2011

Books I read in 2011

December 29, 2011 · 3 comments

books

I admittedly don't blog as frequently as I used to, but I do enjoy putting together the annual "Books I read" post. You'll notice that in the past three years this post has become much lengthier and way more self-indulgent. I'm okay with that. If you are, too, presented below is a full list of the books I read in 2011 as well as my "favorites" from several categories. (Disclaimer: All book links in this post are Amazon affiliate links). Previously: 2010, 2009.

Favorite Fiction Book

A tie between The Pale King by David Foster Wallace and Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell.

For many reasons, The Pale King was one of the most anticipated releases of 2011. Released posthumously, it's an unfinished novel pieced together by DFW's longtime editor and friend, Michael Pietsch (who actually wrote back when I contacted him); it could even be argued that the unfinished state of the work invalidates its designation as a "novel" or even a "book". Nevertheless, The Pale King is in many parts DFW at his best — I frequently found myself dumbfounded by his lexical acuity and virtuosic storytelling ability. It was totally bittersweet to read the "Notes and Asides" tucked in the back the book, which contain fragments of written notes and possible story arcs.

I "discovered" David Mitchell by doing a Google search along the lines of "Authors for fans of David Foster Wallace." Somebody suggested Mitchell, so I read The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet early in the year, enjoyed it, and decided to pick up Cloud Atlas for honeymoon reading. The sheer scope of this book is almost absurd, yet Mitchell manages to weave together what amounts to six mini-novels in a beautifully imaginative way. One of the ways I judge whether or not a book has truly moved me is if its characters, themes, and even individual phrases stick with me over time, and I find my mind returning often to Cloud Atlas. It'll be interesting to see how the movie turns out.

Favorite Fiction Book, Runner-Up

The Visible Man: A Novel by Chuck Klosterman. I've been a fan of Klosterman's since reading Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs back in 2007, and although I was somewhat disappointed in his first novel, Downtown Owl, I was eager to pick up The Visible Man when it released in October. I finished it in two days, which is (sadly) becoming a rarity for me anymore. A case could be made that The Visible Man's main character, Y___, functions merely as a fictionalized proxy for Klosterman's pop culture rhapsodizing, but if (like me) you're into that kind of thing, and because it's packaged in a rather compelling narrative, The Visible Man hits all the right notes.

Favorite Non-Fiction Book

Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson. I was tempted to choose Christopher McDougall's Born to Run, partly because in addition to being a great book, it helped catalyze my recent interest in running. Steve Jobs ultimately wins out, however — it was just too damn interesting. Because of Jobs' intimate ties to Apple from the company's inception, the book functions both as a biography of Jobs, and a quasi-history of Apple itself. I made the switch to Mac in April of 2008, so it was fun to read the chronicle of how Apple progressed from the Apple I to its current lineup along with all the ups and downs in between. Additionally, the fact that Jobs himself was both a genius and at times a grade-A asshole (the book is full of funny/sad/puzzling anecdotes), made for an exceptionally satisfying read (even though some people think it's overrated).

Favorite Short Story Collection

Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman. I picked this book up at a Border's fire sale and read it on a single flight en route to Cancún for my honeymoon (it's only 128 pages). Eagleman, a neuroscientist by trade, put together forty very short — 2-3 pages, usually — and wildly inventive stories/vignettes about what happens to us after we die. I distinctly recall feeling a sense of wonder after finishing every story and actual melancholy when there were no more stories to read. Libby read it immediately after me and was equally affected. I don't do much re-reading of books, but I have a feeling I'll be returning to Sum sometime down the road.

Funniest Book

Mr. Funny Pants by Michael Showalter. Showalter is a comedian and actor featured most recently on Comedy Central's Michael and Michael Have Issues, and because his style of humor is somewhat distinctive, people either think he's hilarious or confusing. Or they don't know who he is at all. Either way, when I heard Mr. Funny Pants was being released, I immediately submitted my pre-order. I was laughing out loud even before I received the book — Amazon's product page features "reviews" from people like Zach Galifianakis, Paul Rudd, Amy Poehler and Ben Stiller:

"Showalter is a comic genius. This is, cover to cover, the funniest book I've ever read!" (Dear Mike, Haven't had time to check it out yet. Do you want to just write a quote and put my name on it? Best, Ben) — Ben Stiller

The list of books that I would describe as "laugh out loud funny" is extremely short, and Mr. Funny Pants is easily at the top of that list.

Scariest Book

Inside Scientology: The Story of America's Most Secretive Religion by Janet Reitman. I have a enduring fascination with cults and religious sects (even "popular" religions like Mormonism), so picking up this book was a no-brainer. Before reading Inside Scientology, I had at best a vague understanding of what Scientology is (come on — everyone knows about Tom Cruise), and reading through it left me nothing but terrified. From Scientology's bizarre and eccentric founding father, L. Ron Hubbard, to it's unusual recruitment methods, sci-fi theology, and us-against-the-world ethos, Reitman — in true journalistic form — leaves no stone unturned or unscrutinized. The most terrifying section of the book, however, dealt in detail with the death of Lisa McPherson, a Scientologist who died at the hands of fellow Scientologists and the ensuing legal battles over who was to blame about her death. Seriously scary stuff.

Most Disappointing Book

Green Hills of Africa by Ernest Hemingway. This past June I had the opportunity to spend two weeks in Tanzania with two students from church, and so naturally I brought along some books to read during the 15+ hour plane flights. It's possible that my expectations for this book were too high or that I had romanticized the notion of Hemingway+Africa too much, but this book sucked. It's essentially 200 pages of self-indulgent hunting play-by-play with maybe one or two interesting sections total. Green Hills of Africa is the only Hemingway I've ever read, so I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But you couldn't possibly force me to read this ridiculous excuse of a book ever again.

The Complete List

  1. Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
  2. Booked to Die: A Mystery Introducing Cliff Janeway by John Dunning
  3. The Bookman's Wake by John Dunning
  4. Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman
  5. The Adderall Diaries by Stephen Elliott
  6. Green Hills of Africa by Ernest Hemingway
  7. Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson
  8. The Hypnotist: A Novel by Lars Kepler
  9. The Visible Man: A Novel by Chuck Klosterman
  10. The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine by Michael Lewis
  11. The Postmortal: A Novel by Drew Magary
  12. The Mystery of the Child by Martin E. Marty
  13. Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall
  14. Cloud Atlas: A Novel by David Mitchell
  15. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet: A Novel by David Mitchell
  16. The Night Circus by Emily Morgenstern
  17. The Imperfectionists: A Novel by Tom Rachman
  18. Inside Scientology: The Story of America's Most Secretive Religion by Janet Reitman
  19. Mr. Funny Pants by Michael Showalter
  20. The Pale King by David Foster Wallace
  21. Before I Go To Sleep: A Novel by S. J. Watson

Unfinished Books

There were several books I started this year that I haven't gotten around to finishing for various reasons — lack of interest, ADD ("Look, a new book!"), etc. These books include (stopping point in parentheses): Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke (p. 278), The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace (p. 128), 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus by Charles Mann (p. 32), and 1Q84 ("kyew-teen-eighty-four") by Haruki Murakami (p.352).

Stats

(N.B. Page count stats include unfinished books.)

Total pages read (compiled using the page count on Amazon's product pages): 8549

Total pages read, adjusted for accuracy (i.e., subtracting 15% from the total page count to account for endnotes, etc. that are included in the total page count, but aren't actually read): 7267

Average number of pages read per day: 19.9 (Not quite thirty pages per day, but not bad, either.)

Average number of days per completed book: 17.4

Estimated books purchased to books read ratio: 2.5:1

Number of copies of The Pale King owned: 4 (Three US editions, one of which was a free review copy, and one UK edition)

Fiction vs. Non-fiction

Books read per year

Physical books read vs. e-books read

(And Finally) Most Anticipated Book of 2012

A Naked Singularity by Sergio De La Pava. Originally self-published in 2008, this book is being re-released by the University of Chicago Press in May 2012 (You can still find copies if you're willing to pay $150-200). My anticipation of this book stems entirely from this review from The Quarterly Conversation (which I suggest reading in full):

A Naked Singularity [is] a postmodern, re-envisioned, linguistic assault on the standard crime/heist/legal thriller... It’s very good—one of the best and most original novels of the decade. It’s one of those fantastic, big, messy books like Darconville’s Cat or Infinite Jest or Women and Men, though it’s not really like any of those books or those writers.

Sign me up.

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Advent with Bonhoeffer

November 27, 2011 · 6 comments

Post image for Advent with Bonhoeffer

In 2009 I wrote a series of blog posts called Advent Explorations both as a personal study of the first season of the liturgical calendar and as a way of sharing what I was learning.1 I won't be doing that again this year; instead, I have something else in mind.

God is in the Manger

About a week ago, I received a lovely surprise in my mailbox at work. One of the parishioners who knows of my love for all things Bonhoeffer (and who is herself a Bonhoeffer enthusiast) left a copy of the book God Is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas, an Advent devotional comprised of material compiled from Bonhoeffer's body of work. It's a simple little book (fitting for the season of Advent), with short excerpts from Bonhoeffer's writing accompanied by scripture texts.

As part of my personal practices, I will be reading the devotions daily and reflecting on the texts. Additionally, I've decided upon both creating and publicly sharing an artifact each day.

Enter The Amazing Type-Writer, an iOS app which mimics typewriters of old and facilitates the creation of cool-looking type-written cards. While I've had the app for a while and have played around with it here and there, from the beginning I've had the notion that doing some sort of a card-a-day type thing could be fun.

Besides the ability to make interesting, old fashioned-looking cards, the app has several unique features that make it stand out. First, like an actual typewriter, the "delete" key doesn't actually delete anything — it simply moves the cursor one space back, forcing you to either A) type another character over the original or B) start the entire card over. 2 Second, you can move the cursor anywhere on the card, and it's difficult to ascertain where the character will actually end up until after you actually type it. That, coupled with the no-delete feature (not to mention the app's authentic typewriter sounds), make creating one of these cards an exercise in both patience and forethought — a discipline that, for me, neatly falls in line with the themes of Advent.

So this Advent, as I read through the devotions in the Bonhoeffer book, I'm going to select a sentence or two from each reading and use The Amazing Type-Writer (? iTunes link) to create a card every day, the first of which is at the top of this post. Unlike today, however, I won't be posting them on this blog; I will post each day's card on both my Twitter and Facebook accounts, and you're welcome to follow along throughout the next several weeks as I do so.

It is my hope that Bonhoeffer's words on Advent and Christmas, coupled with my commitment to the practice of creating and sharing these cards, not only heighten my own awareness of the hopeful and expectant nature of Advent, but may also be a blessing to others.

  1. If you have no idea what Advent is and aren't particularly jazzed about the idea of reading a bunch of old blog posts about it, I recommend as a primer this short video: Advent in 2 minutes. [↩]
  2. You can see the result of this on the word "As" on the second line of the card at the top of this post. I originally accidentally typed "Ad" and had to go back and hammer the "s" key over the "d" several times to compensate. [↩]

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Reflections on the first week of running #RunRevRun

August 15, 2011 · 13 comments

One week ago today, I sent the following message to Twitter and Facebook: "Hey, runners: Is it unrealistic for me to go from out of shape to completely trained for a half marathon in 10 weeks? Am I crazy?"

See, I had just decided that I was going to be a runner — if not permanently, then at least for the next ten weeks while training for the Des Moines Marathon.1 Keep in mind the fact that not once in my entire life have I run for "pleasure". In fact, I don't think I can recall a single positive running-related experience.2

I received lots of feedback ("You can do it!" and/or "You're insane!"), but my favorite response was from Shawn, a great friend of mine: "Remember how you got really good at poker really fast? Or how you got really good at playing guitar really fast? So, I think if you use that same mentality you can pretty much do anything. Also, listen to our favorite christmas song while running and you'll be fine. You'll probably go really fast actually." And he's right: I have a history of developing small-scale obsessions, and running is a convenient remedy for my most recent bout of obsessionlessness.

So I found a training schedule and the following morning I hit the road on my first ever run-for-pleasure.

One week and four runs later, here are a few of my initial thoughts.

It's as much about how you feel afterwards as it is about the exercise itself

I've participated in some 10-week workout programs in the last couple years, so I'm familiar with working out in the mornings. I'm also familiar with how awake and alert I can be after a morning workout. I was reminded of this the morning of my first run — I arrived at work feeling energized and alert, whereas I'm usually dragging along with a coffee cup attached to my face.

So even if I'm not particularly looking forward to getting up early for a run, I can at least look forward to how good I'll feel when the run is over with.

There's something about every run worth celebrating

I've been using RunKeeper to record my runs, and it's been great to see my stats immediately afterwards — total distance, average speed, average 1-mile pace, &c. With the help of RunKeeper, I'm able to see that one run had an average pace of 11:17/mile, and the very next run had an average pace of 10:54/mile. I walked more than I would have liked during the latter run, but that's the point — I was able to find something worth celebrating anyway. During my most recent run, I was unhappy with my inability to breathe well, but I was happy that I ran all of the last 1/2 mile.

I'm not naïve. I know that I'll have runs that suck. But so far, I'm finding it relatively easy to find something worth celebrating after each run, and I hope to continue with that attitude in the future.

It feels good to be aware of my physical body

My daily routine essentially consists of getting up, showering, driving to work, sitting at my desk for 6-8 hours, driving home, and sitting around either watching TV, reading, or spending time online. None of those activities requires much awareness of my physical body; outside of eating (where I'm acutely aware of how hungry or full I am), most of my time is spent "in my head".

Running, on the other hand, is a forceful reminder that yes, I do have a physical body. From the burning in my lungs during the run to the pain in my calves afterward, I'm actually enjoying the experience of becoming familiar with my own body — its pain threshold, its stamina, its strengths and weaknesses. And I have no doubt that I'll enjoy feeling my body's continual transformation as I continue training.

As for the #RunRevRun hashtag in the title of this post: RunRevRun is an identifier for "pastors and friends to share stories about trying to keep — or get — fit." There's a standalone website/blog, and the #RunRevRun hashtag is fun to follow on Twitter. As the website's About page says,

Part of the challenge of working as ministers is that people sometimes view you differently —as if that extra cookie won’t go to your waistline, or time to exercise is automatically built into our schedules. We’re faith leaders, but that doesn’t mean healthy lives come easy. We struggle to get fit, to stay motivated, [and] to eat well.

That pretty much sums it up. So if you see me blogging or tweeting with the #RunRevRun hashtag, just think of it as me seeking counsel and accountability from those in the same boat as me.

  1. Roughly five minutes after deciding to run a half marathon (13.1 miles?!), I set my sights a bit lower on a more-reasonable 5K. [↩]
  2. E.g.: In junior high, I participated in track as a high- and long-jumper, and dabbled in 400m races here and there. At one Wednesday-night track meet, my coach, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone but him, penciled me in for an 800m race. I finished the race in last place, immediately threw up on the closest patch of grass I could find, and hopped in the car to go to Confirmation class. [↩]

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The unnecessarily detailed account of my new, long-awaited, custom Paul Soupiset tattoo

May 30, 2011 · 27 comments

In October 2009, while attending the Christianity 21 conference in Minneapolis, my friend Mike Stavlund offhandedly composed and sent the above tweet.

First, a little bit of context: Christianity 21 was a gathering of emergent-type Christians (put on by JoPa Productions) exploring the Christian faith in the twenty-first century. The event featured twenty-one speakers presenting on different topics for twenty-one minutes each. Aside from the great speakers, there were a number of things that made the conference unique and engaging — two of which led directly to my latest tattoo.

The first is that before the event began, a dedicated Twitter hashtag (#c21) was set up so that those at the event could easily participate in real-time conversation. Anyone appending "#c21" to a tweet knew that those at the conference (and even those absent) would be able to see it. During nearly every session, I'd invariably multitask: Ears attuned to the presentation and eyes darting back and forth between the speaker and my laptop displaying the continual Twitter/#c21 conversation.

The second is that Christianity 21 featured artist Paul Soupiset as a live-sketcher during every single session. While the speakers were on stage, Paul took notes in his moleskine with marker and watercolor, and the whole process was projected on a large screen at the front of the room for all to see. During the event I made a crude time-lapse of his live-sketching, which you can see below:

So during one of the presentations, while Paul was sketching, Mike Stavlund sent out the tweet at the top of this post.

Now, I've followed Paul's work for quite some time. In 2007, he donated a custom watercolor sketch for my website redesign giveaway. And I've watched with joy as Paul's talents have been utilized by Sparkhouse's re:form curriculum. So it was with almost zero hesitation that I half-jokingly-half-seriously responded to Mike's tweet:

Turns out he was serious. After the session, the three of us gathered to hash out the details. I swallowed my pride and said that $500 was probably a bit high for my budget, but that I'd be able to swing $300 (this is just for the artwork, not including the cost of getting the actual tattoo). The arrangement was this: I would make a $300 donation to Compassion, send Paul the receipt, and the artwork design process would begin.

A few months later, I was able to make the donation and the design process began. I sent Paul a rambling email which included this line "I would like an icon of Christ bookended on the top and bottom by a greek phrase from John 1:16 - 'grace upon grace'" and a terrible mockup I had drawn on a whiteboard (click image for larger version):

A few months passed (hey, we're both busy guys) and I sent him another email.

Paul,

I realized a grave error in my previous emails. In icons of Christ, his hands look different than icons of the saints. Attached are two pictures that show you what I mean.

From an online source: "In his left hand He holds the Bible. His right hand is raised to bless in the manner of priests in the Byzantine tradition. The first two fingers of the right hand are joined, symbolising the two distinct natures of Christ. The other two fingers touch the thumb, symbolising the Trinity."

Jake

Attached was this image:

In March of 2010, I received an email from Paul containing not only the final design, but several of the preliminary sketches as well. I could hardly contain my excitement as I browsed through the artwork he sent me. It was — and is — perfect (click image for larger version):

Then, well, life happened. In May of 2010 I met Libby, promptly fell in love, and pretty much forgot about the tattoo for a while.

But soon after Libby and I got engaged and started planning the wedding, honeymoon, &c., we began talking about getting tattoos as "wedding gifts" for one another. I would of course get the Soupiset masterpiece tattooed on my right forearm1 and Libby would get her maiden name, Lennon, on her wrist. So we scheduled our appointments for a week after our honeymoon: May 27, 2011.

The actual tattoo was done by a veteran artist named Jack at Skin Kitchen in Des Moines.

After about 2.5 hours, I stood up from the chair, walked over to the mirror, and marveled at my new, long-awaited, custom Paul Soupiset tattoo (click image for larger version):

To Mike and Paul: A hearty "thank you" for making this happen. I couldn't possibly be more happy with how it turned out.

  1. It did take a little bit of convincing for Libby to be "on board" with getting the tattoo on my forearm — she originally thought my upper arm/bicep area would be a better choice. [↩]

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♦

April 26, 2011 · 6 comments


Untitled, uploaded by jakebouma on flickr.

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With Fear and Great Joy

April 21, 2011 · 10 comments

“So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples.” -- Matthew 28:8

The Revised Common Lectionary provides two options for the Gospel text this coming Sunday, the Resurrection of Our Lord (i.e., Easter Sunday): Matthew 28:1-10 and John 20:1-18. The Matthew 28 reading recounts Mary and Mary’s experience at Jesus’ tomb; the women are confronted by an angel, told that Jesus has been raised from the dead, sent to tell the disciples, confronted by Jesus himself, and then dispatched on their way.

Not your typical morning.

Since reading this story several weeks ago, I have been haunted by one particular phrase from the text. In verse eight, after having been instructed by the angel to tell the disciples of Jesus’ resurrection, we are told that Mary and Mary “left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy.” These two human emotions -- fear and great joy -- are usually conceived of as being mutually exclusive. That is, a person either experiences fear or she experiences great joy, but not both simultaneously. These women, however, confronted with the earth-shattering reality of Jesus’ resurrection do in fact experience a commingling of these seemingly disparate emotions. For me, this raises an interesting question. But first, a brief aside.

The “fear” Mary and Mary experience is fear as commonly understood: fright, terror, disquiet, & c. Although it is not uncommon to translate “fear” as “awe” or “reverence” in the biblical text, the context of the word in this verse leaves no doubt about the proper interpretation. The Greek word for fear used in verse eight, phobou, which can be translated as either “terror” or “reverence” is almost identical, etymologically speaking, to the word used three times in the surrounding text as an imperative verb: “Do not be afraid.” All this is to say that yes, Mary and Mary were actually scared. End of nerd section.

Back to my question: In what situations (or the anticipation thereof) have I experienced fear and great joy simultaneously? Last night I posed the question to the group of high school students gathered for youth group. Answers ranged from graduation (fear of the unknown and next steps, great joy at marking a significant life milestone), to traveling abroad this summer (fear of mishaps and unknowns, great joy at potential for unforgettable experiences).

For my part, the first thing that comes to mind is my upcoming wedding. To be honest, being married scares the snot out of me (what am I getting myself into?!) and at the same time it brings me deep, nearly unspeakable joy. The description of Mary and Mary’s emotional response to the resurrection is so blunt and concise that it’s almost hard to believe it can describe such a complex human emotion -- and yet it does.

This Sunday, among all the pomp and circumstance that an Easter celebration brings, I invite you to take stock of your emotions. Identify those things in your life that bring you fear and great joy. And then, whenever “He is risen indeed” escapes your lips, imagine not only great joy, but fear as well. The resurrection of Jesus Christ, as one student brilliantly quipped last night, is not a novelty. It is joyous, dreadful, magnificent, and terrifying all at once. So like Mary and Mary, may Jesus’ resurrection imprint our hearts with fear and great joy this Easter morning.

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