History

Today at work I started up a conversation with an elderly customer. She was resting her legs, and was glad to talk. She is eighty-one, her last name is Loid (I believe that is the correct way to spell it), and she has lived in the Fayetteville area for a long time. She remembers when my boss was born and teases him about things he did when he was a toddler. This is not something many people can do.
Hearing her talk about the past was amazing; what affected me most was hearing about her husband. He was in the marines, third division, in World War II. He and the rest of his unit, two hundred plus men, fought at Iwo Jima, where only six survived (I'm not sure if she meant survived unwounded or survived, period). He died about five years ago.
I'm sure there are plenty of stories like this, but you don't hear them from these men's wives everyday.
I got paid during the course of the conversation, but I would have payed to have it.
And that's not only because she wished her hair were as curly as mine.
I have lots to say about grandparents and history, but I think I will leave most of it for another time. Let's just say that I would have thoroughly regretted not having the conversation I had today. I will probably never get a chance to hear that lady's wisdom and history again.

Absolute Truth or The Gospel?

Which should a Christian address first? If someone does not believe in absolute truth, is it worthwhile sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ with them, or is a belief in "truths" being just as real for you as they are for me more important?
After all, how can someone believe that there is only one God when they believe that two people can believe in two different Gods and both be just as correct!?
Personally, I prefer to avoid questions. For instance, when I am writing an outline in church and the Pastor says that his first point is "Why can Christ save us?" I write: " I. Why Christ can save us." After all, the point is the answer, not the question. [This is why the title of this post, along with the majority of the sentences in the first two paragraph's are questions. Go figure.]
I was hoping the above would somehow apply to my topic, but I don't think it did. Anyway, let me rephrase my question. Can God save someone before they believe in absolute truth? An attached question: does someone who believes in no absolute truth really mean the same thing when they say they believe something, as someone who does believe in absolute truth? Can I possibly make my sentences any more complicated?
The latter question will be answered soon enough; the former I will answer immediately: Of course not! If you really and truly do not believe in absolute truth, you cannot really and truly believe in anything. Of course, most relativists, when smacked in the face, would find that what was true for you (smacking) was true for them (being smacked). So there are few people who do not believe in any absolute truths.
It seems, however, that a pretty good number of people are convinced that they can believe one thing in their "spiritual life" and another in their "real life.' Despite the 'real' in front of the one, these two things are supposed to be just as true. They just don't affect each other.
This utter separation is foolish. Some things can be regarded as having no affect on each other. Take, for instance, the affect my sneezing here has on the star Deneb. None at all (as far as I know). The problem is that God claims to be very involved in the world and our lives. Believing in Him must have an affect on all our many "lives".
So, we should try to convince people through logic and reason that there must be absolute truth, and then share the gospel with them.
No.
The very fact just considered -- that God is involved in everything -- should give cause for pause before we assume that his gospel is insufficient to bring men to a knowledge of the truth. Certainly, it must be heard and believed. But the Gospel is not an argument with certain assumptions we must hold before we can accept it. Paul writes in Romans 1:16 "...I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes..."
Ah, yes, but they must first believe it!
"For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God." (Ephesians 2: 8). See I Cor 12:9 and Romans 12:3 as two other references for the nature of faith as a gift of God.
The assurance of the unseen reality of God and His works is another of his works, not ours. While a lack of belief in absolute truth may be the defense someone uses against believing on Christ, it is not the real reason. The real reason is that we are all dead in our sins and will not believe -- until we are made alive through Christ. Take away every defense that can be given, and still no one will believe without a supernatural work of the Holy Spirit to make them alive together with Christ.
If someone believes that there is no absolute truth, God can quite easily work in their heart to make them believe in Him. They may not realize it, but they now believe in absolute truth. Now, many believers, whether consciously and vocally or not (I am included among them), pretend that they do not believe in absolute truth. This is not something that should be ignored, and there is certainly nothing wrong with discussing absolute truth with an unbeliever. But God will deal with a Christian who tries to hold relative truths, and He is quite capable of saving people who do not believe in absolute truth. The Gospel, therefore, should be the priority. Christians and unbelievers in conversation should not bog themselves down talking about absolute truth when the much larger issue of God and man is unaddressed. The power of God is the Gospel. The power of my reasoning skills, however fabulous, can't hold a candle to it. Thank Him for that!

Protagonists Have No Parents

This is a subject with lots of potential (mwahaha). Dad pointed it out to me, which is ironic. You see, the great majority of protagonists (hero/heroine of the story) in children's literature especially, have no parents, or just one parent, or manage to get their parents out of the picture early on.
Let's start with recent hits in moviedom, primarily those drawing from books. Though I have not read or seen the story, I am under the impression that Harry Potter certainly has no contact with his parents, or has no parents at all. Frodo's parents are dead at the beginning of the Fellowship of the Ring, despite the fact that he is still considered an adolescent. Anakin Skywalker never had a father, and his mother, while playing a part in the story, is not a parental influence after the Phantom Menace. Luke Skywalker never knew his mother, and is functionally without a father. And let's not forget the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, or any of Lewis' Chronicles. The examples of children without present parents make that of Digory's mother (weakened to the point of ineffectiveness) a contrast. Cheaper by the Dozen has parents, but at least in the fictionalized movies the relationship is primarily antagonistic. And then there were a Series of Unfortunate Events...
Other children's books: Treasure Island spends its first few chapters getting away from the mother. The evil stepmother is not very motherly. Otto, of Otto of the Silver Hand, never knew his mother, and his father sends him away. The Accidental Detectives series is a marked exception, with two Christian parents at times figuring prominently in the stories. Most of the books, however, separate the characters from their parents. Frank Perretti's Cooper Kids series prominently features the strong, meek father, but the mother is dead. Little Men is about a boys' school -- no parents are present. The girl in Swan House has only one parent. There's Heidi, Naruto, the orphans in At the Back of the North Wind, the Boxcar Kids, Pollyanna, Rose in Eight Cousins, Sarah and Nellie in Little Princess, Oliver Twist, that girl in the Secret Garden, and Cosette in Les Miserables.
Now, it is reasonable and realistic for some children in stories to be orphans, as it is for some children in stories to be away from their parents. But it seems that a vast majority of children's stories include either no parents or little interaction between the parents and the children (please, correct me with examples if I am wrong). This is just a little odd!
There are several reasons I can think of for why this situation makes for a better, or easier to write story. First, the hero seems more heroic in most reader's eyes if he or she must overcome obstacles without someone else outside doing the majority of the protecting, saving, thinking, advising -- in effect, hero-ing! In addition, accurately portraying a healthy relationship (in human terms) between parents and child is difficult. A lot of people never had that relationship, so cannot write from experience. It is tempting to turn the parents into the antagonists, or into distant advisors, more the founts of wisdom than active participants in the story.
It is sad that this relationship is lacking. One might note that the father-son/daughter relationship between God and His children is also sorely lacking, even in "Christian" books. The prayer, the occasional apology, the spiritual lesson learned, is often all that can be found. What of the constant dependence, prayer and, repentance, love -- the personal relationship?
All the characters I have written into being so far are orphans, or, for the majority of the story, separated from their parents. That is not inherently wrong, but completely neglecting to write about this aspect of life can reflect a general lack of skillfulness in the author, and, more importantly, a lack of respect for the relationship between parents and children.

To Write or Not to Write

This morning I was thinking about writing. I love to write stories, and I believe there is a place for writing creatively -- fiction included -- in God's Creation. However, I try my best not to be deluded about my skills. I may well be able to think up a story, however, there are several problems (in addition to the logistical ones) in publishing a book.

First, I'm not that amazing of an author. My style isn't anything to rave about. There are thousands of published authors who have better styles than mine, and innumerable people out there who would be better than me if they actually wrote. So...why would I write something if the books already out there are written better than mine are?
In response to my own question, there is much to be learned about writing by writing. I would hold that reading is more important to learning to write, but writing is still essential, and, as they say "practice makes perfect." My style has changed since I first started writing, and I am developing more tones I can write in. But what about publishing it? Why publish "inferior" work?

Well, there is more to writing than quality of style (see "Content Matters"). What one says makes or breaks a book. Certainly, a book can be ruined by atrocious style, but can only be made worthwhile by subject, content, judgements made, moral, or whatever else you care to call content. I hope my style does not ruin my content, and therefore, if I have worthwhile content, I may justify writing.

My second question arises from this last point. Do I have anything to say? Hmmm. This is a frightening question. I know that the truth of the Bible is very much worth saying. It applies to all of life, and so a book about nigh-on anything can be "worthwhile", or, in honest language "edifying and God-glorifying." (Please note I said "nigh-on").
But do I have a better view on truth, no, even a view that comes anywhere close to being as clear, than Bunyan, Lewis, Milton, and, literally, the thousands upon thousands of Christian authors who wrote before me? I live in a corrosive, fallen, falling country. We are slipping as a nation, and have been ever since we began. We are fallen down the page of Romans 2, getting closer and closer to the final, utter pitch-black bottom of the pit of sin and corruption. The church, the very pillar and butress of truth, is shattered into a hundred "opinions", pulverized into dust particles, each a "lone ranger Christian", tipping slowly over to the ground, lowering the truth to the mud. There is no truth. There is no God. There is no right. There is no wrong. The church is beginning to buy these lies, abhorrent to God and damning to the soul. I live in this world, in this country. How can I think to open my mouth to offer my fiction that shows truth, even to quote the Bible, when so many in better, more godly times, with better teaching and meeker hearts have offered their creativity?
Hmmm. I need to go think about it some more.

But I know this. To discount the truth, validity, clarity, and power of God's Truth as revealed in His Word, on account of my insufficience and surroundings, would be utter foolishness and pride. Those in the past did not understand better because everyone else did. They understood better because they had the Word of God, their churches, and the Holy Spirit working righteousness in them. These I have. So I won't burn my manuscripts quite yet. Sorry to get ya'lls hopes up.
And while I wait and think, I will pray for the church.

The Creation and Evolution of Language II: Stories

Yes, now that I've come back to this delightful subject, I'm going to veer off on a rabbit trail. How many of you have actually really gone down a rabbit's trail? Just wondering. What I hope to do in this post is look at how stories are created and evolve, as a clue to how language is created and evolves, as I work my way towards showing that language either was created perfect and is being degraded, or began in chaos and is moving towards order.
Quoting George Lucas is not a good idea, for the most part. His Star Wars movies have left lots of young people scratching their heads over what good and evil are, and a lot more snickering evilly as they blow away the goodguys with force lightinging on their Xbox. No, I have not played as the darkside on Jedi Knight. Well, ok, I did play tie fighter, but I killed the emporer so many times by accident that it really made up for it. Half the time I was taking out rogue imperial warlords anyway.
But I am going to quote Mr. Lucas. Well, not exactly. I don't remember what he said. But it was something to the effect that there aren't that many original stories. Mr. Lucas is apparently fascinated by a book that tries to show that all stories come down to a handful of basic ones. The idea of several foundational stories being rehashed in a thousand different ways over history, so that now there are an infinite number of variations, could actually be produced as evidence for a created language, or an evolving language!
If language was created, it would make sense that whoever created was pretty smart. This creator of language might also have had some very good stories to tell. These really good stories, over the years, passed down in handwritted manuscripts or by word of mouth, would morph into many different stories, with their own unique variations, but could be traced back to the originals.
If language began in chaos and evolved, it would make sense that people could have thought up stories in the past which then proliferated into an infinite number of variations on the same, sortof like our possible future one-word vocabulary, while based on one word, has an infinite number of possible meanings. In this view, however, the base stories weren't neccessarily any good.
Wow, a short post. I'm amazing.

The Ability of Suits to Make Skillful Art Good: Description is Art III

Don't worry, the title might make sense after you read this, but it's not important.
Well, in I, I wrote that description is art -- holding value in and of itself -- but has come to be thought of as nothing more than a medium for cheap thrills. This makes it boring, which makes it even less respected, throwing it into a lovely cycle of degredation. In II, I said that, while description is art, content matters. My final point was that there is good and bad, good is better than bad, and thus there are good and bad subjects for an art medium, in this case, description.
I've had some opportunity to think about this. Several years back I wrote a historical fiction novel for school. I really put a lot of effort into it -- my friends had jobs; but I wrote a story. It was a pirate story, and I suppose I will forever be having to repeat my true claim that I had not seen Pirates of the Carribbean when I wrote it. Not to say it was as good as that lovable movie, but that it seems to be the logical motivation for me writing. Why do I not liking to be thought of as copying, or getting my motivation from a movie I think is awesome, in the modern sense of the word? I suppose that should be my next post: "Where do stories come from?" George Lucas has a lot to say about that. But I bet I have more!
The reason I mention this novel having pirates is because it also had british royal navy personnel. This made for some violent encounters. I was trying to write a book that would be good, instructive, edifying reading for people about my age, and younger. While I mentioned that profanity was used, I didn't give examples. I stayed away from the subject of sexual immorality as well. But when the cannon started firing, the boarders took the leap, friend and foe mingled blood on the shattered deck... well, I just didn't think about not describing it. Any book by a modern author, written at the level I wrote, would have done so, so I did. Now, in case you are disgustedly clucking your tongue at this legalistic little geek, understand that I don't think it is wrong to describe gore. But what was my purpose in doing so, and how could I expect my audience to use my description? Well, I suppose I might have thought my purpose was to give the hard truth about what went on in those battles, to give a true feel for them. If so, I didn't go far enough. The other reason would be so that my readers would enjoy reading about it.
I hope that sounds disgusting to you. I suppose it may not to everyone. But think about my audience -- say ten to eighteen year-olds. Should anyone, much less someone that age, enjoy reading the details of a human body being destroyed? Shouldn't they throw the book down in disgust? Wouldn't it be sufficient to say that men were stabbed, wounded, mangled, beheaded, etc, without having to go into case by case descriptions of "how the blood spilled..."?
Now, there is some room for question here. Were my descriptions wrong? I think I might be able to truthfully say I included them for accuracy, to make the point that these battles were horrible. I can say I was blind to the fact that people in general, and teenagers especially, are tempted to take pleasure in reading detailed accounts of people being killed. It is the greusome twist in the stomach, the "oh, wasn't it bad when..." to a friend.
Why was I blind to it? I suppose I was just used to it. Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, war movies, the wonderful Redwall books, and most historical fiction involving war, all include this graphic violence. And, because there is a lack of descriptive excellence, the content must have more and more shock value to put the desired pleasure into the audience. Was I the only one who cringed a little in Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, when Anakin started slicing geonosians apart with his lightsaber -- they may have been giant termites, but they were sentient giant termites. Not to say it shouldn't have been in there, but how come that movie got a lax rating? If he had been cutting humans in two so graphically, it wouldn't have. I think it would have been a much more worthwhile use of time to use some lines, close-ups, and a little down-to Earth fear to remind you that Anakin is fighting for his life, trying to keep Padme from getting killed. That could have been a moving scene, instead of "oh, look, scary flying things. Oh, look, he's cutting them up. Oh, on to the next visually impressive scene..."
We've run into the lack of description again. I've lost my point. It was that violence for pleasure is just not right. Violence for entertainment? It depends on exactly how you define entertain. To entertain, is to hold the senses. Well, what are you doing with them while you hold them, is the correct question. Are you trying to please the audience? Then don't use gore, that isn't right. Is there some pleasure to be had when Aragorn, with a last, fatigued blow, finishes off the Uruk-Hai leader Lurtz at the end of Fellowship of the Rings? Sure, there was applause at least one of the times I saw the movie. We should be glad when evil gets its due, but not in an "oh, goodie, his head got chopped off," gleeful sort of way.
I hope you follow because I'm done saying what I'm saying over and over again.
There are other things, but I think violence is the primary one. I suppose I could go through this entire proof with sexuality and sexual immorality portrayed graphically, but I won't. The reasons this is "bad" are almost all the same.
Could a discussion of sexual immorality be in a book in a right way? Of course, just mind your audience. The same goes for describing violence. I wonder at people wondering at school shootings. If a young American wanted to have his head filled with violence around the clock, he could. There's plenty of people talking about it at school, he can find it online, and in the ever-more realistic computer games he can play all afternoon. After that, thinking about it duing class, doing his homework, even dreaming about it all night isn't so hard. After that, what's the difference between thinking about killing people all the time, and doing it? At the same time both none at all, and all the difference in the world, because thinking it doesn't make it done.
My point is that young minds should not be exposed to the depth of violence in this world, especially not in a form meant to please.
I'm not old enough to address adults on this, but just one thought. If it is wrong for children to fill their heads with this, is it suddenly right when you get taller and move into your own house? Maybe you think you are mature enough to deal with it. But does maturity mean going and enjoying all the low, gruesome, dirty things in life, or having them around you, knowing of them and working against them, all while keeping yourself from taking pleasure in them?
If you haven't watched hitchcock movies, you should. Most of them are not gory, certainly not in the humdrum way most modern movies are. Yet they capture the senses, and scare you to death, and make violence seem very terrible. Hitchcock, one might say, was an artist. People oohed and aaahed at the fifteen minute long battle of Helm's deep in the Two Towers. Tolkien's version was longer and more bloody, but he didn't describe nearly so much violence as the movie portrayed. Still, he caught you up in it with his charachters, and the brave stand to hold the Deep. The battle of the Pellinor fields in the Return of the King was much larger, and much longer in Tolkien's book than in the movie, yet Tolkien wasn't trying to get you to take pleasure in the gore. Instead, the reader is moved to take pleasure in the gallantry of the men, the brave leadership of kings, princes, and wizards, and the great, moving climax when Aragorn unfurled the banner of the king, the banner woven for him by the elf princess Arwen. But we skipped all that for a few more shots of men and horses being crushed by elephants.

Content Matters: Description is Art II

In my last post I held that description, in and of itself, has value, regardless of what it is describing, as a means of communication. This medium, however, like all media, must have "good" content to be "acceptable." I added quotations because these words really mean very little to this discussion at the moment. I hope to add context.
Description is art. We can, therefore, draw the parallel between description and the visual and sonic arts. Most paintings are of something. Almost all paintings have a title. All paintings have a purpose.
The fact that most paintings are of a particular thing is obvious. Most artists pick out a physical object, or perhaps an event or emotion, and try to express it on the canvas.
Almost all paintings have a title, given to them by the artist, or, in case of ancient paintings, by popular concent.
All paintings have a purpose. I don't think very many people would have argued with me about this a century ago, perhaps not even half a century back. But today a lot of people would. I will bypass the argument that documents and, implcitly, paintings can have no meaning, since this is, to my best knowledge, still recognized as the ludicracy that it is. But do all paintings, all of them, mind you, have a purpose? Some artists seem to go out of their way to avoid including one. On the other end of the spectrum, some artists simply draw a scene exactly as it appears to the eye. The former artwork has the purpose of appearing purposeless. The latter has the purpose of conveying as exactly as possible a visual scene. Between these two extremes are all sorts of art with all sorts of purposes behind them, but they do have a purpose.
With these preliminaries completed, I will try to show that content has a direct relation to the art itself.
I am laughing at myself. You should be laughing at me as well. Why do I need to prove this? Think about it; if you are describing or painting something, what do you do? You think about, or look at the thing, and then you describe or paint, using the information you got from your looking and thinking. Of course what you are painting or describing has a direct relation to the art itself! Thing -> artist -> description/art. Oh, look, the artist is a function. How interesting...
Anyway, you can see that the only three components of actually making art are the subject ("subject" sounds a lot nicer than "thing"), the artist, and the artwork. The artist, the subject, and the artwork all have different components, of course, but these three hold all the sub-categories.
Why, you may be asking, am I reversing on myself? Last post I said that description, in and of itself, is art. Now I seem to be saying that the subject has just as much input on it. Because there is bad and good art in two different ways. There is art that lacks talent or inginuity. That is art that, regardless of subject, is bad art. It doesn't matter the subject, it will still be bad art. Will it convey it's meaning? Possibly, but not well. Then there is art that can be called good along those lines, but is bad all the same. This is art that has a bad subject, or purpose.
What is bad and what is good? We need a standard if I am going to say this. For the former bad and good I described, the standard was whether the art conveyed its message or subject in an inadequate way, or not at all. But what subjects or purposes are good for art? Who is to judge. Certainly not me. Then how am I to continue?
Every human being knows there is good and evil. He may very well deny or twist it, but he knows it all the same. He is angry, he is sad, he is happy and joyful, at things that are done or seen. He feels guilt and vindication. These things are true. And, though he may deny and contridict this, every man knows which of these two sides of the coin is good, and which is bad. He may call good bad, and bad good. He may love bad and hate good. But he never can switch them. This brings me to conclude that while they may be entirely opposed, they are not opposites in the sense that they are identical. The anti-matter universe is typically portrayed as an alternative. Matter still looks like matter. Everything works the same way. A relection is backwards, but if you were inside the reflection, through the looking glass, it would seem to be the right way around, and the real would seem to be flipped. The dark and light sides are equal and opposite, and need to be balanced. We all have our concious and our sub-concious.
These are lies, when they are applied to good and evil. We are polarized. We cannot flip, so that good is evil, and evil good. Yes, we love evil and hate good, but we know in our hearts that we are wrong, not right!
Good, therefore, is not on a par with evil. It is my belief, from which I will never be shaken, that good is greater than evil, because good has no age, but is eternal, while evil not only had an origin, but no real existence in and of itself. When people deny good, they also deny evil. Why? Becuase evil is -- and here I mean to define evil -- whatever is against, or opposed to good. Good, however, is not whatver is against or opposed to evil, not in a definitive sense. This is true, but it is not the definition of good. Good is the action, evil the reaction. Good is eternal, and has content. Evil merely takes the content of good and rebels against it.
So there are purposes and subjects that are evil and should not be given to art. Obviously, I have not really made any claims as to the conten of good yet, but I have come so far as to firmly state that there are reasons for art, and subjects for art that are wrong, and ruin even good or skillful artwork. This is true not only in visual and sonic, but in the written art of description.
Whew. Perhaps a third installment is in order...

Description is Art

Description is a powerful tool. The proliferation of writers has made us blind to the fact that most people cannot describe effectively, at least without a long time to think; and those who can rarely put their skills to good use. Modern literature tends towards cheap suspense, gore, romance, and ideas. Refer to Langauge I. I was rambling about an idea I had, albiet an interesting one, at least to me; I used funny, sometimes slightly violent and grose illustrations, and I described almost nothing at all.
I remember spending half an hour in class a few years ago, examining Louisa May Alcott's descriptions in the first few pages of Little Men. If I used the phrases she did in conversation, I would get weird looks. This ties in to language, I suppose, since we have become used to reading one language and speaking another.
I think my complaint here is that people don't appriciate the value of describing. I say this because it has become common-place, but dry. Watch someone's face as they are reading a beautiful description. They will probably frown as they try to follow the language used. Better yet, show someone a beautiful computer rendered New Zealand landscape in Lord of the Rings or The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. See if this excites oohs and aahs. Probably a good number of people would be impressed by this. It is visual, prepared, packaged. It takes only the optic lobes to understand it. Now show a shot from Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, a blazing lightsaber duel or a incredibly detailed shot of capitol ships fleeing and pursuing, smaller vessels bursting into clouds of bright flame and debris. You will probably get a better reaction.
My point is that written description is valued below visual, and leads me into my second point.
Descriptions of violence, conflict, and catastrophe are valued about those of peace, beauty, and reality. Many readers will sit entranced as they read about men being butchered, buildings being destroyed, and massive battles being joined. They will yawn and their eyes will drift when they come to the description of the brave knight, the mighty buildings filled with people going about their daily work, the farm of the militiaman. Why? Well, it's not very exciting.
This gets into all the arts. When it comes down to it, which is more exciting: chopan or Yellowcard? Be honest now, which one gives you a burst of energy?
This is my second point: The art of written discription has fallen so out of grace that it is only considered good if it dwells on subject matter that naturally excites strong emotions. One might argue that a landscape could, or should do so. This is another point, however -- that we devalue the "natural art" all around us. But anyone who lives in New Zealand, though they may love and enjoy their nation's landscapes, probably is not strongly moved overy time they look out the window. Some probably are, and that is a good thing. But these New Zealanders (please understand I am using them as an example solely because of their beautiful country's recent movization) probably come back again and again for more violent, gory, description.
So descriptive art is undervalued. Why? Well, for one thing it is slow, old, takes brain power to understand, and typically does little to move a story. Picture readers as the impatient young boy in the art museum tugging on his parent' hands to hurry up to the next exhibit, rather than stand staring at the one they are already at. But at the next exhibit he does the same thing. He does not appriciate the art in front of him.
Readers are not entirely to blame. I would not enjoy a modern art exhibition very much, myself. It has degraded into a contest to be instantly shocking, and sometimes violent and gory.
Descriptive art is a talent few authors possess. Fortunately, we have access to just about everything ever written. Look at Tolkien's long, extensive description of peoples, histories, lands, buildings, and armies. Yet, in the midst of thick battle, he says "Three times Aragorn and Eomer rallied them, and three times Anduril flamed in a desperate charge that drove the enemy from the wall." He does not explain in great detail how Aragorn cut apart numerous orcs, nor how the orcs did horrible things to their victims. At times he does go into gruesome detail. But here his point is not for you to enjoy the gore, but to have your mind and senses "entertained" by the desperate struggle to hold the wall. There is a place for descriptive art that describes horrible things, and violent, tumultous struggles, whether they are actual battles or just famines, depressions and arguments. My conclusion is that, while the subject of any art must by definition be an essential part of that artwork, it only rarely defines whether the art is good or bad. There are venues in which some things should never be described, others where it is necessary that they be. But where description is for entertainment, the question to ask is first "is this description here to be thought over and appriciated, crafted to be a thing of beauty in and of itself, a proper vehicle for conveying information to the senses?" and second "is what it conveys a thing worth considering for entertainment?"
One thing to notice here is that entertainment is having your attention held captive. Enjoyment is taking pleasure in something. We may properly read about a great battle, and be entertained, but I do not think we should enjoy the battle; perhaps the skill of the artist who describes it, however.
So, that is my convoluted take on describing things in books: people don't value it, don't do it well, and make their subjects the only point, instead of trying to make the medium itself beautiful.
For those of you who are wondering exactly what brought me to write this, please understand this blog is a school assignment. I do enjoy talking about what I think, but I normally wouldn't be writing about this, but I have to use the medium, whether I can think of anything I want to write about or not. I have a nasty sinus cold this morning, and feel rather light-headed. Perhaps this is an explanation.

Language I: Views on the Creation and Evolution of Language

Well ya'll, good morning. Here I am to talk about language. What we speak. It's interesting that at least in recorded history there has not been a constant language. All language seems to be to some degree in a flux, never exactly solidifying. Dictionaries are only effective because this flux, or evolution of the language is slow enough for a dictionary composed twenty years ago to be 99.9% accurate. The debate over whether language is dependant on how people use it, or whether people's use of language is dependant on the language itself is similar to that of the chicken or the egg being the first in existence (I personally am for the chicken). To define the question to a greater extent, we can ask, did someone create a highly effective, communicative form of verbal sounds, or did people create the system through practical use of it?
If the former is true, then any evolution of the language is not at all beneficial, rather it allows for compromises and time-savers that will eventually devolve into a mess of subjective words, each with multiple meanings depending on how they are applied, lacking any definite (see the relation to definition) meaning to back them up. Theoretically, the English language could end up like a bad sci-fi movie I saw a few years ago. It was about this tribe of sun worshippers on a Lost Worldesque island, and had lots to do with all blonde girls being sacrified to the huge pit at a certain age, and running away from dinosaurs, and people being eaten by giant pitcher plants, etc, etc. The language of these natives included a one word vocabulary: "Akida."
"Akida." -- "Block of wood."
"Akiida." -- "You look cute in that loincloth, Bob."
"Akida, Akida." -- "Look what I found, a Bronchiosaurus."
"Akida! (Akida, Akida)" -- "A blonde girl, come on, let's throw her into the pit."
"Akidaaaaaa!!!!" -- "Ow, I'm being eaten by a giant pitcher plant."
I think our one word might end up being "like" "yeah" "Uuuh" or something similar. One never can tell, though.
All humor aside this does lead us to some interesting questions. If meddling with the language is bad, then what about all those colloquialisms, turns of phrase, and quotes that enrich it so much. If I say "I'll be back," it means one thing literally, and another completely different. I've never seen the Terminator (my wonderfully smart and kind, but rather forgetful history proffessor called it the Terminal Man), but I've heard and used that phrase many times. I have read that the infamous affirmative and/or positive "ok" came from a presidential campaign around the beginning of the twentieth century. He was called Old Krakenbury, and his campaign ads said "He's O.K." so much that the phrase caught. These phrases are localized, so people around the world may not understand them, even if they have learned the literal meanings of the words in the language (unless of course you add the new words, as some modern dictionaries have done). Many old or foriegn turns of phrase have been lost to general knowledge. Reading a five hundred year-old European legend is difficult. At times you come accross a combination of words you understand, but which have no meaning to you in that combination. There is also the obvious presence of words that, while they had definite, literal meanings at the time, now have none at all. These are clearly arguments against allowing or encouraging language evolution, but colloquialisms greatly enrich culture and language. Some might argue that the localization of such phrases breeds isolationism and racism. I believe I could take the legs out from under these same people using their own words against them, but I won't try, because what it comes down to is that if this does cause racial prejudice, it shouldn't, and brings about benefits that greatly outway any side effects. In addition, the fact is that anyone reading this could probably not walk to my house in a days time. Many probably could not in a week's time. Yet here you are reading it, if anyone is, that is. With today's advancements in communication, colloqiallisms are spread not among towns or provinces, but accross entire nations and languages. There still are bounds, outside of which such phrases are rarely used (as far as I know, only Australians use Aussie expressions with any regularity). So the sense of national identity, important so long as there are more than one nations, remains strong. In some areas that is true down to provinces, but to a lesser degree. One may not speak the colloquialisms of the northern U.S., but one still knows them.
So this refinery, or panache on languages is one argument against the idea of a foundationally correct language that decays over time.
The latter view is in touch with the times. It embraces the following ideas: 1) we are getting better. Everything we do is leading to progress. Everything we are involved in is progressing. We are becoming better people than our ancestors could have been. We are Evolving. See the premise of X-men, the negative light thrown on the Intelligent Design group, etc. 2) language was invented by our ancestors. We know better now than they did then. Besides, we are not the same type of human that they were. Species are transient. They are in flux, and so language should also be in flux to suit them. Each new species of homo sapiens needs a new species of language to speak. This sounds a little extreme, but it is the logic behind the inclusion of new definitions of phrases such as "shut up" (now meaning "you're kidding" as an alternative to "close your mouth"), introduced through television, advertisement, laziness on the speaker's part, etc. Laziness, that sounds negative. But isn't that one of our goals? To be able to do things with more ease? What is wrong with automatic dishwashers, instant mail delivery over the internet, instant communication, better cleaners, more services to hire, automated industry, mathematics, agriculture, etc. Labor is now being thrown more and more into the areas of research, development, and quality management, in a sense trying to cut back on itself.
A paraphrased scene from the Jetsons: having joined the army, George and another private soon get into trouble and are assigned mess duty. They lie sweating and gasping against a chrome wall.
"Oh, man, I didn't know the army would be this hard," wheezes George.
"Nope. They're merciless," replies his friend.
"Well, let's get it over with." George reaches up and presses a button on the wall. His friend presses another. Mechanical arms appear, collect the dishes and silverware, dunk them in sinks and begin washing them. George and his friend collapse from fatigue.
As communication proceeds towards ease, one might also think it would proceed towards clarity. It's easiest to say what you mean than to beat around the bush. Clarity focuses, combines doubles, makes smaller, simpler, plainer, more obvious, more clear, more easy to understand. This view of language predicts that if one word is used in the future, it will be a word alowing perfect communication. After all, who wouldn't want to say Ukida and be done with it? No more spelling, no more complicated keyboards, etc. Once the human mind progresses to a point where it can use a single word to communicate anything and everything, then both communication and ease will be fulfilled.
So those are the two ideas on language. One fellows entropy: language was created "perfect", whatever that may mean, and is gradually falling into chaos. The other ascends towards perfection of language. More later?
One last thing. I was reminded by my dear older sister that U-k-i-d-a is an incorrect spelling. I have replaced it with A-k-i-d-a, the correct and proper word. My apologies.