A Belle Jarred

Several Tuesdays ago was book club night and on the docket was Syliva Plath’s The Bell Jar. Without wanting to be dramatic, I knew this type of book had the potential to make or break our little group, which was only on its third meeting. Would we be able to handle the heavy themes of this classic? I was pretty sure we would.

It took a couple bottles of wine, but the four of us debunked our current society’s view of medication, gender, the mentally ill & social class. It was enjoyable and at times personal, but now I do believe we’re able to take on just about anything--so long as it doesn‘t bore us.

The Bell Jar is Sylvia Plath's most renowned novel, although the author was well known for her poetry, winning the Pulitzer Prize for The Collected Poems in 1962, the year before her death.

Before reading the novel I was completely unfamiliar with what a bell jar is, in either the metaphysical nor literal senses. It's the type of metaphor that hangs about--everyone knows the lead character is experiencing intense heaviness, so why ask what it means? The actual reference of the term “bell jar” was largely avoided in our discussion, allowing each member to take its meaning in her own way.

Not until late in the novel, when Esther Greenwood has been institutionalized after a suicide attempt, does the lead character agonize in anticipation of the “descending of the bell jar.” Much earlier in the book, Esther is given a tour by her suitor, who is a promising chap in the medical field. Esther is shocked and mesmerized when she comes across a still-born infant pickled in a jar. To me, the still-born human preserved in infancy is a lasting image that I connect with the metaphor of a bell jar.

While a bell jar in the real world can be a display covering for such items as old clocks or taxidermy, it more pertains to a vacuum in a glass case used for scientific experiments. Scientists have made use of this type of fixture to study sound. If a clock is set on alarm, its sound will decay since the air is so stagnant. I take this as a fitting description to someone suffering from depression--the air around you doesn’t move, there is no music, only stillness.

Much of the image of the bell jar relates to innocence. I’d heard the song “Ingenue,” by Atoms for Peace, many times but in reading the lyrics I found a reference to Bell Jar. Then I saw the video, which features a dancer beautifully mimicking Thom Yorke’s awkward movements. How significant is this reference to a bell jar, I wondered?

The Ingenue is a stock character in film, literature and theater who is innocent and virginal. There is sometimes a romantic side-story, and that male might be innocent as well. This theme ties into the Bell Jar, and many other stories, particularly as it relates to Esther’s desire to lose her virginity. When she finally does, her body reacts to the point of hemorrhaging. It’s as if her innocence is a liability even after it’s gone.

Although I didn’t feel it was completely apparent Esther would head down the path of mental illness, neither was I completely surprised. I've often thought of the difficulties for women in our sociey, the fact they are supposed to simultaneously hold their family together and be competitive in the job market. It can be difficult to engage with the normal things in this environment.

I play video games from an age where the purpose of too many game was to save the princess. In these games, the gender lines are pretty clear. Needless to say, those types of plotlines don’t interest me too much. But what do I do instead? Play football games where the women make a cameo at halftime to push their pom-poms together.

What if The Bell Jar had featured a man? It would have been the crass Jack Nicholson of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. That guy could do whatever he wanted to do, it didn't matter. Sure, he didn't live till the end (spoiler!), but one got the sense he was his own person throughout. Esther Greenwood was not so lucky.

If gender has so much to do with those who suffer under the bell jar, then we have to connect that to the fact that under society's present structure, whatever that may be, it is society's members who make life difficult for the others.

Giftedness is Good

“Everyone’s good at something.”

Said with the wrong tone, this statement can be taken as demeaning.

It can make someone like they’re being told, “you’re not so special.”

But I think the meaning behind this phrase should be seen as a positive thing. Not only is everone good at different things, but we need each other’s gifts to help each other. It’s the way society is designed to function.

At work I’m often reminded that my coworkers are all good at certain things. Someone’s good at making sense of numbers while someone else is good at connecting with people. Still someone else is the idea person, etc.

If you can’t tell by the title of my blog, I’m not usually the one to take center stage. Because I’m usually the quiet one in a gathering, it’s tempting to feel like I have nothing special to add, like my gifts are miniscule. Such as, I can crack a joke every now and again. Such as, I can decipher the meaning of a novel. Even worse, sometimes I see my strengths as performed only “because I can’t do such-and-such.”

I think it’s very important for people to recognize they have talents, and not only for the momentary psychological benefits. Talents can be fun to develop. They help us connect with other people, and they give the world color.

But there’s a deeper, philosophical reason I believe in talents. I think it’s a matter of survival. Just like wheat that is genetically modified to be a certain length and color looses some of its survival qualities, so will we as humans loose some of our qualities if we cease taking stock of our interests.

I’ve never quite accepted the term, “Jimmy was born to run,” or some other prophesy related to the boy’s destiny. It’s true that Jimmy might enjoy running, may even love or have a passion for it, but to say this is his main goal in life is put him in a box. It’s a crass way of sizing him up to standards that are convenient for us to weigh. I think whatever Jimmy was born to do, he will hopefully find out and learn to do it well.

So I give pause whenever someone uses religious language to reinforce what they are doing or why they are doing it. When people say, “God wants me to do such-and-such,” or even, “God called me…”, I wonder if they are in direct communication with God or whether they’re simply doing what they want to. Sometimes, we don’t know what we want, so we pretend someone else has made the decision, so all we have to do is follow. I think this can be damaging in reference to talents because sometimes it’s difficult to justify why, for instance, God might make me so good at video games.

I think that if you are good at something, and it doesn’t hurt anyone but gives you immense pleasure, confidence or worth, then I say go for it. In high school it became apparent that my brother was a very good dancer. He never pursued dance, I think, largely because no one that I can remember encouraged him to. “It’s nice for high school dances, but what’s the practicality?” We must have all thought. I’ve often felt guilty about not encouraging him, and intensely curious where that path may have led him.

So definitely look for talents in others, as well as yourself. It’s fun to find those with the same passions and skills. I’ve found I often pair myself with the type A personalities, but I also have a heart for those who are too reserved to let their true colors show. Who knows, maybe I’m a talent scout at heart.

　

　

Frida, Fame and Diego



high.org

When I was young I idolized public figures. It didn’t matter who you were--the president, a movie star, an author--I thought that because of the high number of people who knew your name or face you were set apart from the rest of humanity, from us normal people.

That was before I realized that for the majority of people who gain notoriety fame, and particularly the lack of privacy, can be an incredible inconvenience. Sure, some people are fueled by the idea of being in the spotlight. But most of the time the insanely famous are normal people. As John Lennon understates in Beatles Anthology, “We were just a band…who made it very, very big. That’s all.”

One of the trickiest things about fame is the more people know about you, the less control you have over your public opinion. Perhaps artists are the luckiest in this regard, they have their artwork to speak for them long after they physically die. Still, people will remember what they wish. “Yeah, I know about Van Gogh. He’s the one who cut off his ear and sent it to the woman he loved because he was crazy.”

I thought a lot about fame after enjoying the exhibit “Frida and Diego: Passion, Politics and Painting” with my wife at the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. As the exhibit explained, Frida Kahlo was a self-taught amateur painter who married Diego Rivera, the most important Mexican artist of his time. Married for twenty-four years, Frieda and Diego lived passionate and often contentious lives together. Did their fame add stresses to already violent tendencies?

Suppose fame did make their lives more difficult. Would Diego rescind his artistic influence if it meant living a quieter life? Probably not--people with Diego’s talent and drive are a gift of humanity to itself, and often I think artists know just how important their role is in the grand scheme of things.



pbs.org

Though self-taught, Frida Kahlo made her own mark in the Mexican art culture with still-lifes, self-portraits and emotionally charged pieces bordering on surrealism. She suffered several miscarriages because of a bus injury, and the paintings which depict the subsequent emotional and physical pain are as gripping as they are grotesque. I found myself reacting to these paintings with cynical detachment, partly because I am a male and have difficulty relating to motherhood, or motherhood lost. I thought, well if Frida is in this exhibit fifty years after her death, certainly her legacy is worth the pain of not having children. But how can I be so sure, and who am I to judge?

I am also cynical because I am jealous. Let’s face it: I will never create art like Frida Kahlo or Diego Rivera, but I would like to. And I would like to be recognized for such greatness, because what else substantiates achievement but critical acclaim? Something inside me tells me, you don’t want to be famous, it’s never what it’s cracked up to be. But I’m still deathly curious what it would be like.

The other day I was grateful that after reading one of my video game reviews, a poster said they enjoyed it very much. I was overjoyed--someone likes my writing! But we all know how the math goes: the fuzzy feelings of nine compliments can be leveled with a single negative one. I know I shouldn’t stake my sense of fulfillment in the adoration of others, but it’s so easy to.

Earlier this week I had an encounter I’ll remember for a long time. Recently elected, our new mayor came into the café where I work and ordered his standard bagel with butter and apple juice. But this day he looked different--he was simply glowing with rest and the relief that comes from victory after a year-long campaign. I was so happy for him. Sure, he chose to be a politician, but no one deserves to be exhausted every day for a year. I wonder what the future holds for me, and which ways I’ll choose to wear myself out for the good of everyone.

Motivation Meditation, Blog Rededication

It’s been a moment since I last posted. Ok, try half a year. Much has been happening in my life, but I haven’t known how to turn those thoughts and feelings into writing.

So I want to begin by writing one thought at a time. Isn’t that what weblogs are supposed to be, after all?

Motivation, that Sly Energy
Motivation has for a long time been a tricky aspect of life for me. There are many things I’d like to do, goals I want to pursue, but very often I don’t seem close to doing them. It’s easy to fear that I don’t know how to pursue my interests, or perhaps that there is a disconnect between what I think my values are, and what I actually spend time and efforts on.

A friend of mine and I talk about motivation often. We agree that motivation seems to be such a nebulous energy. She may be excited to get off work so she can do such-and-such a task, only to find that when she gets home, the excitement is gone and so she does something else entirely.

Funny thing, I take my friend to be an incredibly motivated person, so how could she see herself otherwise? It can be very much in the eye of the beholder. Here are some other things I’ve learned regarding motivation:

1) Systematize Rewards
About a year ago an acquaintance explained to me the concept of a rewards system, and it’s stuck with me ever since. Sometimes we take on small projects that seem insurmountable in themselves, so it can be helpful to have a small reward for yourself once you’ve completed it. Two things I enjoy doing are eating sweets and playing video games. Many times I’ve gotten through a task by taking small video game or snack breaks. However, it’s also helpful to recognize when rewards aren’t necessary, that you’re perfectly fine getting on with things without it.

2) Distract Productively
It was very helpful once I realized that in the face of an important task that takes focus, minor rabbit trails can be an aid, not a hindrance. If my will in the moment is met by stubborn opposition, I will pick a short, but productive task to accomplish before I continue. Sometimes it takes several tiny tasks to gain enough momentum to finally “get down to business.”

3) Sometimes Just Do
It can be a damaging myth that a bootstraps mentality can get you through most any block in motivation. Sometimes method #2 above isn’t practical because you need your whole twenty minutes to complete a task. In this case it’s probably best to just pump it out in the best way possible. But as life would have it, we sometimes do have ample time. Then we can ask ourselves, do I really need to be stubborn with this, or would it be better to push this away and rest my mind for a sec?

4) Decipher What You Can Control
Now we swim into subjective waters by talking about such an issue as control. I believe motivation is largely linked to control issues. Sometimes I get bitter about what I haven’t accomplished, thinking I ought to be able to follow through with any goal I so wish. It’s important to know what types of things we can control and those we can’t. Making goals which completely misestimate our capabilities often lead to burn-out, plain poor results, or starting from scratch.

5) Do What I Just Did
Everyone has their own motivational cues. I’m not so sure I believe in Seven Habits to making people effective, even though that was a pretty darn good book. I encourage you to determine which approaches you tend to lean toward--perhaps they represent some of these I‘ve mentioned. Reject those habits which consistently don’t work. A method of production I learned in college was to redeem time between classes by attempting one, two, or three manageable tasks or assignments by the time I had to leave for the next class. What are your cues?

As always, pay attention to what others seem to do that works. Perhaps they are like my friend and myself, who are too hard on themselves when it comes to motivation. Find people you know who appear to use their time wisely, and ask them what they do that works. Motivation can be an intimate thing, however, so you may be given more to chew on than you might expect.

Blog Explanation
Now that I’ve gotten some thoughts down on motivation, I want to communicate the purpose of my blog and how I aim to accomplish that.

> A collection of thoughts…Some day I’d love to write a book of essays, and those thoughts need to begin somewhere. I’d like to be a novelist, a memoirist, a journalist, or a freelancer. Some day I’d like to say I’ve been a writer for a long time.

> A hub for my writing…when I’m not blogging I’m writing video game reviews, looking for freelancing opportunities, deciding where my passions lie. All these are actions worth writing about and connecting to my blog.

< A journal…notice I said when I’m not blogging, I’m journaling, etc. This blog isn’t meant for me to pour out my insecurities about writing, being a professional or anything like that. I’d like to stick to the positive, and give you something from what I know.

I recognize that when I created this blog last summer it had a different focus. For now I’m keeping all those posts about literature, fic sketches and the community. They were a path to where I am now.

Thanks for bearing with my progress!

Sincerely,

Moore.jr

Finding your own Tipping Point

Book Response: Malcom Gladwell's Tipping Point

"We like to think of ourselves as autonomous and inner-directed, that who we are and how we act is something permanently set by our genes and our temperament. But if you add up the examples...they amount to a very different conclusion about what it means to be human."

Gladwell believes that within the human race there are people with special capabilities. These talented people are needed to create epidemics of all kinds, whether it be spreading diseases or fashion trends. The general population, who on the average day seem unlikely to change their minds or behavior, will change when these special people--Connectors, Mavens, and Salesmen--are at work.

The Tipping Point theory attempts to explain epidemics in social, non-magical terms. Gladwell shows an appreciation for diversity; we are not all the same, and some of us play vital roles in products or trends that "stick." My value for diversity was satisfied when I read this. So there is a rhyme and reason to the way some things catch fire, while others fizzle within a short time! The problem I faced, as I read on, is that I am not one of those talented people.

The theory is far from a control-the-masses idea. Gladwell is not saying most of us go along for the ride while a few significant people really run the show. I'll admit I sometimes willingly become caught up in something incredibly popular. I saw the midnight premier of "The Hunger Games" back in March, and dispite a theater filled with teenagers giggling awkwardly I enjoyed being the intoxicating excitment. Gladwell believes it's the "stickiness" of a message or product which accounts for its popularity being pushed over the edge.

Gladwell's theory helped dispell my tendency to idealize the successful. Like many my age I adored and grew up on Sesame Street, but Gladwell credits the creators of Blue's Clues for building on the former show's success while avoiding its inadequacies. As endearing as Sesame Street is and was, in tests the latter show has proven to help its audience learn the target skills. Despite my emotional attachment to the monsters from the street, the tests show Blue's Clues found away to be "stickier" than its parent. There was a rhyme and reason to its popularity.

Recently I was recruited to be a core member of a local start-up business in the field of fitness and nutrition. I was wooed not because of my large social circle, my stockpile of information, or my retail persuasiveness--I can claim none of these. I was welcomed to the team because I am positive, determined, and one hell of a latte crafter. I am fortunate that the company owners are in fact a Connector, a Maven and a Salesman. Like a nose tackle in a 3-4 defense, I have the unsexy role of "holding the point" while the stars of the show make plays.

I take it back. I'm Bruce Lee, using the inertia of others toward my own successful ends.

The Libraries of My Youth

Grab Bag: Oostburg Christian School library and Cedar Grove Public Library bring back memories

Last weekend I had the good fortune of traveling to southeast Wisconsin with my dad and two of my brothers. I made sure this visit to our old stomping grounds included touring the libraries of my youth. 

We met my dad's closest friend from our time in Cedar Grove. Mr. Ritsman treated us to sodas and delicious cinna-nut lattes. We merrily talked family and careers while I basked in the charm of the local coffee shop, which in our day was the bakery. After a few minutes it was time for the brothers to cruise down memory lane.

We left the gentlemen at the coffee shop and followed the drug of nostalgia on the old bus route to Oostburg, WI. In the heart of the 2500 citizen town is our old grade school, Oostburg Christian. The principal, my old sixth-grade teacher who coached my older brother and me in junior high basketball and soccer, was the only person in the building.

"Feel free to revel in the past," Mr. Adams said. If only he knew how much I do that already.

Headed to the junior high hallway, I stopped my brothers at the library. "Has it changed much?" my older brother asked. "Not a lot," I said, pointing out the subtle differences. "The librarian's desk was this way. But the book shelves are exactly the same," I said with professional confidence.

I actually don't have many positive associations with my grade school library. Failed AR reading tests and months-long fines instead come to mind. The real reading magic came--and even then I resisted it--in the classroom during open reading time, when the students were free to select a book from the shelf. Still, the library was a central presence of literature at OCS, where the "beaners" (our affectionate term for kindergarteners) and big kids alike checked out books to take home.

Filled with memories of the past, my brothers and I drove back to Cedar Grove to get pizza with dad. We were told our pizza would be ready in 20-25 minutes. I knew exactly where I wanted to spend the next half hour. “Let’s take a walk,” I suggested, “and sort of go up the hill.”

We made it to the library in several short minutes and immediately began reminiscing about our many afternoons playing roller hockey in the parking lot. “Did you play with us?” Josh, my older brother asked. “Yeah,” I said, my eyes sparkling with memory, “I played defense.”

I stepped into the library and immediately began marking my mental check-list. Play area, check. Community room, check. Give-a-puzzle-take-a-puzzle corner, double-check.

I scanned the adult fiction titles, and when nothing caught my eye I found myself saying, “I’m ready when you guys are.” It’s not that the library was boring or a let-down. But I had to admit the real trove of nostalgia was in a building across town. What once had been the Cedar Grove Public Library changed to a Variety Store, then to another business altogether. I’d looked at the one-story building longingly as we drove into town, knowing it was a shell of the majestic establishment it once was.

With a passion for literature as fierce as my own, it’s easy to put too much stock in libraries. Although they are a sign of literary health in a community, it’s sometimes, but not always where the real reading magic begins. It can never beat the feeling of hearing your favorite bedtime story on grandma’s knee. Or of learning your letters from Kermit the Frog. Nor can it match the thrill of pulling your not yet discovered favorite book from the shelf during reading time at school. However, libraries raise our awareness toward creativity and the magic of the world around us, and for the libraries of my youth, I am thankful.

Grab Bag: Valuetales teach the value of colorful challenges

Louis Pasteur was a tiny Frenchman with a large red nose who wore a large black bowler hat. I know this from the Valuetales I read at my grandma and grandpa’s house.

Pasteur was faced with the dilemma of curing rabies. He was able to invent a potion that could fight the effect of rabies, so when a family’s son is bitten by a rabid dog, Pasteur injects him with the serum.

The serum is depicted by soldiers who march through the needle into the boy’s body, where they fight the disease agents, who are depicted by fierce monsters. After an intense battle between the soldiers and the monsters the boy is healed and the family overjoyed. So we find because he believed in himself, Louis Pasteur invented not only the process of pasteurization, but of curing rabies.

Many images stick out from these books years later. How could I forget the evil look in the baseball player’s face while Jackie Robinson slides into second base? Or Beethoven losing his hearing when being pulled onto a train by his ears during his youth? Or Abraham Lincoln running a mile to find the woman he owed a penny? It seems most of these books were wonderful when it came to presenting an emotional center, easy for children to grasp.

Perhaps it’s because I was raised in a house of very clear, very firm morals, but for me these books were never about the value displayed on the cover. They merely served as a common thread for the book. The real story was that these people faced real problems head-on and for that are significant to history.

The illustrations were also significant. Warm colors, with some pigments occasionally out of place as befit’s a late-70s to late-80s palette. The animated look goes along with the fantasy element of imaginary friend that each main character has. Did you know Abe Lincoln’s spirit animal was a squirrel?

The Valuetale series is an excellent idea executed wonderfully. By featuring people of different races and time periods, the readers are treated to both familiar and unfamiliar faces. We learn that to get anywhere in life we will have to face obstacles. And we find that the journey of life is as colorful as we could ever wish it to be. 

read about others' love for the series:

gretta johns' blog

thepioneerwoman.com

jon yang's web site 

book reviews by kristie

Writer's Corner: Will of the Soul, part 1

This is the beginning of a sci-fi concept about the "before-life"...look for more parts to come in Writer's Corner.

All the souls were aware of the great Existence above them. They had no eyes to see, but sensed something greater and more complex than one another.

Some of the souls moved at the speed of light; some much faster. Each danced and swayed to a unique rhythm. One was pale pink while another was azure. Some many colors at once, while others switched at random. None knew where they came from or what was to come. In fact the sense of time hadn’t been instilled in them yet.

The Soul called Hollis was orange and red, all the illuminating shades of existence. This soul was no more special than the others. It vibrated and swayed, as did the others, on its own accord.

The Soul found itself alone. Its colors continued to burn amber, lemon and rose. The Soul was curious but not unsettled by being alone with the great Existence.

The Soul waited for a long time in the company of the Existence. The Soul took comfort in the Existence.

The Existence did not shine with colors but with a boldness. The Soul knew that whatever happened next would be because of the Existence.

For the first time the Soul was aware of itself. And the Soul looked at the great Existence.

The Soul chose to put its attention on the Existence, asking it, "What has transpired."

The boldness of the Existence grew as it acknowledged the Soul's question. After a long time Existence responded. "You have become a Soul."

The Soul knew this to be true. The Existence communicated further. There was a spark of infinite energy. As it grew, the spark began to take shades of brightness. After a while the shades became more distinct. Then they broke off of their own accord. They were of the same, but distinct.

Now that the Soul knew where it came from, it wanted to know what was next.

"This is what I will. I want to be the brightest of light among the sparks."

After a while the Existence acknowledged the Soul's will. And the Soul communicated again. "This is what I will: to add to the wonder of the sparks.

Then the Existence spoke, and time was born for the Soul:

"Your will has been created, and it shall be followed."

to be continued...


　

　

Support of Local Literature: storytime still very much alive

"Livi thinks baths are so boring! Everything is more fun than baths! Will she ever end up in   the tub?"

There's a wee bit more of academic summer left, so there's still time to get kids' heads in a book. This morning Barnes and Noble hosted a weekly storytime, reading On My Way to the Bath by Sarah Maizes.

Story telling is a wonderful exercise on so many levels. I remember with fondness my second grade teacher reading classics like The Very Hungry Caterpillar while we snuggled onto the carpet. Even the books I didn't like--such as that nasty Ramona Quimby--were made enjoyable by Mrs. Hendrick's warmth and enthusiasm.

Through story time I became the big man for the day in our classroom. The book I brought from home for Mrs. Hendrick's to read for the class was Body Battles by Rita Golden Gelman, which features the illness-fighting heros in our body. The class giggled the whole time at the personifications of earwax, mucus and white blood cells fighting bravely against the foes of disease. I rushed with enthusiasm as a classmate smiled and said afterward, "I like that book."

And so I stand behind storytime, not only because it gives something for the kids to do on the long days of summer, but because they genuinely  enjoy it. I know I did.

Unfortunately, my local library doesn't have any more storytelling days line up before school begins. But who's to say that won't stop me from volunteering to read at a local elementary school during the school year? I'm looking forward to sharing my enthusiasm, allowing a child to say, "I like that book."

Author Bio: heavenly thoughts on Randy Alcorn

This afternoon I enjoyed a wonderful meal of salad and Provino's pizza with my parents and grandparents. We polished off our main course and over dessert grandpa told us about the novel he recently finished by Randy Alcorn, a Christian author who specializes in the eternal. Our conversation soon spun into an "I wonder what heaven's going to be like" speculation where everyone more or less defends what he or she believes. I'll be honest, it was pretty heavy stuff for my grandparent's breakfast nook table.

Randy Alcorn has become a best-selling author by speculating on the after-life from a Christian perspective. The consensus is that Alcorn spent 25 years researching his book, Heaven. What followed is, according to my grandpa, a detailed description of heaven, including explanations of its social and cosmological workings. All Alcorn's concepts are derived from scripture, with certain "narrative" liberties taken.

Alcorn is an American Protestant minister and founder of Eternal Perspectives Ministry, which serves those without physical and spiritual protection. He was also one of 150 religious leaders to sign the Manhattan Declaration: a Call of Christian Conscience. This document is a pro-life, traditional marriage sanction. Similarly Alcorn's description of heaven is largely based on traditional views of the Christian heaven.

I've been trying to crack the code of the Christian market for a little while now. Why is there a chain Christian bookstore next to the largest mall in Tennessee, but nowhere else in Chattanooga--and believe me, I'd know--is there a bookstore for any other literary genre? At a recent visit to Lifeway Christian Bookstores I left my last stop, the CDs, and looked to my left before getting to the door. There were displays of Christian wedding paraphenalia, stationary, nic-nacs--everything short of a turn-style of greek fish bumper stickers. Lifeway obviously has found a market in the Southern Christian lifestyle.

When I was young it was easy to read a book with eternal implications. I gobbled up Frank Peretti's Cooper Adventure Series, entertained by their Indiana Jones-like antics, but also because his presentation of the supernatural gave my spine a pleasant chill. Through the medium of fiction, Christian writers have found success presenting the eternal in ways that is linked to suspense, mystery, destiny.
Heaven is a very popular topic in Christian literature today, but it's not only Christians who are fascinated by the idea of heaven. Many of us suspect the afterlife will either consist of all the purist things we can think of, or all the darkest and most disgusting. What makes such a speculation perpetually popular is it can never be solved. There are those who share near-death experiences, but they often sound more like a wonderful dream or horrible nightmare than an actual experience of the afterlife. The only way to know what happens in the next life is to go there. And at that point, will we even care?

Anticipation is the key for heaven's intrigue. Heaven provides a reward to undergo life's troubles and gives them purpose. It's something to look forward to, for those who are into streets of gold. What I believe to be equally fascinating, and equally unsolvable, is the question of where we were before conception? Inconveniantly, the Bible has little to say about it. Perhaps I've found the material for my first novel.