In his 1989 novel The Storyteller, Mario Vargas Llosa, Peruvian novelist and erstwhile presidential candidate, describes the Machiguenga, a scattered and wandering Amazonian tribe, the various clans of which are unified by the activities of the mysterious “hablador,”or “talker.” . . . . Continue Reading »
Here is a review in a national publication of a book about religion in American public life. The title of the review is “Church-State Conflict Revived.” But that is not what the book is about, as the review itself makes quite clear. The book is about, inter alia, the . . . . Continue Reading »
We need not speculate about what may be down “the slippery slope” on which we find ourselves. The truly ominous changes are the stuff of our daily newspapers. These things are happening now. Consider the much discussed case of Nancy Cruzan. On December 15, 1990, the feeding tube was . . . . Continue Reading »
Some of the sounds here are familiar: Vivaldi plays the same in this language, keys rattle in locks, the engines of buses sigh as they turn street corners. But something is different, an odd solitude. It digs itself under my watch into the small bones of my wrist. Here in . . . . Continue Reading »
The Arrogance of Faith: Christianity and Race in America from the Colonial Era to the Twentieth Century by forrest g. wood alfred a. knopf 517 pages, $29.95 I remember one of those 2:00 A.M. college bull sessions that gave a much younger me the beginnings of an education. On that night, we were . . . . Continue Reading »
She turned to me one night as if to say: “I know.” And though I waited for her words as we Walked along the outside path of cobblestones And grass, her eyes instead made effort to Explain her inner thoughts and fears. Pain, I knew she’d meant to share aloud. Had . . . . Continue Reading »
V-P:I am the very model of a modern Vicar-P’rochial. I’ve schooling theological, from Curran to Ezekial. I know the Code of Canon Law, and know which lines are optional for dear dissenting brethren, Manichean or adoptional. From seminars I’ve learned to be more challenging and quizzical, more . . . . Continue Reading »
It drew people to it like a fire,The needle floating up and down its dial,Fishing for the news. It was a horror house,A band-stand, Europe in flames,A dummy and his master. AmongThe cloudy mirrors and calendars,The radio knobs are toys now,The beasts have been dragged out;No tankers hug the coast at . . . . Continue Reading »
OK, David Horowitz, I get your drift (“The Radical Paradigm and the New Racism,” November 1990). I too wish that certain religious, academic, and media people would stop giving so much attention to the flake-left movements. I too think their proposals are more than merely wrong, that such . . . . Continue Reading »
In Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass, Alice has been having quite a run through the Garden of Live Flowers. “I declare it’s marked out just like a large chessboard!” she says. “There ought to be some men moving about somewhere—and so there are!” Alice gets excited . . . . Continue Reading »
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