Since I am a book lover with wide interests and look forward to recommending books that have impressed me, over a decade ago I started making a list of really short book reviews that I included with my annual family Christmas letter. I thought this might be a good place to include some of those reviews. (The number in parentheses after the review is the year I read the book.)
Also, on occasion I have published articles in magazines or periodicals, so I thought I would include links to those as well.
So click on the arrow next to "More" to see those.
Theology and Religion:
J. Rosato and A. Vincelette (eds.), Extraterrestrials in the Catholic Imagination: Explorations in Science, Science Fiction, and Religion (2021). This is a collection of more than a dozen essays by Catholic scientists, fiction writers, and philosophers that entertain questions pertaining to what it would mean for our faith if intelligent aliens exist. Several of them tackle the widespread idea that the consequence for Christians would be to lose their faith or refuse to accept the facts. Some also talk about how the centrality of the Incarnation would bear on the salvation of such aliens. I strongly recommend this, at least to Christians. (2024)
B Ashley, O.P., The Dialogue Between Tradition and History: Essays on the Foundations of Catholic Moral Theology (2022): This is a collection of essays by a moral theologian who died a decade or so back. I was a little disappointed by maybe half the essays, since they seem to end right when they get interesting, but there are some deeper ones too. Two on “delayed hominization” (human ensoulment in the womb) in connection to ideas about abortion and embryology are particularly good. (2024)
C. Mitch and E. Sri, The Gospel of Matthew (2010). A line by line commentary on Matthew that an easy to read combination of theology, historical-critical method, and advice for application of this gospel to one’s spiritual life. It also does a nice job explaining the contours of disputes about interpreting certain passages or manuscript issues. (2024)
P. Murray, Aquinas at Prayer: The Bible, Mysticism, and Poetry (2014). The author is a poet and a scholar presenting a detailed study of St. Thomas’s poetry, and the historiography about its authenticity. For those who know St. Thomas only as a philosopher or theologian, this is eye opening. (2024)
W. Dever, What Did the Biblical Writers Know & When Did They Know It?: What Archaeology Can Tell Us about the Reality of Ancient Israel (2001): A contemporary and leading-edge archaeologist argues that dominant Biblical scholars are in the main wrong in thinking that the Old Testament is largely a fictitious concoction of post-exilic Jews. Rather, archaeology strongly supports a moderately traditional view that at least the central historical books (Judges, Joshua, Kings I-IV) are founded on historical events. His critique of his opponents is devastating (but sometimes strangely personal, since they know him and target him as well). I should mention that he has no docility toward Christianity or Judaism; he is forthright about being a secular humanist and agnostic. He just thinks the Biblical theorists nowadays have no leg to stand on when they sweep away the Old Testament. The books pretty boring at times, but I’m glad I read it. (2016)
John Troupe, St. Paul and the Mystery Religions (Gorham, 1917). I’d seen this book cited a few times while reading about the Greek “mystery” cults, so I bought it to pursue some theories about the St. Paul’s use of the word “mystery”; I wanted to see if someone would confirm or refute them. Although helpful to me in some ways, the little (120 pages) book is more superficial than I’d expected, more of summarizing other scholars’ conclusions than their arguments/evidence. If you’re interested in the topic, probably read something else. (2016)
D. S. Russell, Between the Testaments (Fortress, 1965). This little (162 pages) book summarizes what Judaism looked like in the 200 or so years before Christ, after and while the last books of the old Testament were written, and fills in some cultural and spiritual gaps that make the transition to Palestine in the first century A.D. (Ever wonder about who the Pharisees and Saducees were, or what the heck the book of Enoch is?) Like the Troupe book, this is more of a summary than a careful study of its subject, although a lot of it (about half the book) is focused on the apocalyptic literature of the time, so if you want detail on that, this book offers it. But as a summary, it’s very good and whets one’s appetite to read the more in-depth works in the bibliography. (2016)
Science:
A. Zajonc, Catching the Light: The Entwined History of Light and Mind (1993). The author is a quantum physicist with an interest in the history of ideas, so although this wasn’t maybe as deep as I hoped it would get, it has some really good insights into how our ideas of light have changed since ancient times. (2024)
D. Albert and A. Ney (eds.), The Wave Function: Essays on the Metaphysics of Quantum Mechanics (2013). Not for the faint of heart. Although the ten or so contributors to this volume probably have degrees in philosophy (analytic school), each essay gets pretty technical: They know their higher mathematics and quantum mechanics. That said, you can also read around the math to get the arguments, which are about how to give the wave functions (which describe all quantum phenomena between measurements) a realist interpretation—in opposition mainly to the Copenhagen approach. The authors have widely divergent views, so it’s a good sampling of approaches that are out there. (2024)
R. Kurson, Crashing Through: A True Story of Risk, Adventure, and the Man Who Dared to See (Random House, 2007). I picked up this book a year ago at a used book sale on a whim, decided to read it over Easter break on another whim, and it was luck itself! It follows the story of Mike May, blinded at age 3, who, after growing up without letting a little thing like blindness slow him down (he holds a world-record for speed skiing)—that’s the first half of the book—then, in 1999, has an experimental sort of adult stem cell surgery on his eyes, restoring his vision. The second half of the book is about adapting to vision, which is not as simple as it sounds. A great read for anyone looking for an amazing tale or just interested in experimental psychology and the nature of perception. (2010)
J. S. Bell, Speakable and Unspeakable in Quantum Mechanics (1987). Bell was an underappreciated mathematician and quantum physicist. Like the previous book, this is math-heavy, largely because it’s a collection of academic articles he published in the mid-century, so again, you might want to read around the math. Bell combines deep understanding with ready wit and willingness to criticize mainstream views about quantum theory; a bit like Feynman, but less flamboyant and more precise. Bell thinks quantum theory (or at least its interpretation) is incomplete, one of the few late 20th century physicists who would argue that at length. If you want to think critically about the dominant version of physics at work, this is worth the effort. And it will indeed take effort. (2024)
R. Becker and G. Selden, The Body Electric: Electromagnetism and the Foundation of Life (1985). I was looking to read something substantial on this subject and this was the only thing I could find. The author is an MD and a frontline researcher on how electric effects govern how the body works, even pushing beyond the obvious (like what happens in the synapses between neurons) to ion channels in cell walls and the role of micro-currents in healing and regeneration. The book is, unfortunately, marked by bitter feelings/experiences regarding his work not being taken seriously, a lot of conspiracy theory material near the end pertaining to electropollution, and occasional dabbling with psychic phenomena. So: interesting, but read with a critical eye. (2024)
O. Gingerich, The Book Nobody Read: Chasing the Revolutions of Nicolaus Copernicus (Penguin, 2005). Written by one of the world’s foremost historians of science, this work aims to show that Copernicus’s revolutionary (intended) book was, contrary to Arthur Koestler’s assertion, read by many of the world’s foremost physicists in the 16th and 17th centuries. It does this by making a census of all the 1st and 2nd editions still in existence in various libraries throughout the world, demonstrating by whom they were owned and annotated. While it has its moments, this book is as boring as you (gentle reader) might have guessed from my description. My own first impression was that it would be dull, but the book’s front, back, and front pages are ornamented by dozens of rave reviews, so I gave it a shot. I wish someone had given me a shot instead. Ironically, Koestler’s book (The Sleepwalkers {Hutchison, 1951}), for all its faults, is vastly more interesting and worth reading. (2010)
M. Stevens, Secret Worlds: The Extraordinary Senses of Animals (2021): It’s surprisingly difficult to find a good book length treatment of animal senses—everything from heightened senses, to IR receptors in snakes, to electric location in certain fish, and magnetic sensitivity in birds and sea life. I’ve tried two books on the subject in recent years, but I couldn’t finish either one, because the authors proved to be unserious (breezy overly poetic style, no footnotes or endnotes, a lot of filler about the researchers rather than the research, even a little narcissism, etc.); these are Sentient, by J. Higgins, and An Immense World, by E. Yong. And the title of this book didn’t bode well in this regard either (it sounds like a kids’ book). But I was pleasantly surprised: This focuses on the actual experiments and documents the studies, yet it doesn’t overdo it with excessive detail; it helps that the author himself is a researcher in the field (the other two were “science journalists”). Admittedly, the author is a little short on the philosophical wonder the subject naturally provokes, and the last chapter is a mostly tangential and highly speculative rant about how humans may be interfering with the sense experiences of animals. But overall, this is an accessible but substantial overview of the science on weird animal senses and sensitivities. (2023)
Philosophy:
Aristotle, Eudemian Ethics (4th century BC): I don’t list books I (have to) read for class, and this is technically not one of those, though I did read it because of a class I was teaching. This is Aristotle’s “other book” on ethics, and it covers a lot of the same ground, sometimes more thoroughly, sometimes less. Book 8 is particularly interesting because of its emphasis on the need for luck, therefore providence, and therefore the divine, for attaining complete happiness. Obviously worth reading. (2023)
L. Dewan, Form and Being: Studies in Thomistic Metaphysics (2006): Another I read because of a class I will be teaching. This collection of formerly published essays by a former (now deceased) professor of mine is quite good, but dense. A few times he seems to make mistakes or miss something, but mostly he sheds a lot of light on his subject, which is primarily the importance of substantial form for understanding reality at a deep level. (Full disclosure: I haven’t read a couple essays in this, partly because there’s a certain redundancy here, as the articles were not originally written as parts of a whole.) (2023)
B. Laughlin, The Aristotle Adventure: A Guide to the Greek, Arabic, and Latin Scholars Who Transmitted Aristotle’s Logic to the Renaissance (1995). This book has a very narrow audience; even I read it more out of curiosity than out of genuine interest, since it gives some historical context to some things I find interesting. Obviously, it’s a reconstructive history of how some of Aristotle’s works were kept “in print” over about two millennia. Aside from it’s being limited to only Aristotle’s logical books, the author’s frequent slams against Christianity (occasionally warranted, I suspect), and I think a misunderstanding of Aristotle’s philosophy, this is a quick and informative read: I didn’t know most of what’s in here. But it’d be boring to most. (2024)
R. McInerny, Characters in Search of Their Author: The Gifford Lectures, Glasgow 1999-2000 (2001): A philosopher presenting a critique of the intellectual principles or customs—especially those that come from other philosophers—that impede understanding arguments for God’s existence. Accessible and well written. For a serious subject, a quick read. (2023)
A. MacIntyre, After Virtue (1981): This is an impressive look at what appears to be a deep and unresolvable tension in moral philosophy since the Enlightenment, when the idea of virtue became, at best, secondary to considerations about human behavior. The author, in fact, argues that this is why moral issues seem unresolvable to both the common man and professional philosophers—and the demotion of virtue is the root cause. The line of reasoning manages to be at once taxing (mentally exhausting) and fairly simple … and persuasive. It’s not a long book, but it took me 4 months to finish. This was probably the best book I read this year, the most impressive work of philosophy I’ve read in a few years. (2023)
Literature and Miscellaneous Fiction:
G. Wolfe, Peace (1975). Having been impressed a year ago by a book of short stories by this author, I thought I’d try a novel. Neil Gaiman’s recommendation drew me to this one. And it was… disappointing. It’s hard to make sense of what’s happening, and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is a first-person narrative where the narrator seems to be an old man bouncing around in his own life, apparently altering it now and again. It’s either hallucination/reminiscence or soul time-travel. There isn’t a clear story arc. Gaiman suggests that the narrator is a ghost. Could be. If you read it just for the vivid imagery, it’s lovely. But that’s all I can say. Maybe I’ll read it again in ten years. (2024)
H. Melville, Moby Dick (1851): I last read this 30 years ago, and I had bad memories of the long boring parts about whales, the guts of whales, whale oil, etc. Maybe it was because I “read” the audio book this time, but the same parts were more interesting—not riveting, but interesting. Although a 500 page novel, the drama boils down to probably less than half of that, and that part is pretty intense. You all know the arc, so no need for synopsis. A dark tale, and you suspect that its “moral” is nihilism or that the gods hate us. (2024)
C. Bronte, Jane Eyre (1847). I’ve read only a couple Charlotte Bronte novels, but I suspect she is to Jane Austin what DC is to Marvel: both such works are quietly intense 19th century drama (semi-romance) told from the female perspective, but where Austin always has a strong dose of comedy, Bronte is more grave and tragic. This follows the life of the eponymous highly intelligent orphan’s life, from youth till adulthood. Of course there’s a man with whom she falls in love, and there are dark secrets, madness, and whisperings of murder (all absent from Austin novels). I really enjoyed this. (2024)
D. Koontz, After Death (2023): I picked this up to have something light to read this summer. This fit the bill, but I came away a little disappointed. The author has written several dozen thrillers and has certain tropes that he falls (jumps?) into all the time. So this was decent, but not great. (2024)
W. Blatty, Demons Five, Exorcists Nothing: A Fable (1996): Blatty wrote only a few books, and they range from tremendous (Dimiter and The Ninth Configuration) to mediocre … and this is one of the latter. A Hollywood satire where the hero is a famous screenwriter commissioned to write the screenplay for a horror movie about an exorcism. Since Blatty in fact wrote the Exorcist, and was cynical about Hollywood, this is clearly semiautobiographical. As funny as it sounds, there is so much name dropping that, unless you’re a student of the history of film, a lot will be lost on you; it was on me. It sometimes feels like it’s trying too hard to sound important or “in the know,” though it’s funny at times. The ending is clever … but I don’t recommend this. (2023)
M. Crichton, The Terminal Man (1972): This is one of the earliest novels by the author of Jurassic Park, and it’s another one taking recent advances in science and warning about their dangers. A little more plausible than Jurassic, this one involves a surgical treatment for a man dealing with seizures of increasing severity; a small computer is implanted in his brain to react to signs of an oncoming seizure by stimulating a pleasure center to relax the brain and ward off the seizure. And then things go south. Sort of a modern Frankenstein story. The tech is a little dated, but it’s a quick and engaging read. (2023)
R. Benson, Lord of the World (1907): Maybe one of the first dystopian, end-of-the-world novels—by a Catholic, no less. This has been recommended to me for decades and … it was a little disappointing. It is set in, well, about now, imagining a political order in which the Antichrist appears and the few remaining Christians are persecuted and largely wiped out. (So, a Catholic Left Behind, except this has the decency to tell the story it in a single book rather than a series.) Some of the imagining of the future is well done—e.g., regular air travel imagined just a few years after Kittyhawk. But I guess I expected a more complex plot. (2023)
G. Wolfe, The Best of Gene Wolfe: A Definitive Retrospective of His Finest Short Fiction (2009): This collection of short stories is all I’ve ever read by the author; technically this would could as sci-fi/fantasy. Wolfe’s writing is really rich, and although I don’t tend to like short stories, this was impressive. A little dark though, at times. Some stories I am sure I will go back to. (2023)
F. Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment (1886): I first read this book 20 or 30 years ago; this second time through was just as great. An intellectually and emotionally feverish young man commits a murder… and his motive is complex and ambiguous, as is his struggle with conscience after. In a way a very simple plot, but a remarkable study of how we can hide our intentions from ourselves, and our reconstructions of what is driving us seem protean, and what we do with these facts about ourselves, given how our actions affect and are affected by others. (2023)
G Greene, The Heart of the Matter (1950s?). Set during WWII in a British colony in West Africa, the novel follows the burdens of a basically upright police officer who, the reader quickly realizes, doesn’t understand himself—who/what he really loves, believes, and will do under difficult circumstances. Like the other two Greene novels I’ve read, the hero is Catholic who finds his faith tremendously burdensome and yet he sticks to it … to a point. Again like Greene’s other novels, adultery, hate, and alcoholic priests are central components to the story. Although it brings home several grave sins that seem very abstract to many—especially the futility of adultery and evil of sacrilege—and is emotionally powerful, the characters and events are exhausting, and not in the good, Dostoevsky-ish, way. By the end of the novel no character seems redeemable (and I mean “redeemable” literally). I’d like to recommend it, at least to Catholics (non-Catholics will find the whole thing just one more reason to despise Catholicism), but it’s too painful to do that. (2010)
Science-Fiction and Fantasy:
C. Liu, The Three-Body Problem (2006): A sci-fi political thriller the premise of which is that scientists around the globe are being killed or committing suicide and despairing of science—no one knows why. Intriguing, but … maybe if it hadn’t been over-hyped, I would give this a tentative thumbs-up—but I expected to be blown away and wasn’t. In fact, several flaws in the story-telling bugged me: the author seems to lose track of and forgets to resolve a major theme halfway through the book (a mysterious countdown); he forgets that the hero has a family (which appears in one chapter and is never mentioned/thought of again); a group of scientists are stumped about the erratic motion of the sun in a video simulation whose name is “three-body.” Etc. I do praise the story’s originality and the (Chinese) author’s courage for an unflinching portrayal of the Cultural Revolution. (Basically, it indirectly dooms the human race.) The first of a trilogy, but I probably won’t pick up the other two. (2024)
A. Foster (ed.), Betcha Can’t Read Just One (1993): This is a collection of humorous fantasy short stories, a niche genre if there ever was one. I picked it up on a whim because I had enjoyed novels by Foster when I was a teen. Most of the stories are amusing but not memorable; sort of SNL skits with a fantasy twist: funny premise, “meh” resolution, usually with a punchline you see coming. By far the best story is “The Smart Sword,” by Edward Whelan. If you can find this online, it’s worth the hour it’d take to read. Very funny. (2023)
K. Grimwood, Replay (1988): A man dies at age 43 but then starts reliving his life starting from age 18. The story is an obvious metaphor for a midlife crisis—a chance to make different choices, combined with fantasies about using one’s foreknowledge to get rich, live more selfishly, etc. So that happens, but then the “replays” keep happening at age 43, so the story gets more interesting. It had some original twists in it, but I was disappointed because of the hero’s basic selfishness throughout and cheery nihilism at the end. I expected the hero to have a serious moral realization, gratitude for the extension of his life, and for the opportunities to correct his own sins and to use his foreknowledge for deep good to/for friends and the world, but he does little of that. Left me thinking this was written by and for an atheist. Instead of reading this, go see Ground Hog Day, which came out a few years after and takes the same theme—and does it right! (2024)
N. Gaiman, Stardust (1999): This is basically a fairy tale set in a small village in 19th century England. The hero, Tristran Thorn, naively goes in search of a fallen star to bring it back to the girl he loves, and steps into Fairie, where things unfold in an unpredictable but almost familiar way—the star turns out to be a person, and to be being hunted by others as well. Having read a couple other things by this author, I picked this one because it was short. A good read, simple and magical. (2023)
All the other genres:
M. Duncan, The Storm Before the Storm: The Beginning of the End of the Roman Republic (2017). Everyone knows about Julius Caesar and Augustus, and how they sequentially converted Rome from a republic to an autocracy, a monarchy in all but name. This, however, is a quick paced history that covers the 150 or so years beforehand, when the laws and traditions of Rome were deeply undermined (arguably, destroyed) so as to make the rise of a monarch (and the dilution of rights and the rule of law) inevitable. The back of the book and its introduction draw parallels with contemporary politics (to demonstrate all-important “relevance”), but I was happy to see that the book itself really just focuses on the facts and is sparing about inserting a modern lens. Regimes change because a people changes; politics is downstream from culture. This history shows not only that the real decline and fall of Rome happened slowly but that it was well on its way almost a hundred years before the coming of Caesar, and several centuries before the Goths sacked the Eternal City.