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We Canadians don’t just have prettier money than you Americans. Sometimes we have good ideas, too. Evidence of this fact can be found in butter tarts, the CANADARM, Tim Hortons, the AVRO Arrow, and ice hockey.

Tim Challies, one of the most widely read Christian bloggers on the internet is also a Canadian. He’s just hit on a great idea, and is in the midst of executing. He’s started a project called 10 Million Words over at the Gospel Coalition. He’s going to read all the non fiction books that hit the New York Times Bestseller list over the next year.

It seems like an interesting project. I’ve recounted my attempts to read various “top novels of the x decade” lists in the past. I haven’t done so great. Part of the challenge there is, in my experience, a lot of “popular books” are just garbage.

But, there’s something to be learned from the garbage — it says something about pop culture when they celebrate garbage. Tim speaks well to this over at his blog. You should read it. Go now. Say G’day, eh, while you’re there.

I’ve been reading Lewis lately — finally making time for some of his works that I should’ve made time for a long time ago. Thus far in my life, I’ve conquered his fictional works and Mere Christianity, and snippets of others. I’m now in the midst of his autobiography Surprised by Joy. Its made me realize that some people just have a way with words. Whether Lewis is writing fiction, faith, or semi-auto-biography, his sentences are just brilliant. I find myself chuckling about the various things he records — schoolmasters and dances, his father’s mood swings (his father had a common Scottish/Irish tendency toward extremes… extreme happiness sometimes, extreme anger others). He also writes beautifully about sad things and insightfully about terrible things. In general, you get a pretty good idea of who the man is.

It leaves me to wonder how much of writing is raw talent and how much is refinement. We can work on the refinement part, but the talent part simply is what it is. Reading about Lewis’s imagination, it’s clear that there was a prodigious talent there.

(The picture to the left has absolutely nothing to do with the post. It was in the morguefile results for art, and I had to chuckle.)

Why do we bother with art? What makes art admirable? What is it we seek to accomplish through the acclamation and enjoyment of art?

Good art is praise of the God of the universe. He created everything. By seeking to create (as much as it is possible for us to create) something that reflects His truth, we honor Him. This is easier for me to see when it pertains to a story than when it pertains to a painting, but that is only because my comprehension of paintings is limited by my pea-sized intellect.

Nevertheless, when I read a true story, I feel it… It resonates. I think, it is good. This is the feeling I get when I read great tales by fellow believers like Lewis and by people I’m diametrically opposed to, like Ayn Rand. In Lewis I feel it in the redemptive themes. In Rand, I feel it as the characters experience an intense longing for something more than what they have. These things are true. They are worth experiencing and commenting on, because they reflect the truth of the world God created. And He is good.

Lately, I’ve pretty consistently found myself reading genre fiction. Apparently this is the natural result when you go to the library, find the sci-fi section, and pick the book with the most sci-fi looking spine as your selection.

You can actually learn a fair deal about genre that way. I’m not sure how much crossover there is (can anyone describe an amish romance spine for me? I’m not sure I’d know one to see one), but I think at least in sci-fi and mystery, there’s something to the method. There are certain features visually and stylistically that indicate that you’re reading the genre you’re reading. I doubt if it’s even intentional on the author’s part, but it’s almost like they do certain things with their opening chapters that make you go, “Oh yeah, sci-fi.”

I think I first started to notice some of this when I was endeavouring to read through a list of “must read” sci-fi that Orson Scott Card had put forward. I’m cross that I can’t find that list now — it was an interesting six months. Then I gave up I think. I made it through Asimov, Herbert, and zig-zagged through a few others. I circled around to Robert Heinlein (I think) and gave up. But, it was informative. There’s a reason those books are classics… I learned a lot.

So, if you want to write in a certain genre, go out and read it. A lot. It’ll be good for you. You’ll learn what you should be doing and aren’t. You’ll also — if you read widely enough — learn what you shouldn’t be doing.

Don Miller is this guy. He’s a writer, and he writes mostly about real life. You could call it memoir, but that’s not all he writes. His most famous-est book of all was a little one called Blue Like Jazz. It ended up on the New York Times Best Sellers list. It was clever. I laughed. I cried. I read it about seven times. I made my friends read it, too.

Since Blue Like Jazz, I’ve read a couple of Don’s other books (Through Painted Deserts, To Own A Dragon). They’ve been good, but … well, he felt kind of forced. It was good, but it wasn’t epic like Blue Like Jazz. I didn’t feel what the narrative voice felt. I’ve also disagreed with some of Don’s personal decisions and wondered about his theology. The thing is, when he’s on, he’s one of the best Christian writers I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. Or maybe, he’s one of the easiest to connect with of any Christian writer I’ve ever read. What’s more… Don’s books aren’t heavy on theology. Don himself may not be either. But, he has been theologically beneficial to me.

I had the pleasure of listening to him at the Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College in… ’04 I think. Maybe ’05. I remember him talking about calvinism and saying “Okay, so man is totally depraved… so what? What does that practically mean in your life?” It was the question I needed to hear. I needed someone to remind me, that day, that the “so what” was as important as the “what.”

A few weeks ago, Thomas Nelson was offering review copies of Don’s newest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to read his new book and review it for you guys, so I promptly volunteered too.

A Million Miles feels like Blue Like Jazz, grown up. Don is growing up himself, dealing with different things now than he was seven or eight years ago. Bigger things. He is again personally revealing, profound, and challenging. He admits to struggling with continuing his writing career. A big theme of this book is “living better stories,” and he draws at length off the experience of writing a screenplay from, of all things, Blue Like Jazz.

For you Christian music aficionados, it will be of note that Steven Taylor is one of the men Don writes the screenplay with. Steven Taylor was a Christian rocker in the 80s. He made one of my favorite live albums of all time (Liver) and also ran a record label in the late 90s/early 00s called Squint Entertainment. It was home to Sixpence None the Richer. Reading the version of him that Don puts on paper was particularly fun for me, since I’ve been a fan of his for a long time.

Anyway, back to the book. I’d encourage you to pick up a copy. It’ll make you think in a lot of good ways. I was left thinking about the story I’m living; whether it needs some editing. I also laughed. A lot. My wife would set down her book every once in a while and say, honey… what’s so funny? I’d read her the relevant portion, she’d chuckle and go back to reading.

It also had some tear-jerking moments. Don recounts his own pain unflinchingly. He also communicates the pain of his friends in a remarkably empathetic way. He obviously has a great love for the people who are important to him, not just as characters but as friends.

It’s not the longest book. In an age where attention spans are short, A Million Miles is easy to recommend, because it won’t drag. But, I was left wishing for more and you might be too.

You can find Donald Miller on the internet at www.donmilleris.com and on twitter at @donmilleris. You can buy his new book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years at Amazon.com.

And, if you have my copy of Blue Like Jazz… could I get it back? Thanks!

Matt was right. Matt, if you’re reading this, you’re right. If you’re not reading it, I’ll tell you next time we talk on the phone.

About a week ago, my little brother called me from the bookstore. We’ve been doing a better job at random calls lately, and it’s fun. I miss him, he’s a great friend. Anyway, he was looking for something to read. He came upon Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and I said, “Oh, I want to read that!” He bought it and called me a couple days later.

If I recall correctly, his review was essentially: “The only good parts were the parts Jane Austen wrote. They added zombies, killing, and overt sexual innuendo. It all felt tacked on and needless.”

I found it in our library (Support your librarians! They put up with more crap than you can imagine!) and got it out to read it and see what I thought.

Matt was right. I don’t often say that because I don’t want him to get high on his horse, but, boy, was he right. It’s just not very good. You’ve heard of addition by subtraction? This feels like subtraction by addition. The story is worse. The clever parts were Jane Austen’s anyway.

Sorry we let them do that to your work Jane. We’ll get them one day. Probably in the zombie apocalypse.

I’ve confessed in the past a tendency to read things because people say they’re great. Sometimes this results in grave disappointment (Hello there Toni Morrison, I’m looking at you), sometimes in indifference (Yeah, the three times I’ve read the first 100 pages of the Grapes of Wrath come to mind), and sometimes in abject delight.

Which, in reality, doesn’t prove anything at all except that enjoying a book is tied more to personality than to the book itself.

I’m reading Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. I started it because, well, it’s a classic. I realized 20 pages in that “it’s a classic” is a dumb reason to read a book. I gave her 30 more pages to make me care about the story. She did that, by proving the environment to be interesting, the characters to be interesting — not in a human sense, but in an archetypal sense.

So, I’ll let you know how it goes, but I’m glad to say that I’m reading it for the story, not for the “classic.” Here’s hoping the story delivers.

There are some people whose abilities with prose are just… above average. Far above average in the case of this post over at the Rabbit Room by Ron Block.

It is so still and serene there. God’s creation is; it’s just simply being itself. There is an immutable silence in nature that mere noise and activity can’t eradicate; the silence is always there under the noise, patiently waiting.

I recommend the read… it reminds me of the prose in Walt Morey books that I read over and over again when I was 10 or 11. The kind of stuff that boys dream of.

I recently finished reading Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl by N. D. Wilson. My previous exposure to Mr. Wilson came through one of his children’s books, Leepike Ridge. Leepike Ridge was a good book.

Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl was a great book. In fact, Notes… was the smartest book I’ve read in a while. It was like Blue Like Jazz, but with a point. (Can I say that without disparaging Mr. Miller, whose book I enjoyed? I hope I can.) In Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl, Wilson presents an apologetic of art in motion. He walks us through the seasons of a year, showing us the art in both the good and the bad of each season. Rather than denying the difficult things that we encounter as we live in the world God has created, Wilson hits them head on, appealing to scripture and to art to help us understand the way things are. Whether dealing with the existence of God, matter, or good and evil, Wilson points back to the art underlying the world.

What is the world? What is it for? It is art. It is the best of all possible art, a finite picture of the infinite… Assess it like that. And when you’re done, find an ant and have him assess the cathedrals of Europe (Wilson, p. 82).

Start to finish, the depth of thought that Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl provoked provided me with the deepest reading experience I’ve had in a good, long while. I encourage you to pick up this book. When you do, set aside twice as much time as you normally would for a book of 204 pages. It’ll be well worth it. I came out of it with a renewed appreciation as a writer for the Creator/Artist who put this all together, whose great art we imitate as we “create” worlds for our readers.

This is a preview of a book I’ll have a thorough review of in a couple of weeks. Prior to this book, I have only read N.D. Wilson’s children’s book, Leepike Ridge. It was quite good. I enjoyed it and can’t wait for six or seven years from now when I can read it to my son.

I started in on Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl not knowing exactly what to expect. So far, I’m thrilled. It’s good.

Mr. Wilson posted a little intro / taste of / teaser video over on his blog. Go watch it. Prepare for a thorough review. If it’s an eighth as deep as the book, it may still be over my head.