Monthly Archives: June 2023

Neither Geek Nor Nerd

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Christopher Rush

I prefer to think of myself as someone who has an accurate grasp of what is important in life.  That is not to say I always prioritize life’s opportunities correctly: I don’t know any other languages, I haven’t memorized the Bible, I don’t know how to fix … things.  Yet, in the variegated realms of what we used to call “pop culture,” I think I’m fairly well traveled.  While today it is becoming de rigueur to brandish the appellations “geek” or “nerd,” as if we have survived the great Name-calling Wars of 1989 and those terms are now badges of honor, I posit they are hollow terms, and, more importantly, they are not for me.

From the outset, I would like to forestall any connections with other cultural situations in which certain terms have been, shall we say, appropriated or re-appropriated or the like.  This is not meant to be a variation on that social situation.  Rather, I’m just going to say things at you, as is my wont, about a topic that has no meaningful connection to real history, real people, or real life.  And this topic is innately such.

Long-time readers of the journal will remember I have spent what we could generously call a healthy amount of time playing video games, watching science-fiction television, playing roles in games, reading science fiction and fantasy literature (I mean, “literature” or whatever), and sundry similar activities.  I’ve opened more packs of Marvel Universe Cards (especially the best set, series three from 1992) than you’ll ever see in your lifetime even if you live to a hundred and three.  I’ve paused through more commercial breaks recording episodes of Star Trek (the first four series) than you will ever see in your lifetime even if you live to three hundred and one.  You couldn’t push majick “skip ad” buttons in my day.  We had to use our hands.  It was like a baby toy, yes.  I’ve stood in line for over an hour to get Orson Scott Card’s autograph … not on Ender’s Game, no siree.  Too obvious.  I went with the first two books of his I read: How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy and Hart’s Hope.  If you haven’t read Hart’s Hope, get it today and read it today (but it’s not for the faint of heart, let me warn you now).

I used to subscribe to a few comic book series: Captain America, The Avengers, The Fantastic Four, The Uncanny X-Men, The X-Men, and Generation X.  I would bag them and board them and label them and catalog them.  I’ve spent hours of Saturdays (months of Saturdays) arranging notebooks full of The Lord of the Rings: The Collectible Card Game cards, tearing 3”x5” notecards in half to mark places in what you would call baseball card storage sheets for missing cards.  I’ve printed off dozens of walkthroughs for computer games you’ve never even heard of but I’m completely sure are far superior to any of the “app” games these kids are into today.  I’ve written down more 32-digit save game codes in my teenage years than you’ll get trophies of (I’m not quite sure where that last one was going).  You kids today with your spawn points and your automatic save spots and your hula-hoops … you don’t know what struggle is.  Talk to me after you’ve tried BattleToads.  Yeah, and I’ve torn out and filed more sections of Nintendo Power than, well, you get the idea.

But I’m not a geek.  And I’m not a nerd.

I don’t dress up and go to conventions.  My brother does that and he’s great at it, but that’s not my scene.  Maybe one day I’ll get to a convention before Jonathan Frakes turns 80, though there’s a better chance my family will get to some sort of boardgaming convention first.  We will not be dressing up as our favorite boardgame characters, though.  Some people do, you know.  Come to think of it, my dad and I did used to go to a few baseball card shows back in the day.

I have recently taken up painting tabletop boardgame figures, as some of you know.  I’m not any good at it, but it is an enjoyable hobby, another thing my brother has known and practiced for thirty-some years.  I’ve taken most of the winter season off from this hobby, since the weather isn’t conducive for priming (something you need to do outside if you don’t have an airbrush), plus we needed the table for holiday meals, and thesis season really cuts into one’s free time, and you know how it goes.  Once we get back from Spring Break, I’ll get back into it.  I’ll then be ready to take the next step and start assembling some tabletop miniature figures, assuming the weather hasn’t dried up the paint and glue hibernating in the garage all winter.  I have a decent-sized box full of Warhammer™ Space Marines waiting for me to build.  That does not mean I’m keen to start playing Warhammer™, but if you’re up for it, I suppose we could work something out.  I’d like to get a starter set or two of the Batman Miniatures Game, and maybe a few Age of Sigmar things.  But I have no grand plans for making terrain and turning the garage into a warehouse for miniatures and such.  Not yet.

But let’s get to the heart of the matter.  I’m not a geek or a nerd.  Back in the day, they were terms of insult for people who liked the sort of things I liked: comic books, video games, RPGs (the non-lethal kind), sci-fi and fantasy, and the rest of it.  Superman and Batman were almost 50 by the time I came onto the scene.  The Fantastic Four and Avengers and X-Men were pushing 30.  Star Trek had been a cult classic for almost twenty years.  Dungeons and Dragons was over a decade old and had weathered the well-intentioned pharisaical backlash of the sorts of people you can imagine engaged in that well-intentioned-yet-pharisaical backlash.  And yet, “we” were the enemy.  Avalon Hill and GenCon and even Atari had been around for some time, yet we were the outcasts.  The International Business Machine and Texas Instruments and Macintosh were quickly becoming staples of schools and households, yet we got laughed at and picked on and, well, I never got beat up, but I’m sure some of my generation did.  I never watched Freaks and Geeks or Drumline … why would I?  I lived it.  I don’t need to see someone’s vision of what it may have been like, even if they went through it, too.  That’s one of the reasons I have no pressing need to see Stranger Things.  I was there, kids.

But I don’t want to misrepresent why I’m neither a geek nor a nerd, and I suspect I have already mislead you, especially with that last paragraph.  Excuse the multiple negatives, but I don’t consider myself those things not because I got called mean names by the hooligans I went to school with back in the day.  I’m not rejecting those names because they conjure up painful memories and hurt feelings and tears into my pillow after school.  I didn’t really go through that.  Sure, I was ridiculed and laughed at once in a while, and I’ve experienced my share (if such a thing has “shares,” fair or otherwise) of mockery for the things I enjoyed (but that was mostly for my last name, especially as we were in the exciting finale of the Cold War era).  But it never scarred me or hampered me or anything like that.  And I don’t say that lightly, as I know those sorts of playground cruelties did cause some damage to people I knew long ago.  I’m not a geek or a nerd because, in truth, those words are nothing.  They are empty.  Hollow.  They don’t exist.

I like RPGs and comic books and sci-fi and fantasy because they are intrinsically worthwhile endeavors.  They are high-quality ways to get into one of the most important, most fundamental aspect of who we are as human beings, especially as imago dei human beings: they are stories.  They feature engaging characters and thrilling conflicts and thought-provoking themes and exciting storylines.  These are the best tools to fire our imaginations and invigorate our understandings of actual reality.  RPGs and comic books and sci-fi and fantasy aren’t merely escapes from the “real world” — they are perhaps the best way to help us understand ourselves and the world (outside of the Bible, of course), better even than mathematics and physics and the natural sciences.  They do a fine job telling us what and how, but the Humanities, stories, art, they tell us why.  You can’t get that from kicking a ball around the grass or throwing a ball through a hoop.  No offense, sports.  But you are less real than rolling dice to see how much damage a magic missile does to the hobgoblin four feet away from my 12th-level half-elf warrior-rogue.

Sports don’t tell us stories — sure, lots of writers create stories around what happens in a season or a game or whatever, and the biographies of athletes can be very riveting and truly inspiring.  But sports are competitive, telling you or your team you aren’t as good as that person or that team over there because you didn’t score enough points and thus all your efforts for the past four months have been a total waste.  (I understand there are ancillary benefits such as health and spending time with friends and hand-eye-coordination and sportsmanship and leadership and all that, sure, pretty much all of which can be done by joining the orchestra or playing board games instead, but that aside, I know what you’re going to say about how great sports are, but my point here is competition.)

Competition is a virulent disease, and real life abhors it.  The gospel has nothing to do with competition.  RPGs and comic books and sci-fi and fantasy have “competition,” but none of it is truly real human beings pitted against other human beings (often in dangerous activities that somehow make you “healthy”) in danger of “losing.”  If you “lose” in an RPG, you can go back a bit and try again.  For some reason, sports referees don’t let you do that.  Even when board games require competition, you still are using your imagination, developing your strategic and tactical thinking skills, spending time with friends, honing your “sportsmanship” by having fun with your friends — and though games can sometimes come down to “stop him from achieving that goal,” that won’t be a good experience for the people involved and it will likely not happen again.  Unlike most sports, that usually come down to “stop that person from doing that” in every game, often by knocking the guy down or embarrassing her by tricking her in front of her family and friends in the stands (like strikeouts in soft/baseball).  There’s no “I hope they fail” in the Realms of Gold, something sports depends and thrives on.

RPGs and comic books and sci-fi and fantasy and board games invite people in, enable you to create and think and engage, ennoble you to translate the ideas you encountered on a spaceship or in a dungeon to treat the real people you know and haven’t met yet better, to make the world a better place because you know good exists and evil exists and you can be a force for good.  Stories make us not just better people but also more human.  Even with Matthew 11 in mind, Jesus knew the power of stories and told quite a lot of them — not just to further confuse those who didn’t get it, but also to further engage those who got it.

And they still do that today.

I suspect, and this is only lightly and uncritically, the people who are going around proudly brandishing “I’m a _________ Geek!” or “I’m a __________ Nerd!” (say, “I’m a Harry Potter Geek!” or “I’m a Star Wars Nerd!” or whatever) are only doing so because, as I intimated quite some time ago, the Wheel has turned, as it always does, and now the kids who used to bully have come to realize the things they cared about weren’t (past tense) all that great and the things we care about are (present tense), so possibly they are trying to act like they were one of us all along or this is how they apologize.  And since they don’t remember our names, only the names they called us, they have revived those terms now as badges of cool (or whatever the kids are calling it these days).  I could be wrong.  It’s been known to happen.

Surely that would only cover the people my age and a bit older.  As for the kids, well, they’ve grown up in a world of marketing and pseudo-awareness of these hobbies*, and the People Who Love Money have been telling them for a while it’s cool to be a geek or a nerd (since the bullies of yesteryear are the advertising firm owners and marketing strategists and CEOs and CPAs of today — funny how that works out).  So, naturally, since it wasn’t their generation’s fight, the terms mean nothing negative to them.  And that’s fine.  They have their own battles to fight.

So, I’m not a geek, and I’m not a nerd.  I just know what’s important in life.

Being human.

Especially a human being in the image of God.

When “real life” does its best to siphon all hope and happiness out of us, RPGs and comic books and sci-fi and fantasy and boardgames give us hope.

And that, faithful friends, is what Redeeming Pandora is all about.

See you next issue!

*The false awareness of these Realms of Gold is quintessentially demonstrated by the reboot movies and series of the last couple of decades.  With the exception of Battlestar Galactica, complete misunderstanding and downright rejection of the original source material in terms of theme, message, and purpose dominate the “reboot” world today: the G.I. Joe and Transformers movies of late epitomize that utter rejection of the original source material.  And before you counter with “weren’t they just advertisements for the toys?” allow me to forestall your query with the riposte “even if they were, their quality of storytelling, engaging characters, and high-quality moral didacticism far outshine any pecuniary concerns, and thus their value transcends both the kind of dumbed-down programming for children today as well as the adulterated revisions of these worlds by today’s “creative” teams.†  (For a great example of how inestimably superior the shows we had back in the day are to the schlock kids have been force-fed for years, go watch Fraggle Rock and then any Nick, Jr. or Disney XD show today.  You’ll never watch contemporary programming again.)  And before you double-counter with the idea “you can’t technically have a pre-emptive riposte,” I’ll just nod and say “yes, that’s true.”

†“But wait, aren’t the people making some of the modern-day versions of things, like the Marvel movies and such, people who grew up on the very same RPGs, comics, books and whatnot you did?  What if these new versions and those who proudly proclaim ‘I’m a geek!’ and ‘I’m a nerd!’ are the people who enjoyed them when they were young and suffered the verbal slings and arrows of those bullies just like you did?” you may ask.  To which I can only say, mildly hubristically and mildly self-effacingly, “maybe they are, but if they are the ones changing everything for ‘today’s audience,’ they clearly did not understand those things for what they were.  Perhaps I understood and appreciated them better because I could filter them through absolute moral standards from God and His Word.”

Now, if these same people of my generation suffered the verbal assaults of “geek” and “nerd” and have now in their older years translated those terms into those “badges of honor” of which we earlier spoke, well, then, to each his own.

Live and let live.

A Tull Trilogy, pt. 1: Songs from the Wood

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Christopher Rush

I have been waiting for this literally all year.  On January 1st, 2018, thanks to the generosity of a few dear friends of mine, I was finally able to order the 40th anniversary edition of Songs from the Wood, one of my favorite Jethro Tull albums (not that I’ve heard them all yet, so let’s say “thus far”).  It’s distinct among Tull albums, especially in what we could call the 2nd phase of the band, what some would likely call the “classic” Tull era (from Aqualung in 1971 to Stormwatch in 1979), in that it is mostly optimistic and upbeat.  Ian Anderson has never struggled with finding satirical and almost cynical approaches to the various realms of life upon which his gaze and talents alight, but Songs from the Wood is both a musical shift and a lyrical shift toward invitation, reflection, and downright delight.  Since it is Ian Anderson, a few songs have a, shall we say, piquant bite to them, but it wouldn’t be Jethro Tull without a little spice.

As I said, I have been literally waiting all year for this edition to arrive.  And waiting.  Twice, our friends at the Mega-On-Line Shopping Site (you know which one I mean), sent me e-mails telling me in effect “we can’t find it, we’ll send it soon,” turning my 2-day shipping experience into a 10-week experience.  Now, before I sound (more) like a horribly self-centered 1st-world donkey, I’ll press on to say the delay was most likely Providential, forcing me to focus on the great deal of work I had to do for my recent Master’s License renewal course as well as all the annual excitement and commitment that goes into Thesis Season.  Sure enough, as I should have expected, the very afternoon I finished my final project for my on-line course, this magisterial 3-cd/2-dvd package arrived, unannounced and unexpected.  So now I have time to enjoy it, but not enough time for me to review the album as well I had wanted.  Ah well.  Let’s just get to it.

Side One

It’s not “folk rock,” let’s get that straight from the beginning.  That’s Bob Dylan with an electric harmonica.  This is Jethro Tull looking back at the diverse and mythical history of England and delighting in what it found in the nooks and crannies of rural ol’ England.  “Songs from the Wood” is such a cheerful, welcoming, medieval jester-like song, as is pretty clear from the harmonies, the intelligent and graceful lyrics (in the literal sense), and the diverse musical sounds.  Even when it picks up and starts rocking, reminding us this is a superlative group of talented musicians, we are well on our way to feeling much better, thanks to this album.

“Jack-in-the-Green” is basically Tom Bombadil.  There’s no way around it.  It is a complete Ian Anderson number, as he wrote the words (as usual) and he plays all the instruments on this song (it is known).  It starts out very fairy-in-the-woods-like, as most of them do on this album, but pretty soon the critical mind of Anderson turns from magical romp to contemporary critique: “will these changing times, motorways, powerlines” prevent humans from enjoying Nature how you want us to? he asks.  But before the potential despair can take root, so to speak, Anderson rejects it outright: “Well, I don’t think so.  I saw some grass grow through the pavements today.”  There is still hope for the restorative power of nature.

“Cup of Wonder” would likely be my favorite song on the album were it not for the final track of this side, to be addressed soon.  I don’t want to keep saying “it’s a tribute to the mystical heritage of rural English beliefs,” but it is, though tinged with a bit of Anderson’s slightly erroneous beliefs on Christian usurpation of pagan holidays.  For me, the music and, as is almost always the case with Tull, the vocal timbre of Anderson’s voice make a lyrically intelligent song a total aesthetic experience to be enjoyed again and again.  (Even if about ancient pagan holidays.)

We noted before this album, while mostly free of the harsh cynicism of early classic Tull like Aqualung and Passion Play, still has its piquant moments, and “Hunting Girl” is certainly spicy, being about an impromptu amorous romp between a noble lady and a regular common guy who knows he could get in a lot more trouble for their spontaneity than she ever could.  Still, the greatness of this song comes in the sheer greatness of the musicians in the band during this era: Martin Barre’s guitar brilliance, John Glascock’s bass, the dual keyboards of John Evans and David Palmer, and the vastly underrated drumming virtuosity of Barrie Barlow.  It was a golden lineup, and this album makes the most of it.

The first side of the album ends with my favorite of the album, “Ring Out, Solstice Bells” — it’s not a Christmas song, being about the winter solstice, and in fact, if Ian Anderson is to be believed, it’s sort of an anti-Christmas song, returning to that earlier notion of Anderson mistakenly thinking early Christianity foisted itself on a lot of pagan traditions and holidays, since “if you can’t beat them, join them,” as he says in the 40th edition liner notes.  Well, I disagree, and it’s such a musically wonderful song, I’ll just keep enjoying it, even if for the “wrong” reasons.

Side Two

Side two opens with another great Tull mini-opera, with sundry sections and atmospheres and evocations and beauty and fun and wonder.  It’s basically about the joys of an old-fashioned garden fête, such as the one a young Paul met a slightly less young John and the world was changed for the better.  Great things can happen when you stroll through a British park festival.  It does have a smidge of that “Hunting Green” sauciness, okay more than a smidge, but the musical motifs override the lyrical eyebrow-raising suggestions.  It’s a complex, impressive number.

“The Whistler” could also vie for my favorite of the album were it not for “Cup of Wonder” and “Solstice Bells.”  It starts out for mystical and menacing, but the chorus dives into as energetic and enthusiastic a rouser as one could ever ask for.  It will probably make you think of Gandalf if he were a bard, coming through town all mysterious and shady, then suddenly he spins around and smiles and a few fireworks shoot off and we’re all clapping and dancing and singing along.  Jolly good fun, this.

The only really sad song on this album, “Pibroch (Cap in Hand)” tells the tale of a man who has been far away from home, off doing his duty, only to find upon his return a strange man’s boots in the hallway.  He has returned, humble (cap in hand), ready to make amends to his wife, but she’s no longer his, apparently, and so he leaves without even seeing her.  But, as is often the case during this season of Tull, the musical length and diversity of the number, coupled with the aforementioned greatness of the musicians’ abilities, easily distract us from the sorrow of the lyrics.  Thanks to some mid-’70s mixing board magic, Martin Barre’s guitar somehow sounds like wailing bagpipes, and suddenly we are off on another mini-opera, whose hardness and strength perhaps give our poor fellow hope for a new day.

But that’s another story.  This collection of songs from the wood, having been brought to us by some dispenser of “kitchen prose and gutter rhymes” is ready to call it a day with “Fire at Midnight,” a quiet, encouraging tune that reminds us our love will be waiting for us when we return from a good day’s work.  We can sit by the fire, enjoy the comfort of a home filled with warmth and love, but we (as men, especially) must remember we still have an active role to play in creating an atmosphere of selfless and expressed love, expressed through words and actions in all rooms of the house, not just in the room where we find our slippers and pillow.

And so, Songs from the Wood draws to a gentle, cozy conclusion. It’s Jethro Tull, so it has its edgy moments, but here they are brief and winking.  It’s a positive, enjoyable album from a great band in its prime.  Get a copy, whether the expansive 40th anniversary edition or not, and enjoy it.  It will make you feel much better.

A Hard Day’s Write

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Dylan Fields, Noah Eskew, and Peter Runey

The Beatles’ third album, A Hard Day’s Night, was a major stepping stone for the Beatles as they reached the American audience like they had never done before. Following the production of the movie the Beatles then produced the soundtrack album. The movie had an incredible effect on the film industry as well as the album, as it produced two number one singles, “A Hard Day’s Night” and “Can’t Buy Me Love.” Both singles reached number one in America and England. This album also showcased the writing ability of legendary songwriters John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Unlike their two previous albums, Please Please Me and With The Beatles, all thirteen songs on A Hard Day’s Night were written by John and Paul.

Ringo Starr, the drummer of the Beatles, accidentally made the name of the album, according to John Lennon in a magazine interview:

I was going home in the car and Dick Lester suggested the title A Hard Day’s Night from something Ringo had said. I had used it in In His Own Write, but it was an off-the-cuff remark by Ringo. You know, one of those malapropisms. A Ringoism where he had said it not to be funny, just said it. So Dick Lester said we are going to use that title, and the next morning I brought in the song. ’Cause there was a little competition between Paul and I as to who got the A-side, who got the hit singles.

This album musically strays away from the pop sounding cover songs the Beatles had previously produced. A Hard Day’s Night has more of a rock-n-roll feel to it. The album is predominately written by John, as he is the primary songwriter for nine of the thirteen tracks that on the album. Paul sings lead on the title, other than that John is the lead singer for the eight other songs he wrote. Paul McCartney wrote “And I Love Her,” “Can’t Buy Me Love,” and “Things We Said Today,” while Paul McCartney and John Lennon wrote “I’m Happy Just To Dace With You” together. Ringo Starr does not sing lead vocal on any songs on A Hard Day’s Night, which is one of three albums where he does not including Let It Be and Magical Mystery Tour.

The ideas behind the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album started with Paul McCartney in 1966.  Shortly after the Candlestick Park incident, some speculated the Beatles might not make music together again. This is probably due to George’s public display of disenchantment with being a “Beatle” and the circus life that came with it. But realistically speaking, all four of the guys had to be mentally and physically spent. They had just made their way through southern United States after John’s infamous comments on Jesus. And because of that and other sorts of chaos surrounding them, they at some points felt their lives were in danger. However, the band had too many contractual obligations to just quit making records. So Paul and John went on their respective sabbaticals. John filmed a movie and Paul went to France.

While Paul is in France, he begins to cook up new ideas for songs. The Beatles were always good listeners, and so Paul begins to draw more and more influence from American psychedelic music. The Warlocks (later the Grateful Dead) Jefferson Airplane, 13th Floor Elevators, and even The Peanut Butter Conspiracy were some of the bands that would influence the next Beatles sound. Paul liked the adventurous names these bands had, and thought maybe his band should do something fresh and maybe go by a different name. So within Paul’s mulling through band name ideas, he came up with the name Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Hence, Paul’s idea for the concept of the album was to perform the album live as SPLHCB. But, this idea didn’t seem plausible to George and John, so things didn’t quite get that far. The concept of the album still feels like a live performance. The way the songs run together is very much like a concert.

Other elements of the album are affected by the band’s mentality to “go for broke” as George Martin puts it. They wanted to push the artistic envelope as much as possible. The Beatles wanted to take their time and create their greatest musical masterpiece, using all kinds of effects, instruments, and new sounds.

When talking about the aura surrounding SPLHCB, one must look at the album artwork. The idea was to have the scene of a funeral service for “The Beatles” and to erect a new persona, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. The figures on the album cover are representative of the guest list to such a funeral.

I would say the genius of this record lies in its duality. The songs fit together excellently as a concept, yet they still stand upright separately. Many of the songs on this album don’t require a concept to make sense, but they add a lot to the concept when in context. The lasting impact is also quite impressive, with many Web sites and magazines citing it as the greatest album of all time. It seems as if The Beatles accomplished their goal. Branching out farther than ever, they probably created their greatest (quality and impact) artistic accomplishment.

Abbey Road was first released on September 26, 1969, and was also the final Beatles album to be recorded but not their last to be released. Let It Be, though mainly recorded in January 1969, was finally released in May of ’70 alongside the film Let it Be. The recording process itself was completed on August 25, 1969, which was almost a month before John Lennon told the other Beatles he wanted to leave the band. His decision was made on September 12, just before the Plastic Ono Band performed at the Toronto Rock and Roll Revival festival, and he told the rest of the group at a meeting a week later.

Abbey Road was considered a rock album that incorporates other genres like blues, pop, and progressive rock. It also makes prominent use of the Moog synthesizer and the Leslie speaker. Side two contains a medley of song fragments edited together to form a single piece. An example of this would be “Golden Slumbers,” “Carry That Weight,” and “The End” (in that order), all of which continue straight into the next without interrupting or changing the sound as a whole very much. The album was recorded in a bit of a more enjoyable atmosphere than the Get Back/Let It Be sessions earlier in the year, but there were still plenty of disagreements within the band, mainly concerning Paul’s song “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.” John had privately left the group by the time the album was released, and McCartney publicly quit the following year. A 16-minute medley of some short songs makes up the majority of side two, closing with the line “and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

Following the somewhat live feeling of the Let It Be recordings, for Abbey Road, The Beatles returned to the North London studios to create carefully-crafted recordings with ambitious musical arrangements. Interestingly, 12 of the songs that appeared on the finished album were played during the filmed rehearsals and sessions for Let It Be back in January.

For the first time ever on a Beatles album, the front cover contained neither the group’s name nor the album title, just that iconic photograph taken on the street crossing near the entrance to the studios in London in ’69.

Abbey Road entered the British album chart at no.1 in October and stayed there for a total of seventeen of its 81 weeks on the chart. In the US, it spent eleven weeks at #1 during its initial chart stay of 83 weeks.

For the first time, both Billy Preston and George Martin recorded with the Beatles, both of whom played Hammond organs and harpsichord. They also joined the Beatles on a few “live” (in actuality they were private showings, some for films or television) performances.

It is commonly thought The Beatles knew Abbey Road would be their final album and wanted to present a fitting farewell to the world. However, the group members denied they intended to split after its completion, despite a realization their time together was drawing to a close. George Martin said the following concerning the topic of finishing the Beatles:

Nobody knew for sure that it was going to be the last album — but everybody felt it was. The Beatles had gone through so much and for such a long time. They’d been incarcerated with each other for nearly a decade, and I was surprised that they had lasted as long as they did. I wasn’t at all surprised that they’d split up because they all wanted to lead their own lives — and I did, too. It was a release for me as well.

20th Century Fox vs. Agatha Christie

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Hannah Elliott

Recently, 20th Century Fox produced a movie based on Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express. It was interesting to see this classic book brought to life with some of today’s most successful actors and actresses, such as Johnny Depp and Penelope Cruz. However, like most motion pictures based on books, there were several differences between the movie and original book. Some were insignificant and some were significant enough to change big aspects of the book. Even though the plot of the movie followed the book, there were a multitude of differences related to the story line, characters, clues, and murder.

One difference related to the story line was the movie began with a case Poirot solved concerning a stolen relic and three suspected holy men. He exposes the true thief, the policeman, and explains how he put the clues together. This scene never takes place in the book. Poirot also has to take a ferry first before getting on the Orient Express. This is where he meets Mary and Arbuthnot. In the book, these characters board a train instead of a ferry. A love interest is also added to the story. Poirot carries a portrait of a woman to whom he refers as “my sweet Katherine.” This is not explained and is left as a loose end.

One of the most significant differences is the combination of Doctor Constantine and Colonel Arbuthnot. The only character in the movie is Doctor Arbuthnot. This changes the story a little bit because the doctor is not as involved as he is also a suspect. Greta Ohlsson, the Swedish missionary, is replaced by Pilar Estravados, a Spanish missionary and nurse. And lastly, Antonio Foscarelli, the Italian car salesman, is renamed Marquez and is a Latin car salesman. We see suspicion shift from the Italian, like in the book, to Colonel Arbuthnot and Marquez due to race.

The snow drift incident is also altered in the movie to provide more action and setting opportunity. The snow drift causes a very intense derailing of the train. In the book, the whole train is encompassed and no one is able to exit and go outside. In the movie, the characters are stranded but not trapped inside. This allows the suspects to leave the train and Poirot to interview his suspects outdoors. There is also a team of men that come to the rescue to fix the engine in the movie that do not exist in the book.

Poirot also states he has a more personal connection with the Armstrong case as he received a letter from Colonel Armstrong asking for help in solving the kidnapping of his daughter, Daisy. This is connection is not made in the book but is now why Poirot feels obligated to solve the case.

There are also some differences about the murder and clues in the movie. Ratchett asks Poirot to protect him over dessert and threatens him with his gun when he refuses to “watch his back.” The threatening letters written to Ratchett are made with cutout letters instead of being written by multiple people to avoid being traced to one person. He also proceeds to tell Poirot himself about the letters, unlike the book in which MacQueen tells him about the letters. Poirot actually sees the woman in the red kimono after Ratchett is dead, unlike the book where he has to rely on the suspects’ description of her. Poirot is actually the one to find Ratchett dead in his compartment and he tells the whole car about the murder at the same time. Hubbard states she locked her own door and is not sure how the man got in her room and she personally finds and gives the button from the Wagon Lit Conductor uniform to Poirot. Mary is also proven to be left-handed, whereas in the book the only possible lefty is Princess Dragomiroff. The red kimono is found to be inside Poirot’s suitcase not on top, which is odd because everyone at that time locked their suitcases. It is also explained the valet’s toothache was a thyroid condition in order to add more emotion to the movie. Mrs. Hubbard was stabbed with the murder weapon instead of her just finding it in her sponge bag. And lastly, all 12 suspects stabbed Ratchett at the same time.

There are also a few scenes added to the movie to provide more action. In one scene, MacQueen runs from Poirot and leads him down unstable stairs because he fears he has figured him out. He confesses to stealing money from Ratchett but Doctor Arbuthnot vouches for his alibi. An altered scene in the movie pertains to Mary and Poirot, in which he asks her instead of Bouc for help in answering 10 of his most difficult questions about the case. One last scene added is a fight between Poirot and Arbuthnot. Poirot accuses Mary of killing Ratchett and her knight in shining armor comes to defend her. Arbuthnot shoots Poirot in the arm and Bouc has to save him.

The ending of the book is the last, most significant difference between the movie and the book. Poirot still proposes the same two solutions as in the book, with just a few alterations in the second solution. He states Princess Dragomiroff was Daisy’s godmother, MacQueen’s father tried the maid involved in the Armstrong case who killed herself, and Pierre Michel was the brother of the maid. In the book, he allows M. Bouc to decide what he wants to tell the cops, stating he is sympathetic toward the killers. However, in the movie, it is much more dramatic. Poirot states he cannot live with the injustices that have taken place and proceeds to place a gun on the table in front of the conspirators. He tells them they will have to kill him to keep him silent. The action escalates as Mrs. Hubbard picks up the gun and pulls the trigger on herself. The gun turns out to be unloaded and Poirot decides to “live with the imbalance” and tell the police it was a lone assassin who escaped. The movie ends with Poirot being called away to another case in Egypt, probably referring to another famous mystery created by Agatha Christie.

Overall, the movie follows the basic story line and plot, with just some added details. The most significant change is the amount of violence added to the movie. Almost every man possesses a gun, whereas in the book, Ratchett is the only man to have a gun and it is only for self defense. Also multiple fights take place and the character of the timid and protective Count is warped into a violent and aggressive man. To have a successful movie nowadays there must be action, love, and violence, all three of which take place in Murder on the Orient Express.

Religion in British Literature

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Tarah Leake

A popular theme in British literature exemplified during Anglo-Saxon era, the Medieval era, and again in the Neoclassical era was that of religion. During the Anglo-Saxon era, life was heavily affected by the threat of conquest and war as seen through the Norman Conquest. Possibly because of the lingering presence of death, people gravitated toward old, recited tales and religious works. Christianity helps spread literature, and oral traditions unite groups of people. A popular piece of literature from this era is the Junius Manuscript, which is similar to today’s well-known Message Bible. The manuscript contained a poetically-rephrased account of Scripture passages and lessons. Editors have titled the four sections of the manuscript “Genesis,” “Exodus,” “Daniel,” and “Christ and Satan.” The first three express poetic adaptations of the popular Old Testament narratives. The fourth division of text combines several New Testament occasions, both real and prophesied, which feature moments of Christ’s victory over Satan. This compilation helped artistically capture God’s word in a way that had not commonly been done until then.

Another example of Old English literature was that of the monk, Bede, known more commonly as The Venerable Bede. He authored many works that helped frame a religious outlook on the occurrences of this world and provide moral instruction. Religion’s influence in British literature did not cease after the Norman invasion; it continued into Middle English, better known as the Medieval era.

The Medieval era brought an even stronger focus on religious devotion and instruction. As the Crusades began to take shape, Christians were expected to prove their obedience and loyalty to God. People would not be willing to sacrifice their lives for God’s will if they could not understand exactly what His will was. Illiteracy was common in these times, especially regarding the complex text of Scripture. Wishing its authority to thrive, the Church began to instruct its members through morality and miracle plays making it far easier to comprehend for those who could not read the word themselves. The Church was not alone in its pursuit of righteousness; several other works of literature focused on cultivating positive, moral habits although not necessarily religious ones. An example of this is Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. This ballad proposed many moral notions such as hospitality toward others, loyalty in friendship (to the point of sacrificing your life for another’s), and steadfastness in one’s promises.

As the Church gained power and influence, it became naturally susceptible to corruption, as any institution would be. When the institution that should display the highest levels of integrity and morality, as they taught to others, began falling into the deceit of wealth and power, an English poet and author would take note. Geoffrey Chaucer, author of The Canterbury Tales, came from a religious upbringing and Catholic school. When he was older, Chaucer became an esquire to King Edward III and rose up to the point of engaging in a few diplomatic journeys on the King’s behalf. Chaucer’s experience not only allowed him to be awakened to the crime and extortion within the government, but his religious childhood also contributed to his ability to identify the fraud happening within the Church. In The Canterbury Tales, Chaucer uses the traditional style of oral storytelling to convey his disapprovals of the lack of morality in society. As the pilgrims tell their stories, some characters seem to have no purpose while others seem to represent either moral characteristics Chaucer praises or fraudulent, hypocritical ones Chaucer detests. He especially focuses on those in the Church who are bribed with money and more concerned with women than helping people, such as the Friar and Pardoner. Chaucer however does acknowledge the Church is not completely devoid of good people, as seen with the Parson, who is decent and dedicated to his congregation. However, it is not difficult to perceive Chaucer had a fairly condescending view of the Church.

Religion in British literature reappears during the Neoclassical era roughly two hundred years after Chaucer’s tales are published. The Neoclassical era brings about the Age of Enlightenment and with it a dramatic shift in society’s focus to glorify man. The Age of Enlightenment emphasizes reasoning and logic as being the most powerful aspects of mankind. Man arises on the highest pedestal and this requires mankind to unite and harmonize since they are the most perfected and intelligent species. Although it should unite the masses, instead the Age of Enlightenment causes a division in the people as those considered more intelligent and logical view themselves higher than the rest. The entirety of the government’s role shifts from being less consumed with regulating its populace and more concerned with protecting the rights of man and property. This shift demonstrates a need for God’s reality more than ever. Authors and poets alike begin dedicating works to bringing the light of righteousness back into their people’s dark hearts.

Mankind was completely consumed with itself, so an obvious demand for humility and reassessment asserts itself. Author John Milton steps in and answers this call for a reevaluation of values in life. Milton starts at the beginning of time with his famous epic poem Paradise Lost. Through Paradise Lost, Milton wishes to accurately express the story of how man fell so far from God’s grace and transgressed his will for a bite of fruit, and how Jesus offered himself in man’s place. Although Milton does utilize creative freedom, he depicts the events in Scripture in an easily understood and conceivable manner, without at all discrediting the intended message. Paradise Lost benefits readers of any century by helping to identify just how imperfect man is and how fortunate he is Christ took God’s wrath in his place. One can only imagine the illuminating impact this book would have had on a people whose society was overtly captivated by exalting human will, a complete contradiction of religious morals and God’s will.

In 1749, roughly eighty years after Milton published Paradise Lost, Samuel Johnson wrote a poem entitled “The Vanity of Human Wishes.” In this poem, Johnson illustrates the futility of the carnal pursuit of greatness and happiness in this material world. He compares well-known, wealthy figures in society with commoners and scholars. He explains no matter what social class someone thrives in, everyone experiences disappointment and dissatisfaction in life because everyone is human. This world will never completely please mankind because it was not created for that purpose. This example of Johnson’s work is heavily influenced by Old Testament values and Ecclesiastes’s chapter one message of the downfalls of vanity. Throughout the early 1750s, Johnson reached his career climax writing over two hundred entries of his famous periodical, The Rambler. As the title suggests, his writings were often random in style and topic, but he clarified that no matter what topic he discussed, it would be centered on stimulating wisdom in readers with a tone consistent with God’s word. Johnson’s wise, straightforward expression of the importance of eternal value over earthly value would have been especially significant for those alive during his time of the Enlightenment. Unfortunately, much of his work would not reach popular levels of interest for years to come.

God’s will shall be done no matter what humans decide they want to happen. Each time mankind has slipped away from God’s set morals and laws, He finds a way to call them back to Him. The beauty and intrinsic value of literature is simply one of the many avenues for God to reach His people, as seen through His inspired, written Scripture. When faced with the threat of death and war, God offered his promises for Christ’s victory and goodness in the Junius Manuscript and the writings of the Venerable Bede. When the centuries uncovered a side of both Church and man that was bloodthirsty and power-hungry, God gifted individuals like Geoffrey Chaucer, John Milton, and Samuel Johnson with spiritual vision. Chaucer recognized the bribery spreading throughout the Church prevented them from placing God’s will above all else as they should. As the Enlightenment blinded humanity with false goals of personal success and material happiness, John Milton creatively captured the essence of God’s undeserved grace provoking an admittance of humility within its readers. Johnson, inspired by his wife’s religious devotion, used his poetic insight to convey to people that no matter the social class every person is composed of the same ingredients and all will experience defeat in this broken world. Mankind simply cannot glorify itself and its own needs, because everything about this world is flawed and imperfect.

In the midst of chaos and moral obscurity, God never abandoned His children, working through the incredible works of British authors and poets to answer the calls of His people.

Bibliography

http://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780195396584/obo9780195396584-0145.xml

https://www.biography.com/people/geoffrey-chaucer-9245691

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Samuel-Johnson