• The Age of Fable © 1855
• The Heritage Press (with additions © 1942)
• 369 pages

Bulfinch’s Age of Fable is a classic reference work that lives up to its reputation. The book is packed with anecdotes of deities, monsters, and heroes, some of whom I had never heard of before. Thanks to the “Index of Names”, it will be my first reference when I come across an unfamiliar character (okay, my second after Wikipedia).

The book attempted to do two things: acquaint the reader with the legends, and show how they are alluded to in poetry. While the legends were terse and informative, I found the poetry references tedious and arbitrary.

I was also confused by the scope of the book. The contents are overwhelmingly stacked toward Greek and Roman mythology, but there’s also chapters on Egyptian, Norse, and even Eastern myths. These chapters felt like unnecessary additions that didn’t do justice to their subject matter.

I should also say that my edition (I scanned my own cover, above) is beautiful. The fabric wrapping on the hardcover is embossed. The maps inside both covers are printed in two colours. Even the pages themselves are printed on high quality paper. Unfortunately, this edition isn’t in print—the link directs to a mere Dover Thrift edition.

• The Crucible (Penguin Classics) © 1952
• Penguin
• 152 pages

There’s something refreshing about reading plays (something I don’t do nearly enough). It takes some serious literary wizardry to tell a compelling story within a mere few hours of dialogue.

Dialogue is (obviously) the foundation of any play, and Miller’s is snappy and engaging. It doesn’t take long to lose yourself in a mental picture of the ongoing discussions, arguments, and commiserations. Many of the lines are quote-worthy, especially this one.

The historical setting is the Salem Witch trials—a dark and tragic era of American history. The fourth act in particular brings this depravity to a head. I could almost hear the fifth movement of Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique echoing in the background while I read it.

You can’t go wrong with Arthur Miller.

• The Napoleon of Notting Hill © 1904
• Wordsworth © 1996
• 129 pages

Futurists fall into two categories: those who predict the collapse of civilization (Wells, Orwell, Atwood), and those who anticipate sunshine and lollipops (Kurzwiel, The Jetsons). Chesterton invented a new category. In 1904, he wrote a novel about a future eight decades later where everything remained the same. The only thing that increased was apathy.

The two main characters in the narrative represented two elements that make the world go ’round: extreme humor and extreme seriousness. Their interplay (especially in the last chapter) is fascinating.

This is one of Chesterton’s first novels. It’s not as polished as The Man Who Was Thursday or even The Club of Queer Trades. It is still well worth reading. There are quotable lines on almost every page that mark this as vintage Chesterton.

• Angel Time: The Songs of the Seraphim © 2009
• Alfred A. Knopf
• 268 pages

Angel Time is the story of an assassin who repents and teams up with an angel to do God’s work at various times in history. Rice envisions a number of books for this new character.

Here a disclaimer before I continue: I’ve never read Interview with the Vampire, or any of her other works in that genre. I started reading Rice when she wrote her Christ the Lord books (Out of Egypt, The Road to Cana) and her spiritual autobiography, Called Out of Darkness. When I heard she wrote a supernatural fiction from a post-conversion perspective, I was intrigued. Could this be the Roman Catholic Frank Peretti?

I wanted to like this book, but found it quite average. While I was interested by the theological nuances of the text, they did little to move the plot or character development along. It was almost as if Rice wanted to use her familiar genre to explain her new-found faith.

This book isn’t bad—it’s just not as good as I’ve come to expect from Rice. I’ll still eagerly await the next volume.

• The Piano Man’s Daughter Special Edition © 1995
• Harper Collins
• 499 pages

I’ve read Findley before: Pilgrim: A Novel and The Wars. Although this title sounded a little too Hallmark-ish  for my taste, I gave it a shot on the strength of his other books and my love for pianos.

The novel felt painfully average. It was easy to read, with a good mystery element in it. Furthermore, there are some haunting characters and heart-breaking moments that linger after the novel is back on the shelf. However, it didn’t compare to the other Findley novels I’ve read.

I know this book is brilliant—at least that’s what the critics say. I just can’t pretend to like it because it was nominated for a Giller prize.

If I want tortured family, I’ll choose The Corrections over the Kilworths any day.

• The Year of the Flood: A Novel © 2009
• McClelland & Stewart
• 434 pages

In Oryx and Crake, Atwood painted a future where advances in genetic engineering created a plague that eradicated most of humanity. I loved the novel for its realism—many of the engineered creatures Atwood envisioned had already been created. It was a great work of dystopian fiction.

The Year of the Flood brings us right back to that world from the perspective of a religious cult that prophesied the plague—the waterless flood—that eventually took place. We were introduced to the world in the first book—we experienced it in the second.

Atwood was brilliant in her creation of the “God’s Gardeners” cult that this book focuses on. Her description of theological hair-splitting and mixed motivations among the group faithfully echo the religious world of today. I’ve grown up in the church and pastored for the past 12 years: her understanding of religion is unnerving.

This story is a brilliant mix of popular fiction and literature. The story’s compelling, but there’s much more than mere plot. We can only hope this turns into a trilogy.

• Downtown Owl: A Novel© 2008
• Scribner (2009)
• 275 pages

I was flipping through Klosterman at Chapters when an employee came up behind me and started gushing about him. The bookseller compared Klosterman to Douglas Coupland—I was sold.

Downtown Owl is a story about three people in a small town in 1983/84 North Dakota. Mitch is a high-school student who grew up there. Horace is a widower who is living out the end of his life discussing espionage in the bars. Julia is a teacher who moved to Owl to get her first job. The narrative is framed by weather: how the unpredictable can break into even the most mundane and scripted lives.

This book is a masterpiece. Klosterman doesn’t waste a single line—everything has meaning. I laid in bed for a few nights thinking about the various connections between the main characters and themes. It seemed like the deeper I went, the further the trail led.

Another great element of this book is the way he used different types of lists to convey information. My particular favourite was the list of what all 22 students in Mr. Laidlaw’s English class were thinking at 8:45 in the morning. It’s as funny (and realistic) as you could imagine.

There’s a particular thrill in discovering an author you absolutely love. I’ve got four earlier books as well as one forthcoming to read before I’ve caught up with the Klosterman universe.

Long live “small-town quirkiana” (The Boston Globe review from the cover of the Scribner paperback).

• Father Elijah: An Apocalypse © 1996
• Ingatius
• 597 pages

Holy. O’Brien’s writing bleeds holiness.

I took a chance with this book. I was browsing the religion section at “So Many Books…” in Huntsville when I saw the tell-tale band across a plain spine that marks Ignatius Press books. That along with the promise of an Apocalyptic novel that wasn’t rooted in American Dispensationalism made my decision.

I’ve never before read a novel before that depended so heavily on dialogue. Indeed, there were times when I had  to skim back to see which character was saying what line! While there are elements of a good suspense thriller here, the story is firmly rooted in theological dialogue. This was a bonus for me—it may be a frustration to others.

Since I’m reading this Roman Catholic novel from a Protestant perspective, there were (of course) elements of the theology that frustrated me. I’ll never understand the importance of relics, for example. Even so, O’Brian’s ingrained belief in the holiness of God and his discernment of the upside-down qualities of the Kingdom won me over. When I put this book down every evening, I went to sleep praying.

This is a good antidote for Left Behind mania.

• The Complete Stories © 1971
• Farrar, Straus and Giroux
• 555 pages

Brutal.

I was racking my brain to come up with the perfect superlative to describe O’Connor’s short stories and nothing fits better. All of the recurring themes—racism, murder, loss, pain, religious fanaticism—are written with an edge that can make you physically wince while reading.

This collection is no chore to read, though. Once you acclimatize yourself to her slowed down style of plot development, the thoughts and dialogue of the characters command your attention.

Speaking of characters, O’Connor’s are larger-than-life yet completely believable. Read one of these stories on a park bench somewhere and you will see the characters stumble past you.

Flawed humanity has never looked so beautiful.

• Man Who Was Thursday (Wordsworth Collection) © 1908
• Wordsworth (1995)
• 145 pages

You’ve got to be curious about any book described as a “surreal anarchist fantasy” (Wordsworth edition introduction). I was pleased to find the classic wit of Chesterton on every page.

This book’s paradoxical. Chesterton’s writing is expansive and leisurely, yet the pace of the mystery is breathtaking at times. It’s difficult to find a writer who can make paragraph length blocks of dialogue come alive so effortlessly.

The plot itself is very curious. The story’s about a group of seven anarchists (named after the days of the week), who have been infiltrated by a spy from Scotland Yard. I hesitate to share any more lest I give too much of the plot away. By the last couple chapters, I found myself questioning how Chesterton could possibly bring such a tale a fitting conclusion without being predictable. He exceeded my expectations. I’ll return to that last chapter more than once to let it sink in.

Chesterton’s at his best: relaxing and thrilling, silly and profound. The entire narrative is laced with Christian symbolism that comes to a poignant theological head without sounding preachy. This is a great summer read.