In which I post my eclectic thoughts on what I feel is important to me, and which I think others might benefit from. http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/ en-us Homeschool Blogger Sun, 8 Nov 2009 15:40:00 -0600 Sun, 8 Nov 2009 15:40:00 -0600 ...swirled it all together, poured it into one mold, and out popped... Chesterton. I have read several of this man's works--over half of the Father Brown Stories, The Man Who Was Thursday, and other little excerpts here and there--but as I research more, I only begin to realize how I haven't even scratched the surface of this man's wisdom. Here is one the tasty tidbits I've been savoring. " When domesticity, for instance, is called drudgery, all the difficulty arises from a double meaning in the word. If drudgery only means dreadfully hard work, I admit the woman drudges in the home, as a man might drudge at the Cathedral of Amiens or drudge behind a gun at Trafalgar. But if it means that the hard work is more heavy because it is trifling, colorless and of small import to the soul, then as I say, I give it up; I do not know what the words mean. To be Queen Elizabeth within a definite area, deciding sales, banquets, labors and holidays; to be Whiteley within a certain area, providing toys, boots, sheets cakes. and books, to be Aristotle within a certain area, teaching morals, manners, theology, and hygiene; I can understand how this might exhaust the mind, but I cannot imagine how it could narrow it. How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman's function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness." http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/743091/ Sun, 8 Nov 2009 15:40:00 -0600 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/743091/ What's it called? Oh yeah--TIME. Well, unfortunately, schoolwork decided something was lacking, so it taxed mine. I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while--I have begun Thoughts on Fiction part three, but it isn't finished yet. So in the mean time I'm going to be posting some favorite quotes and poems for your enjoyment, and hopefully edification as well. Here are two gems I stumbled across this morning. Work Henry van Dyke Let me but do my work from day to day, In field of forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market-place or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,  "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; Of all who live, I am the one by whom This work can best be done in the right way." Then shall I see it not too great, nor small, To suit my spirit and to prove my powers; Then shall I cheerful greet the laboring hours, And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall Because I know for me my work is best. Don't you love that? Poetry books are amazing to me, because every time I open one, it hands me something I hadn't ever noticed before. I'm going to learn this poem by heart and quote it to the feminists when they ask me why I slave in the house all day. Worth Makes the Man Alexander Pope, from An Essay on Man Honor and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honor lies. Fortune in men has some small difference made, One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade; The cobbler aproned, and the parson gowned; The friar hooded, and the monarch crowned. "What differ more," you cry, "Than crown and cowl!" I'll tell you, friend! a wise man and a fool. You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, Worth makes the man, and want of if the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunella. In church we've been studying James chapter 2, in which there is much having to do with the sin of Partiality, or Respecting of Persons because of their wealth (or lack thereof). I think this is a good summary of it all--worth makes the man. "It is by his deeds," Proverbs says, "That a lad distinguishes himself, if his conduct is pure and right." Not by his clothes. Whew--isn't that nice to know? http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/741699/ Tue, 3 Nov 2009 08:46:00 -0600 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/741699/ I'm going to go on a little rant this morning. Advice from a Novice part III is coming along, but it isn't finished yet, and I haven't posted in a while, so I thought I'd throw this one out there to buy some time. *** I am really big on symbolism in writing. Fiction, in my opinion, is all about symbolism (otherwise, why would we be reading about a series of phenomenons that didn't happen, happening to a series of people who never existed?)—especially Fantasy. If you've read my previous fiction reviews, you'll have gotten at least a hint of a few of my opinions on the subject. :-) Anyways, because I'm a Christian, symbolism is given even more meaning. The Bible is filled with symbolism, and it can be a lot of fun to sort and figure it out (*ahem* try to, anyways). So one of the things that comes up a lot in debates with friends is the symbol of the dragon. Is it a symbol of Satan, or Christ—or both at different times? What are the Greek and Hebrew roots to all of the different references to dragons in the Old and New Testaments? If it IS a symbol of Satan, can it be acceptable for use as a symbol of Christ or Christians at times? It's all quite confusing, and while I have my opinions on many of these things, I'm not going to really go into that much right now. What I want to talk about is one particular argument that I've seen lots of times. I'm gonna use fictional characters to illustrate. I'm even going to mix and match to create my own names for them. Be impressed. (;-P) Evily: The dragon is a symbol of Satan in the Bible. We oughtn't to use it as a symbol of good. Aarick: But according to 1 Peter 5:8, Satan is a lion too, and you don't seem to have a problem with, say, Aslan. Now, here's where I get frustrated. Let's look at two passages—one from Revelation 12, on the Dragon, and the aforementioned 1 Peter 5:8. “Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels fought back, but he was defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.” ~Revelation 12:7-9 “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” ~1 Peter 5:8 Now, here's the difference. Revelation doesn't say, “The devil, Satan, the deceiver of the world, who is like a great dragon.” The dragon IS Satan. That is symbolism. The 1 Peter verse doesn't say, “the devil, that roaring lion,” “the devil is a roaring lion,” or even just use a lion to symbolize the devil. It says the devil prowls around LIKE a roaring lion. That is not symbolism—that is a simile. Who can guess what the next step is? Yep—you got it. Hold on a sec while I consult my good friend Mr. Webster. Symbol: “1. The sign or representation of any moral thing by the images or properties of natural things. Thus the lion is the symbol of courage; the lamb is the symbol of meekness or patience. Symbols are of various kinds, as types, enigmas, parables, fables, allegories, emblems, hieroglyphics, &c. 2. An emblem or representation of something else. Thus in the eucharist, the bread and wine are called symbols of the body and blood of Christ.” Simile: “In rhetoric, similitude; a comparison of two thing which, however different in other respects, have some strong point or points of resemblance; by which comparison, the character or qualities of a thing are illustrated or presented in an impressive light. Thus, the eloquence of Demosthenes was like a rapid torrent; that of Cicero, like a large stream that glides smoothly along with majestic tranquility.” Obviously, the two words have similarities. But they aren't the same, and the Bible supports that statement. Evily: Well, now—that's an interesting thought. Let's follow through with it. Take a look at Revelation 3:3: “Remember, then, what you received and heard. Keep it, and repent. If you will not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what hour I will come against you.'” Do you see the implications of Aarick's argument? If, “the devil prowls around like a roaring lion,” means that the lion is being used as a symbol of the devil, then, “I will come like a thief,” must mean that the symbol used for the Holy Spirit here is a thief. But there's something wrong with that, because the eighth commandment forbids stealing. Why would the Bible use a lawbreaker as as symbol for the One who created the law itself? That makes no sense. There you have my argument against one kind of symbolism misuse. http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/734985/ Sat, 10 Oct 2009 12:15:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/734985/ Well, well, well—my first tag in Blogishdom! *Is excited* My friend Emma over at Literature and Laughs has awarded me with the “Honest Scrap Award,” and now you get to read ten dazzling honest facts about Yours Truly. Won’t that be fun?     *Taps forehead in Pooh Bear fashion* Think…think…think.             1. I love cold weather. I love cold weather. I LOVE COLD WEATHER! It’s Fall now, and I don’t care what the thermometer says—Summer got its turn, and now it’s OVER. Goodbye. This is me, getting dressed in the morning: “Ooh, its in the 60’s! Fall! Cold!” *Reaches for Christmas skirt, slaps own hand away* “Not yet, silly. Just a little longer.” *Huff* “Fine.” *Pulls on plum-colored, long-sleeved tee*             2. I like color in my food. Not Food-Coloring, but real, natural color. I mean, come on. A bright green salad with lighter green avocado, juicy red tomatoes, and maybe some orange bell-peppers. Put some shredded chicken on the top. Isn’t that prettier than plain ol’ brown everything?   3. I have the weirdest pet-peeves you ever heard of. For example: I can’t stand nylons, because if they rub together at all…I’m cringing just thinking about it. I can’t talk about it any more. (Same if someone scratches an itch through their clothes. Please, if you value my sanity…don’t.)   4. I have weird scent preferences too. I hate chemical scents, like what they put in laundry detergent. I hold my breath when we walk down that aisle in Sam’s Club. But I love the smell of rubbing alcohol (dry-erase markers, mmm!) and…get this…Play-Dough.   5. I have the Writer’s Itch. If I see a blank page—there better not be a pen next to it, or you might have to physically restrain me from writing on it. If I can’t think of anything to write, I’ll doodle. I’ve ruined things all my life by writing on them.   6. According to my mother, I could read by the time I was four years old. I could talk well before my second birthday, too—and I would cry if someone pronounced a word wrong. While I don’t cry anymore, I still appreciate proper punctuation and spelling. :-)   7. They say I’m a bookworm. In fact, I say it too. I never tire of talking about books and writing. In fact, I often have to pull back on my own reins so as not to overwhelm people with recommendations. By the way, what do YOU like to read??? *Look of excited anticipation*   8. I am left-handed. What? Yes, I promise not to turn you into a snail. (But I do tend to smudge my paper when I write, if I’m not careful…)   9. Musicals make me really excited. Especially when I find out that they’ve based one off of a favorite book!!! There’s this feeling, sitting in front of a live play, that just doesn’t happen with the TV. Someday I’d like to have a lead role in a musical. But there are some major obstacles to that, which leads me to my last fact…   10. I am quite dramatic. In my bedroom, that is. I’ll prance around my room and lip-sync till my face is tired acting out Les Mis songs or Jane Eyre. Even Newsies! When I read to myself out loud, accents and facial expressions are essential.  Get me in front of even a few people...and it all goes away. I’m sure it’s down there inside me somewhere—but I would have to practice a long time for drama to become easy for me.             I still love it.   So. I’ve tried to think of interesting things that would either make you laugh or make circles around your ear with a pointer-finger. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks, Emma!!   *Rubs hands together* Now I get to tag someone else. I tag: Shannon and Joy, since everyone else I know has already gotten it!!   God bless, ~The Rose   http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/732958/ Sat, 3 Oct 2009 16:02:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/732958/ So my last post was a little bit short and blunt, because I'm afraid I've scared readers away with my previous long ones. I read it over this morning and it felt abrupt. Maybe I can reach a happy medium today. Now you know about the Telling problem, so I can move on to another biggie: Head Hopping—also known as POV Violation. (POV stands for Point of View.) There are three major POV styles. They're called: 1st Person—Written as if the main character is actually the one telling the story. Jane Eyre is a good example of this. “I jumped up, took my muff and umbrella, and hastened into the inn-passage: a man was standing by the open door, and in the lamp-lit street I dimly saw a one-horse conveyance.” Notice the, “I”? That's 1st Person. You're in one person's head through at least a certain scene or chapter, if not the whole book. You see things only as the character sees them, and you know only his or her thoughts. This style is not the easiest of the three, but it is such a good read. 2nd Person—“You did this, and you said that.” This style is pretty hard to make look good, and it's uncommon to find in novels. I hear it's been done, but I've never read it. We'll leave that one there. 3rd Person. This is the most popular and easiest of the three. It is written as if the narrator is telling a story about the main character. “She did this,” or, “He said that.” There are lots and lots of authors who write this way—Jane Austen, C. S. Lewis, Tolkien, Louisa May Alcott, to name a couple of examples. We're going to park here for a while, because this is where the issue of Head-Hopping rises. Head Hopping: A weak writing technique in which the author skips from one character's thoughts and perspective to another's without appropriate pause. I was browsing through a book in the YA section of the library the other day. The female character was looking at the male character, and she was noting the color of his eyes. THEN, all of a sudden, we find the male character looking at the female character, noting the color of HER eyes! This is a really confusing thing to do when writing a novel, and jars the reader from the story. When a reader picks up a book for the first time, he often doesn't care one way or another about it. He's thinking, “Hmm—wonder if this is any good?” The task of the first few pages is to reach out and grab his attention, pull it in, and keep it there. A POV violation is like a speed bump that makes the reader think, “Hold on—what? Now we're over here with THIS guy? Weren't we just...and who is...HUH?” It may not be that extreme, and he may figure it out very quickly and settle in again. In fact, he may barely even notice that it happened. But it did. And focus, once broken, isn't as easily captured the second time. Think of words as doors. He opens the cover. Grabs the doorknob. Opens it, and is immediately captured by the actions taking place on the other side. He's watching a...well, a horse-race, shall we say. He sees a horse he likes. Decides to root for it. Is just watching it glide towards the finish... When he realizes that he's still standing at the doorway. You DON'T want to draw attention to the doorway when the race is where you're trying to catch the eye. You know how with tour buses, they have rules against sticking hands out the windows, or jumping out before the bus stops? It's the same thing in fiction. A stop can be a scene break, a chapter break, the break between parts one and two, or two books in a series. But don't get out and find another character's thoughts to hang out in 'till the bus has stopped. Let me know how it works for you. http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/716739/ Wed, 12 Aug 2009 12:45:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/716739/ “Instead of telling us a thing was 'terrible,' describe it so that we'll be terrified. Don't say it was 'delightful'; make us say 'delightful' when we've read the description. You see, all those words (horrifying, wonderful, hideous, exquisite) are only like saying to your readers "Please will you do my job for me.” ~C. S. Lewis This is one of the top weaknesses in Christian Fiction writing today. I say, “weaknesses,” not, “mistakes,” because, especially in writing, rules are made to be broken, and every great writer breaks rules. There are times when Telling IS appropriate, but in general, it's just not as powerful as Showing. Some people say, “Show, don't Tell.” How about this for a change: “Don't Tell until you know how to Show.” You can't break a rule until you know how to obey it. So instead of saying, “The lady was kind to me,” say, “the lady's wrinkles melted into a smile, and she handed me a plate of chocolate-chip cookies.” Instead of saying, “He hated me,” say, “And without so much as a blink of his ice-blue eyes, he dropped my thousand-dollar camera into the depths of the canyon.” Make sense? Try it out, and let me know how it works for you. http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/712593/ Wed, 29 Jul 2009 21:42:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/712593/ [Those of you who are reading the book for the first time: you've been warned. It WILL spoil the book if you read ahead. If you decide to do so anyways, then don't blame me, if you please. I told you. *Grin*] Little Women is my favorite book. That may come as a surprise to some of you who know what a Jane Austen/Bronte sisters fan I am. But it's true. I didn't always think so—for a long time I honestly couldn't tell you what my favorite book was, because my favorite authors were all so wonderful. Then I read Little Women again, and it was decided. That book never fails to bring a full range of emotions out of me. I always end up laughing at some point, and I always end up crying. And it isn't always at the same part. Last time I read it, the scene in which the Hummel's baby dies made me go bezerk, when it hadn't ever really done that before. The time before that, Laurie's proposal. Even though I wholeheartedly believe that Jo did the right thing. Oh, yes. And that brings me to the point of this article. (Notice title?) I know many people who think Jo should have married Laurie. I disagree. Now, as noted in the title, I am only a young girl. I'm sixteen. I haven't been married. All of my knowledge in these matters comes from the Bible (through the teaching of my parents, mostly), history, literature, and observation of others—not from personal experience. I fully acknowledge that. (But I still think I'm right. *Grin*) Jo is a headstrong girl. She has strong opinions, and she doesn't hesitate to voice them or act on them. She doesn't easily let go of them, either (Stubborn). She is very independent—she doesn't like relying on others for her needs. She's a do-it-herself person. She either loves or hates—she doesn't really have an in-between view. Staunch and hearty. Bold and brave. Doesn't really think before she acts. Clumsy, but she sort of gets over that. Laurie is very similar to Jo. He's got strong opinions, he's stubborn as a mule, and he doesn't do a lot of looking before he leaps either. He's tired of the usual, like Jo. Wants something different to satisfy his curiosity. That's why they both hit it off so well. They're very alike, and they're equal in most respects. So they become very good chums—and as chums they suit each other very well. Neither has to defer to the other—they can argue to their hearts' content, or run races, or anything else, without much trouble, because, as I said, they're equal. So after a while, Jo figures out that Laurie is getting a little more sentimental towards her than she likes. She goes to Marmee. “It may be vain and wrong to say it, but--I'm afraid--Laurie is getting too fond of me." "Then you don't care for him in the way it is evident he begins to care for you?" and Mrs. March looked anxious as she put the question. "Mercy, no! I love the dear boy, as I always have, and am immensely proud of him, but as for anything more, it's out of the question." "I'm glad of that, Jo." "Why, please?" "Because, dear, I don't think you suited to one another. As friends you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over, but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love." "That's just the feeling I had, though I couldn't express it. I'm glad you think he is only beginning to care for me. It would trouble me sadly to make him unhappy, for I couldn't fall in love with the dear old fellow merely out of gratitude, could I?" THEN, Laurie asks Jo to marry him. Apparently he's had it in his mind ever since he met her, but never let on. Jo's reaction is as follows—not the whole passage, of course, but the most important part. "I agree with Mother that you and I are not suited to each other, because our quick tempers and strong wills would probably make us very miserable, if we were so foolish as to..." Jo paused a little over the last word, but Laurie uttered it with a rapturous expression. "Marry--no we shouldn't! If you loved me, Jo, I should be a perfect saint, for you could make me anything you like." "No, I can't. I've tried and failed, and I won't risk our happiness by such a serious experiment. We don't agree and we never shall, so we'll be good friends all our lives, but we won't go and do anything rash." **I read an excerpt of a book in which the author said that Laurie was more like Beth than Jo—she quoted various descriptions from the book—“bashful,” “wistful,” “very polite,” “all alone and sick.” Also, they both love music. That made some sense to me—I think he's like Beth in some ways, and like Jo in others. Anyways, I hold to my view even more with this point, because Jo leads Beth—not the other way 'round.** Look at what the Bible says about the husband-wife relationship. Women must obey their husbands. Women must be submissive. Women must respect. (Husbands must respect too, of course.) Can you see Jo and Laurie being this way? So they each go their seperate ways. Now let's skip ahead to Professor Bhaer. Professor Bhaer is an older, absent-minded, German professor. He's very kind and thoughtful of other people. He is strong in his beliefs. Jo very soon learns to respect him, and to hold his views in high esteem. She unconciously tries to earn his goodwill, and seeks his opinions on some things. He almost takes a fatherly role. And he, recognizing the vulnerable position of a young woman far away from her family, sort of looks after her. “...presently several of the philosophers, each mounted on his hobby, came ambling up to hold an intellectual tournament in the recess. [...] She looked round to see how the Professor liked it, and found him looking at her with the grimest expression she had ever seen him wear. He shook his head and beckoned her to come away, but she was fascinated just then by the freedom of Speculative Philosophy, and kept her seat, trying to find out what the wise gentlemen intended to rely upon after they had annihilated all the old beliefs. [...] He bore it as long as he could, but when he was appealed to for an opinion, he blazed up with honest indignation and defended religion with all the eloquence of truth--an eloquence which made his broken English musical and his plain face beautiful. He had a hard fight, for the wise men argued well, but he didn't know when he was beaten and stood to his colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got right again to Jo. The old beliefs, that had lasted so long, seemed better than the new. God was not a blind force, and immortality was not a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She felt as if she had solid ground under her feet again, and when Mr. Bhaer paused, outtalked but not one whit convinced, Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him. She did neither, but she remembered the scene, and gave the Professor her heartiest respect, for she knew it cost him an effort to speak out then and there, because his conscience would not let him be silent. She began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty, and to feel that if greatness is what a wise man has defined it to be, 'truth, reverence, and good will', then her friend friedrich Bhaer was not only good, but great.” He doesn't require her obedience, but she gives it unknowingly because of her high opinon of him. “Mr. Bhaer caught sight of a picture on the [newspaper] hat, and unfolding it, said with great disgust, "I wish these papers did not come in the house. They are not for children to see, nor young people to read. It is not well, and I haf no patience with those who make this harm." Jo glanced at the sheet and saw a pleasing illustration composed of a lunatic, a corpse, a villian, and a viper. She did not like it, but the impulse that made her turn it over was not one of displeasure but fear, because for a minute she fancied the paper was the Volcano [the paper for which she writes suspense stories]. It was not, however, and her panic subsided as she remembered that even if it had been and one of her own tales in it, there would have been no name to betray her. She had betrayed herself, however, by a look and a blush, for though an absent man, the Professor saw a good deal more than people fancied. He knew that Jo wrote, and had met her down among the newspaper offices more than once, but as she never spoke of it, he asked no questions in spite of a strong desire to see her work. Now it occurred to him that she was doing what she was ashamed to own, and it troubled him. He did not say to himself, "It is none of my business. I've no right to say anything," as many people would have done. He only remembered that she was young and poor, a girl far away from mother's love and father's care, and he was moved to help her with an impulse as quick and natural as that which would prompt him to put out his hand to save a baby from a puddle. All this flashed through his mind in a minute, but not a trace of it appeared in his face, and by the time the paper was turned, and Jo's needle threaded, he was ready to say quite naturally, but very gravely... "Yes, you are right to put it from you. I do not think that good young girls should see such things. They are made pleasant to some, but I would more rather give my boys gunpowder to play with than this bad trash." [...] As soon as she went to her room, she got out her papers, and carefully reread every one of her stories. Being a little shortsighted, Mr. Bhaer sometimes used eye glasses, and Jo had tried them once, smiling to see how they magnified the fine print of her book. Now she seemed to have on the Professor's mental or moral spectacles also, for the faults of these poor stories glared at her dreadfully and filled her with dismay. "They are trash, and will soon be worse trash if I go on, for each is more sensational than the last. I've gone blindly on, hurting myself and other people, for the sake of money. I know it's so, for I can't read this stuff in sober earnest without being horribly ashamed of it, and what should I do if they were seen at home or Mr. Bhaer got hold of them?" Jo turned hot at the bare idea, and stuffed the whole bundle into her stove, nearly setting the chimney afire with the blaze. "Yes, that's the best place for such inflammable nonsense. I'd better burn the house down, I suppose, than let other people blow themselves up with my gunpowder," she thought as she watched the Demon of the Jura whisk away, a little black cinder with fiery eyes.” I know I'm quoting very long passages here, but you really have to read the whole book to understand the Jo-Professor relationship as it gradually blossoms. I'm doing my best to represent it condensed here. “Grief is the best opener of some hearts, and Jo's was nearly ready for the bag. A little more sunshine to ripen the nut, then, not a boy's impatient shake, but a man's hand reached up to pick it gently from the burr, and find the kernal sound and sweet. If she suspected this, she would have shut up tight, and been more prickly than ever, fortunately she wasn't thinking about herself, so when the time came, down she dropped.” In the light of all this, let's compare two heroes with very similar roles. Take Professor Bhaer for one, and Colonel Brandon as the other. Now, Colonel Brandon isn't absent-minded, but he is around the same age, and takes a protective role over Marianne. What makes it so wonderful when Marianne marries Colonel Brandon, but so disappointing when Jo marries the Professor? *** I'll be quiet now. *Grin* But I'd love to hear what you all think, because I just don't understand. I hope I've given someone a little food for thought. Oh, and another footnote. I do like Laurie very much. I believe I mentioned that his proposal has had me in tears. It had Jo in tears too. Just because she cared very much about him and loved him as one of her best friends doesn't mean that she had to marry him. http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/705723/ Mon, 6 Jul 2009 21:48:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/705723/    Hi, everyone! I know it's been a while—that's just the way my blog is going to be. If I planned to post regularly every week, I'd find myself writing rather random and sometimes meaningless articles, which wouldn't be fun for either of us. *Grin* So I just wait until I get a bee in my bonnet, and go from there.   Well, today I've been thinking about—guess what? Fiction! This post may be a little bit rabbit-trail-ish, but I hope you enjoy it. If you've read through my blog at all, you'll know that I like to read popular books and analyze them. With the past few popular books, I haven't been very impressed. There are a lot of themes and ideas mixed into Twilight, Harry Potter, and Eragon that I don't agree with. But especially with J.K. And Stephanie, one thing that did impress me was their writing. And that's why they're so popular. Even many Christians who disagree with the author's worldview read and love these books because they are very engaging. Christians read them, and at the least, sort of shrug. “Oh, well—yeah, I see the problems, but I still REALLY LIKE the characters!” Or something like that. My question is this: Why isn't it the same way with Christian books? Why don't non-christians say, “Yeah, I know they have weird ideas, but the book is GREAT anyways!” Well, there are two reasons, and they are somewhat intertwined. The first one is, well, writing! I've heard stories about authors who never re-write because they, “got this story straight from God.” Well, first of all, that isn't entirely wrong, because everything we have comes from God, so undoubtedly, so do the stories we write! But if I'm not mistaken, even preachers have to learn how to preach. Some Christian authors have awesome messages, but never took the time to learn how to present them. It's kind of funny how this works. The writing, story, and characters have to be the first priority, otherwise the true first priority, the theme, means nothing. The people who need to hear the message won't come near it because it isn't presented well, and the people who already believe it have nothing to gain from the book. And that leads right into my next reason. Even if an author's writing is good, if they spend too much time trying to emphasize a theme, they are actually taking away from it. This is really only another application of the old rule, “Show, don't tell.” If an author wants to emphasize forgiveness in their story, he or she should have their character learn the lesson through actions and happenings—not have him sit and listen to a pages-long lecture on the subject. If a non-Christian won't go to church and listen to a sermon, why would he take the time to read one in the middle of a novel? This is much more subtle, and in my opinion, more effective for a writer. Take the classic authors, for example. People like Dickens and Austen, and the Bronte sisters. All of these were Christians, and their books definitely teach godly principles! But even non-Christians enjoy them. Because really, you don't have to try to put your views into a novel. They get there by themselves, and to try and underline them is to make them too obvious, and so spoil their effect. Those are, in my opinion, two huge problems with many Christian authors today. I think this might be the beginning of a series on writing tips. Because once you emphasize a problem, you have to find a way—or let someone else find a way—to fix it. Otherwise it's just being pessimistic. And I have been accused of that before. *Grin* What do you think? God bless, ~The Rose http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/704835/ Fri, 3 Jul 2009 16:12:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/704835/   http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/689417/ Fri, 15 May 2009 17:29:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/689417/ I love old books. I love their look, their musty smell, and just the feeling that runs up my arm when I open one. It's almost like every one of the book's memories since the publishing all wait, enclosed in the pages, and fly out to greet me at once. Yes, books have memories. Take my word for it. (I hate to think of that Nancy Drew I once dropped in the toilet by accident—it probably has arthritis now, and grimaces every time it thinks of me.) So when, shortly after Christmas, Mom casually mentioned a box of old books she'd found at a yard sale, my ears perked up. “What? Huh? Old books?” I asked, sitting up straight. “Yeah. Dad doesn't want 'em—doesn't like their smell,” she replied. “I wanted to give them to you for Christmas, but he said they were too old for a Christmas present.” I almost yelped. Too old for a Christmas present? “Where are they?” “Under the window, next to my bed. Go take a look. You can have them.” I immediately got up and went to the bedroom. I don't remember if I walked unusually slow, trying not to let my legs match the speed of my heartbeat, or if I just didn't care and dashed. Whichever it was, I found the box and carried it back into the living room. There were ten books, all part of a series. I picked one up. My arms trembled—or if they didn't, my heart certainly did. “THE WORLD'S FAMOUS ORATIONS William Jennings Bryan Editor-In-Chief,” it said on the cover. “Vol. V: Great Britain III.” There was one on Rome, one on Greece, Ireland, Four on Britain, and three on America, all filled with speeches—from Winston Churchill to King Phillip of King Phillip's War. “Dad didn't like the smell?” I breathed. “These are treasures!” Then I opened to the copyright date. 1906. “These are one hundred and three years old!” I gasped in delight. I spent the rest of the afternoon shuffling books around in my room to make space for them. Here is a gem I found in one of the volumes from America. It's a little lengthy, but SO SO worth it. Can you imagine a modern president saying these things? On American Motherhood Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919) (1905)   IN 1 our modern industrial civilization there are many and grave dangers to counterbalance the splendors and the triumphs. It is not a good thing to see cities grow at disproportionate speed relatively to the country; for the small land owners, the men who own their little homes, and therefore to a very large extent the men who till farms, the men of the soil, have hitherto made the foundation of lasting national life in every State; and, if the foundation becomes either too weak or too narrow, the superstructure, no matter how attractive, is in imminent danger of falling.   1    But far more important than the question of the occupation of our citizens is the question of how their family life is conducted. No matter what that occupation may be, as long as there is a real home and as long as those who make up that home do their duty to one another, to their neighbors and to the State, it is of minor consequence whether the man’s trade is plied in the country of in the city, whether it calls for the work of the hands or for the work of the head.   2    No piled-up wealth, no splendor of material growth, no brilliance of artistic development, will permanently avail any people unless its home life is healthy, courage, common sense, and decency, unless he works hard and is willing at need to fight hard; and unless the average woman is a good wife, a good mother, able and willing to perform the first and greatest duty of womanhood, able and willing to bear, and to bring up as they should be brought up, healthy children, sound in body, mind, and character, and numerous enough so that the race shall increase and not decrease.   3    There are certain old truths which will be true as long as this world endures, and which no amount of progress can alter. One of these is the truth that the primary duty of the husband is to be the home-maker, the breadwinner for his wife and children, and that the primary duty of the woman is to be the helpmate, the housewife, and mother. The woman should have ample educational advantages; but save in exceptional cases the man must be, and she need not be, and generally ought not to be, trained for a lifelong career as the family breadwinner; and, therefore, after a certain point, the training of the two must normally be different because the duties of the two are normally different. This does not mean inequality of function, but it does mean that normally there must be dissimilarity of function. On the whole, I think the duty of the woman the more important, the more difficult, and the more honorable of the two; on the whole I respect the woman who does her duty even more that I respect the man who does his.   4    No ordinary work done by a man is either as hard or as responsible as the work of a woman who is bringing up a family of small children; for upon her time and strength demands are made not only every hour of the day but often every hour of the night. She may have to get up night after night to take care of a sick child, and yet must by day continue to do all her household duties as well; and if the family means are scant she must usually enjoy even her rare holidays taking her whole brood of children with her. The birth pangs make all men the debtors of all women. Above all our sympathy and regard are due to the struggling wives among those whom Abraham Lincoln called the plain people, and whom he so loved and trusted; for the lives of these women are often led on the lonely heights of quiet, self-sacrificing heroism.   5   Just as the happiest and more honorable and most useful task that can be set any man is to earn enough for the support of his wife and family, for the bringing up and starting in life of his children, so the most important, the most honorable and desirable task which can be set any woman is to be a good and wise mother in a home marked by self-respect and mutual forbearance, by willingness to perform duty, and by refusal to sink into self-indulgence or avoid that which entails effort and self-sacrifice. Of course there are exceptional men and exceptional women who can do and ought to do much more than this, who can lead and ought to lead great careers of outside usefulness in addition to—not as substitutes for—their home work; but I am not speaking of exceptions; I am speaking of the primary duties, I am speaking of the average citizens, the average men and women who make up the nation.   6   Inasmuch as I am speaking to an assemblage of mothers, I shall have nothing whatever to say in praise of an easy life. Yours is the work which is never ended. No mother has an easy time, the most mothers have very hard times; and yet what true mother would barter her experience of joy and sorrow in exchange for a life of cold selfishness, which insists upon perpetual amusement and the avoidance of care, and which often finds its fit dwelling place in some flat designed to furnish with the least possible expenditure of effort the maximum of comfort and of luxury, but in which there is literally no place for children?   7    The woman who is a good wife, a good mother, is entitled to our respect as is no one else; but she is entitled to it only because, and so long as, she is worthy of it. Effort and self-sacrifice are the law of worthy life for the man as for the woman; tho neither the effort nor the self-sacrifice may be the same for the one as for the other. I do not in the least believe in the patient Griselda type of woman, in the woman who submits to gross and long continued ill treatment, any more than I believe in a man who tamely submits to wrongful aggression. No wrong-doing is so abhorrent as wrong-doing by a man toward the wife and children who should arouse every tender feeling in his nature. Selfishness toward them, lack of tenderness toward them, lack of consideration for them, above all, brutality in any form toward them, should arouse the heartiest scorn and indignation in every upright soul.   8    I believe in the woman keeping her self-respect just as I believe in the man doing so. I believe in her rights just as much as I believe in the man’s, and indeed a little more; and I regard marriage as a partnership, in which each partner is in honor bound to think of the rights of the other as well as of his or her own. But I think that the duties are even more important than the rights; and in the long run I think that the reward is ampler and greater for duty well done, than for the insistence upon individual rights, necessary tho this, too, must often be. Your duty is hard, your responsibility great; but greatest of all is your reward. I do not pity you in the least. On the contrary, I feel respect and admiration for you.   9    Into the woman’s keeping is committed the destiny of the generations to come after us. In bringing up your children you mothers must remember that while it is essential to be loving and tender it is no less essential to be wise and firm. Foolishness and affection must not be treated as interchangeable terms; and besides training your sons and daughters in the softer and milder virtues, you must seek to give them those stern and hardy qualities which in after life they will surely need. Some children will go wrong in spite of the best training; and some will go right even when their surroundings are most unfortunate; nevertheless an immense amount depends upon the family training. If you mothers through weakness bring up your sons to be selfish and to think only of themselves, you will be responsible for much sadness among the women who are to be their wives in the future. If you let your daughters grow up idle, perhaps under the mistaken impression that as you yourselves have had to work hard they shall know only enjoyment, you are preparing them to be useless to others and burdens to themselves. Teach boys and girls alike that they are not to look forward to lives spent in avoiding difficulties, but to lives spent in overcoming difficulties. Teach them that work, for themselves and also for others, is not a curse but a blessing; seek to make them happy, to make them enjoy life, but seek also to make them face life with the steadfast resolution to wrest success from labor and adversity, and to do their whole duty before God and to man. Surely she who can thus train her sons and her daughters is thrice fortunate among women.   10    There are many good people who are denied the supreme blessing of children, and for these we have the respect and sympathy always due to those who, from no fault of their own, are denied any of the other great blessings of life. But the man or woman who deliberately foregoes these blessings, whether from viciousness, coldness, shallow-heartedness, self-indulgence, or mere failure to appreciate aright the difference between the all-important and the unimportant,—why, such a creature merits contempt as hearty as any visited upon the soldier who runs away in battle, or upon the man who refuses to work for the support of those dependent upon him, and who tho able-bodied is yet content to eat in idleness the bread which others provide.   11    The existence of women of this type forms one of the most unpleasant and unwholesome features of modern life. If any one is so dim of vision as to fail to see what a thoroughly unlovely creature such a woman is I wish they would read Judge Robert Grant’s novel “Unleavened Bread,” ponder seriously the character of Selma, and think of the fate that would surely overcome any nation which developed its average and typical woman along such lines. Unfortunately it would be untrue to say that this type exists only in American novels. That it also exists in American life is made unpleasantly evident by the statistics as to the dwindling families in some localities. It is made evident in equally sinister fashion by the census statistics as to divorce, which are fairly appalling; for easy divorce is now as it ever has been, a bane to any nation, a curse to society, a menace to the home, an incitement to married unhappiness and to immorality, an evil thing for men and a still more hideous evil for women. These unpleasant tendencies in our American life are made evident by articles such as those which I actually read not long ago in a certain paper, where a clergyman was quoted, seemingly with approval, as expressing the general American attitude when he said that the ambition of any save a very rich man should be to rear two children only, so as to give his children an opportunity “to taste a few of the good things of life.”   12    This man, whose profession and calling should have made him a moral teacher, actually set before others the ideal, not of training children to do their duty, not of sending them forth with stout hearts and ready minds to win triumphs for themselves and their country, not of allowing them the opportunity, and giving them the privilege of making their own place in the world, but, forsooth, of keeping the number of children so limited that they might “taste a few good things!” The way to give a child a fair chance in life is not to bring it up in luxury, but to see that it has the kind of training that will give it strength of character. Even apart from the vital question of national life, and regarding only the individual interest of the children themselves, happiness in the true sense is a hundredfold more apt to come to any given member of a healthy family of healthy-minded children, well brought up, well educated, but taught that they must shift for themselves, must win their own way, and by their own exertions make their own positions of usefulness, than it is apt to come to those whose parents themselves have acted on and have trained their children to act on, the selfish and sordid theory that the whole end of life is to “taste a few good things.”   13    The intelligence of the remark is on a par with its morality; for the most rudimentary mental process would have shown the speaker that if the average family in which there are children contained but two children the nation as a whole would decrease in population so rapidly that in two or three generations it would very deservedly be on the point of extinction, so that the people who had acted on this base and selfish doctrine would be giving place to others with braver and more robust ideals. Nor would such a result be in any way regrettable; for a race that practised such doctrine—that is, a race that practised race suicide—would thereby conclusively show that it was unfit to exist, and that it had better give place to people who had not forgotten the primary laws of their being.   14   To sum up, then, the whole matter is simple enough. If either a race or an individual prefers the pleasure of more effortless ease, of self-indulgence, to the infinitely deeper, the infinitely higher pleasures that come to those who know the toil and the weariness, but also the joy, of hard duty well done, why, that race or that individual must inevitably in the end pay the penalty of leading a life both vapid and ignoble. No man and no woman really worthy of the name can care for the life spent solely or chiefly in the avoidance of risk and trouble and labor. Save in exceptional cases the prizes worth having in life must be paid for, and the life worth living must be a life of work for a worthy end, and ordinarily of work more for others than for one’s self.   15    The woman’s task is not easy—no task worth doing is easy—but in doing it, and when she has done it, there shall come to her the highest and holiest joy known to mankind; and having done it, she shall have the reward prophesied in Scripture; for her husband and her children, yes, and all people who realize that her work lies at the foundation of all national happiness and greatness, shall rise up and call her blessed.   16   Note 1. From his speech in Washington on March 13, 1905, before the National Congress of Mothers. Printed from a copy furnished by the president for this collection, in response to a request. [back] http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/686202/ Wed, 6 May 2009 09:35:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/roseinthewilderness/686202/