Tuesday, October 3, 2017

The Mythic and Heroic: "The Song of Hiawatha" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


I’ve been reading the epic poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, poems I read as a child and in junior high and high school English classes. These are poems like Evangeline, The Courtship of Miles Standish, and Tales of the Wayside Inn, which includes what is still one of the best-known poems in America, The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere.

Longfellow in 1855
The epic Longfellow poem I hadn’t read was The Song of Hiawatha. And I was drawn to it not because I hadn’t read it, but because of an insulting comment aimed in its and Longfellow’s direction. I read an interview with two poets who have both written non-fiction works about the value of poetry. One of them mentioned The Song of Hiawatha as having something that appealed to her, even though it was “to say the least, racially insensitive.”

My first reaction was a question. Why do we feel compelled to politicize everything? My second reaction was to seek out the poem and read it for myself. Having already read three of Longfellow’s epic poems, and discovering that in one of them – Evangeline – he had done something no one in America had previously done – find the heroic in Catholics – and knowing that the poet had also written poems against slavery which cost him sales of his books in the South, I wondered if the poem was as “racially insensitive” as the writer seemed to think.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Painting: Hiawatha, oil on canvas by Thomas Eakin (1874); Hirschhorn Museum.


Monday, October 2, 2017

“Little Boy Lost” by J.D. Trafford


Not many adult American read fiction these days, and that includes Christians of all varieties. The Washington Post reported on a study recently that says people who read fiction are more empathetic than those who do not. Buffer explored the same study and found nine benefits in reading fiction, of which increased empathy was only one.

Little Boy Lost by J.D. Trafford may go a step further. It’s a mystery novel, and specifically a legal mystery novel. The hero is a lawyer in St. Louis who has a struggling practice, despite his being a member of one of the city’s powerful political families. Justin Glass’s father is a congressman; his older brother is a state senator. Justin is another kind of man, however; he cares about the people of his city, and he represents all comers, including those who can’t afford to pay, which is most of his client base.

Justin lives with his daughter Sammy in a carriage house of a home owned by his grandfather. His mother lives in the house. The grandfather and the mother are white. Justin’s father is black. The reader knows going into the story that a major theme will be race, relationships with police, political power structures, and the poor who are too often caught in a system they can’t, and sometimes won’t, escape.

A little girl shows up with a jar of change and asks Justin to find her missing teenaged brother. There’s nothing new in a missing inner-city kid; it happens so much that it’s an accepted part of “the system.” But Justin decides to accept the request. He checks with his contacts at the police department. He starts reading files. And then the boy’s body is found in a county park’ along with the bodies of eight other boys, their hands in plastic hand ties behind their backs.

Suspicions center on a parole officer who happens to be a white supremacist and neo-Confederate. The news about the suspect goes public, and the city erupts in protest and violence. And if that had been the basic story, Trafford would have drawn just another race relations cartoon stereotype. But stereotypes are not where this story goes.

J.D. Trafford
Instead, we see race through Justin’s biracial eyes. There’s no question he considers himself a black man, but he doesn’t look at life, how own or that of others, in black and white or even shades of gray. Instead, he looks at life in terms of people, and he sees people who have value and people who matter, no matter their race, income and education level, or arrest record.

Trafford is the author of three legal mystery novels, No Time to Die, No Time to Run, and No Time to Hide. Graduated with honors in law, he’s been a civil and criminal prosecutor, worked at a large national law firm, and as a non-profit attorney. He’s lived in Washington, D.C. and St. Louis, and currently lives in the Midwest. He knows his St. Louis; this story is so well anchored in St. Louis streets, neighborhoods, landmarks, and people that it could almost serve as a reality tour guide.

Little Boy Lost is indeed a mystery story, but it’s far more than that. It’s a story of a city, a story about race, and a story that reaches for understanding in a way that newspaper articles and editorials never could. And it stands as a good reminder about why it’s important to read fiction.


Photograph of downtown St. Louis from the Arch by Kelly Sikkema via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Sunday, October 1, 2017

How prophets are honored


After Luke 4: 16-30

On the seventh day
or the first, he didn’t rest
but stood among them
and read the scroll he was
given. He read, rolled
the words up, and sat. A silence,
a pause, the waiting, and
then the words as he speaks
and beyond speaking the words,
he scratched their hearts,
scorched their ears, seared
their souls, the fulfillment
becoming a judgment. In dress
rehearsal, they dragged him
to the cliff, but he shook them off
and walked away, unharmed.
The time was not yet.


Photograph by Ben White via Unsplash. Used with permission.