The Last Devil to Die (Thursday Murder Club, 4), Richard Osman. Penguin Books (ISBN: 9780593299449) 2024.
Summary: The Thursday Murder Club investigates the murder of Stephen’s friend Kuldesh while Stephen’s dementia worsens.
Remember Kuldesh Sharma? He was an antiques dealer and an old friend of Stephen’s who helped with a key piece of information in a previous case. A stranger brought an old box to his shop, asked a small amount for it with the assurance that another man would come the next day and offer him more. That night, he makes some calls, drives to a remote lane, and is murdered.
While Chris and Donna investigate, the Thursday Murder Club kicks into action. Bogdan had gotten the news and they could not let the murderer of Stephen’s friend go free. One of the first things they learn is that the box is missing. And it turns out there are a lot of people interested in it, mainly because of its contents–a large quantity of heroin. Although it was a local murder, the National Crime Agency send their senior agent, Jill Regan, to take over, kicking Chris and Donna of the case and out of their offices.
It turns out that the heroin network wants to find the box as well. The supplier is threatening death if they don’t pay up. And Samantha and Garth Barnes, who specialize in art fraud take an interest as well. As does a university professor, Nina Mishra. There’s a long list of suspects–until one by one, they start dying.
Part of the fun is that the Thursday Murder Club seems to have more information than Jill Regan. Meanwhile, they also are having fun trapping a romance fraudster bilking one of the residents out of money. But Elizabeth isn’t able to join all the fun.
Stephen’s dementia is worsening. Chapter 13 narrates Stephen’s increasing confusion in a remarkable description of the experience of dementia. It is clear he and Elizabeth are facing some hard decisions. This is a major subplot of the book. Osman’s treatment is sensitive and insightful.
However, Elizabeth is there for the denouement after a number of plot twists. Meanwhile, Joyce steps up her leadership while Elizabeth is absent. And Ibrahim continues to develop an interesting relationship with Connie.
In a conversation at the end of the book, Osman announces that the Thursday Murder Club will be on hiatus for a time while he introduces a new series (We Solve Murders being the first). I do hope Osman is able to keep his word. I love how this series is developing!
Accidental Pagans, Ryan Lokkesmoe. Tyndale | Elevate (ISBN: 9798400509674) 2026.
Summary: Christians often embrace a fear-driven faith more like pagan beliefs rather than living in freedom and joyful faith.
Ryan Lokkesmoe observes in this book that we often live out of a fear-driven view of God. This is not the healthy “fear of the Lord” that is an awareness that we live all of our lives before God. Rather, it is a view of God that thinks we have to get the words of our prayers “just right” and tick off lists of “the right things to do” or God will be unhappy with us. When we do so, he suggests that we live more like ancient pagans, not in the sense of immorality, but in the sense of a fear-based faith. Because we don’t intend it, we are accidental pagans.
What might be signs we are accidental pagans? Here are some of the indicators, according to Lokkesmoe:
We see ourselves as minor players in a cosmos where God holds little affection for us.
God is thin-skinned and temperamental and we may easily offend him.
We’re not convinced that God always acts morally or may be trusted.
God is not really present in every domain of life.
Likewise, God is more present in some parts of the world than others.
God changes. For example the Old Testament God of wrath gives way to a New Testament God of love.
God needs visible expressions of our faith to show us as serious followers of Christ.
We have to work hard to get God’s attention.
God is mysterious, unknowable, and always will be.
Likewise, God doesn’t understand what our lives are like.
Lokkesmoe devotes a chapter to each of these fears. First he sets the fear against the ancient pagan perspective, particularly that of the Greek and Roman gods of the New Testament era. Then he sets that against the truth as revealed in the Bible. Finally he offers practical steps by which we may counter this aspect of accidental paganism. For example, where we may question God’s goodness, he suggests we ask where we get our ideas of right and wrong. He also invites us to see God as even more upset about suffering than we are, and that God is just as present in our valleys.
Lokkesmoe concludes by reminding us of the many times in scripture where people hear, “Do not be afraid” from an angel or from Jesus himself. He offers this encouragement:
“Let’s not be accidental pagans who are afaid of God; let’s be intentional Christians who trust him. Because of Jesus, we know who God is and who we are in his eyes. He is good, all-powerful, ever-present, compassionate, just, faithful, slow to anger, abounding in love, ever-attentive, knowable, and comprehending of our experiences. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, and he is infinitely better than we could ever dream or imagine him to be” (p. 148).
In addition, Lokkesmoe includes five Bible studies that may be used on their own or with the book. They cover origins, God’s stability, omnipresence, attention, and God’s knowledge of us and ours of God. Not only do the studies include questions to reflect on biblical passage but also a video discussion.
People sometimes tell me they don’t believe in God. I often ask them to tell me about the God they don’t believe in. Most often, I tell them I don’t believe in that God either. Likewise, many Christians are troubled by needless fears about God. In many instances, the issue is “accidental pagan” beliefs. This book is helpful both in naming and countering those beliefs. For some, this could help them come to faith in Christ and know the triune God. For others, it could mean stepping into the “perfect love that casts out fear” (1 John 4:18). Lokkesmoe combines a clear presentation with a warm pastoral presence creating the space to reconsider our fearful beliefs. He offers a compelling vision of the beauty of the God who loves us.
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.
Summary: Argues for consciousness opposing dualism, materialism, and cognitive science, proposing biological naturalism.
I recall a debate between Christian and atheist philosophers in which the atheist made a telling admission. He suggested that the problem of consciousness and how to explain it as a materialist atheist was one of the most vexing philosophical problems. John R. Searle would contend that some have dealt with consciousness and “the mind” by simply eliminating these realities altogether. In this book, he argues for the “rediscovery” of mind and consciousness.
In the early chapters of this book, Searle argues against both dualism, which he argues is incoherent and against reductive materialism in its various flavors. Specifically, he offers critiques of behaviorism, type identity theories, token-token identity theories, black box functionalism and strong artificial intelligence. This last is especially relevant and may need revisiting as AI has advanced to the point where even some of its developers wonder whether it is conscious. However, Searle’s rejection of computational models to account for consciousness leads him to reject the whole enterprise of cognitive science.
What Searle argues for instead is what he calls biological naturalism. He argues that consciousness is a higher level biological process dependent upon more basic and observable substrates of neurochemical processes. However, consciousness is not objectively observable, having a “first person ontology.”
Perhaps one of the most fascinating parts of the book is his discussion of the interaction of conscious and unconscious processes. What happens to our beliefs when we are asleep? How do we understand the content of dreams? And what is the role of intentionality in all of this? He also, contra Chomsky, argues against unconscious syntactic rules for understanding the world.
All in all, it is a fascinating discussion but I concluded that Searle wanted to eat his cake and have it too. He wants to rescue consciousness from both dualists and reductive materialists. He does this by arguing for consciousness as a higher level, yet still a biologically based process. Hence, it is not directly accessible to study. This sounds a bit like dualism. It seems to me like a bit of a halfway house solution. Like halfway houses, one must either go back or go on.
That said, his discussion of materialist accounts of the mind was worth the price of admission. And I think it is helpful to question whether we are locked into a false dichotomy in discussing dualism versus materialism and I see his effort as one seeking to transcend it. I just don’t think he has.
The Night of the Long Knives, Fritz Leiber. Open Road Media (ISBN: 9781504061438), 2020, first published in 1960.
Summary: In post nuclear America, Ray is a survivor whose killer instincts are tested when he meets Alice and Pops.
My school was a nuclear fallout shelter. We had drills where we filed into that shelter. During the Cuban Missile crisis of 1962, we wondered whether we would live to see the next day. This was the setting in which Fritz Leiber wrote The Night of the Long Knives. He and other science fiction writers of the time explored what life would be like for survivors in a post-nuclear world.
Leiber paints a bleak picture of a “kill or be killed” world narrated by Ray Baker, a survivor who has killed. He travels alone and scavenges to live in the Deathlands of what remains of middle America. Alliances of warring city states exist on the coasts. As he journeys, he spies another loner slowly getting nearer. However, just because it’s a woman doesn’t mean he is any less guarded. She bears the scars of radiation…and what else? Ray is torn by two lusts–blood lust and sexual lust. For the time being, the latter brings them together until the other becomes stronger.
Then two things happen. First, a strange aircraft lands. On instinct, Ray and Alice fight its occupant. A cry diverts the stranger’s attention long enough for the killing blow. Second, an old man calling himself Pops approaches, with a belt full of knives. But he does not use them. Instead, he claims to be part of MA–Murderers Anonymous, a group of Deathlanders who have sworn off murder and support each other in that resolve.
The unlikely trio decide to take the plane and see if they can fly it somewhere else. They fantasize about all sorts of destinations untouched by the holocaust. But all they find is an array of buttons, only one of which works, flying them to what was formerly Atlanta. The long auto-piloted journey allows them time to talk and Pops talks about renouncing the way of murder, and the urge that remains.
Will Ray and Alice change their ways? We wonder at points if they will even try killing each other enroute. But something else occupies their attention. They learn by radio that they are carrying medical supplies for one of two warring factions that they need to drop. But then what will become of them?
The story is a little longer than novella length and explores the question of whether, in a “survival of the fittest” world, any form of human community can develop. Can people unlearn the instinct to kill? Leiber also explores how killing changes a person, and how having killed once, it becomes easier. We would think of these people as sociopaths. But Leiber raises the disturbing thought that this may not be so far from any of us. A bleak and disturbing story.
I also wondered about the title. The “night of the long knives” was a bloody purge by the Nazi’s of the SA (a.k.a. the Brownshirts) from June 30 to July 2, 1934. Eighty-five people at least died in this bloody, extra-judicial purge of political opponents. I can’t help but think Leiber is warning us how thin is the veneer of civilized behavior. If this could occur in highly civilized Germany, it could happen anywhere, with or without a nuclear holocaust. It can happen here.
Start with a Word, Marilyn McEntyre. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. (ISBN: 9780802883162) 2026.
Summary: A book on writing using the works of other writers and creative writing exercises that help writers find their own voices.
I’ve faced it as has probably every writer. The blank screen or page. Figuring out how to pour onto the page the story or ideas that have lived within. As with other crafts, aspiring writers take classes, workshops, or even enroll in MFA programs in writing to learn their craft. Many of the programs afford the opportunity to learn from accomplished writers. Or, you could read and practice this book. Marilyn McEntyre is a writer who cares deeply about words and how we use them and she is a teacher who has taught writing in a number of classrooms.
This is not a manual of style or an instruction manual. Rather, it combines examples of good writing with exercises that “work all the different muscle groups” involved in good writing. She begins by encouraging writers to read good writing and to become attentive to the ways each writer tells a story or conveys an idea. She also makes a telling observation about good reading. Good reading gives consent, or if we cannot give consent to what we are reading, understands why.
Each chapter begins with an imperative in the title. “Begin Beginning,” “Move the Camera,” Develop and Digress,” and so forth until we get to “Know When to Stop.” Each chapter uses a variety of literary passages to illustrate an aspect of the writing craft. In “Move the Camera,” for example, she cites a passage from the work of Willa Cather of scene changes as the narrator walks with her grandmother to a prairie garden. In “Find Out Who’s There” on character development, she quotes a passage portraying Old Jack from Wendell Berry’s Memory of Old Jack. Likewise, in “Get to Know Your Narrator” she uses the example of Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby.
Then, each chapter also includes numerous exercises. The first, from which the book gets its title, is “begin with a word.” Specifically she suggests words like ticklish, rocking, gracious, custard or dolphins. The idea is almost any word will do. And go from there and see where it leads. Also, it’s alright to start over seeing how some beginnings work better than others. Throughout the book, there is a sense of playfulness, similar to the “studies” artists do where they try different techniques.
However, I thought one of the most significant chapters was “Do the Word Work.” McEntyre’s care for words comes shining through, and one glimpses her sense of the holy calling of writing. For example, she states:
“I’ve also written about what can happen when you pause over a word or phrase, ponder it, look up its history, pay attention to associations that come from it, reframe it, and share it in lines that make it new. I deeply believe words can be channels of healing and grace. They can have a sacramental character: they can help bring into being the things they name” (p. 45).
She goes on to list some of the ways we do good “word work” including telling the truth, caring about precision, not tolerating lies, and practicing poetry, and many more.
McEntyre also believes we write from the inside out. She explores a range of life experiences we may have and encourages reflection to discern what we may have to say. She asks us to identify “What truths have I come to that need or deserve to be told?” She then follows serious self-exploration with playfulness, particularly holding up the writing of Anne Lamott.
As already noted, she advocates writing poetry even if we focus on prose. Poetry attunes us to rhythm, images, and precision with words. Sometimes, it may be simple as taking a longer sentence and breaking it into phrases, line by line. Then, we notice how we see and hear it differently and become aware of its cadences.
The book concludes with an Afterword on editing. One of the axioms of writing is “there is no good writing, only good rewriting.” McEntyre gives a number of tips of things we might scan for in our work: verbs, time markers, sentence structure, sentence starters and endings, sentence variations, abstractions, images and metaphors, cadence, tonal cues, omissions and more.
This is a useful guide for anyone who writes, whether it is a blog (a form of essay) a podcast script, devotional reflections, sermons, poetry, or longer form fiction or non-fiction. The whole book challenges us to keep company with good writers. In a time when words are used both poorly and with ill intent, she calls us to the good, the true, and the beautiful in writing and offers us examples and prompts to how it is done. She both trains us in the craft and offers us a taste of the adventure. And it all starts with a word.
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.
Summary: A biography that features the thought, cultural and religious context, revivals, and ministry among Native Americans.
Many who hear the name of Jonathan Edwards never get beyond one lurid passage in “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” one of the thousands of sermons Edwards preached. Sadly, because they haven’t even read the whole of that sermon, they fail to grasp that the theme is actually the saving mercy of God. Even less, they fail to grasp what a profound thinker Edwards was, perhaps one of the greatest the United States has produced. However, this Bancroft Award-winning biography more than amply redresses the balance for anyone who wishes to understand Edwards’ contribution to the cultural and religious history of New England and the what would eventually become the United States.
Rather than discuss the outline of Edwards’ life, with which this biography deals in careful detail, I want to discuss some of the distinctive insights I found in its pages. Whereas we might think of Edwards as a severe person, one of the things I realized was his absolute delight in God and his world. As he wrote in one of his journals, he believed the Creator made all things for “the communication of happiness” to his creatures. This insight was reflected in his own devotional life and contemplative walks. Likewise, it makes sense both of his love of natural science and his passion that his people would be on fire with the love of God.
I was also struck by the importance to Edwards’ career of powerful families who were for many years his patrons and then adversaries. Two families were especially important: the Stoddard and Williams families. Solomon Stoddard preceded Edwards as pastor of the Northampton church and was Edwards grandfather. The invitation to join Stoddard late in his life and succeed him established Edwards among the religious elite. The ongoing support of Colonel John Stoddard and the Williams family helped make his ministry secure both ministerially and financially. That is, until changed his standards concerning who might be a communicant member of the church.
Marsden traces the tension throughout Edwards ministry between his father’s ideas and those of Solomon Stoddard on communicant membership. His father believed it necessary for candidates for church membership to show evidences of spiritual conversion beyond mere profession of faith. Stoddard took a more relaxed stance, allowing those who professed faith to become members. He thought membership, the hearing of preaching, and communion could draw people into a deeper relationship with Christ. And when Edwards came to Northampton, this was the position he adopted, opposing his father. Marsden traces how Edwards eventually adopted his father’s stance, and how the Stoddard and Williams clans turned on him, spelling the end of his Northampton ministry.
Before that, however, came the revivals. Marsden traces the history of the local awakenings of the 1730’s, culminating in the Great Awakening of 1740-42, both locally in Northampton and on both sides of the Atlantic. He discusses the strategic partnership of Edwards and George Whitefield. And he covers Edwards role in defending the revivals against Old Light critics while addressing excesses. We learn of his efforts to extend and deepen those revivals into ongoing holiness, including the failed “solemn covenant.”
As significant as his pastorate was, perhaps Edwards’ writing was his major contribution. Not only did he write several accounts of revivals but he also addressed genuine versus counterfeit spirituality in Religious Affections. Coming out of a Reformed tradition, he was active in countering the rise of Arminianism. Particularly, this was so in The Freedom of the Will. Toward the end of his life, he worked on more extensive theological works. This included, A History of the Work of Redemption including a View of Church History. A feature of this biography is the in-depth summaries of Edwards’ works as well as the context in which they were written.
One of the other influential works of Edwards was his The Life of David Brainerd. The Edwards family supported Brainerd’s efforts in mission work among indigenous peoples. And when he succumbed to tuberculosis, Edwards’ daughter Jerusha nursed him, and was a companion on good days. She followed him in death four months later. Brainerd left journals describing his spiritual life, calling, and ministry. Edwards edited and published these, which became a classic mission work which I read in early adulthood.
Jonathan Edwards was a slave owner. Marsden documents this as well as Edwards’ defense of slavery. This does not occupy a major part of the book. However, it shows Edwards as a man of his time. The biography also discusses Edwards ministry among indigenous people in Stockbridge after leaving Northampton, his efforts to launch a school for their children, as well as the challenges of the war with France and opposition from powerful local elements. Marsden discusses the growing awareness of Edwards and others of how indigenous missions could be manipulated for colonial control.
Marsden’s biography provides a highly readable narrative while describing Edwards’ intellectual life. We also glimpse a pastor deeply concerned for the spiritual life and growth in holiness of his people. He understood human nature, although at times dealt clumsily with situations like the youth who were reading sexual material. He had a strong marriage, an able partner in Sarah, as well as godly children. Marsden weaves accounts of the family life into the narrative throughout. I would recommend this as the “go-to” work on Edwards.
