Tagged: reviews

Review of The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman

Timeless and universal.

I have a rule.  Well, Ecclesiastes has a rule that I believe is true.  It goes like this:  “There is nothing new under the sun.”  When it comes to “get rich quick” or “relationship” books, it is impossible for me to not use this standard.  If a book claims that it has come up with a new way to make money or keep a relationship strong, then, generally, I discard it promptly.  I just simply refuse to believe that mankind’s soul has changed in any appreciable way in our existence.  That being said, Chapman’s The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate is nothing new.  And that is good.

The book’s largest flaw is that it is a book.  It really could have been a flyer; I’m picturing a large picture representing perfect bliss overlayed by a few sentences at the bottom.  The sentences being something like this:

People express and feel love in different ways.  It seems that there are five ways.  They include physical touch, quality time, acts of service, gifts, and words of affirmation.  Try to speak your partner’s language(s).

Really, though, I’m proud to say that there is an even more fun way to help you figure out your love language(s).  How I like to think about these five languages is via one language:  song.  Want to know which language is yours using songs?  Then continue reading.

To start, if you think Kevin Costner defeats Errol Flynn in the battle of Robin Hood’s, we all know the only reason this happened is because Errol didn’t have Bryan Adams’ classic ballad “Everything I Do (I do it for you)” to accompany his swashbuckling sword fights.  And your choosing Kevin means that your language is likely “Acts of Service.”

On the other hand, if everyone in the room but you noticed that you sat up during Moulin Rouge as Ewan McGregor belted out “My gift is my saw-ong…” in tribute to Elton John’s unforgettable “Your Song“, your language might just be “Words of Affirmation”.

If it is impossible not to feel warm all over when somebody tells a story about the summer of 1991, the summer during which you recall hearing Extreme’s “More Than Words” on every radio station across the nation as you drove to the west coast to greet Gulf War One’s returning victors, then you’re only hurting yourself if you don’t own up to “Physical Touch” being your love language.

Next, and admittedly a bit of a stretch (but then again, it isn’t my language, so I wouldn’t identify with it.  Am I right Gary?), but if the only time you feel like someone really gets you is each year at Christmastime, specifically each time Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby” is played, then your love language is “Gifts”.

Lastly, if you  can finish, “Eeeiiff eye-ee-eye-ee-eye (breath) shu-uld stay…” without hesitation, there can only be one conclusion.  Your love language is “Quality Time”.   (That Costner is receiving two shout-outs is beyond me.  By the way Ma, he’s looking great once again in an upcoming action flick “3 Days to Kill”.  Check out the trailer by clicking here.)

In the end, the book only takes a night to read.  Not that you need to anymore.  You’re welcome.

****

*Chapman, Gary D. The Five Love Languages. Chicago: Northfield Pub., 1992. Print.

Get A Free Blog Review

Last summer an entrepreneur, friend, and sometimes blogger told me, “If you blog daily for six months, you should have 1000 followers at the end of those six months.”  Well, it’s been more than seven months of daily posts on Captain’s Log, and I’m sitting at 199.  As is the case with most facts, this amuses me.  Just the same, seeing that I am a part of the human race, and therefore partial to round numbers, I’m excited to amass follower number 200.  And I’m shameless when it comes to getting what I want.  So here’s what I’m offering: the blogger who follows me as number 200 will get a free review of their blog.  That’s right.  I’ll take some time between now and Monday to peruse your blog and then I’ll write the review for Monday’s post.  You can trust that I will be sure to say nice things as well as true things.  If you’re on the fence, think of it this way:  in return for a simple click of a mouse, you’ll get exposure to 199 readers who possibly aren’t aware of your stuff.  Heck, I might not be aware you exist.

This is a one time offer, and it is sure to go fast.  A little book called “The Magic of Thinking Big” mentions that “everyone you know craves praise”.  Well, I’m offering praise in exchange for bliss.  Whatdya say?

****

Schwartz, David Joseph. The Magic of Thinking Big. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1959. Print.

5 Reasons Why Sylvester Stallone Might Overtake Tom Cruise As Top Actor and 1 Thing TC Can Do To Ensure That Never Happens

1.  Rocky Balboa (Rocky 6)

2.  Rambo (Rambo 4)

3.  The Expendables

4.  The Expendables 2

5.  The Expendables 3  (This time he’s pulled together Antonio Banderas, Wesley Snipes, Mel Gibson and Harrison Ford.  And those are in addition to Arnold, Statham, Li, and Ivan Drago.  Oh, and Kelsey Grammar, too.)

For any of you who haven’t seen “The Expendables” movies, you’re missing out.  Missing out like I thought I was missing out in the late 80s and 90s.  I hated that I couldn’t go see rated R movies.  It seemed like every good movie was rated R and starred Stallone or Schwarzenegger.  When I finally checked those movies out, man was I disappointed.  Then Sly shocks the world with “Rocky Balboa” and “Rambo”, only to top them a few years later with “The Expendables”.  The movies are over the top in every way imaginable.  It’s a formula that can’t lose.  Lose the ego, bring the heart, and have a little fun while you’re at it.

Tom–don’t worry.  You’re still tops in my book.  The easiest way to ensure you never lose the spot is follow Stallone’s lead and give us what we want.  You know what I’m talking about TC.  That’s right.  It’s time for the sequel.  (Cue the Anthem.)

Review of Killing Season starring Bobby D. and Johnny T.

The previews looked like someone had re-tooled Hopkins and Baldwin’s 1997 thiller The Edge.  Two elderly-ish men trying to survive, and possibly kill each other in the woods.  But what we have here is something new.  It is at once a simple action flick–kinda B-movie action at that–and a portrayal of one of the most challenging commandments Jesus of Nazareth issued.

The film begins with scenes of the not-so-familiar Bosnian war.  We are shown images of genocide which would be striking if they weren’t nauseatingly familiar.  Like Shutter Island before it, we are then shown that even the good guys sometimes commit atrocities.  While in Bosnia we think we see Travolta killed.  Moments later we are introduced to DeNiro’s character and discover he has taken to hunting in the woods…with a camera instead of a gun.  Nothing surprising here.

The fact is nothing too surprising happens for the next hour or so of the film.  There is a game of cat and mouse that seems to drag on and on with no point.  But then something magical happens–the point appears.

Movies which improve with their run-time are few and far between.  I grew up on the idea that most movies can be recognized for what they are in the first minute.  This one is a rare exception to that rule.

Now Ma–before you think that you’re ready for this film, allow me to offer a word of caution.  There are two surprisingly gruesome scenes that even caught me off-guard.  So, just ask me about the movie next time you call and I’ll tell you what is so neat about it.

The rest of you, proceed at your own risk.  It’s no Saw, but it still isn’t for the faint of heart.  Too bad really, because it’s message is so full of heart.

Review of Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, by Haruki Murakami

Murakami’s Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World continues the post-modernistic tradition that aware readers have come to love.  Upon completing the second chapter, it is clear that something different, something unfamiliar is occurring.  The story is rife with metaphors and characters that work enough to keep us engaged, but it is really the storytelling’s style itself that causes our fingers to seek an instantaneous transition from one page to the next.

The story’s feint is that it’s about a detective.  Of course, no tale worth its salt is ever about what it portends.  Some authors make their points directly.  For Murakami, who convincingly communicates that he is well-read, however, it is simply no longer interesting to tell the reader what to think.

As with other post-modern and fabulistic works, this book is a reaction.  It is a plea to cause readers to never forget that no one should be taken for granted.  In using these artistic movements, Murakami firmly plants his feet and announces to the world that he is not to be trifled with.

In the end, there is certainly nothing new under the sun.  Yet Murakami has found a way to take his readers on a journey that is fun, difficult to predict, challenging and finally, rewarding.  If you’ve been in a reading rut and need a book to shake things up, you’ll be pleasantly surprised to discover that you can’t put this one down.

****

Murakami, Haruki. Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World: A Novel. New York: Vintage, 1991. Print.

Review of The Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer

Like the British accent today, Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales charms at first, but in the end sounds ridiculous.  Buh-dumh-ching!  Really, though, the book is just too old.  Reading it under the tutelage of a doctoral professor of Middle Earth (or is it middle-English?) is the only way to do it, and even then it is slow going at best.

After finding out that the rape that appalled you was supposed to be funny, you’ll find yourself being chided for laughing at the next rape–because that one was not funny.  The entire collection is a roller-coaster of meanings and double meanings, which all need to be explained step by step.  They need to be explained not because they were written in another language, no, middle-English is actually the first version of English we are told; the reason they need to be explained is because life was so very different back in the 14th century.  Well, no, that’s not right either.  Or is it?  Wait, what’s going on?

After three months of reading and studying, I am still not convinced why I should value so highly a work that requires so much explanation.  Does the Mona Lisa require explanation?  The pyramids of Giza?  Plus, the apparent result of fully investing oneself in Chaucer’s genius leads only to wanting to sleep with the man.  While intriguing to some, I can’t get there from here.

This review might have become more a review of the course or the way the Tales were presented than the Tales themselves.  Oh well.  While there were enjoyable moments, for any reader that hasn’t skipped reading books written in the last 700 years since the Tales, there was nothing new.

In the end, The Canterbury Tales may have been new in their day, but the serious reader need not feel guilty for skipping this seminal work.

Review of Mere Christianity, by C. S. Lewis

The back cover C. S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity has the word “Religion” printed in the upper left corner.  This should be the first clue as to who the publishers thought Lewis’ audience would be.  Mere Christianity, which is mostly the printed version of several radio talks Lewis gave, does little more than preach to the choir.  Granted, every writer or speaker must choose a target audience.  And in this book, Lewis chooses Christians.  Throughout the 192-page book, concepts familiar to Christians and lay-theologians abound.  Lewis’ voice is clear and his intent, noble.  When it comes to religion, though, results seem to be more important than intent, and here is where we begin to question Lewis’ work.

At every turn Lewis remarks, “If this is useful, use it.  If not, skip it.”  It’s all very heart-warming until we stop and consider the repercussions of failure.  As a Christian, Lewis relentlessly forces the reader to acknowledge the unpleasant parts of Christianity, most notably–though he never addresses it outright–an afterlife in hell.  We find it disconcerting that a book would be geared towards those who have already avoided this hell.  We can’t but think of Sunday school stories of Jesus seeking out the sinners, not the saints.  Instead of mirroring this trend, Mere Christianity decides to tackle such high-brow concepts as the nature of God, the Trinity, Jesus, predestination, usury and more.  In fact, he offers commentary on such a breadth of topics that it would be impossible for him to come out squeaky clean.  Take the following example.  At one point Lewis tries his hand at explaining why Christianity hasn’t fared better throughout history, assuming it is true.  He writes:

You will find this again and again about anything that is really Christian: everyone is attracted by bits of it and wants to pick out those bits and leave the rest.  That is why we do not get much further: and that is why people who are fighting for quite opposite things can both say they are fighting for Christianity (81).

With this assessment Lewis opens the door to debating why Christianity hasn’t/doesn’t/isn’t (fill in the blank).  Our own unending curiosity already led us to an answer that even Lewis can’t top.  To be specific, in his own attempt at clarity Tolstoy infects his readers with idea that Christianity has continually missed the mark because, as a religion, it harmonizes that which was never intended to be harmonized.

And herein lies our most pointed criticism of Lewis’ “beloved” classic.  Our problem with his enterprise comes after reading many of his eloquent metaphors which do kind of make sense.  A man of his skill should have recognized his limitations.  A man of his skill should have recognized the problem as it stood in front of him, and stands in front of us today.

C. S. Lewis can’t offer us salvation.

Christianity can’t offer us salvation.

There is only one man who can offer salvation–and his name is Jesus.

In the end, Mere Christianity is nothing more than another misguided, divisive attempt to unite a religion seemingly set on a path of unending fragmentation.

****

Lewis, C. S. Mere Christianity: Comprising The Case for Christianity, Christian Behaviour, and Beyond Personality. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996. Print.

Review of Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

In Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, Marlow’s apathetic voice is Conrad’s gift to readers.  Through this apathy readers have a defibrillator to use on their hearts, which have slowed to a stop after contemplating the full meaning of the tale.  Without this literary device, countless souls would be unable to return to their pleasant state of existence.

Conrad introduces Marlow as the novella opens.  Within two pages we discover Marlow has decided to tell an unrequested tale containing an uncommon bleakness that offers no immediate value to the audience.  By the end, we are left feeling despondent, depressed, and largely in a state of wonder.  We ask ourselves, “If this horror happened to a man such as Kurtz, it surely would happen to little ol’ me.  And that being the case, what’s the point of even trying?”

Add to these feelings the fact that the story is only 70-pages, and we find ourselves returning to page one with a singular goal.  We long to discover that we overlooked the hope.  Returning to page one with this new sense of purpose, we begin to notice that Marlow’s story is preempted by the notion that “the bond of sea…had the effect of making us tolerant of each other’s yarns—and even convictions.”  Likewise, Conrad demonstrates his value by creating this tolerance in those of us without this bond.

Marlow’s apathy is palpable throughout the tale—evidenced by his ability to remain a detached observer.  During this re-read we notice that this apathy, then, is Conrad’s gift to us.  This apathy lights the path which will lead us out of darkness.  Conrad doesn’t intend for us to remain in darkness.  He wants us to take Marlow’s journey; not believe that we’re Marlow.  The key to coming out whole is to remember this–remember that, unlike Marlow, we still care.

****

Conrad, Joseph. Heart of Darkness. New York: Dover, 1990. Print.

Netflix Laughs Out Loudest

Groggy only began to describe his morning.  This was confusing because this was the morning after he was given the gift of time.  One whole hour to use as he saw fit.  Like any good American, he used the time to watch movies he’d already seen.  Not movie, movie-zz.  He had just read Joseph Conrad’s seminal Heart of Darkness for the first time on Friday, so afterward he was motivated to re-visit Francis Ford Coppola’s seminal Apocalypse Now: Redux.  Unfortunately, he didn’t possess the staying power to make it through the additional 49 minutes this version contained Friday night, so last night was the night to finish that off.  Next, he felt like regretting that his relationship with his brother wasn’t that great, so he turned on Warrior.  It worked.  And it gave him hope that maybe someday he and his brother could have some metaphorical fight which causes them to live happily ever after until the credits scroll.  Wanting to immerse himself deeper in hope, he decided–for a reason he’s never going to explore–to run with a desire for more Tom Hardy and naturally began watching TDKR.  (Mother: that’s the latest Batman movie–you know, the one that came out on my birthday last year).  Taking great pride in his level of discipline, even before the caped crusader made his first appearance, he realized it was late, and went to sleep.

Opening the laptop this morning then, he stared at Netflix’s homepage.  Then it happened.  Nirvana.  The sound of his jaw hitting the floor was the only thing that brought him back.  Excited beyond belief, he saw staring back at him in Netflix’s personalized “Top Ten for Pete” category Miley Cyrus and Demi Moore’s LOL.  How does Netflix do it?  He didn’t even know LOL was out, and yet Netflix knew to place it where he couldn’t miss it.  Immediately, though, not wanting to give Netflix too much credit–they were still just a group of flawed individuals doing their best–he began unraveling the mystery.  After all, he did watch Mission Impossible’s 1-4 in a ten hour window that one night.  Oh, and There Will Be Blood has streamed down to his screen more than a few times.  Now that he really thought about it, anyone who has watched The Avengers is sure to have a Demi Moore poster or two on their bedroom ceiling.  Now he was starting to actually reconsider whether he should so readily praise Netflix.  And come to think of it, he did recently read that the people behind Mel Gibson’s latest film, Get the Gringo, were coming out with a similarly flavored mother-daughter how-did-you-become-such-a-screw-up-when-I-put-all-my-energy-into-raising-you-to-not-be-just-like-me-even-though-I-am-still-a-screw-up-to-this-day chick-flick starring two females who people actively hide their children from.  It seemed there was no mystery to Netflix’s methods after all.

Resigned, he closed the laptop and took his cereal bowl to the counter.  “I’ll get around to it,” he thought to himself, preempting the angel that was about to tell him to just put it directly in the dishwasher.

Falling into the couch, he shed a tear.  Like every other company, it seemed that Netflix was succeeding by simple logic.

****

Incidentally, if you’re not aware, here is a link to a third party site that connects directly to Netflix and actually makes sense.  www.instantwatcher.com