David James Duncan is definitely in my top five of favorite authors. God Laughs and Plays, a collection of his essays, articles, and speeches (maybe?) was wonderful. Lots of good quotes, lots of good thoughts. And most importantly, even though it is clear that he is passionate about what he believes, he doesn't cram it down your throat or become overly preachy. He is well-versed in the art of rhetoric.
River Teeth was highly enjoyable. I still remember the beach trip where I read the whole thing on the way, and then went back and reread my favorite short stories over the course of the week. In fact, just the other day I was having coffee with a friend, and somehow conversation turned to children's books, and I made the comment that Are You My Mother? always reminds me of the first story in that collection (I can't remember what it's called, but it's about that childhood experience we all have of grabbing the wrong 'mom's' hand or mistaking a stranger for Daddy). Coincidentally, she's the one that recommended The Master and Margarita, and out of gratitude for me actually reading it, she's supposed to be working on The Brothers K this summer.
The Brothers K was ... fantastic. Outstanding. Phenomenal. (Great segue, huh?) Baseball, Russian Literature, Hindu metaphysics, Vietnam, draft-dodgers, and so much more. I highly recommend it. (It's fiction, by the way.)
But I digress. The book I'm currently working on is The River Why. It's 'about' fishing. But not really. It's about Augustine 'Gus' Orviston, the son of a father who is a fly-fishing legend and a mother who is a staunch, unwavering, 'plunker': a bait fisher...woman. He is highly accomplished at both. His little brother, Bill-Bob (his mother names him that mainly to irk his father), in stark contrast to the rest of the family, doesn't care for fishing at all. So fishing is the medium through which Gus evaluates his relationship with his father and mother, their relationship with each other, and most importantly (I think) the medium he must shed and leave behind in order to relate to and love his brother.One of the things that's struck me on this reading (I read it 4 years ago, my senior year of high school) is what obsession does to a person. With Gus, it's fishing. It starts out as a passion, but quickly turns against him. He hears water even when he's sleeping. He talks to, and weeps over, his pet fish. But most importantly, he looses the ability to talk to people about anything but fishing. That's what obsession does to people: it makes them so preoccupied with one thing that anything else (even good things) loose their flavor.
Darwin complained about this late in his life. As a younger man, he enjoyed the arts, especially good literature. But as he looked back, after much of his research on natural selection, he realized that he had lost all love for Shakespeare. Poetry became dry and boring. And, I would guess, in all of his conversations with others, natural selection, if not the topic, was at the front of his mind. I think to some extent, this can happen with anyone. Hyper-Calvinists, environmentalists, overly-politically minded people, people that get drawn into sports or their jobs, anyone.
The worst kind of obsession, I think, is self-obsession. Pride. I know that you've met someone who wants to talk about nothing but themselves. It gets old fast. Not only is it annoying, I firmly believe that it is idolatry. It's putting yourself before God.
But for most faults, there is a positive side. If we're obsessed with the right things, if our preoccupations are in the right place, they can be for the benefit of others. If service for others is at the front of our minds, even if it's not the center of our conversation, it will flavor our interactions. As always, love for God and love for others should take first place. If it does, our obsession turns to infatuation. What better place to be?
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