C+
Title: Highland Fling
Author: Jennifer LaBrecque
Publication Info: Harlequin 2006
ISBN: 0373792662
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Kate Wexford is “assistant head of ER” at a respected hospital, a woman who describes her work as a physician as “not just a job; it’s who I am.” She finds herself embarrassingly enraptured by a portrait of an 18th century Scottish Highland Clan leader, a man she fantasizes about as if he was real and who unexpectedly becomes real when Kate gets a helpful hand into the museum portrait and into the world of the 1744 Scottish Highlands and the bed of Darach MacTavish. Luckily for the two surprised leads, Darach’s close friend Hamish turns out to be a time traveler himself who lives simultaneously in Kate and Darach’s temporal planes and who informs Darach and Kate that they called out to each other through time (I didn’t even bother trying to parse through all the rules here, because it only got me frustrated when I tried it during The Time Traveler’s Wife). Their fates are entwined, Hamish informs them, connected through Darach’s impending death at the bloody Battle of Culloden (although the real battle took place in 1746, LaBrecque has it as 1745), which will also put an end to the MacTavish line. The romance and the story unfold from there, as Kate and Darach travel back to Kate’s home in 2006 Atlanta in pursuit of information and a strategy to alter Darach’s apparent fate.
What worked best for me in Highland Fling was the interaction between Kate and Darach. Both characters are ostensibly leaders, and Darach especially is portrayed with a nice balance of cocksure confidence and circumspect concern for the welfare of his Clan. For the most part I felt that Darach escaped the irritating quasi-alpha fate of having his protectiveness morph into patronizing domination. It was easy for me to see how his growing passion for Kate was intertwined with his sense of responsibility to his people and not an abandonment of something that supposedly defined him. Kate was a little more difficult for me, because for all her assertions that medicine is her life and her identity, she became quickly and wholly consumed by Darach’s plight and her growing feelings for him. Several critical decisions Kate made late in the book were particularly troublesome for me, because they seemed to undermine a key element of her character and were made with absolutely no articulated contemplation of their real implications and likely impact on her identity and fate. I love strong and independent women in Romance, but professionally passionate women aren’t necessarily personally wanting and emotionally deprived (it’s often quite the opposite, in fact, at least in real life), and I wish we could move away from this stereotype in contemporary Romance. While I think I understand what LaBrecque was trying to do with this “healer of men and their souls,†Kate felt relatively shallow to me. So while I understood how two people from very different temporal moments could find a deep recognition and understanding of each other, my experience of Kate and Darach’s relationship was not very emotionally intense for me. While I enjoyed their story, I didn’t find enough dimension in the protagonists to really bring their drama to life in my mind or heart.
The greatest pleasure of Highland Fling for me was the banter between Darach and Kate, as she teases him for his Highland bravado and he teases her for her liberated sass, generating relationship stereotypes and skewering them at the same time:
Darach: “I love you you daft, crazy, lusty wench.”
Kate: “I traveled over two-hundred years to find you. You’re everything I never wanted in a man” “arrogant, bossy, too sexy for your own good, and gone in less than a week.”
There was a clever scene involving a condom that LaBrecque used to very good effect, an interesting and amusing common-sense solution to sexually involving two characters early without the promise of everlasting love, and while some of the pseudo-Scottish speak felt over the top and inauthentic (worst line in the book: “Ah, Katie-love, you have a bonnie set of tits”), it wasn’t so overdone as to be intrusively obnoxious. There were a few unbelievable moments, most of which related to the ease with which Darach adapted to 21st century life and technology, and frankly I felt that two people with Darach’s and Kate’s intelligence could have arrived much more quickly at the solution to Darach’s dilemma, but the writing and the relationship held a certain good-natured cheekiness that made my reading experience more pleasant than I expected based on the premise of the book. I haven’t read Outlander and have no idea how that would have influenced my response to this book, but even I recognized some significant superficial similarities that made me hope Highland Fling was written in homage and not duplication. All in all, I found Highland Fling amiable if not memorably substantial.
Before I wrote this review I visited Harlequin’s writing guidelines for Blaze and was struck by the following: “The series features sensuous, highly romantic, innovative stories that are sexy in premise and execution . . . and [w]riters can push the boundaries in terms of characterization, plot, and explicitness.” I thought a lot about those two concepts “innovation and boundary pushing” trying to decide whether I should measure them differently for series fiction than I would for single title books. Fair or not, I realized that my expectations for series fiction are somewhat different. For example, while I noted quite a few cliches in the writing of Highland Fling (i.e. he “kissed her with a need bordering on pain,” “the fire of want . . . licked at them with flames of desire”), I didn’t count them against the book so much, and while I found numerous copyediting errors (i.e. the confusion of lie/lay, borne/born, misplaced modifying clauses, misspellings, and subject-verb disagreements), I was annoyed but not fatally so. There were things that niggled at me, like the mistaken date of the central historical event in the story, which then made it difficult for me to settle into the historical aspect of the story. I found myself more actively questioning things along the way, like the image I had of Darach wearing only his great kilt with no long shirt or short coat, as well as some of the language choices (i.e. Darach’s liberal use of “bluidy”/bloody, which I thought was a pretty profane oath in the 18th century, especially to a Jacobite). None of these things ruined my enjoyment of the story, but they did get me thinking about how the finer details of craftsmanship play a part in distinguishing a merely pleasant book from a memorably compelling one. Highland Fling was a pleasant C+ read.
A female time-traveling doctor who meets a Jacobite right before Culloden… where have I heard that plot before?
I guess traveling back to 2006 to try to change history does make it break away from the Outlander series a bit, but damn. LaBrecque might consider sending Gabaldon a basket of cookies or something.
Not to mention the basket of cookies that ought to go to poor Richard Gere. Was the hamster (or gerbil, as the case may be) also saved when the heroine went back in time? Was she able to avert the moment when it was stuffed, squirming & squeaking, into a bodily orifice? Or was the gimmicky opening just that—a striking gimmick, meant to arrest a reader who’s skimming in the bookstore, with no further consequences in the remainder of the book?
Damn … I really wanted the heroine to get it on with the guy in the ER & have her Sensuality Awakened. But now it appears that the scene was just a sort of opening salvo of a “Calgon, Take Me Away Moment”: “You think your day at work really sucked? Well, listen to what happened to me …”
(I guess the Chekhov rule regarding the introduction of a gun into a story doesn’t translate into gerbals & hamsters.)
Good to see you reviewing here, Robin. Hope you do it again soon.
Not to mention the basket of cookies that ought to go to poor Richard Gere.
Oh no you didn’t!
:: Peeks through fingers::
Oh my gosh, you did!
I get a bit touchy with stories that “borrow” as heavily from something as iconic as Outlander – it’s a fine line between homage and outright theft and now that I know a little more about this one, I’m leaning towards thinking of it negatively.
(And finally, was I the only one who instantly thought of
the other Highland Fling
upon hearing about this one? Am I alone in liking Katie Fforde?)
Gabaldon is quick to say she doesn’t write romance, and this is clearly a romance. Based on that, there is no resemblance at all. 😉
Seriously, thanks for the review of a book many of us wondered about due to recent events.
I noticed the similarity to Outlander (which I’ve read but don’t LOVE) but didn’t realize it was an homage; I thought it was another recycled plot that hadn’t been recycled quite enough.
FWIW, I think Robin’s review is spot on :coolsmile: Pleasant book, but not a keeper.
Was she able to avert the moment when it was stuffed, squirming & squeaking, into a bodily orifice? Or was the gimmicky opening just that—a striking gimmick, meant to arrest a reader who’s skimming in the bookstore, with no further consequences in the remainder of the book?
After I wrote the review I was thinking about all the stuff I left out of it (that’s the part of writing that’s so interesting—that is, all the stuff you have to leave out), including the fact that there were really few other characters AT ALL in the book. The resident/intern (he’s described as both in the first two pages of the book) and his hamster x-ray disappear pretty quickly, and the only other doc we see is the petty, mean woman competitor doc who makes up for the fact that Kate got the position she wanted by humiliating Kate publically every chance she gets. Another stereotype I’d like to see depart the genre. But the long and the short of it (tails, I mean), is that the hamster tale seemed only to be a hook and nothing more. Personally I don’t think it added anything to the book; I wish instead we had seen Kate engaged in more intense doctor work, especially because she was so insistent that it was an essential component of her identity. Had LaBrecque used those opening pages to make me connect to Kate as a passionate ER physician, I think I would have been more engaged with her character and more hooked into her relationship with Darach throughout the rest of the book.
Huh. See, yeah, it totally sounds like Outlander. (And you should read Outlander!) I love Outlander. This might be okay. I’d be more willing to pick a book like this up considering it’s a Blaze and likely fairly inexpensive. If it cost $8 I might not look twice.
Wait a minute! Those resemble SmartBitches glasses!
I’ll admit that after the dust-up with the whole Amazon review I was pretty curious about this book. My book budget not being what I would like it to be, (unlimited, please), I have to really think about what to spend my money on and what not to. This sounds more like a “catch it at the library” book than something I want to invest in.
I read the entire Outlander series and was it ever a chore! Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, I mean really loved it, but it was a rollercoaster ride! I can’t think of another series that has had me bawling like that entire series did. It was emotionally draining and had me both looking forward to and dreading the next installment.
I agree that Gabaldon’s series was hard to get through but it was well written and cleaver. Just not on my top ten list.
I think i gave up on the series at book 4 or 5.
I read the entire Outlander series and was it ever a chore! Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, I mean really loved it, but it was a rollercoaster ride! I can’t think of another series that has had me bawling like that entire series did. It was emotionally draining and had me both looking forward to and dreading the next installment.
I feel the same way about the series. It took me over a month to get through ABOSAA, and I usually read fairly quickly. I’ll probably read anything she writes, though, because even with some of the things I don’t like, there’s quite a bit more that I love.
And speaking of Outlander similarities, MacTavish was also one on Jamie’s aliases.
fiveandfour:
No, you’re not the only one who likes Katie Fforde. How is Highland Fling?
KF’s Highland Fling has all of the classic Katie touches – the positioning of the hero and heroine on opposite sides of an issue, a bad first impression meeting of the h/h, a can-do heroine, a slow courtship, added complications, a touch of humor, and an old fashioned feel. I quite like it.
I have serious issues with authors/editors who make mistakes regarding historical dates and other significant, verifiable facts. Despite my history MA (for which I focused on the American West), I know very little about Scottish history. This stems from a general lack of interest and from my English husband. (He thinks all the remaining bits of the Empire should just shut it and enjoy being part of something larger, better and more important than mere concerns about independence! Some of his arrogance has rubbed off on me over the last nine years, I suppose.)
THUS, when I read about an unfamiliar time period or setting, be it Scotland or Indonesia, I rely on that author to get the basics right, at least the big stuff any old Jane could confirm on Wikipedia in two seconds. Chances are that I will not encounter that particular nugget of historical setting again (this homage to/liberal borrowing from Outlander aside). I need to know that what I gleaned from a purportedly historical novel is at least correct regarding the basics. If an author cannot get a simple date right, what faith can I have in any of her historical details? Too many of these mistakes bring the historicism of the entire genre of historical romance into question, as well, when we as readers do not hold the authors to a higher standard of accuracy.
As an historian, I put aside a lot of my more thorough critiques when it comes to historical romance (let alone time travels) because few of the rules apply between researching a proper monograph and creating a fictional world set in the past. I should not have to put aside simple fact, too.
As an historian, I put aside a lot of my more thorough critiques when it comes to historical romance (let alone time travels) because few of the rules apply between researching a proper monograph and creating a fictional world set in the past. I should not have to put aside simple fact, too.
The mistaken date was really odd, I thought. I mean, if *I* knew it was off, then I wondered why someone else didn’t catch it. At first I thought it was a copyediting thing, but since the date in Darach’s world is explicitly given as 1744 several times, with the corresponding timetable pointing to 1745, I frankly don’t know what happened. Like I said, it wasn’t a fatal flaw, but it put me on alert.
I know there are a lot of readers who don’t give a flying fig if the history is accurate, but I agree with you that dates of real historical events, especially those central to a book, are worthy of double and triple checking. I’m not at all suggesting that LaBrecque doesn’t respect the history to which she refers, but I do tend to see history as a character in and of itself, and the particular choice of an historical period one that suggests an interest in the localized details of such a time and place. A year’s difference probably doesn’t amount to a whole lot in the large scheme of things (as long as a reader doesn’t rely on that accounting for a spot on Jeopardy or a history test). But it did get me thinking about the American lit undergraduate courses I taught in which I started out by asking students if they knew the years in which signficant American wars were fought. Not pretty, let me tell you.
I truly hope Blaze’s time-travel romances don’t all continue in the vein of brainy heroine becoming enamored of a historical stranger and going back in time to mess with history. I’m reading Scandal by Julie Kister and her heroine is embroiled in this exact dilmma.
I really hated this book, but I won’t say why or post a review anywhere because I might be attacked by frothing authors, and besides, it’s just one person’s opinion.
Anyway, your review proves that there are as many different opinions out there than stars in the sky, and one person’s blech is another’s bravo, lol.
Maybe this C+ review will calm some seething tempers and show that everyone is entitled to their own opinion.
Okay, the date thing has put this book on my don’t-bother list. I’ll tolerate a few anachronisms in a historical or time-travel, but being wrong on a critical date like that is like sticking a finger in my eye.
What’s next? Avoiding the hero’s death during the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1942? Or escaping the ruins of San Francisco after the 1905 earthquake?
What bothers me most is the sneaking suspicion that American writers and publishers are more cavalier with important non-American dates. Perhaps not consciously dismissive, but the possibility riles me.
Interesting trend, isn’t it, if women can’t find a suitable man during their own lifetimes & have to go back into history to find & interview candidates more appropriate for the position.
Goes to show that concept of the One True Love is a pretty insistent one. Almost like the Calvinistic doctrine of predestination.
Goes to show that concept of the One True Love is a pretty insistent one. Almost like the Calvinistic doctrine of predestination.
Brilliant. Still laughing.
Just a small point of clarification from a theologian friend of mine (coz I know nothing about theology and asked her to explain this to me): The idea that one true love is out there waiting is foreordination, in that God has things laid out for you specifically (i.e. what shirt you are going to wear today), and you are helpless to change it. Calvin did not believe in foreordination. Calvin taught predestination – the eternal destiny of the soul – in that God has determined the fate of every soul ahead of time, irregardless of the actions of man. However, his teachings with regard to predestination were not anything different than earlier church doctrine.
Now you’re just that much smarter, bitches, and probably more than you intended. But since I brought up the issue of historical accuracy…
I usually have problems with date inaccuracies, but I assumed that LaBrecque chose that date to allow Kate and therefore MacTavish enough time to find a way to avoid his death at Culloden the following year.
I usually have problems with date inaccuracies, but I assumed that LaBrecque chose that date to allow Kate and therefore MacTavish enough time to find a way to avoid his death at Culloden the following year.
That would have made sense to me, but LaBrecque specifically provides the date for the Battle of Culloden as 1745, NOT 1746. Had she not given the date for the battle at all, I would have drawn the same assumption you did.
To be honest, there were other historically-related things that I was more concerned with than the mistaken date of the battle. But the date of the battle was one of the more overt mistakes in the book, which is why I used it as an example. Some of the other stuff was more subtle and even perhaps arguable (like the scene in which Darach wants to tell Kate it’s improper to use his kilt as a blanket, when I understood that the great kilt was valuable in part because it served as both bed and clothing; or the way Darach could read contemporary English—including a cookbook—with ease; or some of the, uhm, unusual words he used when his native language would have been Scottish-Gaelic—stuff like that). Although I’m generally a stickler for historical authenticity, I didn’t go into LaBrecque’s book expecting it, and those lowered expectations likely shaped my reactions. And my grade really did take everything into consideration. What really buoyed the book for me was LaBrecque’s cheerfully good-natured voice, which really made the book impossible to hate, IMO.
I have been giving some thought to whether or not it’s fair to judge time travel Blazes differently than, say, a Lisa Kleypas novel, or even a work of straight historical fiction, but that’s a different conversation, I think.
Lovelysalome, I’m soooo tempted to mispell your online moniker, so that you become a truly exemplary cylinder of cured meat, rather than a Biblical figure. But it would be playful, without any disrespect intended.
I do appreciate your explaining the difference between foreordination and predestination. Books that concern themselves with time travel/changing history and the One True Love really do seem obsessed with these concepts in some guise or another … so it’s appropriate for discussion here, don’t you think?
Not sure if the Blaze’s spec sheet & page limits allow serious contemplation of these ideas, though.
Thanks very much for focussing on this, lovelysalome and sherryfair. The notion of foreordination* in romance hadn’t exactly crystallised in my mind, but I’m definitely going to be thinking about it now. Any thoughts on how it plays into Inspirationals, as well as all those paranormals that involve “destiny”? As lovelysalome rightly pointed out, there is a difference between the two, but it seems to me that in the time travel books sherryfair mentioned, the line can get quite blurred.
I’d also avoid reading the rest of this as it’s basically linkage and reformation history. But dammit, I just needed to link back to a buncha theological websites from here. “Man-titty + reformation + dominican nun” searchers are in for a real treat now.)
I think Calvin would agree with the comment that his doctrine on predestination wasn’t a departure from early Christian doctrine (Reformation back-to-basics thinking and Augustine and all that), but I’d argue that Calvin & co’s theologies were also strongly influenced by their dislike of certain Church practices of their time (eg. indulgences) and the doctrines used to justify them. Also in Calvin’s case, I’d consider his development of the idea of predestination to include reprobation to be a new departure, albeit not so much in opposition to free will as adopting a more extreme position on the spectrum of debate.
In a transparent attempt to make the above relevant, I’m just gonna add that some early theologians were a bit touchy about dealing too much in predestination because they worried it would get confused with fatalism, which they associated with pagan religions. Which could sort of be something to consider when it came to paranormals, particularly those of the mythic type.
*Was a bit slow off the mark here because I was coming at sherryfair’s comment from a slightly different angle – lately I’ve been chewing over Weber on the ghost of Calvinism that still haunts modern capitalism (maybe), and the whole thing’s warped my mind. Germans, economics and a sprinkling of sixteenth-century theology from an Angry Frenchman. Damn, I know how to live.
a bit touchy about dealing too much in predestination because they worried it would get confused with fatalism
Well, is there a difference between predestination and fatalism? Or did the church just coin a new phrase in an attempt to distance itself from the exact same beliefs that were a part of other (earlier) religions as a way to obscure the fact that they were, in fact, the same?
Likewise, it seems to me that foreordination and predestination could also be argued to be different visions of the same thing. That is, if one is predestined to wear a blue shirt one day, but instead this person picks out a red one – then later spills some coffee on it and has to change into the blue one after all, couldn’t this be a foreordained act in that the person tried to change the shirt, but ended up not being able to? The person was arguably either/both destined to wear that blue shirt from the get go or couldn’t get out of wearing that blue shirt no matter what he or she did.
Well, is there a difference between predestination and fatalism?
This, IMO, is where a lot of the tension in Calvinism is located. To a strict Calvinist, predestination is a decision God has made, with the reasoning all His own, and it is one which is connected specifically to the fate of the soul upon death (i.e. you are either elect or reprobate). Because the decision is one based on the doctrine of grace instead of good works, in Calvinist terms fatalism and predestination are not the same, because the absolute inability of anyone to know whether their soul is elect or reprobate does not undermine the role of free will on the earthly plane. Although, of course, you could never *know* if you were predestined to be elect, there were clues, and often those clues were manifest in the type of life you led, the way you participated in the community and the church, and the extent to which you prospered in your honest worldly endeavors. Fatalism generally involves a focus on the earthly plane and invokes the sense that free will is inoperable, and is therefore, at least from the POV of a Calvinist, different. I know the logic there seems a little squirrely, but Calvinism is complex in the way it attempts to balance a doctrine of predestination with a reason to induce people toward “Godly” behavior. The ideal thing was to have a conversion experience and then to have that experience witnessed in the church. But even with that, you were never *certain* you were one of the elect. Ultimately, it was the not knowing that made the “proper” exercise of free will so critical.
Likewise, it seems to me that foreordination and predestination could also be argued to be different visions of the same thing.
IIRC, Calvin used these terms interchangably.
FWIW, I find Calvinism incredibly fascinating, and recommend Wieland, by Quaker author Charles Brockden Brown. Wieland is a gothic novel that contemplates Calvinism in incendiary ways (read death by spontaneous combustion in that euphemism).
I saw this book at Walmart yesterday on sale for under $4 bucks. I debated for the longest time whether or not to buy it but with my initial prejudice over the recent kerfluffle, my leeriness over putting money (even $4 bucks) down on a book I could possibly hate, then the talk about this being another version of Outlander, I finally decided to pass. Maybe I’ll look for it in the library.
Well, is there a difference between predestination and fatalism?
One of the charges made against Calvin(ism) by critics is that of fatalism, or theistic fatalism. It’s one that Calvin refutes utterly (he calls the charge an “old calumny” and states the term fate is “offensive” and “abhorrent”). In addition to the distinctions that Robin draws, Calvin distinguishes between fate and predestination by stressing the importance of final causes.
Calvin calls predestination the “free and unfettered counsel of God by which he rules all…by His infinite wisdom and incomprehensible justice” and contrasts this with fate as a “multiplex labyrinth of contradictory reasonings”. Effectively he sees the workings of fate as the influence of a blind, non-moral force to no particular end. By contrast, predestination is how humans carry out the purposeful plan of an omnipotent and infinitely wise God.
In part the contrast comes from how Calvin views free will, which is why his use of the term predestination blurs with foreordination whereas other analyses of these issues are more careful to distinguish between the two terms.
Mind you, a lot of theological wrangling of this type really seems to be based on how you slice and make up the cake in the first place. (Insert really bad analogy about pre-sifted flour here.)
(Quotes from Calvin’s A Defense of the Secret Providence of God – Section II, where you can also find some lovely stuff about the “depravity of mind and the lust of cavilling” as well as a charge that his critics “vomit forth…[their]… profane and abhorrent opinion” and so on. Don’t think Calvin was one to “agree to disagree”. And I’m definitely going to look up that Wieland book when I get near a good library, Robin. Quaker gothic and spontaneous combustion? I’m there.)
the absolute inability of anyone to know whether their soul is elect or reprobate does not undermine the role of free will on the earthly plane
Gotta love how the church finds a way to protect its ass, eh? I mean, wouldn’t want anyone who is elect to know it while on earth since they might “waste” their earthly time on earthly pleasures. On the other hand, how frustrating it would be to truly believe that no matter how good one was while here that it still wouldn’t get you to paradise. It must feel like living your entire life with the Sword of Damocles hanging over your head. This seems a recipe that pretty much guarantees the occurrence nihilism sooner or later, it seems to me. (Or maybe I can say that only thanks to my 20/20 looking-to-the-past vision. Perhaps without WWI it wouldn’t have gotten a second glance. Or was nihilism preordained? An interesting thought.)
Calvin distinguishes between fate and predestination by stressing the importance of final causes
A phrase which brings to mind something I’ve heard about Catholicism, but as I’m not a Catholic I don’t know if it’s true: that is, if one makes a deathbed confession and a positive statement about one’s submission to God’s will (I’m sure there’s more to it, my apologies for any unintended offense to Catholics), one can clear the slate of sin in order to pave the way to heaven. Anyway, what other sorts of “final works” did Calvin have in mind I wonder?
And I’m sure it would make Calvin et al squeamish to know this, but I can’t help but picture those ancient Egyptian scenes of Anubis with the recently dead’s heart on the Scales of Justice – will it be heavier than the feather so the person can proceed to paradise or will that person’s soul be eaten by Ammit to suffer eternal nothingness? Strip away some fancy language and even fancier footwork with logic and aren’t they about the same concepts?
Anyway, Calvin will have to forgive me if it seems to me that his argument about the differences between fate and predestination sound as though he’s looking at a zebra and calling it a horse with stripes. For if there is a power that is great enough that it can bring things about in sometimes stunning and sometimes elegantly subtle ways, things that are so irrational that we have to call them fated because otherwise they make no sense, wouldn’t such a power be very great indeed? As in, godly great?
But I get where he’s going with his argument, which at its essence seems to be saying that the fact that your entire life (and death) will take a preordained path no matter what you do is no reason not to be a Good Person and do Good Works. But of course, attempting to appeal to people’s good sides as a way to spur them to be good doesn’t really get one very far, as Calvin must have surely known. No, what works for humans is some combination of carrot and stick – appeal to the good while frightening with the bad – because it’s the rare individual indeed who can be counted on to do good only for goodness’ sake. (Of course this is leaving aside what is “good” and what is not and who gets to decide which is which.)
Finally, that Wieland book does sound fascinating as does Calvinism in general. A dirty little childhood secret of mine is that I was utterly enthralled at the concept of spontaneous combustion. Besides one paltry reference in The X-Files, I haven’t seen much mention of it lately. (What? It’s a perfectly legitimate thing for a child to be obsessed about.) Add spontaneous combustion to some fire and brimstone theories about divinity and you’ve got yourself a darned good party, I say. I may be cynical about religion, but I am constantly fascinated by other people’s concepts of God and Calvin’s is one I’ve done my best to avoid thus far. It may be time to end my ignorance in this area.
Oh shoot, this is the real ‘Finally’: thanks for the link EAP. I’m enchanted by his use of the second person. I’m sure psychologists have written reams about what it means when a person speaks of themselves in the second or third person, but since I haven’t read any of that kind of thing I go to John Calvin virginal in my impressions of it, ready to let him lead me where he will. Just as Calvin would’ve wanted it, I’m sure.
Gotta love how the church finds a way to protect its ass, eh? I mean, wouldn’t want anyone who is elect to know it while on earth since they might “waste†their earthly time on earthly pleasures. On the other hand, how frustrating it would be to truly believe that no matter how good one was while here that it still wouldn’t get you to paradise. It must feel like living your entire life with the Sword of Damocles hanging over your head. This seems a recipe that pretty much guarantees the occurrence nihilism sooner or later, it seems to me.
I remember years ago hearing a story that reincarnation had been removed from the Bible by church leaders who did not want people thinking they might have a second chance in a next life (don’t know if this is true, but it was part of a conversation about the various things removed from the Bible, including the extant gospel of Mary Magdalen).
I don’t think belief systems are merely invented to keep church leaders in power, but certainly when religious leaders also have a great deal of political or economic power, the motivations behind ensuring loyalty from one’s congregation are more complex.
OTOH, I think some predestination doctrines also reflect the concepts of the true unknowability of God (especially in our fallen state) and the inability to understand that old chestnut of why bad things happen to good people (i.e. the nature of free will, grace, and forgiveness, or how to reconcile the Old Testament God with the New Testament God). Further, in a true theocracy, which, for example, the Puritan settlers tried to achieve in the American colonies, your social contract was very much bound up with your spiritual values, and to have a functioning community, you needed incredible cooperation among the faithful to survive as a group (literally, not just spiritually, survive). If you are uncertain of your soul’s ultimate fate, you would be less likely to go astray and take others with you (the theory goes), because you would constantly be looking for an optimistic sign that you are elect and not reprobate. Certainly all believers want to be part of the elect, so the sheer unknowability of God’s wisdom in this regard would ideally invite upright participation in the community as a way of giving evidence of one’s *possible* election. Yes, such a belief system has contributed to religious corruption over the years, and has seen periods of tremendous lapse and rebellion, but it has also had a certain value in supporting a social contract in communities for stability, especially in cases where people relied on each other for their very survival.
I don’t think belief systems are merely invented to keep church leaders in power, but certainly when religious leaders also have a great deal of political or economic power, the motivations behind ensuring loyalty from one’s congregation are more complex.
Oh yes, absolutely. And I suppose this is where my cynicism about religion comes from. That is, things begin with people thinking about and marveling on life and the meaning thereof and seems to end with a few people telling several others not only what they’ve decided but also that if they don’t agree their souls will suffer some everlasting torment.
It’s interesting that, as a society, we need to have some common beliefs – that is, ethical and moral concepts that larger society agrees upon (e.g. child abuse=bad) – and religion is where one can find the greatest foundation of ethical and moral precepts. So in a sense, there are some things that are a part of religion that one can never get away from no matter how much they may want to avoid it. It seems to be a matter of degree as respects how much religious beliefs affect the social contract. (And I suppose the liberality of the religion in question also plays a part.)
It’s interesting that, as a society, we need to have some common beliefs – that is, ethical and moral concepts that larger society agrees upon (e.g. child abuse=bad) – and religion is where one can find the greatest foundation of ethical and moral precepts. So in a sense, there are some things that are a part of religion that one can never get away from no matter how much they may want to avoid it. It seems to be a matter of degree as respects how much religious beliefs affect the social contract. (And I suppose the liberality of the religion in question also plays a part.)
What I think amazes me most, on a purely visceral level, is that we continue to battle over the elements of religion which are farthest from the spiritual core of most belief systems. The *spiritual* beliefs of most mainstream religions are strikingly similar, even though the religious dogma and cultural traditions are often at odds, and despite every religion’s insistence that it’s the spiritual values that matter most, they have become so embedded in the dogma and the culture and in politics that what is *naturally* similar has become artificially dissimilar, and it’s the artificiality that has become dominant (wow, that was a long sentence!). Intellectually, of course, I understand this (it’s the same dynamic that creates value judgments attached to racial differences, which are also primarily artificial), but on some basic level it seems so *obvious* that I still marvel that as human beings we don’t seem to get it. This is one of the reasons, I suppose, that I tend to feel very distanced from religion outside of an interest to study and understand. Plus, I tend to resonate much more to ethical considerations than moral ones, because I have yet to find a black/white moral value system that does not at some point fold back on itself and bleed hypocrisy into the system.
The *spiritual* beliefs of most mainstream religions are strikingly similar, even though the religious dogma and cultural traditions are often at odds
Vigorous nods. I come at an interest in religion from a perspective that’s similar to yours, though mine’s tinged with a fascination with ancient mythology (aka the religions of their times). It is amazing to me how the world’s religions, from ancient past to this very moment, share elements in common and equally amazing how insulted some people are that this concept could be true. Joseph Campbell called one of his books on this subject The Masks of God and that’s one of the most succinct and elegant ways of putting it, I believe. (Though I also like an analogy I’ve made up to amuse myself wherein God is like the elephant in that old Indian myth about the blind men touching the elephant – each saying things like “it’s hard!” and “it’s hairy!” and “it’s rough!”, each certain the other person is as wrong as they are right, when in fact it’s only different aspects of the same thing they are describing.)
Anyway, I’m now going to take a step to the diagonal and say something I’ve been pondering ever since reading an article in Smithsonian magazine about ants. According to this article, Darwin had struggled with how to fit ant colonies into his theory of evolution for, according to the theory, each ant should be competing with every other ant for their survival. But all he could ever see were these colonies cooperating with one another. Finally it occurred to him that there was a “survival of the fittest” contest going on, only it wasn’t ant vs. ant but instead ant colony vs. ant colony. Ants group together with those with whom they have a colony and compete as one; their loyalty is to those ants they know – any other ant is “the other” and those ants are to be killed at will.
I’ve been thinking that humans have this same impulse to “us” vs “other”. We slice and dice our “us” into a variety of things: families, friends, countries, churches & religions, sports teams, regions, high schools, race, class, sex, whatever – but in all aspects of life nearly all people identify themselves as an “us” with some group or another and elevate and defend that “us”, and do their best to keep the “other” down or out or disadvantaged. And when a person doesn’t have some sort of group naturally (as in, a functioning family), they’ll seek it out (via gangs or knitting groups). Underneath it all, if they took a step back and examined it, they’d probably see the similarities they have in common, but the “us” motivation coupled with the natural human drive to compete means, I’m convinced, that there will always be this impulse to inclusion/exclusion among and between groups. Thus, though it may be perfectly obvious to a great number of people that the “point” of any religion is about the same as that for any other, there will always be people who will identify with their church and religion as their primary “us” and will see only the differences between their “us” and everyone else’s.
As a side project of mental diversion, I’ve wondered what kind of a sci fi story it’d make if humans, in a bid to finally make a way for world peace, were to isolate and breed out this gene or series of interconnected impulses in order to create a generation of people with no desire to separate themselves into us vs. other groups. What would humans become without an impulse to separate themselves from others by their religious beliefs, race, eye color, etc.? Would an unintended consequence of this lack of group bonding be a lack of competitiveness in general or maybe a lack of ability to bond with anyone at all? This always, in turn, brings me back to that Buddhist thought “there is no good or evil but thinking makes it so”. Meaning, it’s an ugly aspect of human nature, to be sure, this drive to elevate one person or group at the expense of another and the atrocities we commit in deference to that drive are bad indeed. But if we take away that drive, would it mean an eventual end to humans completely because without it we’d have no drive at all?
I know someone of darker thoughts than me would take such a line of reasoning and use their version of Geometry to come out to a place akin to “racism is good” or some such thing, which is not what I mean to imply. Circling back ‘round to Calvin, if I may, I suppose what I am saying is that while there may be elements within the thing that drives people to racism or classism or whatever-ism that are good for humans and we probably need whatever that is to get by, one should recognize and embrace the positive elements of that thing and set aside the darker elements that lead to the ‘isms’ just because it’s the right and the good thing to do. The carrot in that equation is peace among men; the stick is war – which, at best, is a huge waste of the resources we’re all competing for. Doing good via reigning in one’s impulse to disadvantage all those that disagree with your “us” may or may not have everlasting effects on the state of your soul, but the earthly ones are visible enough right here and now.
Wow – I went pretty far afield there. But I guess starting with a romance book and ending at Calvinism went some distance already anyway, so why not venture a little further on?