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Fortunes of War is a recent title from Stephen Coonts. It is in many respects a standard military adventure novel, but it is based on an interesting premise. What if a newly militarized Japan tried to seize Siberia from a weakened Russia? How would the world respond? What might happen?

From there the action is good enough to make it a decent read. The story focuses on two fighter pilots, one American, one Japanese, who are friends but end up fighting on opposite sides. The story almost wraps up a little too quickly and neatly; I was left wishing for something a little less formulaic.

Now, maybe I’m a hard audience to please; Red Storm Rising has always been my benchmark of a good war novel. Sure, it’s long, and has a gazillion plot threads, and is (like all of Tom Clancy’s stuff) overly technical, but that’s the way I like ’em. As much as I wish Clancy and/or Bond’s writing schedule would accelerate a bit, I’ll take their epics over the consistent (but formulaic) offerings from Coonts any day.

I was on the prowl for some sci-fi to read last time I was at the library. They are courteous enough to have the sci-fi genre split out into its own section, so browsing the shelves is a fairly straightforward means of finding some new sci-fi to read. (I will confess to scratching my head at the inclusion of the whole Left Behind series in the sci-fi section, but that’s neither here nor there.) My browsing led me to Robert Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, with cover boasting that it was “original and un-cut for the first time”. I skimmed the flyleaf and it seemed like I might possibly be interested in the story, so I borrowed the book and brought it home.

Stranger in a Strange Land seemed to me to be two different stories, only tangentially related. The first story, nearly the first half of the book, concerns Michael, the Man from Mars; he is the child of two human Martian explorers. They died when he was a small child and then he was raised by Martians. As the story begins Michael has just returned to earth and must deal with an unfamiliar world filled with people looking to take advantage of him. It’s a fairly imaginative fish-out-of-water story.

The second half of the book departs from this exploration into a treatise on the 1960’s hippie ideals of uninhibited carnality, free love and open marriage. Michael (who possesses amazing cosmic powers, thanks to his understanding of the Martian language and Martian mind techniques) founds a “church” which is a multi-level scheme; novitiates are presented with a study of Martian and the mind techniques; it’s not until they reached the highest levels of the organization that they were brought into the sexual free-for-all. In the end, they are persecuted, they scatter to spread their “church” abroad, and Michael *poofs* himself back to Mars.

I was ready to put down the book about halfway through the second section; the story takes a turn for the worse at that point. It appears to me that Mr. Heinlein wanted to write his hippie treatise, and found that it was easiest to do in the guise of other-worldly values. Enter enlightened Martians telling us that the answer to all our troubles is a lot of free sex and some cool cosmic powers… ugh. Oh well, on to the next book.

Well I just about have this one finished up so I’ll write about it now. William Safire, in addition to having been for many years the conservative political columnist for the New York Times, is also the author of the “On Language” column that ran in that paper on Sundays for many years. In “On Language”, Mr. Safire explored the origin of words and phrases, discusses usage and spelling, and generally addressed any other language-related topic that piqued his interest. No Uncertain Terms is a recent (perhaps the latest… I’m not quite certain) collection of those “On Language” columns, one of at least a dozen. I know I own at least one more of the set: In Love With Norma Loquendi.

Being a lover of words and turns of phrase, Safire’s columns fascinate me. ALmost better than the columns, though, are the responses he chooses to print. Many of his readers choose to write in, enough that he has given the various groups titles. There’s the “Gotcha! Gang”, which nails him on factual errors. (I was actually a member of this gang once several years ago.) Then there’s the “Squad Squad”, nailing redundancy at every turn. Safire often corresponds with professors of English, editors of dictionaries, and historians, which means that the level of learnedness is very high. Still, the writing is snappy, so the book stays fun, and rarely gets dull.

I doubt I’ll find and add all of Safire’s collections to my personal library, but I’ll be on the lookout for another volume or two. They are fun reading, the topics won’t get old, and they improve my grammar and usage.

Powersat is one of the latest titles by long-time sci-fi author Ben Bova. Bova is a prolific author. His numerous tomes are full of futuristic technology, but the technology never takes the forefront; rather, it just provides the setting for classic themes of exploration, ambition, love, and revenge. Powersat is no exception.

Powersat is set in the near future, and features an inventor who is trying to set up a geosynchronous satellite that will collect solar energy and transmit it to Earth via “widely dispersed” microwaves. The worldwide oil syndicates, worried that the demand for oil might be decreased, sabotage his efforts, and the conflict ensues. The hero, trying to identify the villians and stop them; the villians, trying to continue to stay under the radar while continuing their sabotage.

There aren’t a lot of suprises in Powersat. The characters do about what you’d expect, and the hero is successful as you would expect. Mr. Bova is pushing his favorable views of space exploration and invention here, with a story that, if not superb, is certainly at least sufficient to carry the message. Still, it was a distracting, lightweight read, another enjoyable book from Ben Bova.

I am a voracious reader of fiction. I read a good bit of non-fiction, too, but fictional thrillers and sci-fi are my chance to escape for a while, so on any of my regular trips to the library you will find my stack of books weighted towards those genres. I was really in the mood for some sci-fi on this last trip, and while browsing the sci-fi shelves at the local library, I remembered a mention that Andy Osenga had made a while back about Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game. I figured it was worth a try, and so I picked up the (paperback!) book and added it to my stack. When I got home, I didn’t start it first; I had one book that was a 10-day reserve that I wanted to get out of the way. (Thomas Friedman’s The World is Flat, if you really care.) But before long it was getting dry and so I turned to Card.

Let me just get it out of the way early: Ender’s Game is a terrific book. The story is well-told. The main characters are exceptional children who, for the most part, sound like adults. Their childish emotional states, though, are crucial to the story. Card puts you right there, feeling what the hero feels. I had a hard time putting the book down. The twist at the end is just brilliant. I didn’t see it coming, but it made perfect sense given what you have been told in the story to that point. And when you find out, it’s one of those “wow” moments that sets your mind whirling.

I can understand why they classify Ender’s Game as sci-fi; the story is set in the future, with appropriately futuristic technologies and surroundings. But unlike much other science fiction, where the futuristic technology or science is at the core of the plot, Ender’s Game just uses the future as a tool to set up a story that resonates in any age. I also found interesting the device of using a main character who is a highly-intelligent child who sounds pretty much like an adult. It’s not a common device; the only other place I remember reading a story from that perspective is Bryce Courtenay’s much longer and more anguished The Power of One. But it works here. It causes you to identify with a protagonist that might otherwise be distant. And that makes the story work.

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about the story since I finished the book. The reluctant hero, the adults who keep him in the dark the whole time, the whole issue of the sacrifice of the unwitting to save the many; these are themes that will keep the book relevant for decades to come.

Pick up Ender’s Game sometime if you haven’t read it. It’s worth your time. I hear they’re talking of making a movie of it eventually; this is one of those stories where if the movie is done well, it could be a masterpiece. If it’s done poorly, yick, what a waste. I’ll hope for the former.

I just finished reading The Present Future: Six Tough Questions for the Church by Reggie McNeal. He is a SBC pastor who uses this book to challenge the modern-day church to stop thinking so much like a club and start thinking more missionally. I don’t agree with everything he had to say, but there were some points that really hit home.

One of the big ones, that I’m still kinda working over right now, is the comment (and I’m paraphrasing throughout this post since I don’t have the book with me) that we are too church-based with our faith; our church culture is one where we don’t have many (or any) friends outside the church, and where we expect to deal with issues of faith at church rather than at home. He notes that there are too many couples that are embarrassed to discuss their faith with each other at home, but are really active at church.

That one hits home with me. Not that I’m embarrassed to discuss my faith at home, but we don’t (discuss it) that much. We don’t do well at having devotions together. I’ll assign the fault to myself; it’s my job as the leader to see that it happens. And why don’t we? Because we’re “too busy”. Too busy, often, having to get to church to prepare for worship team, or to prepare for some church event, or to get to some church function. Now, perhaps there are other priority issues; the hour of TV most nights could be done away with, I suppose. But that doesn’t escape the fact that all of the efforts that I’m putting into “Christian” stuff, if I can call it that, are all church-focused, and none of them are outwardly-focused.

Part of me would really like to try this as an experiment: relinquish all of my church duties. Just stop. And then start to get things arranged in my own life and in our family life. Figure out what our needs and family things ought to be. Just to reassess. Then once I get that figured out, I can start figuring out where God wants me directed.

But there is the other side of my dilemma. I’m doing good stuff right now. I enjoy (for the most part) what I’m doing. I have a lot of people that count on me, for music at church, for technical help on ministry websites, etc etc. I can’t just leave them in the lurch… and the odds of my being able to gracefully exit from those responsibilities is next to nil.

So here I am. I don’t know what the right answer is right now. I think a lot of prayer is in order.

On my last visit to the local library, I found a slim volume on the “new books” shelf: The Simple Faith Of Mister Rogers, by Amy Hollingsworth. I was a moderate watcher of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood when I was young, and I’ve read just enough about Fred Rogers to know that I was intrigued when I saw the book on the shelf. Yesterday provided me with some blessed free time to read, and so I made this little book my Sunday-afternoon diversion.

Ms. Hollingsworth is a pastor’s wife, a journalist, and writer. She met Fred Rogers when she had the opportunity to interview him some years ago. They then carried on a correspondance that lasted until he passed away in February 2003. From her experiences with Mr. Rogers she is able to share both observations about and philosophies learned from the man who was a daily TV visitor in so many families’ homes. The result is a book that is part devotional, part biography, and part personal memoir. Regardless of the composition, though, the result is a wonderful little book.

Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister, but took great stock in that charge oft-attributed to St. Francis of Assisi: “preach the gospel… when necessary, use words.” As such, his gracious, encouraging manner spoke love, peace, and comfort to his watchers even without verbal gospel presentation. What is comforting to know is that the sincerity and earnestness seen on Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood permeated Mr. Rogers in real life, too. Ms. Hollingsworth notes that more than one person who has met Mr. Rogers has later remarked that “he’s more ‘Mister Rogers’ than Mister Rogers!” He was the real thing.

The devotional points of the book were simple, and yet good reminders for those of us who live hectic lives: go slow. Take time for silence. Don’t neglect prayer. Encourage others. I was impressed by the consistency and simplicity of Mr. Rogers’ daily routine: Up at 5:30 for devotions and prayer. Early morning swim (including singing a bit of praise to God as he entered the pool!), breakfast, then to the studio. In bed no later than 9:30 PM. The same routine, every day. I was challenged.

I’d recommend The Simple Faith of Mister Rogers to anyone who wants to gain a bit more appreciation for the value of living a genuine, simple, whole-hearted life. It will also be interesting to those who have enjoyed Mister Rogers Neighborhood but are unfamiliar with the man and the faith behind that program.