Upcoming reviews:
-Terry Lindvall’s Surprised by Laughter: The Comic World of C.S. Lewis
-Larry Arnn’s The Founders’ Key: The Divine and Natural Connection Between the Declaration and the Constitution and What We Risk by Losing It (I know!!! Who knew it was being published by Thomas Nelson? Get excited!)

Expecting a more conventionally-framed biography, it took me a few chapters to settle in to this book. My first, and inaccurate, impression was actually that it may have been intended for a younger audience as the beginning of Dostoevsky’s conversation with his friend reminded me of “youth” narrative biographies I read growing up. The ease of reading the book and depth of the content, however, won me over, and it was not long before I was enjoying becoming better acquainted with the man behind The Underground Man, Crime and Punishment, and The Brothers Karamazov. For its engaging tone and brisk pace as well as its serious treatment of the issues dear to Dostoevsky’s heart, I recommend this book to anyone who has read Dostoevsky’s books and would like to learn more about the man himself.

I received a free copy of this book from BookSneeze in exchange for a review. All opinions are entirely my own.

David Teems puts on many hats as the author of this book, including those of historian, psychologist, and literary critic. He highlights the influence Tyndale’s work had on the King James Bible and the English language and makes good arguments for why Tyndale was the right man at the right time for the job of translating the Scriptures. As Teems points out, Tyndale is an inspiring example of a person who knew himself, his gifts, and his calling, and who knew and trusted in his Lord. He not only translated the Scriptures, he also gave us a poetic and powerful language of faith. Teems work is also a great introduction to important considerations for anyone engaged in the work of translating Scripture (or any other text for that matter). I was also very interested to learn that Tyndale not only translated the Bible, but also had a great influence on the way we approach the Bible as a personal communication from God to every human and as living and active, a text to search and that will in turn search us.

High-stakes theological and political exchanges were also a part of Tyndale’s life, and Teems, by summarizing Tyndale’s polemical written exchanges with Thomas More, gives readers a good introduction to the complicated twists and turns in English political and spiritual history. I must commend Teems for being even-handed and nuanced in his treatment of More. This book, while being well researched and thourough, may not satisfy a rigorous student in any particular discipline; however, I don’t believe that was Teems’ intention in writing. I would not describe Teems’ tone or narrative voice as one of an objective historian or literary critic, so this may not be the book for serious, in-depth academic work. Teems’ voice is more personal, meditative, and thought-provoking, making this a great book for arm-chair scholars, and a good jumping-off point for further study.

I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <http://BookSneeze®.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Anyway, we needed to vacuum and had to clear Little Lion’s floor shelf completely to get it done right. We quickly shuffled his stuff to his toybox and, before he could martial a counter-attack, hauled out Dragon the vacuum cleaner as fast as we could.

When he was even littler, Little Lion would stand behind the vacuum and use it like a walker to get around–but that was when it was Hummer the vacuum cleaner, his cool friend. But this day, for some reason, things had changed. He and Hummer weren’t chummy anymore. The power came on, he screamed horribly, and teeter-toddled to the couch as quickly as he could. Mommy, who was safe on high ground, helped him clamber up, and in safety he wailed his discontent for a few minutes.

It took a little while for him to calm down. But slowly, with the Dragon still roaring around the room, he got up the courage to get down and venture a little closer, only to run away again if it turned in his direction.

Finally he mustered the courage. The next time the Dragon turned his way, he started stomping his little feet, screamed “Buuuuh!”, and threw his chubby hands down on the Dragon’s head. Then he began pushing as hard as he could until the Dragon backed up in retreat.

A few times of this and he discovered the heart of the beast, and that it had a power button.

Now it takes a long, long time to vacuum the house because Little Lion keeps slaying the Dragon.

Of course, something might just be smelling like burnt toast. It’s statistically freaky that two people would be experiencing this separately at the same time, after all. So we figure if Little Lion is smelling burnt toast too, then the odds just become too long for it to be a tandem olfactory hallucination and we can rest easy. So I need suggestions on how to get him to let us know whether he’s smelling burnt toast. I’ve checked all the baby books, but they’re useless.

Anyway, suggestions are welcome. Or, if you know what would smell like burnt toast at random times, that would be good too.

No box can withstand Little Lion (also true backwards–Little Lion can withstand no box) and he quickly starting hustling his new toys to various parts of the house. With our suggestion, he gave them names too. Plantains, as far as he was concerned, were bananas, or “Baa”s, apples were “Puh”s and Carrots started as “Tuh”s and turned into “Toots.”

After a while of scattering Baas and Puhs, he got tired and turned his attention fully to the Toots. Somehow, it had made sense to him to leave plaintains and apples everywhere, but carrots were apparently made for someone else. Clutching a grubby carrot with both hands, with a heavy frown on his face, he started lapping the table and shaking the carrot up and down, pronouncing weighty “buhbuhbuhs!” with every lap. That lasted for a while.

Having completed this little shamanic cleansing, or whatever it was, he then discovered the joys of putting all his foodie expropriations back into the box.

And then taking them out again.

And in again.

And out again.

And on and on and on and on. I think we think we found them all, but only smell will tell.

And, other groups try rebelliously to defend the fact that they didn’t study at all, and that’s what this group is like. One girl, unlike the rest, had actually opened the whole study guide, but then she got creative: “Oh, yeah, I just had my computer read it to my while I slept.”

College FAIL.

When I was about three or four, I remember being told that there were reasons for things, and that it really was possible to look inside books and get out recorded stories. But I was suspicious–incredibly suspicious–and remember being convinced that grown-ups just made the stories up. Why was it always the same story? I didn’t know. But how could they read the book if they weren’t even looking at it?!

Well, now I know.

If some horrible apocalypse destroys all children’s books, and there are children crying everywhere, I for one take personal responsibility for reconstructing about half the works of Sandra Boynton. The other half–well, those children will just have to cry.

On a separate but equal note, we tried reading one of Little Lion’s books to him in stereo the other day. We didn’t plan it–we just both started reciting it by heart all at once, thinking he’d like it. At first he was bewildered and than he turned beet red and bawled inconsolably for five whole minutes. I guess stereo can be pretty scary…

Finally, after a zillion laps, he got bored and turned his attention to the trash can. He knows it’s off-limits, and he also knows its full of yucky things, squishy things, bangy things, and generally fun things. I gave him my best “Little Lion…!” warning voice, but before I could intervene he commenced his dumpster dive. Fortunately, unless the trash can needs to be emptied anyway, he can’t usually reach anything. But he tries.

A small, pouty tantrum later, Little Lion proceeded on more laps, finally coming back around to the trash can. Again, he didn’t like being told “No,” and made it known. Wriggling free from my soapy hands he tottered to the end of the kitchen and turned to regard me for a moment. He paused, hands ready, and decided on his new course of action. He turned and banged decisively on the oven and the cupboard, moved over and banged on a couple of drawers, and proceeded down the kitchen toward me, thumping everything very methodically.

Finally he got to the trash can again–the trash can, untouched in a long train of touching. “Buh!” he said and he looked at me, one pointy finger up, asking me to reflect on his difficult situation. Could the normal rules apply when the pattern so certainly compelled him? Indeed, they could not, and he smacked the trash can.

Thankfully, I finished the dishes just then and we went to read books before things got any worse.

But fortune always favors babies. Somewhere in a corner he found an empty bottle he’d dropped in one of his Little Lion romps. Picking it up he toddled back to the bookcase. “Buh!” he said, looking at us with one chubby finger in the air, eyebrows up, obviously making an important point.

Then he chucked his bottle into the gap between the box and the bookcase, gave a bewildered “Buh!”, and began to haul himself over the box to fix this travesty. His bottle, obviously, had no business being there, and he had to get it out.

Well, raised eyebrows didn’t do it this time, because he wasn’t doing anything wrong, right? He was just helping out.

When we disagreed, Little Lion threw a huge fit.