1. Jake Meador has a great newsletter. His first issue, in particular, hits on a handful of important issues related to writing, hospitality, and loving our neighbors. But his second issue addresses a problem at the heart of a metastasizing trend in writing in the age of social media:
If we have no common objects of love, what is the affection that can lead us toward studiousness and away from curiosity? If my confidences in everything save my own identity is diminished—and late modern liberalism seems to me to be designed to do precisely that—then my desire for knowledge can only be curiosity.
This, incidentally, is what I meant in the first issue when I said that the only writers with something valuable to say in this context are the writers with a deep love and affection for a particular home place. If we don’t have something outside ourselves that our work is ordered to, then all that we have left is the self and all our work is merely a form of identity construction. And at that point, I fear that the standard for our work is no longer truthfulness or whether the work tends toward love but is, rather, whether the work satisfies us personally or advances our private interests.
- Never begin a sentence with “And” or “But.”
- Yes. I’m a big fan of starting sentences with a conjunction for all the reasons Dreyer mentions in the article. I find it provides some snap to a sentence, and it can spring the reader into the next thought.
- Never split an infinitive
- Personally, I think it’s better to follow this non-rule more often than not. I take Dreyer’s point that sometimes inserting an adverb in between the “to” and the “verb” does sound better (“To bodly go where no man has gone before”). But generally it obscures meaning unnecessarily.
- Never end a sentence with a preposition: “Up with which I shall not put!”
- My view? See “never split an infinitive.” Writers (especially young writers) should follow this non-rule except when it doesn’t work.
3. Matthew Anderson’s exhortation in light of the recent abortion discussions surrounding VA Governor Ralph Northam’s comments regarding a late term abortion bill, and the governor of New York, Andrew Cuomo, who signed the Reproductive Health Act which extends the time frame for late term abortions. For many, this is a cause for concern/despair. But Anderson is right that the Christian response should be compassionate:
In other words, evangelicals must speak of infanticide in ways that remain animated by the gospel of Jesus Christ. We are to proclaim the darkness of the evil inflicted upon infants and their mothers in ways that still hold forth the promise of good news. The truth of compassion provides comfort in the face of the cross—a comfort that defeats death not by inflicting it, but by overcoming it with love.
4. These days I’m a sucker for any article that will take down the repackaging of ancient philosophies into modern day self-help movements. Like Stoicism:
Einstein’s God will no doubt appeal more to Pigliucci’s readers than the divine craftsman of the Stoics. Pigliucci contends, moreover, that living well in the Stoic sense doesn’t depend “on whether there is a God” or what God’s “specific attributes” are. I strongly disagree. The practical part of Stoicism—the part where it teaches us how to live—doesn’t work without the outdated metaphysical underpinning. For the Stoics, Zeus made everything, including human beings, to maximize the universe’s perfection. What sets human beings apart is that they alone share in Zeus’s rational nature and can help carry out his plan by embracing the fate he has allotted to them. We are the only part of the universe that doesn’t just blindly function, but can grasp its task and perform it willingly. The key to happiness, therefore, is human reason, which enables us to understand Zeus’s plan and then direct our lives in accordance with it.
5. Austin Kleon on Walker Percy’s theory of “reentry.” (One day I’ll read Lost in the Cosmos for myself. Pinky swear). Quotation from Percy:
[W]hat is not generally recognized is that the successful launch of self into orbit of transcendence is necessarily attended by problems of reentry. What goes up must come down. The best film of the year ends at nine o’clock. What to do at ten? What did Faulkner do after writing the last sentence of Light in August? Get drunk for a week. What did Dostoevsky do after finishing The Idiot? Spend three days and nights at the roulette table. What does the reader do after finishing either book? How long does his exaltation last?
6. Did I mention in the previous “Whence and Whither” that Monty Python’s Flying Circus is on Netflix? Well it is.
7. Tunes: “better jump down the manhole / light yourself a candle”