Birthday Book Score

Well, in addition to the Les Paul my family got me for my fiftieth, I did receive a few birthday gift cards. Over the weekend I took Patch shopping with me and we picked up a bunch of books. Here’s what I scored:

The Sun Also Rises and For Whom the Bell Tolls, by Ernest Hemingway.

Sick and tired of all the limp-wristed SJW temper tantrums dominating the news cycle, I’ve been desperately on the lookout for something manly written by someone manly. A few books ago I completed the last tome of Rick Atkinson’s World War II “liberation trilogy,” The Guns at Last Light, and Hem was a minor character, popping up here and there as he propelled his jeep through war-torn France, binoculars, pistol, and flask ever at his side. What could be more masculine than that? True, I did read him way, way back in high school, though that was sadly wasted on a not-ready me. But I’m looking forward to both books, as they’re both now swinging bats in the On-Deck Circle.

A Voyage to Arcturus, by David Lindsey.

This will be my Halloween reading. I read it exactly ten years ago, and while I don’t recall all the details, I do remember it being creepy, philosophical, fantastical, and thought-provoking. I do remember thinking at the time that it needs a re-read in the near future. Well, a decade later, moisture, mildew, and possibly an encounter with flood water ruined my copy. Beneficiently, a newer ancient copy jumped out at me perusing the used book aisles with Patch. So I bought it, and come the fourth week in October, I will voyage again to Arcturus and try not to get too creeped out.

Le Morte d’Arthur, by Sir Thomas Mallory.

This has been on my radar forever, but never got around to seeking it out for a read. I’m a minor fan of the Arthurian legend, dating back to my nerd days. Read the Mary Stewart books in high school and re-read them two or three years back. Read the T. H. White classic to relax when not getting drunk as a college freshman. Read parts of Steinbeck’s book on the Round Table fairly recently. But this is the source material. This is reading J.R.R. as opposed to Christopher. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. Maybe around Christmas I’ll crack this one open.

I also picked up

100 Things Ranger Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die, by Adam Raider and Russ Cohen, as well as the current issue of The Hockey News.

This all came about from a decision to extend my metaphorical middle finger to the protesting millionaires in the NFL, by switching my limited TV viewing time to the NHL.

My household during my tween years, before my parents divorced, was a broiling roiling zone of Rangers hockey. Seemed just about every night during those late-70s winters a game would be on, though in truth I usually read a book on the floor and only glanced up at the screen when the adults jumped up and down, hooting and hollering in excitement. Skimming through the book though brought back memories: mostly names – Esposito, Maloney, Duguay, Murdoch, some guy named Ulf, and the more I thought about it the more visuals I recalled. Mostly of bloody noses and torn uniforms.

And from one of the trad Cath websites I’ve been frequenting of late, I ordered the following:

The Inside Story of Vatican II (formerly The Rhine Flows into the Tiber), by Ralph Wiltgen.

From Ecumenism to Silent Apostasy, an analysis compiled by the SSPX.

The Roman Rite Destroyed, by Michael Davies.

Time Bombs of the Second Vatican Council, by Fr. Franz Schmidberger.

These all should rightly be part of a separate post. For several months now, discontent with the pontificate of Jorge Bergoglio, I’ve been researching the recent Church past to discover how we’ve gotten to where we now are. I’ve learned about John XXIII, Paul VI, Vatican II, the SSPX, the FSSP, Sedevacantism, and have listened to countless hours of podcasts on the internet from all differing opinions. I’m slowly – glacially – coming to an internal consensus, though I must admit I still am awaiting firm convincing. But I’ll keep reading to fill that aching itch in my soul, for I fear we are on the wrong path, a path leading very far from where it promises to take us. More, much more, later, after I digest these works.

Until later … happy reading!