Matt W Cook

writer.former fundamentalist.christianly fellow

Month: October, 2009

Telling Better Than You Show

I generally read two books at once. Never more and rarely less. A fiction and a non-fiction. This week I finished both G.K. Chesterton’s Orthodoxy and Branden Sanderson’s Hero of Ages. Both blew my mind. And I can’t really talk about either without (a) stumbling over my mediocre vocabulary or (b) giving amazing things away. Some I’m not going to talk about them.

Last night I picked up my next two books. The non-fiction is Paul Davies’ About Time: Einstein’s Unfinished Revolution. It’s borrowed from a friend and looks promising. The fiction is the much-anticipated Anne of Avonlea by the brilliant L.M. Montgomery.

You know what the neat thing is about Montgomery? She breaks the rules and looks good while doing it. For example, any novice writer will be able to tell you that it’s always better to show rather than tell. Here’s an example:

We walked into the room, angry.

Is not nearly as powerful as:

He stomped into the room, face red and hair disheveled. “I’m pissed!” he yelled, finger jabbing at his wife.”

You should always show.

But Montgomery doesn’t. She likes to tell. Which is funny, because when she does show, she shows like a star. Her descriptions of the places in PEI make you want to go there. But sometimes she’ll just tell you what’s going on. And when she does, she does it well.

I realized, just in the first five chapters of Anne of Avonlea that there really is not hard rule on showing and telling. You really need to be able to do both well, if you are going to write. Sometimes a skilled tell carries a lot more meaning and power than a bulky show.

Anyway, Montgomery rocks my face off, as she always has. Read her. Seriously. Especially if you’re into epic fantasy novels like I am. Montgomery provides a taste of an entirely different kind of fiction and storytelling. Check her out.

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This is second-hand unless you’re reading it at http://www.theilliteratescribe.com

Nostalgia

A co-worker was asking me about Pakistan the other day. She was very excited as I talked about the country, which was nice because most people just get weirded out when I explain how much fun it is to ride on top of buses and drink questionable water. She visited us and Ruth and I showed her some of the wild videos of Pakistan that my buddy Cuthill has posted on the internet.

It was a little difficult to watch them.

I had no idea how much I missed that country. As I saw scenes of my old apartment and of travelling on the roofs of buses and drinking tea in dirty chai shops, I felt something reach out inside.

Have you ever longed for something without really knowing why you wanted it? I mean, seriously, what is so attractive about Pakistan? It’s dirty, insanely hot and full of all sorts of inconveniences. I could never get coffee, bacon or donuts. It was hard to find friends with similar interests. And it was so hot that I could have boiled a full goat in the sweat I produced in a day. Why do I miss Pakistan so much?

In Pakistan people would often ask me why I liked Pakistan so much. Urdu has a very nice phrase that captures how I feel: dil lagya. The heart has stuck.

My relationship with Pakistan smacks of a bollywood romance. I can give few reasons for my love, but it’s there anyway. My heart has stuck, and I doubt I’ll be able to instick it. Even as I sit here in my comfortable apartment, with my decent job, drinking a wonderful coffee while chatting with like-minded friends, there is still a pull. Like a call from a distant lover.

Am I bring melodramatic? Maybe.

Watch these videos and feel the melodrama with me:

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This is second-hand unless you’re reading it at http://www.theilliteratescribe.com

Ragamuffin Pokémon

Among pokémon trainers there are really two kinds of pokémon that you can come across. Those you respect and those you mock. Those that trainers are are generally willing to work with and those that they are not.

Everyone is willing to sweat and pull for a Zapdos or Dragonair. Everyone is willing to put in the time to raise and nurture a young Charmander or Mew. Of course they’re willing to do that. I mean it’s a Mew for heaven’s sake! Do you have any idea how much potential a Mew has? Most would gladly trade a level 50 Grimer for a level 5 Mew. Because the Mew has potential. It qualifies itself. It pulls its own weight.

But there are few who would put serious effort into raising a Ratatta or Zubat or (shudder) Paras. Why not? Because it seems that these pokémon have very little potential. They are the products of poor lineage. They have nothing special about them. Just common, base, trash, really. A trained level 15 Mew could drop a level 20 Paras. Maybe even level 25.

Which is why I’m glad that God is not a pokémon trainer.

God isn’t searching the world for special people. He’s not trying to find the Mewtwo of the world and side with it. He’s looking for the base, lowly, stupid Ratatta to empower!

I’m a Ratatta. Small, unspecial and not welcome in many homes. But with a trainer like the one I have I could rock the world. I could stand before kings and rulers defiantly. I could take on all the legendary pokémon of the world. Bring on your Articuno and your Moltres! I may be a lowly Ratatta, but I am being trained by the greatest Master out there. Nay, I am trained by the one who made all other trainers and pokémon!

Yay for God and his team of ragamuffin pokémon!

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This is second-hand unless you’re reading it at http://www.theilliteratescribe.com