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I’ve got a soft spot in my heart (and on my reading list) for science fiction. It probably started when I was reading Michael Crichton as a 12-year-old. OK, Crichton might not be the first one you think of when I said “science fiction”, but Crichton’s mix of legit science into thriller novels was an appealing first taste. (Jurassic Park? eh, fine. The Andromeda Strain? Better.)

There’s an awful lot that gets passed through in the name of “science fiction” these days, though. For some incomprehensible reason, our libraries lump sci-fi and fantasy together, which means you’ve gotta be careful or instead of picking up a hard-science space opera you’ll end up with some multi-volume epic starring sexy telepathic cat people on a far-away planet that resembles nothing so much as medieval England. But I digress.

I started with Crichton, but progressed quickly to Asimov and Arthur Clarke. Later on I enjoyed Stephen Baxter’s Manifold trilogy and some of Robert Sawyer’s stuff. I still browse the New Sci-fi shelf at the library on a regular basis, but most of the time when I pick up an interesting-looking volume, it turns out to be Volume 17 of some big space opera, and ain’t nobody got time for that.

A couple years ago, though, The Incomparable podcast devoted an episode to Hugo Award nominees, and somebody brought up Cixin Liu’s The Three Body Problem. I was unacquainted with Liu, but found that this prolific Chinese author was finally getting a book translated into English. And what a book.

The Three Body trilogy continues with The Dark Forest and wraps up with Death’s End, the translation of which just released this fall. I finished reading Death’s End last night and wow, what a epic, sweeping trilogy. It begins as a current-day encounter with an alien race of such advanced technology they can hardly be understood, and traverses time and space to some distant future where the universe collapses in on itself only to explode again in another Big Bang.

Liu digs in to communication via gravitational waves, the survival strategies of intergalactic civilizations, and lightspeed travel, while telling a story expansive in spacetime in a way that hearkens back to Clarke and Asimov. The English translations are excellent, and while the books aren’t short, they kept me engaged through the final page.

If you’ve stuck with this post this far, The Three Body Problem might be one you want to pick up.

I haven’t been posting on every book I’ve read, but wow, this was a good one.

The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson is a history of what she calls “America’s great migration” - the movement of African Americans from the south to northern, midwestern, and western urban areas between 1930 and 1970. She follows three primary characters through their journeys from the Jim Crow south to new jobs and lives in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles.

Wilkerson weaves together their stories with the bigger picture of a changing country, where racial discrimination stubbornly persisted (persists?) even in states where the Jim Crow laws didn’t exist.

Given the unrest in the country at present this was a timely read. It struck home more than history often does because its time frame was so close to the present. It’s easy for me to think of even the 1960s as an old, black-and-white time; each of the characters Wilkerson follows, though, live at least into the 1990s… which I remember well.

Our history in this country is short, and this book was a good reminder that the racial tension we have today isn’t far removed from a long history of racism and slavery. We have so much yet to learn.

I put this one on my Amazon wishlist after reading a few posts on Scot McKnight’s blog about it. Shortly thereafter my Mom bought it for me for my birthday. Thanks Mom!

I appreciate the direction Dr. John Stackhouse takes with Partners in Christ. He wants to maintain a faithful, high view of Scripture; not to dismiss difficult passages or write them off, but to look at the Scripture as a whole and try to come to a position on male/female roles/dynamics in the church.

The title gives his conclusion away: Stackhouse comes down on the side of egalitarianism - in other words, that men and women should have equal standing and ability to have leadership roles in the church. But wait, the reader will say, what about 1 Timothy 2 (“I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet”) or 3 (“an Elder shall be the husband of one wife”)? Well, Stackhouse counters, what about 1 Cor 11 which assumes that women will be praying and prophesying? Or about Priscilla, who with her husband Aquila taught Apollos? Or Junia, who is mentioned among “the apostles” in Romans 16?

Stackhouse has an interesting approach here, which on first read makes a lot of sense - that God has an ideal end state in mind, and that at each era through history he has revealed himself and his will in ways that would stretch his people toward that end state without snapping them past the breaking point.

So, in the Old Testament, God reveals himself to the Israelites as a god in many ways different, though in many ways similar to the gods of the countries around them. He establishes a sacrificial system that is different, not but that different. When Jesus comes, he chooses men as his apostles, because choosing any women would’ve been a challenge past the stretching point of the culture. Still, he challenged the status quo by treating women more as equals than anyone in that culture would have.

So, Stackhouse argues, while Paul writes directing how men would be leaders in the church, that direction isn’t intended to be fixed for all time, but was the accommodation of the church to the culture at the time.

Stackhouse acknowledges that some will want to take this argument and run with it down other controversial paths, e.g. the debate over homosexuality. He differentiates that case by saying that the Bible appears to be progressively loosening on the gender equality issue, while staying consistent in its position regarding homosexuality.

I’m gonna need to do a re-read and think through it some more, but I appreciated Dr. Stackhouse’s take here. Worth a read if you’re interested in the subject.

I picked up The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, Vol. 2: The Spirit of Eastern Christendom (600-1700) (Volume 2) from an online recommendation, not really knowing what I was getting myself into. Sure, I was diving into Volume 2 of a 5-volume set, but hey, why not?

I’d heard Pelikan’s name before but really knew nothing about him. But it didn’t take long after starting the book to realize the immense brilliance of the author. The book starts with a list of primary sources, texts from the 7th - 17th centuries… that list is several pages long. (The list of secondary sources at the end is probably twice as long. Goodness.) Pelikan blessedly eschews footnotes in favor of a wide margin design where all the references are annotated in the margin, aligned with the relevant text. And goodness, there are references.

Pelikan manages pull together these sources to overview the development of Christian thought in the Eastern Church that is both detailed and accessible. In my terms, that means I couldn’t skim - had to pay attention - but it kept me interested and engaged. Which is awesome. I enjoyed it enough that I ordered Volume 1… wouldn’t be surprised if I end up with all of them by the time I’m done.

I had three books going in parallel before finishing these two, which was making me twitchy. (Now I’m back to one at a time. Ahhhhh.)

The Bone Labyrinth by James Rollins

Random selection off the library shelf. Apparently this is number 11 in a series, but read fine as a stand-alone thriller. The writing itself was good, though the story was sort of a disappointing Michael Crichton / DaVinci Code mashup. Quick, reasonably entertaining read, but I find myself unlikely to pick up another one by Rollins.

Man Enough: How Jesus Redefines Manhood by Nate Pyle

In a generation of Wild at Heart-esque books on Christian manhood, where wilderness adventure and military activity are primary examples pushed as “how to be more like a man”, pastor Nate Pyle’s book is a breath of fresh air. Pyle emphasizes gentleness, vulnerability, and a focus on the example of Jesus as better qualities to pursue. This is a short, easy read that I’d enjoy sneaking into a pastor’s hand the next time they’re pushing men’s small groups.

I picked The Mechanical by Ian Tregillis off the library shelf on a whim. Well, more accurately, I picked up the second book in this series on a whim, saw that it was book 2, and then went and tracked down book 1, The Mechanical. It was time for some sci-fi/fantasy.

This story is set in an alternate past wherein the Dutch have invented “mechanicals” - sentient robot humanoids that are governed (or enslaved, depending on your perspective) by Asimovian rules of behavior that all work just great until one of them develops free will.

On the other side of the equation are the French who lack the mechanical alchemy and have retreated to Canada where they work on chemical solutions to fight the Dutch “Clackers”.

It’s a good concept and Tregillis writes brisk prose and keeps it interesting. I enjoyed this one, and now need to go find Book 2 in the series again. I wonder what are the odds that it’s still on the library shelf?

I’ve been finishing books faster than I’ve been able to blog about them… so here’s a catch-up post.

Command and Control: Nuclear Weapons, the Damascus Accident, and the Illusion of Safety by Eric Schlosser

Schlosser’s book alternates chapters between telling the story of an accident at a nuclear missile site in Damascus, Arkansas, and telling the history of the development of nuclear weapons, with a focus on the accidents and risks involved. Though it’s not his point, one can quickly conclude that it’s only by the grace of God we haven’t had a major nuclear incident in the past 70 years. A fairly thick volume, but quite readable.

*Deadly Assets (Badge of Honor, #12) by W.E.B. Griffin

Ah, W.E.B. Griffin, falling into the ‘hey, they keep giving me money when the books have my name on them’ trap. A decade ago his books were still involved and engaging; today the plot lines are thin and the margins are wide. Remind me not to bother the next time I see one of his volumes on the library shelf.

The Perfect Theory: A Century of Geniuses and the Battle over General Relativity by Pedro G. Ferreira

A fun, popular-level overview of the study of General Relativity from Einstein to the present. I finished this on an airplane earlier this week and any sense of nerdiness I might’ve had from the topic quickly slipped away as the guy in the seat next to me was reading some treatise on string theory. Nevertheless, a good survey of the topic.

A reminder that current events can make even recent books seem a bit out of date: the chapter on gravity waves talked about LIGO but was still in the “maybe someday” stage about actual detection of gravity waves… which LIGO announced earlier this month.

Water to Wine: Some of My Story by Brian Zahnd

Brian Zahnd is a beautiful conundrum of a pastor and writer. Got fired up for Jesus as a kid in the 70s, planted and led a Pentecostal church. In this book he tells, as he says, some of his story as he hit a mid-life crisis of sorts, asked himself “is this all there is to Christianity?” and then had his eyes opened to a broader, deeper, richer view of the faith.

This is a guy who on one hand sounds like a mystic - he tells here of God speaking to him through dreams where he met with and got messages from Abraham, Mother Teresa, and Karl Barth - but in the next breath is championing formal liturgy, weekly Eucharist, and use of the Book of Common Prayer. He loves the land of Israel and can speak of it in great detail, but doesn’t hold to the dispensational eschatology that traditionally accompanies that love.

Regardless, his sermons have been a great encouragement to me over the past couple years. This book rehearses familiar themes from his messages, but that’s not a bad thing.

I picked this one off the New Books shelf at the library and was intrigued enough to borrow it. The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord is a gentle sci-fi story focused on culture exploration in the same vein of the later books of Orson Scott Card’s Ender series or some of the works of Ursula K. LeGuin. The cover blurb is a little bit misleading:

A proud and reserved alien society finds its homeland destroyed in an unprovoked act of aggression…

Well, yeah… that happens on the first page. The remainder of the story is a more subtle story about relationships being built between different cultures. It was an enjoyable read.

I’ve been interested in the Supreme Court ever since high school, so when I saw this one on the library shelf, I didn’t hesitate in picking it up. Last year I read a book about Thurgood Marshall, the first black justice on the Supreme Court; this year I learn about the first two women to serve on that bench.

Sisters in Law: How Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg Went to the Supreme Court and Changed the World is giving away a bit of its bias even in the title. It’s a very nice history of these two groundbreaking women. It fascinated me to learn more about their backstories to add color to the faces you usually only see in stern portraits staring out from above black judicial robes.

It was interesting to learn about Ginsburg’s path to the court and how it paralleled Thurgood Marshall’s in many ways. Marshall was a tireless advocate for the African American cause as a lawyer before the Court before becoming a member; Ginsburg similarly championed the cause of equal rights for women. These backstories help remind us that even though the news stories about Court justices usually focus only on very recent legal opinions, appointment to the highest bench comes as the culmination of a long, brilliant legal career. These are impressive women with wonderful stories.

Author Hirshman is hardly a neutral observer here; she cheerleads for O’Connor and Ginsburg all through the volume. It’s tolerable until the last few chapters, at which point she speaks so critically and dismissively of conservative justice Samuel Alito that I nearly decided to put the book down. The opening bulk of the book, though, made it worthwhile.

I’ll be honest here: I’ve never been a big Bob Dylan fan. I like a few of his songs, but have somehow never managed to get into him as an artist. (I’ll keep trying.) Dylan Goes Electric! Newport, Seeger, Dylan, and the Night that Split the Sixties by Elijah Wald is a short history of the American folk music scene in the early 1960s, leading up to that night in 1964 when Dylan brought an electric guitar on stage at the Newport Folk Festival and shook up the folk music scene for good.

Dylan Goes Electric is very readable, and does a nice job of filling in the musical history of the era for people like me who have heard the names Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, Peter, Paul and Mary, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, and the like, but know very little about most of them.

Nothing too deep or too profound, but a nice snapshot of a particular short era in American folk and popular music.