Book 1: Body Piercing Saved My Life

Body Piercing Saved My Life: Inside the Phenomenon of Christian Rock

Andrew Beaujon

The phenomenon of "Christian rock" is unavoidable in certain modern circles.  Take, for example, the very Dutch, very conservative, and extremely religious West Michigan environment in which I was raised, an environment so steeped in the Christian rock scene that I am disappointed in the easy-listening, non-ska qualities of local Christian radio offerings in a much larger market (Detroit). Though my religious beliefs do not generally jive with those who represent evangelical Christianity's most, er, vocal supporters (to keep it vague and respectful), living in an area so sympathetic to the sometimes-genre  that author Andrew Beaujon visited a college about five minutes away from my childhood home certainly influenced my teenage years, and I maintain a fondness for the Superchic[k]s, Supertones, Newsboys, Switchfoots, and other fundamentally religious artists who shaped, and continue to influence, my musical tastes. Though Beaujon worked on this book during my early college years, when I was liberating myself from the closet (and, perhaps not unsurprisingly, the Christian scene with it), I nonetheless hold a not-entirely-grudging respect for Christian music and its makers, and I am glad to report that Beaujon, though not a Christian, maintained the same respect for this easily typecast parallel universe that I do. Body Piercing Saved My Life is an outsider's look at a very fervent movement based almost purely on a specific set of religious values, so much so that a slightly non-sequitur section on anti-abortion protestors found its way into the book. That Beaujon managed to operate with only a limited amount of (usually deserved) snark and skepticism is a testament to his character, and that the book is filled with the utmost respect for the musicians and other industry professionals is both a credit to Beaujon and a subtle reminder, encoded in the book but not plastered upon it, that to paint with a wide brush is a dangerous folly indeed.

That said, however, the book isn't quite a landmark work of investigative journalism or, sad to say, excellent writing. While Beaujon's ability to evoke a setting is truly captivating at times, his parenthetical asides tend toward the distracting, with unrelated passages thrown in at times to shake things up, rarely for the better. The book, like some of its chapters, seems to lack a cohesive sense of direction. For example, Beaujon certainly has the right idea in periodically including discrete interviews with several important industry figures, but these sections of the book seem to jump in at random, without tying into the text at large. Better to bunch them at relevant points, perhaps, than to scatter them and lose a potential story. Yet aside from an early chapter that traces the history of contemporary Christian music in the United States, narrative is difficult to come by in this book, aside from some framing devices and festival stories that read more like a memoir than like journalism. While some chapter distinctions are obvious, such as the industry-heavy section focused on Tooth & Nail Records, much of the book seems nonchalantly organized, a collection of discrete articles more than a single, focused look at Christian music. There are times, as well, where Beaujon's outsider status works against him, and he often leans heavily on a few pivotal figures where alternative options proved difficult to convince

By the end of the book, it is difficult to come away feeling like Beaujon exposed a full range of opinions and views on, and inside, the Christian music industry. He should indeed be commended for scratching the surface of such tricky questions as "What makes Christian music Christian?" and for delving into- and recognizing the uniqueness of- the modern worship movement, but serious exploration seems just beyond the scope of this particular volume, for better and worse. While he discovers doubters and lifts the lid on the extremely diverse types of faith and belief that drive Christian musicians, the books feels repetitive, like a catalog of meet-and-greets instead of a lengthy exposition. In this way, the book feels like a beginning, a timid dip of the toe into an ocean of conflicting musical, political, and religious worlds. Body Piercing Saved My Life only scratches the surface of its subject, perhaps necessarily, but as a brief secular foray into the world of contemporary Christian music, Christian rock, and evangelical Christianity's relationship to popular culture, it is perfectly adequate.

Grade: B+

Book 21: Marking Time

Marking Time: The Epic Quest to Invent the Perfect Calendar

Duncan Steel

Calendars and timekeeping systems may seem at first an odd choice of subject for a book, but upon further reflection, few things impact our daily lives more strongly than time. After all, each workday begins with the tolling of a bell and the hands of the clock govern much more than we would probably like to admit. Thus is Duncan Steel's attempt at an accessible history of calendars and, to a lesser extent, time itself most welcome. Unfortunately, Steel, while apparently being an expert in his field, is also one of the most pompous, peacocks it has ever been my misfortune to read. There is good information buried deep within his purple prose, but the authorial presence is so strong within this book that I defy anyone to put up with more than a few pages before wishing to throw it and begin screaming. A harsh assessment, perhaps, but one that I think is more than justified for many reasons. First, I don't think Mr. Steel is intentionally off-putting, and I'm inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. However, his attempts to strike up a conversational tone with readers fall flat at best and encourage, well, unseemly thoughts at worst. Where he attempts to be conversational, he comes across only as condescending, time and again reminding his readers that it is he, indeed, who is the expert and, by the way, did you do your homework?

For Steel is not merely content to cram his narrative as chock-full of alienating math as possible (after an infuriating attempt at sarcasm denouncing the very notion of arithmetic-laden popular works!), but he has included three appendices that go into far greater depth about concepts which are, in fact, crucial to an understanding of the book. This causes several problems. First is his irritating assertion in an introductory chapter that the following concepts will be beyond the poor, pitiable reader's feeble mind unless we refer to his appendices. This, however, is usurped entirely by later passages that accuse readers of skipping the so-called "supplementary" information. If this additional information, which is indeed difficult to grasp for the mathematical layperson, is so necessary, why didn't the author or, perish the thought, the editor plunk it down in the middle of the narrative? Or why not craft a book that is actually accessible to the uninformed public, as is the stated assertion? This hints at a greater problem: the book is woefully organized, with non-sequitur pieces of unrelated trivia becoming sadly expected- though no less groan-worthy- because of their constant infiltration. The idea of introducing a complex concept by outlining the following theses and main points, which Steel maddeningly finds necessary to explain in and of itself, is admirable but highly unnecessary in a book with well-labeled chapters and named subsections. All it serves is to bore readers with a kind of repetition that is rampant throughout the book, wherein examples are flogged to death in multiple chapters and ideas are dropped simply because they might- but usually don't- fit better in another chapter. This makes the book extremely disjointed, and readers have to stop and reset almost every time a new idea is approached; this, despite the fact that hardly any of the ideas are new by the time Steel deigns to actually explain them in any depth.

All of this, plus the inexcusable condescension in nearly every sentence and abundance of insulting exclamation points, makes the book nearly unreadable. Should one venture beyond the language, there is some valuable historical and scientific information to be had, though woe betide the poor scholar tempted to wrangle with Steel's idea of a historical argument. He may be, and apparently is, a brilliant scientist, but a historian capable of convincing argumentation he is not, a problem that directly impacts many of his frankly bizarre historical assertions. There may be a hint of truth to the idea that the date of Easter was a major sticking point between the Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox churches, and I am inclined to trust his retro-calculation of the possible date of Jesus's birth, but the assertion that the English wished to colonize Virginia because it lies on some sort of magical latitude line is so patently absurd and poorly supported that I actually laughed out loud, even after hearing him out. Coincidences may provide fodder for interesting and even heretical thoughts, but Steel seems so focused on his novel hypothesis that he ignores, oh, pretty much every other hint of historical context. Mix this with his obvious contempt for religion, and it's difficult to take him quite so seriously, bringing us back to a preening narrative with very little actual substance. I wanted to like this book. Oh, how I wanted to enjoy the book and, perhaps, learn something. I hate to be so harsh but, unfortunately, Making Time is so heavily clogged with the author's unfriendly self-awareness that it is nearly useless in a practical sense, with every possible redeeming quality mercilessly squeezed out by needless pompousness and unrelated trivia.

Grade: D+

Book 14: Infinity in the Palm of Her Hand

Infinity in the Palm of Her Hand: A Novel of Adam and Eve
Gioconda Belli

It is obvious from the beginning that this book comes from the pen of a poet, and its continued lyricism is even more striking for the fact that the book comes to English via the translation of Margaret Sayers Peden. My own unfamiliarity with Spanish makes a comparison impossible, but this edition of Infinity in the Palm of Her Hand reads so smoothly, aside from a few minor blips that usually seem more the work of typos than mistranslations, that one can't help but wonder whether translation was in this case of assistance rather than the usually assumed hindrance to art and interpretation. Regardless, the prose in the book is beautifully wrought and suitably adapted to evoke the inner emotions and confusion of the world's first couple in the impossibly difficult days after The Fall. The subject of Adam and Eve's first post-Garden experiences is one of almost numbing precedent and weight, encompassing quite literally the history of humanity and assuming importance in religions beyond those who hold Genesis sacred. The simplicity of the language and Hemingway-quick sentences illuminate and deepen understanding in what is, essentially, a simple story in which not many extraordinary things actually happen. Yet in its sparseness, Infinity in the Palm of Her Hand loads each action with meaning and invests the story with a proper sense of gravity. Here, those essential firsts (the first attempted return to the Garden of Eden, Adam's first time killing for food, the first artistic impulses) achieve that gravity they rightfully deserve as eye-opening precedents for all future generations.

It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that the book's less charming aspects come when the pace accelerates or when the language outpaces the deliberative introspection that makes the book work. While it is understood that the (interestingly female gendered) Serpent speaks in theologically philosophical riddles that twist her forked tongue as she illustrates timeless conundrums (and these indeed are one of the book's foremost charms), other complex words and constructions serve not to deepen understanding but, rather, pull the reader forcibly out of the story. Likewise, as the pace of understanding accelerates toward the end of the novel, and quite rapidly at that, the tone feels rushed yet strangely drawn out as the author somewhat clumsily handles the story of Cain and Abel. Likewise, there is a strange resorting to presumed gender roles between Adam and Eve, which makes an odd bedfellow with a story that is so obviously revisionist and uses an only recently possible feminist lens to view the story. It is difficult to decide whether one should be praising Belli for her obvious care for the story and grappling with its implications or being frustrated at the forceful way in which the Serpent informs Eve that she will take the blame for sin in the world. While Infinity in the Palm of Her Hand is not the kind of book that is meant to offer any answers to the great philosophical questions of theodicy, it does provide a noble, intellectually honest, and religiously sensible effort to provide a new twist on the Adam and Eve story, raising questions in a thought provoking manner and using beautiful, sparse language to fully populate her newly created Earth. Despite some missteps that may make reading a bit frustrating, Infinity in the Palm of Her Hand is a brilliant launching point for theological discussion and will satisfy the intellectually inclined if not totally entertain readers looking for an all-encompassing and internally consistent story.

Grade: A-

Book 52: Boychiks in the Hood

Boychiks in the Hood: Travels in the Hasidic Underground
Robert Eisenberg

Upon admitting only the most passing familiarity with the ultra-Orthodox Hasidim, and indeed with many strains of modern Judaism, a friend recommended Boychiks in the Hood to me as a lighthearted, casual introduction to a growing facet of modern Jewish life. It fulfilled on both fronts, which can hardly be surprising from the immensely clever title, but lacked a strong editing eye from either the author or his own editors and is disappointing in aggregate despite some excellent moments. Boychiks in the Hood is, despite its singularity of purpose, oddly disjointed and often distracted, providing a haphazard and often confusing introduction to Hasidism and its many facets where Eisenberg promises simplicity. Indeed, there is a strange paradoxical feel to the book, at once simple and complex, straightforward and taking the most twisted of turns only to return to the point of origin with almost nothing gained of the temporary distraction. It certainly is not beyond the capability of a travelogue to entertain, but this book often seems confused as to what kind of narrative it is actually providing: one moment, Eisenberg is enjoying the company of a Hasidic family on the Sabbath, only to elaborate on the history of that sect's leaders. Fair enough, but all of this is accomplished in a fine frenzy, with nary a line break in sight. Paragraphs and topics materialize out of thin air, only to be absorbed the prematurely aborted narrative as if nothing ever happened; surely Eisenberg could have conjured the slightest of transitions, either thematic or visual?

It is this kind of schizophrenia which far too often characterizes the book both within page-sized chunks and on aggregate; it would hardly be surprising if the bulk of the contextual and historical information within this book is actually lost because of its poor and shortsighted organization. Despite some witty and wry observations (which occasionally become overbearing, shouting, "I'm so clever!" far too often), the book fails to capitalize on a built-in organizational scheme and instead languishes in a kind of purgatory. The good intentions inherent in the book's intuitive, geographically-based chapter divisions go to waste as Eisenberg cannot sit still long enough to tell one simple story without a barrage of confusing and ill-placed details. A crucial element of understanding Hasidic culture is recognizing some of the major differences that distinguish particular branches of Hasidim, but the pinball nature of description, elaboration, and comparison in Boychiks in the Hood makes it almost impossible to separate one sect from another. Instead of building logically based on the communities the reader has already been introduced to, Eisenberg focuses on groups yet to come, returning to previous information as erratically as he adds new points. This Frogger-type deluge is accompanied by some fervently reiterated points that make Boychiks in the Hood occasionally read like an ill-defended dissertation. Eisenberg seems almost obsessed with the population explosion of Hasidim, particularly in relation to secular Judaism (though he never makes it clear whether 'nonreligious Jews' are secular in the traditional sense or include those who practice within the more mainstream Reform and Conservative branches), but his repeated assertions that nonreligious Judaism is dying become distracting after the fourth or fifth feverish repetition.

These stylistic flaws and distractions are almost tragic, for Boys in the Hood begins with a noble purpose and does have a talented writer, if not a fully fledged author, behind it. There is, as I have noted, a lot of valuable information in this book, which takes a compassionate look inside a heretofore mysterious alternate lifestyle and does much to demystify its ways. Eisenberg makes his own views on religion clear throughout the book, but always disagrees respectfully and draws equal attention to shared cultural and historical elements of Jewishness as to the differences between the ultra-Orthodox and the completely secular. Cultural tidbits that linger long enough to make an impact are intriguing and do much to explain certain well-known elements of Jewish cultural and religious practices in further depth. While the history of and differences between Hasidic sects may be almost as elusive as a useful definition of Hasidism, shared practices across different Hasidic communities are clearly defined and explained as Eisenberg draws the reader into his own learning experiences. His biographical and descriptive portrayals of yeshiva students and Talmudic scholars may occasionally trend toward the dismissive, but the author's representations of their arguments may be taken at face value and provide interesting points for reader rumination.

Readers will, despite Eisenberg's repeated efforts at distraction, leave with an increased knowledge and understanding of modern ultra-Orthodoxy throughout the world. The geographic scope of Boychiks in the Hood may be its most important aspect, as far-flung communities illustrate the complex interplay between situational and more specifically Jewish customs. Eisenberg also has a mind for history, using modern communities in two very distinct parts of Europe (Antwerp and rural Ukraine) to illustrate the devastating effects of the Holocaust and to link modern practice to the flourishing pre-catastrophe centers of Jewish life. Indeed, this book's examination of the Holocaust and its effects on Judaism are some of the most insightful I have read, though their offhand nature often belies their subtly profound significance. Boychiks in the Hood is not, then, without many redeeming qualities. The book balances incredible frustration with incredible articulation, creating a singular reading experience that is hard to pin down. As Eisenberg bounces merrily from topic to topic, so the reader is alternately enthralled and maddened by the lively prose and simple editorial oversights, intellecutally provoked by the wry observations but emotionally provoked by moments of condescension that seem out of place given the general congenial tenor. Boychiks in the Hood is, like the modern Hasidic communities it presents, impossible to pin down completely, but represents a mildly rewarding experience for those who want a nonacademic and personal introduction to the Hasidim in most of their modern incarnations.

Grade: B

Book 50: Why Buddhism? Westerners in Search of Wisdom

Why Buddhism? Westerners in Search of Wisdom
Vicki Mackenzie

I'm not sure what the exact format of this book is. It seems like it should be a book of essays by various Westerners on what they find in Buddhism, but it's also a collection of interviews. The segments read like essays until held up to intense scrutiny, which reveals sudden changes of subject that still weave into the central narrative quite easily. No matter; Mackenzie has put together an interesting compilation that illustrates the particular appeal of Buddhism to certain particular individuals who, taken together, help explain why Buddhism is such an appealing choice for life philosophy in the West these days.

Because each person's story is unique, one would expect the book to hang loosely together and feel disjointed. This is not at all the case. I think that the central Buddhist principles of clear mindedness, kindness, and meditation create a flow of energy that passes through one story to the next. Though the basic story is quite similar throughout the individual stories, the message is consistent and clear: Buddhism offers peace and a chance to interact happily with one's surroundings. There were only a few times when an annoying bias and pushiness could be detected, and these were in a couple of Mackenzie's own introductions, which hit rather heavily on her belief that reincarnation is fundamental to Buddhism (one interviewee claims that it isn't necessary for a Buddhist outlook). The force behind her immature defense is startling, but thankfully it passes quickly and the reader can get on with the stories themselves.

Like other collections I've read, the real meat is in the stories themselves, not the fluffy commentaries that add cheap aesthetics to the stories where they themselves extol the virtue of simplicity. The book, however, mostly accomplishes its purpose. The stories do answer the question "Why Buddhism?", but often in a roundabout way that shifts focus from "why" to "how". Often, the explanation is merely, "It felt right," which is charming but which doesn't really satisfy the inquiring mind. Also slightly distressing is the focus on extraordinary people who have done great things with Buddhism, often becoming monks or nuns and running Buddhist centers. There isn't much about the lay practicioner in this book, which would perhaps be more helpful to Mackenzie's target audience. The book is, however, a good read for beginners in Buddhism who want a taste of what a Buddhist life in the West can be like, but I would hesitate to hold it up as an end-all, be-all description of why Buddhism is appealing. The real allure of this text is its commentary on Buddhism and Buddhist practice as they are and how they work, not why they are here. And that in itself gets to the heart of Buddhism.

Grade: A-

Book 49: The Foundations of Buddhism

The Foundations of Buddhism
Rupert Gethin

I was looking for a book to give me a general outline of Buddhism and its many forms, and this was the most promising prospect I could find. Overall, it disappointed me a bit, but I think that it is a valuable resource for the beginner nonetheless. Gethin sets out to provide a fairly comprehensive view of those things that unite the disparate forms of Buddhism throughout the world. He gets to the heart of the religion by retracing the story of Siddhartha Gautama and the works of his followers, both ancient and recent. At times, Gethin strays into academic parlance and goes name-dropping despite the book's focus on being readable to the casual reader, but this is only distracting and doesn't affect the rest of the text too horribly in and of itself.

This name-dropping is, however, a symptom of Gethin's underlying self-awareness as an academic. Gethin seems to forget that his target audience is entirely new to Buddhism and is probably Western anyway. The text is riddled, understandably, with very foreign terms that are poorly explained and keep showing up. Gethin doesn't do a good job of defining the difficult concepts in the first place, and when they keep showing up it is easy for the reader to get completely lost. It seemed to me that Gethin added a lot of terms and texts that were unnecessary to his purpose in explaining the general basis of Buddhism. My confusion about necessity only highlights Gethin's lack of focus; if these are the foundations of Buddhism, shouldn't Gethin's interest be in explaining them as clearly as possible?

Some sections make a lot of sense and are extremely helpful. The parts of the book dealing with basic Buddhist philosophy are readable and make sense. Gethin does a good job here of explaining the logic behind the beliefs, the chain of reasoning that leads to suffering as the ultimate cause of rebirth and desire as the ultimate cause of suffering. The tables Gethin provides in these sections actually help the reader see the categorizations of Buddism, and the reader leaves with a good idea of the fundamental ideas of the religion. Less instructive, however, are Gethin's sections on Buddhist cosmology and the types of Buddhism. Gethin devotes an entire chapter to the Mahayana without fully explaining what it is and how it differs from Theravada Buddhism (if it even does).

This book's chapters on the life of the Buddha and the general philosophies of Buddhism are excellent and are good for those seeking a general explanation of Buddhism. The other chapters of this book are sadly muddled and don't appear to do much good to the casual reader unfamiliar with Buddhism and curious about the different branches of it. Gethin occasionally strays into territory a bit too advanced for his puported introductory purposes and doesn't clear up the differences between types of Buddhism. This book is incredibly hit and miss and is useful but not indispensable for those looking for a quick introduction to Buddhism.

Grade: B