Is editing ruining my pleasure reading?

Sometimes I wonder if editing is ruining my ability to read for fun. There are some books I struggle to get through because I notice so many errors, or so many ways to just make it better. But then I read an awesome book (most recently, The Martian – SO GOOD) and realize – no, editing is NOT ruining my pleasure reading, I am just sometimes choosing books that aren’t particularly well done.

I have two thoughts/feelings about that.

  • One: sadness! I read one book recently in particular that had a great storyline and some really relatable characters. I was invested – but it suffered from a lack of adequate copy editing and proofreading. I just can’t read the rest of the books in the series now, nor can I recommend the book to others. Sad – because there’s so much potential.
  • Two: awe! The more I edit and beta read, the more I appreciate the effort that goes into writing a good book. The author needs to have ideas and a talent for storytelling, yes. But what sets the really good books apart, I think, probably comes down to the crazy amount of tedious effort it takes for authors and editors to work together and thoroughly edit — and then proofread — the text. ESPECIALLY for super long books.

Anyways, these are some of my random musings. I have a lot more, of course, but this is enough for today.

I’d love to hear what others think about this! Please, chime in via comments!

Why “The Hobbit” is not just for kids – Reblog from Aleteia.org

I came across this commentary this morning and I think it’s just wonderful. While I haven’t read The Hobbit since high school, it is one of the books (along with Lord of the Rings) that I hope to introduce to my kids when they’re old enough. The author of this commentary, Tod Worner, captures, I think, the essence of why I read and what I hope my children gain from reading. I particularly love the GK Chesterton quote he includes! Please find the original piece here.

Why ‘The Hobbit’ is not just for kids

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How reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s story to his 10-year-old daughter unexpectedly stirred this father’s soul.

I have a confession to make.

I am just finishing The Hobbit for the first time. And I am almost 45.

Okay, okay. So it’s not scandalous. But to those who consider themselves well-read Catholics, not having read The Hobbit and its three-volume sequel, The Lord of the Rings, is considered perplexing if not irresponsible. After all, they are essential works of the moral imagination.

For years, I have been told how good these books are. In them, tales unfold of an extraordinary quest of unlikely heroes, unimaginable creatures and unexpected twists. Ice-capped mountains and lush valleys, barren hillsides and forbidding forests serve as terrain for a motley crew of unlikely allies who strive and suffer together towards an end much larger than themselves.

And so, earlier this year, my 10-year-old daughter and I decided to embark on reading The Hobbit together nightly as she went to bed.

And it has been extraordinary.

As we walked each night with the diminutive Bilbo Baggins from his cozy home in the Shire to the perilous wide world of Middle Earth, we encountered elves and wizards, trolls and goblins, spiders and orcs. We sensed the constant thrill of the adventure ahead mixed (paradoxically) with the forlorn homesickness for what was left behind. Again and again, we agreed with Bilbo’s skepticism about himself. He is a nimble thief? He is an indispensable member of group of dwarves trekking to reclaim a mountain and its treasure from a hell-spewing dragon? He is a hero? Right. But then, time and again, Bilbo proved he was just a little bit smarter, just a touch braver, just a smidge better than either my daughter or I expected. The little hobbit was growing. And we were growing with him.

But there were no small number of times that I wondered what the devil this hobbit thought he was doing. He had a comfortable home and an easy-going life. His books were well-ordered and his larder was full. His fire was toasty and his room warmly-lit. Why leave it all? Why walk away from the known and predictable for the wild and uncertain? Night after night, just walking with Bilbo into the greater unknown made me pull the comforter a bit tighter and snuggle a bit closer to my daughter.

But, after all, that is what these tales are all about. They remind us of our smallness, but our potential for greatness. They illustrate the peril of living dangerously, but also the risk of not living at all. They re-acquaint us with eternal verities (often considered outmoded) such as duty, loyalty and honor as well as the bright line (forever at risk of being blurred) separating right from wrong and good from evil. They instill in us a devotion to each other and a greater reason for being beyond our own selfish appetites. And they do this all in the form of a parable.

The great southern Catholic novelist Flannery O’Connor once observed,

“I tell a story because a statement would be in adequate.”

Quite right. In a world deaf to platitudes, J.R.R. Tolkien decided to shout with hideous orcs, an incinerating dragon and an intoxicating ring. But the tale isn’t a tale for the sake of telling a tale. Allegories are allegories for a reason. They speak to sins and virtues, temptations succumbed to and temptations resisted, damnation averted and grace received. As G.K. Chesterton once noted,

Fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.

Indeed.

We must remember: The dragon can be killed. The ring can be destroyed. You can endure suffering. You can return home.

Chesterton reminds us,

At the back of our brains, so to speak, there was a forgotten blaze or burst of astonishment at our own existence … The object of the artistic and spiritual life was to dig for this submerged sunrise or wonder; so that a man sitting in a chair might suddenly understand that he was actually alive, and be happy. 

As I was lying there reading The Hobbit to my 10-year-old daughter, I smiled and once again understood.

I am alive.

And I am happy.

Thank you, Todd and Aleteia!

Book Review: An Unexpected Afterlife by Dan Sofer

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Moshe Karlin wakes up one morning, naked and alone, in the Mount of Olives Cemetery. According to his family and friends, he died two years ago, but Moshe is not about to accept his demise lying down.

Is his new lease on life a freak of nature or the start of the long-awaited Resurrection? Moshe doesn’t really care. He vows to beat his “afterlife crisis” and win back his life-and his wife-if it is the last thing he does.

But the road ahead is full of unexpected dangers. Along the way he gains insight into life, love, and the Jewish State, as well as the suspicion that perhaps his perfect first life was not so perfect after all.

Meanwhile, other changes are afoot in the Holy Land. A reluctant prophet prepares to deliver a message of redemption-and the end of life as we know it-when a freak accident changes the course of history.

Readers who enjoy the satire and humor of Kurt Vonnegut, Carl Hiaasen, Terry Pratchett, and Douglas Adams will enjoy this intriguing and humorous mystery in the Jewish lore and legends of the Resurrection, the World to Come, and the Messianic Era.

Seems at first like a strange book for a Catholic to read, right? It was actually really intriguing and educational for me and I enjoyed it enough to really want to read the sequel (though not SO much that I’ve already read it)! I’m not sure whether a Jewish person would say the same, but I didn’t have any religious qualms with it (say, like how I won’t read Dan Brown’s DaVinci Code because I have no interest in reading what I consider to be blasphemous things about Christ). Rather, for me, the book served to educate me a bit on Jewish theology and thought.

When Moshe comes back from the dead he ends up staying at the home of a local Rabbi, who is convinced that Moshe (and others in his situation) herald the coming of the Messianic era. He says, “The Messianic Era. We believe that the End of Days will see the Resurrection of the Dead, the return of Elijah the Prophet, and the revelation of the Messiah-King, son of David.” (Loc 290) A lot of what the Rabbi then does, in terms of hosting Moshe, engaging with his Rabbinical colleagues/superiors, etc., assuming it is factually-based, sheds a lot of light on Jewish culture and religious organization – which, admittedly, I know little to nothing about.

I was struck by the similarities with Catholicism, though I’m not sure why – after all, Christ was Jewish and His Church descended from Judaism. I noted while I was reading that the Rabbi broke bread and gave it and wine to his guests, just as Christ did at the Last Supper. The Rabbi’s explanation of life after the Resurrection–at least in terms of the healing of the body–is very similar to Catholic teaching. I also noted that the explanation given for trust put in the “leading Rabbis of the generation” (Loc 2364) is strikingly similar to the Catholic Magisterium – we believe that the Holy Spirit guides the leaders of the Church to the right conclusions and therefore we trust in their authority.

There is a fascinating discussion by scientists in a hospital setting about having obtained “scientific proof” that all people descended from a single female. It would be fascinating if such proof actually existed! It was a great reminder, though, of science being part of mankind’s search to understand the world that God created, and that, therefore, no person of faith should ever fear science nor see science and religion as incompatible.

These are the lasting impressions I had of the book, but all of these insights gained were wrapped up in a compelling narrative with relatable, realistic characters. I was invested in Moshe’s survival and his efforts to win back his wife, as well as the life of the “reluctant prophet” described in the book blurb. I was also struck by the all-too-realistic exploitation of the resurectees (is that a word?) by criminal elements out to profit only themselves.

All this is to say: it’s an enjoyable and realistic read that also caused me to think and to learn, which is what I love in a book. It was entertaining AND edifying!

Four stars!