed editions of these novels into a deluxe package, which I had hoped to make available for Valentine’s Day. (You know, because romance equals Valentine’s.) But I was unable to pull together all the extras in time. So still working on it. For now, here’s…

Today’s teaser, from some random spot in Enchantment, by Charlotte Abel:

“They did a bunch of tests — I feel like a damned pincushion — but they didn’t find anything wrong with me. I guess there isn’t a lab test for magical curses.”

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just follow the directions at the “Teaser Tuesdays” post.

-TimK

(That’s a joke, by the way, in case your sense of political humor is deficient, like so many politicians— And there I go again.)

In any case, I’ve really wanted to revive my political blog, but I need to be able to do it in such a way that I won’t go insane.

Nick Gillespie inspired me with a comment he made on John Stossel’s “year in review” show, talking about Reason.tv’s “Nanny of the Month” features and government Nannies: “They see a small problem, and they pull out the bazooka immediately, and it causes real problems.”

Aha! I thought. That would make a perfect satirical character. And maybe I could blow off a little steam and write about politics and not go completely wacky. Wouldn’t that be nice?

So I now present to you…

Bigger than a tall building,
Faster than a light-rail train,
Exploiter of the ignorant, shafter of the hapless,
Wiser than God and richer than you, it’s…
Bazooka Nanny: Government Superhero

Today’s episode: Ugly Wallpaper.

Yes, you do have a right to ugly wallpaper.

-TimK