Writings. Thoughts. Musings.

Category: Uncategorized (Page 2 of 4)

Say Goodbye to “William Wants a Doll,” and Prep Your Effete Son for Surgery.

Lefties Pushing Sex Reassignment for Kids Are Betraying the Lefties Who Worked to Break Down Traditional Gender Roles.

The recent torrent of gender-fluid nonsense has provoked all sorts of emotions within me, mostly negative. But the bright light among those stirred feelings was a vague nostalgia for Marlo Thomas. For decades she’s been the face of one of my favorite charities, St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital, founded by her father in 1962. But almost fifty years ago, the erstwhile That Girl poured her heart into a television special entitled, Free to Be, You and Me. The program aimed at breaking down the rigid gender roles that marginalized kids who didn’t neatly fit the mold, including so-called “sissy” boys and “tomboy” girls. The program urged its audience to accept the individuality and non-conformity of unconventional children who had their own gifts. It also scolded upstart children for entitled brattiness. How times have changed. A new generation of Liberal activists are now isolating the children Thomas celebrated, declaring them unfree to be, until they subject themselves to puberty blockers, chemical castration, and ultimately the mutilation of their sex organs. If “William Wants a Doll,” he must surrender his penis.

Now, I confess I’m not the biggest fan of effeminacy in men. But neither would I savor a hunting trip with George Patton and Omar Bradley. I recognize that humanity exists on a spectrum; the leadership qualities that drive a charismatic Alpha male often come with an overload of machismo I find grating in large doses, and the artistic gifts I admire in male artists often come with a touch of the fay. So be it. As long as effete men are not constantly agitating and injecting deviant sex into every situation, I’m not going to get my hackles up. I’m certainly not going to suggest they cut their peckers off and go pee in the ladies’ room. Yet, that’s what the modern Left demands.

That Leftist activists are crueler to their own than any conservative would dream of being should surprise no one. The Left always eats itself. Whether it’s environmental extremists putting union laborers out of work, uber-rich corporatists colluding to suppress wages and otherwise creating conditions that prevent the working poor from entering the middle class, or BLM activists burning down Black-owned businesses, the clients of the Democrat Party are always at odds. What unites Leftists is an abiding disdain for America and their conviction that they are better, smarter and more forward-looking than their benighted political opponents, who are captive to ancient superstition epitomized by The Ten Commandments and The Golden Rule.

That Leftists always turn on each other is a principle I learned in high school, studying Hannah Arendt’s treatise on totalitarianism. As Ms. Arendt explains it, totalitarian systems, whether they be Fascist, Communist, Googlist, NOWist, BLMist, or just College Democrats, rely on access to large numbers of expendable people. This is because the totalitarian system, to survive, must expand to capture more adherents and purge to demand rigid ideological conformity. Most people are expendable within totalitarianism, in that the system either absorbs them, thus stripping them of all individuality, or murders them to instill fear in everyone else, to solidify the total control the system seeks.

American Leftism is no different. It is driven to expand, since that is the only way to attain power in a democratic republic, and it demands ideological conformity through badgering, bullying and puerile name-calling. This is the basis for cancel culture, which, as anyone who has read the founding documents of the United States knows, is antithetical to American principles.

Perhaps the most aggressive and vicious segment of the American Left are its “trans” activists. These lunatics pretend to believe a litany of unbelievables, and seek to cancel anyone who tosses a nugget of reason their way. They respond to reason, as well as fourth grade science, much the way Christopher Lee overacts within gaping range of a crucifix. They have no rational basis for their beliefs, only intense feelings about the matter, which must be right, because they are theirs.

All of which would be well and good, if they weren’t preying on children. Imagine the level of depravity one must reach to decide that a child, in the throes of some whimsical fancy of being the other sex, needs to be hustled into a medical program that culminates in the irreversible removal of perfectly healthy organs. This is sadistic quackery from which Josef Mengele would avert his eyes.

There is a condition analogous to what the trans crowd is pushing, called Body Integrity Identity Disorder. With BIID, the sufferer believes he or she should be an amputee. It feels unnatural to have all their limbs or digits. Feeling anguish over their body integrity, they might request that a surgeon remove a hand, arm, foot or leg. Naturally, the surgeon recognizes this request as disordered, and knows the BIID sufferer is mentally ill. Yet, when the request is to have perfectly healthy breasts removed, as happened to the former Ellen Page, there are plenty of sadistic nuts, scalpels in hand, ready to assist with the “transition.” “Transition to what?” the sane mind asks, knowing that lopping off sex organs does not change a person’s sex any more than lopping off freckles changes their nationality. Ellen Page did not become a man by having her breasts removed, she became a mutilated woman, and no name change can disguise that fact.

When I was three, I wanted a doll carriage. My mother was pregnant with twins, so I had babies on my mind. My older sister had our mom’s stroller and pushed a doll around in it, and I wanted to give that a try. For some reason, my mother had another stroller, and she gave it to me with a doll to push around the apartment complex. I did that for about a half an hour, and then went back to playing with my trucks. Imagine if this had happened today and my mother was not a hard-boiled dame from Bushwick, Brooklyn, but a virtue-signaling, chardonnay sipping, avocado toast nibbling Liberal from Brentwood. My heart aches for all the perfectly normal kids who can no longer safely go through the many phases of childhood that children have always gone through, because maniacal vultures are ready to swoop down upon them, to sacrifice them body and soul to the god of this week’s agenda.

For five seasons, Marlo Thomas starred as aspiring actress Ann Marie in the hit sitcom.

And that brings me back to Marlo Thomas. She was a trailblazer, and in helping to break down rigid gender stereotypes, she delivered on the promise of “free to be, you and me.” But the push from today’s Left to gender-transition kids is the exact opposite. By hustling youngsters into medical and surgical processes that falsely promise to change their sex, trans activists are reinstating the rigid gender roles of old. Feminine boys? Impossible, they must be girls trapped in a male shell. Butch girls? They must be testosterone starved boys. It’s all utter nonsense, and of course, the proposed remedy is no remedy at all, as shown by the sky-high suicide rates of post-transition “transpeople.”

As a sensible liberal, back when that was possible, Marlo Thomas knew that even though “girls can be anything” and “boys can be anything,” there are limits. And that’s okay, because it’s kind of special that “Mommies can’t be Daddies” and “Daddies can’t be Mommies.” Today she would be pilloried for promoting that reasonable and self-evident notion. That axiom of biology and social order, which has stood unquestioned for 10,000 years of human civilization, is now “transphobic,” “hateful,” and “violent,” because a group of Leftist lunatics declared it so nine minutes ago.

Yet, what is truly hateful and violent is the Leftist transactivist prescription for feminine boys and masculine girls: rip out their genitals. I’m very glad I grew up in a time when we were free to be, you and me. For the sake of today’s children, I hope we get back there soon.

Kevin Rush is the author of three Catholic novels, The Lance and the Veil, The Wedding Routine, and Earthquake Weather.

Some of the links in this column may be affiliate links. When you click on an affiliate link and make a purchase, the website receives a small commission, at no extra charge to you. Thank you for supporting this website.

Pushing Back Against the Ipsoverbophobia of the Left

“How strangely will the tools of a tyrant pervert the plain meaning of words.”

Samule Adams

We are all accustomed to the way Liberals manipulate language so that they can dictate the terms of debate. It’s not abortion; it’s choice or reproductive freedom. It’s not the destruction of marriage; it’s marriage equality. Homophobia. Transphobia. All phrases designed to talk about something other than what is at issue and to brand anyone who disagrees with them a moral reprobate. The Left’s refusal to use words with clear meanings, so a debate can be had on actual merits of their positions, was never so fully and ludicrously on display as on July 12, when Senator Josh Hawley of Missouri attempted to extract a straight answer from Berkeley Law Professor Khiara Bridges. Seeking to demystify the professor’s convoluted language, the Senator said, “You’ve referred to ‘people with a capacity for pregnancy’ — would that be women?”

close up shot of a statue
Sam Adams scowling at the verbal obfuscation taking place in the US Capitol.

The professor then gave a recitation of all the people who, in her mind, are not women, who nevertheless have the capacity for pregnancy. It is worth noting that all the non-women the professor cited are, in fact, women. But before the Senator from the Show Me State could demand empirical evidence of the male pregnancy phenomena now sweeping the blogosphere, but yet to appear in reality, the professor from the erstwhile bastion of free speech attempted to shut him up with the accusation that his line of questioning was “transphobic.” His insistence on calling women “women” would incite violence against transpeople, though the only type of violence she mentioned was self-harm. Apparently, the Senator’s denial that transpeople exists would prompt them to commit suicide, thereby proving his alleged point, in rather macabre fashion. My sainted mother would have called that, “Cutting off your nose to spite your face.” (It’s also worth noting that as I’m typing, Microsoft Word, whose Editor function routinely lectures me about using more inclusive language, is putting a red line under transpeople. So maybe the professor needs to sit down with Satya Nadella.)

Fast-forward a few days and the Internet is bursting with commentary about how the Professor of Doublespeak schooled the Neanderthal Republican for his crude and cruel attempt to cancel transpeople. (Oops, another red line.) It seems that all the best people are using the phrase “people with the capacity for pregnancy” this summer, and only the riffraff are insisting on biology. If only there was a turn of phrase the good Senator could have used to counter the charge of transphobia. Not to refute, but simply to deflect, as the Left does. A dodge and a turning of the tables. After wracking my brain, I think I’ve found (coined) the perfect word: ipsoverbophobia. I like that it has a –phobia at the end, because that automatically proves the targeted person is irrational.

So, let’s replay the hearing, picking up where the professor said, “I would like to note that your questions are transphobic..”

But this time, Senator Hawley cuts her off with, “And I’d like to note that your responses are ipsoverbophobic. You clearly have an irrational fear of the plain meaning of words. You should be aware that failing to honor the plain meaning of words does violence to language. Your responses are thus violent and encourage violence. You are stripping words of their meaning, thereby impoverishing language. By eradicating all meaning and sense, you commit verbocide and encourage linguacide. In your ispsoverbophobia, you seek to impose new meanings on commonly used words and phrases, which can only be described as conquest and colonization of language. You are imposing slavery, as you make words carry the meaning you want, rather than their indigenous meanings. Eventually, words that have enjoyed long and fruitful lives, prospering in discourse for centuries, might suddenly disappear from the dictionary altogether, replaced by nonsense terms, which mean only what an individual speaker intends, not what an audience of listeners can comprehend. Ultimately, when language is totally void of meaning, the only form of communication will be blunt force. Thus, your ipsoverbophobia is not only neurotic and ignorant, but dangerous, because when you do violence to language, you do violence to humanity. When language has no meaning, when verbal communication is futile, the only way to make a point is with a smack upside the head. Thus, every marital spat becomes an opportunity for domestic violence. That you could encourage a such a transition from spoken communication to brute force in the nuclear age is unconscionable, and shows your intent to hasten the destruction of the human race.”

The beauty of ispoverbophobia is that it has unlimited uses. Every time The Left comes up with a new convoluted phrase, and disseminates it through their talking points network to get the whole choir singing in unison, all we have to do is respond with “You’re being ispoverbophobic!”

We can even start 501(c)3s to stamp out ipsoverbophobia wherever we find it. Restore the language and we restore the debate. Restore the debate, and the side with the best ideas wins.

Kevin Rush is the author of the screwball romantic comedy, The Wedding Routine, which Online Book Club calls  an “amazing book” with “dynamic characters” who “produce nothing but comic gold.”

Some of the links in this column may be affiliate links. When you click on an affiliate link and make a purchase, the website earns a small commission at no extra charge to you. These commissions help to support the website, so we thank you.

Why I Have Not Been Blogging

It’s been many months since I’ve blogged on this space, so an explanation is in order. The short of it is, I moved. And the home I bought needed—and continues to need—a lot of work. Some of that work I contracted and some I’ve been doing myself. Making my new home livable has placed demands on my time, as have all the other changes that come with settling into a new community. But the lion’s share of the work is done, and I can continue at a moderate pace with what remains. That will allow me to get back to my routine, so I hope to be posting more regularly here. But first, let me catch you up on things in Rushworld.

The author outside his new home.
  • I’m now officially a Yankee carpetbagger, having left the People’s Republic of New Jersey for a Free State in the southeast.
  • My mortgage payment for a three-bedroom house on .4 acres of land is less than the rent for my dingey studio apartment in New Jersey.
  • An electrician discovered bats in my attic, so I took the necessary steps to evict them, tacking up steel mesh over the eave vents and placing a bat-cone there for them to exit. I don’t know if they’re gone, or if I inadvertently sealed them inside. I’m afraid to go up in the attic.
  • I painted my living room, hallway, guest room and office, an experience which has thoroughly convinced me that I hate to paint.
  • I bought a piano, a fabulous Charles R. Walter upright with a beautiful walnut finish. I’ve had five lessons, and am coming along nicely.
  • I invited the pastor of my new parish to perform a house blessing. Afterwards, I treated him and four guests to a sumptuous four-course dinner. Then we opened up for the neighbors to drop by.
  • My backyard has an enormous oak tree, which is home to various species of birds. I enjoy watching them fly around.
  • I got a phone app for identifying the plants growing in my yard. Virtually every one is a “highly invasive weed, very difficult to eradicate.”
  • I have not gotten a dog.

Finally, The Wedding Routine continues to be a hit with readers. Here’s an excerpt from a Four Star Out of Four Review that appeared at Online Book Club:

How will Celia manage her struggling business, her difficult relationship with her business partner, and the prospect of new love? Find out in this amazing book.

There are a lot of positives in this book. The book has a lot of dynamic characters, from the exotic heartthrob that is Janos to the lovable nerd that is Rupert and the wise yet savage Father Burke; each character is so distinct, yet their interactions with Celia produce nothing but comic gold. Also, I love the balance of romance to comedy in the book. It is not so romantic that it makes you cringe and, at the same time, not so humorous that it loses substance. I also love the author’s use of imagery, particularly in parts where Celia narrates the terrible dancing she is witnessing; it makes for a hilarious experience.

If you haven’t gotten your copy of The Wedding Routine yet, I suggest you drop everything and place your order. Kevy’s got a mortgage to pay.

Some of the links in this column may be affiliate links. When you click on an affiliate link and make a purchase, the website receives a small commission at no extra cost to you. Commissions help support the website and future writing. Thanks.

Is Die Hard a Christmas Movie? Maybe, Virginia, It Might Be.

The final analysis of a holiday classic

There’s a scene in my romantic comedy novella, The Wedding Routine, where the good Fr. Burke tells his niece, Celia, “Your mother invited me for dinner and a Christmas movie. I lost the coin toss and had to watch Going My Way.”

“What did you want?” Celia asks.

Die Hard,” the priest responds, tossing in a “Yippee-ki-yay!”

While the exchange might earn an “Amen, brother,” from a large swath of the male population, rebelling against their significant other’s binge of Hallmark pablum, it’s likely to scandalize holiday purists, who insist on gentler fare. The purists naturally expect any priest worth his collar to stand athwart the inclusion of a mayhem-rich shoot ‘em up in the Yuletide viewing canon. Of course, the question of whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie is not as cut and dried as the pine clippings its stalwart opponents weave into seasonal wreaths. The question has divided households across the country ever since Bruce Willis exploded on the scene as John McClane in July 1988.

“Well, see, there you have it,” the naysayers will neigh. “The producers didn’t even think it was a Christmas movie. They released it as a summer blockbuster.” Yet, a cursory look at film history reveals that Miracle on 34th Street was released on June 4, 1946, and It’s a Wonderful Life was released on January 7, 1947. So, release dates are far from definitive. Twentieth Century Fox released Hoffa on December 25, 1992. I doubt they meant it as a stocking stuffer.

“No,” the purists riposte, “what matters is the spirit of the film! Peace on Earth and good will towards men!” I couldn’t agree more, except that the scripture quoted can also be read “Peace on Earth to men of good will.” Men of bad will are asking for retributive justice, and this they shall receive, courtesy of John McClane. In spades. Moreover, peace, considered in isolation, is a bland concept; it only takes on meaning when contrasted with the cruel, violent and chaotic world that exists most of the time. The Christ Child entered a violent world. You’ll recall that one of the Wise Men brought myrrh to the cradle, which is the Biblical era equivalent of bringing embalming fluid to a baby shower. Herod quickly demonstrated this world was not safe for children, and if it had been, the nativity would have had little meaning. And it hasn’t proven ipso facto impossible to tell a Christmas tale with violent elements, as in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, where beloved characters face the peril of being eaten alive, and Home Alone, where brutal violence is played for laughs. As an annual feast, Christmas often falls on violent settings, as the brilliant French film Joyeux Noelle demonstrates.

So, why do I think Die Hard might qualify as a Christmas movie? Not because it takes place on Christmas Eve, but because it delivers a Christmas message of reconciliation and restoration. In this film we see how, because of one’s man’s actions, evil is thwarted, lives are saved, and people are made whole again. True, John McClane’s actions are violent, but they are not unchristian. Taking up arms and suffering the rigors of battle in defense of innocent life is an act of Christian charity.

On Christmas Eve, New York City cop John McClane arrives in Los Angeles. He’s a tough-nosed detective who wouldn’t follow his wife out west because he had work to finish in his hometown. He is a public servant who bears the burden of others’ sins to protect his community. His dedication to his work has caused a rift between himself and his wife, Holly, who has chosen to climb the corporate ladder, depicted as a veritable tower of Babel at Nakatomi Plaza. As a reward for her worldly pursuits, she’s given a gold watch as a Christmas present. Yet, Holly’s heart is torn, because she desires a reconciliation with her stubborn husband.

Enter Hans Gruber with his crew of murderous thieves, who have taken the pursuit of worldly wealth to its mortal extreme. Gruber is truly “the prince of this world,” from whom John McClane, the suffering servant, must rescue it. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “A thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I have come that they may have life, and have it in abundance.” (Jn. 10:10) Such is the contrast in Die Hard between Hans Gruber, the thief, and John McClane, the cop.

Gruber is a proud and haughty evil doer who fittingly meets his end by being cast from his lofty height. Of course, before Hans makes his drop, he threatens to take Holly with him. He’s caught on her shiny, new wrist watch; only when John is able to unlatch the bracelet, breaking Holly’s attachment to worldly wealth, is she saved. Thus, we see play out before our eyes this passage of Mary’s Magnificat from Luke 1: 52: “He has brought down rulers from their thrones, but has lifted up the humble.” At the close of the crisis, John and Holly seem on their way to reconciliation, which is a very Christmassy theme.

We must also consider the plight of Sgt. Al Powell, who becomes John McClane’s partner on the outside. Having accidentally shot a child, Al cannot bring himself to draw his gun. Once a promising young cop, Al retreated behind a desk and now must answer to the ignorant and corrupt men who rose above him. Yet, through the experience he shares with McClane, Al finds the strength of spirit to draw his gun in a righteous moment and terminate a threat to innocent life. If the restoration of a generous and courageous spirit isn’t central to Christmas, what was Dickens thinking when he wrote A Christmas Carole?

Of course, on the other hand, action movies that dress up blood lust in vestments of virtue are doing a bait and switch. They draw the audience in by presenting a dire situation that demands manly valor, then continually up the stakes until you’re rooting for the hero to disembowel the villain and feast on his vital organs. When a film manipulates the audience into demanding a graphic cinematic execution as catharsis, we are now wallowing in that which our spirits had risen to oppose. The spectacle has dehumanized us in a way incongruous to the spirit of Christmas. Thus, after the last body drops, the seasonal music that’s suddenly piped in is not just ironic but jarring. Our nervous giggles, as the ultra-cool Dean Martin invites us to “Let it Snow,” underscore what we know in our hearts: these two hours were not exactly what Christmas is all about. We’ve been indulging a guilty pleasure that could land us on the Naughty List.

Ultimately, given the contrary, yet well-founded arguments, it’s safe to say the debate will rage on. So, if we really want to enjoy Peace on Earth this Christmas, we’ll have to learn to agree to disagree and limit our holiday conversations to safe topics like national politics.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Wedding Routine by Kevin Rush

The Wedding Routine

by Kevin Rush

Giveaway ends December 20, 2021.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

Disclaimer: Links in this column may be affiliate links. When you click on an affiliate link and make a purchase, the website receives a small commission at no extra charge to you. These commissions help to subsidize the website and support future writing. Thank you.

P.S. If you’re one of the way-too-many people who haven’t scene this Christmas gem, click now, and get it in time for Christmas. You’ll thank me.

If I Saw the Movie, Should I Read the Book? 2 Dystopian Futures

P.D. James emasculates a planet in Children of Men; Cormac McCarthy seeks salvation on The Road. By Kevin Rush

Released in 2006, but set in 2027, Alfonso Cuarón’s dystopian thriller, Children of Men is frenetic and at times intense, though ultimately incoherent and unfocused. In a near future where all women have become infertile, a disenchanted bureaucrat or journalist—it’s not clear—falls in with a band of violent extremists who needs his help to smuggle out of the country the first woman to become pregnant in a quarter century.

I saw this film when it first came out and didn’t much care for it. Cuarón was too busy weaving in themes of the Iraq War to focus on the central premise of the film: How would the world react to a global crisis of infertility? The fact that the human race is headed for extinction is incidental to Cuarón’s film, because, following 21st century trends of globalist adventurism, illegal immigration and terrorist reprisals, we’re going to kill each other anyway. Cuarón was also so seduced by the potential of emerging film technology to drop an audience into the middle of a video game, that he didn’t bother to immerse us in a story. Owen’s central character is mostly a hostage or bystander, dodging whiz-bang effects and only once rising to—not quite heroic, but stealthy—action.

The 1993 novel by British writer P.D. James is much more cerebral and clearly plotted than the film. Set in 2021, (how’s that for dystopian?) the premise remains the same, but the story is focused on the effects of the central phenomenon: infertility. The problem is not that women are barren, but that men cannot produce viable sperm. James’ dystopian future is a world of emasculated men, of which her Theo is emblematic. Though his name means ‘God,’ he is thoroughly impotent. Mourning the tragic loss of a child (an intense event rendered mundane in the film) and a subsequent divorce, Theo occupies a position as a university academic. And as if academics weren’t inconsequential enough, Theo hasn’t any students to teach. Although he’s mostly isolated within his shrinking community, the men around him are similarly useless.

James’ narrative does not match the film’s break-neck pace, as she paints her world in meticulous detail. Yet, that world is capable of erupting in sudden, senseless and brutal violence, even among those who are ostensibly trying to save it. In this way, James’ novel is a study on the consequences of eroding masculinity. Not peace and harmony as the “new man” advocates of the 70s promised, but downward spiraling disorder. This is a lesson for our age, where traditional masculine virtues are disdained, enabling the rise of venal, vain and scheming individuals, who have brought us to our current state of kakistocracy and civil unrest.

Ms. James does not provide an epigram indicating the source of her title. IMDB cites Psalm 90, which reads in pertinent part:

“Thou [God] turnest man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men.”

James is more than hinting that our straying from the natural order has led us to ruin.

In my search for a possible source of the title, I came across this quotation attributed to Helen Keller, which I also found apropos:

“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.”

Seeking illusory safety emasculates men who must strive, even at great risk, to remain vital. A society cheering the bravery of boys who steal track medals from girls needs to be reminded of the necessity of authentic masculinity. Children of Men jogs that memory, and for this I give it a mild nod. It’s thoughtful and creative, though in the final analysis, I think the awesome concept deserves both a better book and a better film.

Similar to Children of Men, The Road begins after an unexplained catastrophe has permanently altered the world. In The Road, we assume a nuclear war scorched the Earth, killing all plant and, eventually, animal life. All that’s left are a handful of human survivors, running short on food and time. In this setting, a terminally ill father takes his young son on a trek down a road towards the sea.

Released in 2009, The Road went nowhere. Despite a strong cast, which included Viggo Mortensen, Charlize Theron, Robert Duvall and Guy Pearce, and bolstered by newcomer Kodi Smit-McPhee, the film suffered from B-movie scripting and pedestrian direction. The script relies on voiceover exposition that reveals the horrors to come, robbing us of the surprises that were so devastating in the book. John Hillcoat, an Australian director mostly known for pop music videos, just doesn’t seem to have been up to the subject matter. I’d say he was painting by numbers, but like a child’s watercolor, all tones merged into a dull grey. His defenders might say that’s the world he was required to depict. Fair enough. Yet Cormac McCarthy depicts that world vibrantly and urgently in his novel, and Hillcoat was not able to transfer those emotions to film.

So, here’s where I confess I read the book before I saw the film. And I’m glad I did. Because, while the movie is not bad, the book is a masterpiece of American literature. Not that I thought it would be. When the book first came out, I passed on it, wondering why someone of McCarthy’s immense talent would care to revisit a tired scenario of the 1950s and 60s. But The Road is not a retread of On the Beach or Cat’s Cradle. It is a unique tale of a father’s love for his son, and his determination to protect him from rampant evil, preserve his innocence, and provide him a dignified life even among the ashes of civilization.

McCarthy’s book, which has been hailed as a great Catholic novel, brilliantly depicts the salvific purpose of remaining virtuous in a realm where evil is more seemingly advantageous. And unlike Hillcoat’s frontloaded film, McCarthy lets no detail of his world drop until the precise moment when it will have its most devastating emotional effect. The Road is a great story greatly told. These days, many people joke about hoping for the sweet meteor of death to snuff out what’s become of our world. The Road teaches us to be careful what we wish for, but also to make the most of it.

Disclaimer: Links in this column may be affiliate links. When you click on an affiliate link and make a purchase, the website receives a small commission, at no additional cost to you. These commissions help support future writing, like the book you see below.

You can freely support the success of my new book, The Wedding Routine, by entering our Goodreads Giveaway now!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Wedding Routine by Kevin Rush

The Wedding Routine

by Kevin Rush

Giveaway ends December 20, 2021.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

Enter the Goodreads Giveaway to Win a Free E-Book of “The Wedding Routine”

Enjoy a heartwarming tale of love for Christmas

As part of our promotional efforts for The Wedding Routine, we’ve launched a Goodreads Giveaway. One hundred lucky readers will win a free e-book version of this uplifting romantic comedy. Entering is easy and free! Just follow this link to Goodreads and sign up. In the first hour of the giveaway, more than 100 readers have entered! The contest runs for three weeks, and winners will have their downloads in time for Christmas.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Wedding Routine by Kevin Rush

The Wedding Routine

by Kevin Rush

Giveaway ends December 20, 2021.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

To Have and To Hold…for the Next Two Minutes!

Brighten your holiday season with this delightful tale of a struggling dance instructor who has all the right moves for wedding choreography, but can’t find the rhythm in her own romantic life. Comedic actress Laura Orrico calls The Wedding Routine, “real, raw and heartwarmingly funny.” Comedian Michael Pritchard calls Kevin Rush “a brilliant writer.”

Kevin Rush is the author of The Lance and the Veil, an adventure in the time of Christ, and Earthquake Weather, a novel for Catholic teens. He drew on his love of classic films and his years of experience studying Ballroom, Swing, Hustle, and Latin Rhythm dancing to write an engaging romance in the spirit of an old Bing Crosby Christmas movie. If you don’t want to wait for the chance of an e-book, the paperback version is available now. Just click the image below.

Disclaimer: Links in this column may be affiliate links. When you click on an affiliate link and make a purchase, the website receives a small commission at no extra charge to you. These commission support the website and my writing. Thank you for your support.

Get Ready to Cheer “The Wedding Routine”

Author Kevin Rush serves up a heartwarming romantic comedy just in time for Christmas

If you’re looking for a fun and uplifting read during the holiday season, you’ve just found it. Here’s the description from the back cover:

To Have and To Hold…for the Next Two Minutes!

Celia Cleary is a champion ballroom dancer who makes her meager living choreographing wedding dances. But when her uncle, a Catholic priest, implores her to “Help these couples commit to their marriage,” Celia is adamant. “I am not anyone to be giving relationship advice.” Now, with her love life in tatters, her studio on the brink of bankruptcy, and her three Christmas wedding couples barely on speaking terms, Celia must reassess her mission. Her business has been all about the two-minute routine: a picture-perfect image to cherish forever. But maybe forever needs a little bit more.

As always, Kevin Rush delivers unsparing reality, rapier wit, and a Christian heart that ensures an emotional payoff. Funny and heartwarming, yet grounded in the bittersweet angst of single life, The Wedding Routine is an uplifting tale of love for Christmas and any time of the year.

“The Wedding Routine is real, raw and heartwarmingly funny. In the “song and dance” of life, this lovely story teaches how to lead with your heart. It showcases how helping people not only benefits those receiving, but is therapeutic for those who give.”

 Laura Orrico, TV and Film Actress and President of Laura Orrico Public Relations, LLC

Kevin Rush is the author of The Lance and the Veil, an adventure in the time of Christ, and Earthquake Weather, a novel for Catholic teens. He enjoys Ballroom dancing, Swing, Hustle, and Latin Rhythm. His commentary is found throughout the blogosphere, including his own website, kevinrush.us.

How to Get Your Copy of The Wedding Routine

The Wedding Routine is available right now in paperback at Amazon. There should be no supply chain problems, because the books are printed in the good ol’ USA. If you prefer a Kindle edition, you’ll have to wait a bit, because we’re running a Goodreads Giveaway for the e-book format. You can take a chance on the Giveaway starting Sunday 11/28 at noon. The Giveaway will end a week before Christmas, so this lovely story will help you get into the holiday spirit.

Independent authors need your support!

As an independent author, I’ve got no publisher, distribution or promotion machine behind me. I rely heavily on word of mouth and social media postings. If you agree there’s a place in our culture for this kind of literature, and you want to help me reach my audience, here are a few steps you can take.

  1. It’s the season of giving, so why not buy a few copies to give to the readers in your life?
  2. Share this post and future promo posts on social media.
  3. Get the word out to friends who might be interested, especially avid readers and book club members.
  4. Go to Goodreads and enter the Giveaway, even if you’re going to buy a paperback
  5. While at Goodreads, mark The Wedding Routine “Want to Read”
  6. Once you’ve read the book, leave a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Positive reviews are like gold to independent authors.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Wedding Routine by Kevin Rush

The Wedding Routine

by Kevin Rush

Giveaway ends December 20, 2021.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

Thank you for your generous support during this busy Christmas season.

I hope that reading The Wedding Routine will make your holidays a little brighter, funnier, and heartfelt. Given what we’ve all been through for the last 20 months, we can use the laughter, the tears and the irrepressible optimism this book delivers.

Disclaimer: Links in this article might be affiliate links. When you click on a affiliate link and make a purchase, the website gets a small commission at no additional charge to you. These commissions support the website and my creative efforts. Thank you for your support.

If I Saw the Movie, Should I Read the Book? 2 Sci-Fi Classics

Principals collaborate for 2001: A Space Odyssey; director smears writer of Starship Troopers. By Kevin Rush

Boldly enigmatic, notoriously inscrutable, and featuring a grandiose fusion of classical music and cinematic images, Stanley Kubrick’s dazzling science fiction epic, 2001: A Space Odyssey has mesmerized and confounded audiences for decades. Released in 1968, 2001 was largely ignored at Oscar time. But today, the American Film Institute ranks it as the greatest science fiction film of all time.

2001 began as a collaboration between producer/director Kubrick and the famed sci-fi writer Arthur C. Clarke. The plot is drawn from Clarke’s 1951 short story, The Sentinel of Eternity, and deals with the essential theme of his 1953 novel, Childhood’s End, wherein extraterrestrial beings nudge along the final evolution of humankind. Childhood’s End solidified Clarke’s reputation, and he was eventually ranked as one of the ‘Big Three’ sci-fi writers of his generation, along with Isaac Asimov and Robert A. Heinlein. But with 2001, Kubrick and Clarke worked together to pen the screenplay. Clarke did not begin work on the novel, or the ‘novelization,’ until the film was already in the can. Yet, the success of the film, and the subsequent book, led to three more literary installments, as well as a movie sequel, 2010: the Year We Make Contact.

2001’s story is structured in three parts, starting in the prehistoric world of man-apes on the brink of starvation, because they lack the tools to survive in their hostile environment. One day, a strange, black monolith appears in their territory, then emits a piercing tone that agitates the man-apes. Soon after, their leader conceives of using the bleached bone of a fallen animal as a weapon. The man-apes then hunt, vanquish their enemies, and ensure the survival of their species. Fast-forward three million years, which passes in the toss of a bone and the blink of an eye, and the evolved man-apes, now fully human and capable of space flight, have found an identical monolith on the moon. Triggered by the light of the sun, the monolith sends a signal into space, and the curious humans dispatch a space ship to find the source.

Thus begins the second story segment, aboard the spaceship Discovery, nominally piloted by two astronauts, but actually under the control of a supercomputer, the HAL 9000. In a twist that mirrors the evolutionary jump of the man-apes, HAL imagines he must kill to survive. It’s the up to a surviving astronaut, played by Canadian actor Keir Dullea, to take the ship back from HAL and continue the mission. (At the time of his casting, Dullea seemed on the brink of stardom. But even though he gave a strong performance, 2001 did not propel his career to celestial heights. In fact, he soon retreated in obscurity. Thus was coined the Hollywood aphorism, “Keir Dullea, gone tomorrow.”)

The third segment follows Dullea’s character as he traces the signal to a moon of Saturn, on which an elder of the galaxy lies prone in a queen-sized bed in a hotel room decked out like a giant chess board, from which he mystically transforms Dullea into a giant, galactic fetus which drifts slowly back to Earth.

Although Clarke once said, “If you understand ‘2001’ completely, we failed,” he was concerned that the film was too hard to follow, and set out in his novelization to provide clearer explanations for the action . The final effect is the loss of the visual and aural wonder of Kubrick’s film, for which Clarke’s pedestrian prose is a poor substitute. Reading 2001 reminded me why I’ve only dabbled in Clarke’s writings, rather than devouring them. While his ideas are fascinating and intellectually stimulating, his storytelling doesn’t stir passion. His characters, all nice, conventional, bland folks, lack depth. And, while Clarke’s plots delve into the rich mysteries at the center of the universe, there’s no struggle between good and evil, no conflict of vice and virtue.

I also find Clarke’s atheistic vision deflating. If there is a supreme force in Clarke’s universe, it’s not a Creator God, but an evolved intelligence. This reminds me of a conversation I had once with an irreligious friend, who said the stumbling block for him was this question: If God created everything, what created God? That’s a mystery my religion doesn’t seek to answer, and the mantra that God ‘always was and always will be’ is unsatisfying to the analytical mind. But even less satisfying is the notion of human destiny being one part random evolution and one part alien manipulation. Clarke’s premise begs the question, ‘Who manipulated the first aliens?’ If no one, then how did they make their evolutionary jump? And if they could make it all on their own, why shouldn’t we be given the same freedom?

Ultimately, there’s little to be gleaned from Clarke’s book that’s not in the film. Clarke redresses a great wrong in the first sequence: the monolith is not the black slab the film’s art directors constructed, but the crystal prism Kubrick and Clarke had envisioned. But that tidbit is hardly worth slogging through what amounts to a mostly dull viewing guide for the movie. My recommendation for anyone who wants to understand the film is to forget the book. Just keep watching this magnificent movie until your own evolutionary switch flips and everything starts to click. If you want to go deeper, you can always pick up one of the sequels.

I must confess I didn’t see the 1997 version of Starship Troopers when it was first released, even though I had enjoyed director Paul Verhoeven’s previous sci-fi actioner Robocop. I skipped Troopers mostly because the trailer made it look like two hours of mindless bed-hopping and bug-zapping and because The Puppet Masters, the 1994 film of a Robert A. Heinlein novel, had been a ridiculous disappointment not worth the price of admission. Starship Troopers was popular enough to spawn a few sequels, but no one has ever seriously suggested it’s a great, or even a very good, film. Having seen it recently on cable, I’d call it a dull, noisy, directionless mess. The novel, however, is regarded as a science fiction classic. So, how do we explain that disconnect?

First, some context. Robert A. Heinlein is often called the Dean of American Science Fiction, having had a prolific career in which he established many of the sci-fi tropes that have become mainstays of the genre. A left-wing Democrat early in his career, Heinlein gravitated towards libertarianism and infused much of his writing with the politics of individualism. Some of his themes, such as plural marriage in his classic, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, created significant controversy. Yet, like most radicals, Heinlein was intensely interested in the edification of youth. He wrote a series of juvenile novels for Charles Scribner’s Sons that combined sci-fi with moral instruction (e.g., Red Planet, Starman Jones, The Star Beast). Starship Troopers was supposed to fit into that Scribner series, but the publisher rejected the book, and Heinlein took it to Putnam.

Thus, anyone picking up Troopers should understand it’s a YA book, meant to inculcate civic virtue in young readers. Thus, there is much inartful, “on the nose” dialogue that does not sound the way people actually talk. There are lectures galore from high school teachers and military superiors. And there is abundant moral reasoning that is sensible and provocative, including an ardent, well-reasoned defense of corporal punishment. Perhaps the best way to describe Troopers is as a dissertation on duty, played out against an interstellar war against marauding arachnids. 

Unfortunately, Verhoeven did not give Heinlein’s views a fair airing. In fact, his film seems determined to undermine the principles Heinlein sought to promote. For example, the society of Heinlein’s Troopers is multi-ethnic, encompassing all of a united Earth. Yet, Verhoeven’s cast is almost uniformly white, including Nordic beauty Denise Richards as the Latina Carmen Ibanez and Casper Van Dein (as Caucasian as that name would suggest) as the tale’s narrator/protagonist, Johnny Rico, who is a Filipino in the book. Critics have noted that Verhoeven intended to depict Earth as a utopian Nazi Germany—Because the military, duh—which is a lazy, myopic calumny against military service that is far too common among contemporary Hollywood elites. 

Almost always, Hollywood gets center-right politics deliberately wrong, as perverse payback for the industry’s completely reasonable response to the Soviet Union’s determined attempts to commandeer the American dream machine. Carrying an unquenchable torch for “the blacklist,” Hollywood Leftists gleefully portray anyone who believes in individual liberty as a fascist. This despite the obvious fact that fascism is a collectivist ideology that subverts individual identity by demanding subservience to an all-powerful leader. Y’know, like Communism. As for Heinlein’s novel, collectivism (could be Fascism or Communism) is the enemy, as depicted by the hive-mind of the bugs attempting to destroy humanity. Far from being fascists, the Troopers are volunteers—free to opt out at any moment—who risk all, not for an ideology, but for the people they love. 

Starship Troopers is worth reading if only so that Heinlein’s ideas, which are worthy of consideration, can come through unfiltered and undistorted. Verhoeven’s film smears Heinlein, and in doing so contributes to what is currently the dominant deceitful narrative of the political Left: that America is an imperialist nation driven by white supremacy. People who want the truth should read the book.

Disclaimer: Links in the article may be affiliate links. If you click on the link and make a purchase, the author gets a slight commission, at no extra cost to you. These commissions help support the operation of this website. Thank you.

If you’ve enjoyed this article, please look at some of our other pieces examining the books behind the moves, here, here, and here

If I Saw the Movie, Should I Read the Book? Weird Phenomena.

Bizarre animal, mineral, and human behavior in The Birds and Picnic at Hanging Rock. By Kevin Rush

Halloween is finally in the rearview mirror, but we can still talk about eerie goings on that capture our cinephile imaginations. Today, two haunting tales of enigmatic terror.

Tippi Hedren was billed as the “new Grace Kelley.”

In this droll, long-winded trailer, Alfred Hitchcock sets up the premise of his 1963 film, The Birds. We’ve feasted on them since the beginning of time, and now they’re set on revenge. Chickens coming home to roost, one might say. Of course, that’s just conjecture, since none of the angry avians are of the speaking variety. Where’s a magpie when you need him? Maybe we shouldn’t have killed that mockingbird.

Hitchcock’s last great film was a first for his leading lady, Tippi Hedren. Since Princess Grace had retired from pictures in 1956, Hitchcock had run through a gamut of blonde actresses, earnestly searching for a suitable replacement. Doris Day, Kim Novak, Eva Marie Saint and Janet Leigh gamely faced various perils, but were not invited back. Then Hitchcock spotted Hedren in a soda commercial and signed her to a seven-year contract. Melanie Daniels was Hedren’s first credited role at 33, well past the debutante age, especially for a Hollywood starlet. She would have a long career, but would only make one more film with Hitchcock, Marnie in 1964.

The Birds employed various techniques to get the attack scenes right, including hand-puppets, mechanical birds and live, trained birds, reportedly fed whisky-soaked wheat to make them docile. The birds’ flapping made traditional blue-screen filming impossible, so the company had to employ a sodium vapor process to do the composites. The only studio equipped to manage the process was Disney, so a deal was struck to do filming there. The decision paid off, as The Birds was nominated for the Special Effects Oscar, but lost to the overpriced box office dud, Cleopatra. It was the last Oscar nomination for a Hitchcock film.

The source for The Birds was not a novel, but a short story by Daphne du Maurier, whose novel Rebecca had inspired Hitchcock’s only Best Picture Oscar-winner. The story is set in a coastal village in England and concerns the efforts of a laborer to save his wife and two young children from the inexplicable attacks. Cut off from the rest of the world, they seek the means to survive on their own. The story is chilling, and had caused a stir when it was released in 1955, sparking TV and radio adaptations. Hitchcock immediately purchased the film rights, though he didn’t consider making the movie until a bizarre seabird attack on the coast of California revived his interest.

Though she signed a seven-year contract, Hedren would only make one more film with Hitchcock.

The story has no characters in common with the film. And Hitchcock moves the setting to Northern California, no doubt to appeal to American audiences and to capitalize on any free publicity that references to the seabird attack might generate. Hitchcock’s film also departs from du Maurier’s story in his suggestion of the birds’ revenge motive. In du Maurier’s story, townsfolk note the bitterly cold weather as a cause for strange migration patterns. Something has gone on in the arctic, and it’s suggested the Russians might be behind it. Written during the Cold War, du Maurier’s story could be seen as a paranoid fantasy or a warning about Communist aggression. Could they actually turn nature against us?

Hitchcock went out of his way to make his film apolitical: the fault, if any, lies with all of humanity, the way we treat the planet and the lesser species in it. Of course, today, that angle is thoroughly politicized…with noticeable undertones of Communism. Or maybe that’s just this writer’s paranoid fantasy. At forty pages, du Maurier’s story is worth a read on a cold, windy night.

Theatrical trailer for Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975)

On St. Valentine’s Day, 1900, students from a girls’ school in Victoria, Australia enjoy an annual field trip to an odd rock formation, where two of the girls and a teacher mysteriously vanish. The fallout from that event and its effects on the school and various characters involved in search and recovery form the basis for Peter Weir’s 1975 film Picnic at Hanging Rock.

That picture put the Australian director on the map and set him up for stellar success in the 1980s with hits such as Gallipoli, Witness and Dead Poets Society. In Hanging Rock, Weir, who has expressed his preference for the mystery over its solutions, paints a picture of a repressed society where man is so artificially separated from nature that nature itself revolts to reclaim its own.

From its ethereal opening, infused with the primitive, otherworldly notes of a tin whistle, Weir goes out on a limb to suggest a paranormal explanation for the disappearances at the eponymous volcanic formation. The result is a very ‘70s cinematic experience that tends to overshadow the human drama of those left behind.

By contrast, Joan Lindsay’s 1967 novel (the author’s first at the age of 70!) is more restrained. Part reportage, part comedy of manners, part social criticism, and part procedural mystery, Lindsay’s story unfolds deftly and patiently. (Lindsay is much more patient in the telling than I was in the reading, devouring several chapters at a time.) Yet, roiling below the surface is a suspicion that something evil this way has come. Is it black fate or human frailty that brings cascading tragedy? Lindsay knows better than to intrude on her readers’ internal debate. Artful and delicious throughout, it’s a novel well worth discovering.

Disclaimer: This post may contain affiliate links. When you click on the link, the author receives a small commission on purchases for a limited time at no additional cost to you. These commissions help ensure future posts. Thank you.

Unearthing the Catholic Spirituality of Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Author Kevin Rush reflects on a favorite book of his adolescence

After my rant on another space against what Halloween has become, I thought I’d revisit what Halloween once was. A kid’s day of campy fright and copious candy? Of course, there was that, but there was also a sense of horror, closer to its original meaning. The word has Latin roots, stemming from the verb “to bristle,” as in hair standing on end, due to dread—and get this—veneration and religious awe. This is what separates classic horror from conventional slasher films. Horror is not just the fear of temporal harm or torment. It’s the dread of a supernatural force that attacks us on the spiritual level.

For me, nothing I’ve ever seen or read captures that definition so completely as Bram Stoker’s celebrated horror novel, Dracula. The horror Stoker depicts isn’t simply creepy or scary, it’s cosmically consequential. Deranged murderers wielding machetes or chainsaws are frightening, but they cannot touch their victims beyond the grave. Mourners can bury them believing they’ll rest in peace. But Stoker’s novel is horrifying, because he threatens the notion of eternal rest. Stoker creates a world of perverse religious veneration, where the Count is a false god, collecting souls as well as strewing corpses. Dracula is whom Jesus warned us to fear in Matthew 10:28: “…do not fear those who kill the body, but are unable to kill the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.”

I first read Dracula the summer after sixth grade. I was proud of myself for tackling such a huge book and the elevated language of Victorian England. It was corny for sure, but the melodrama was seductive. I also loved the form; Dracula is an epistolary novel whose story unfolds through diary passages and letters, depicting the points of view of various characters. As a kid who imagined he might someday write books, this model, artificial as it was, intrigued me. And gaining comprehensive vampirical knowledge from an authoritative source was pretty cool, too. Regarding Drac himself, what grabbed me most was not the relentless evil of the villain, but that all hope in overcoming that evil lay in the sacred instruments of the Catholic faith.

I decided to re-read Dracula to see what I’d think about it 50 years later. I found flaws in plotting and characterizations that I hadn’t noticed at 12 years old, and was much less patient with Van Helsing’s hugger-muggery and the lengthy, lugubrious passages reciting the characters’ inner turmoil. But bright as ever was the ardent hope that—through the instruments of faith, including the true presence of Christ in the Eucharist—these outmatched characters could triumph over a Prince of Darkness.

The story begins with Jonathon Harker in Transylvania on business. When the old innkeeper learns he’s headed for Castle Dracula, on the Eve of St. George’s Day, when “all the evil things of the world will have full sway,” she places a Rosary around Harker’s neck “for your mother’s sake.” The peasants cross themselves with dread and mutter words he takes to mean Satan, hell, witch, were-wolf and vampire. Later, as a guest in Dracula’s castle, Harker cuts himself shaving. His blood incites lust the Count cannot control. If not for the crucifix hanging from his neck, his host would have made short work of him.

Bram Stoker followed up his Dracula success with another tale of vampirical horror.

It’s worth emphasizing that the crosses in Dracula are not the bare Protestant variety we see in the movies. These bear the corpus of Christ, which makes them, to Harker’s enlightened Church-of-England mind, “a symbol of idolatry.” But Stoker goes further in employing the Body of Christ, actually using the Eucharist as a defense and barrier against the Un-dead. Van Helsing, a Catholic Dutchman, crumples a host into a wad of dough to make putty to seal a vampire’s tomb. He gives his team of vampire hunters a piece of the host to guard their bodies. He also plants consecrated wafers in the crates of soil Dracula has imported, so the vampire cannot retreat to them for rest. This may seem like desecration, but Van Helsing says he has “an indulgence” for this necessary work.

Details of the story illustrate that Count Dracula poses a much greater threat than your garden variety homicidal maniac. The mad-house inmate Renfield devours insects alive because he craves life, but firmly denies any interest in consuming “souls.” That’s the purview of the twisted one he calls his “Lord and Master.”

Romanian actor Bela Lugosi set the standard for the role of Dracula starting in 1931

Professor Van Helsing explains “When [the Un-dead] become such, there comes the curse of immortality; they cannot die but must go on age after age adding new victims and multiplying evils of the world.” This curse is the mirror opposite of the blessing of eternal life given the saints who intercede in this world for the cause of holiness. A victim’s soul is imprisoned unless, through “true death,” it can be set free. Catholics can understand “true death” as death to sin, the conquest of which leads to eternal life. Afterwards, “Instead of working wickedness by night and growing more debased in the assimilation of it by day, [the victim] shall take her place with the other Angels.”

fashion man love people
Yet, even before death, a soul under the sway of a vampire is “unclean.”

Yet, even before death, a soul under the sway of a vampire is “unclean.” Mina Harker is brutally violated and, through no fault of her own, placed in immortal jeopardy. A touch of the sacred host to her forehead burns, leaving a shaming scar. In our current culture, this unfairness would prompt ceremonial book burning. But Stoker is willing to write for a world that is not always fair, and which requires heroic action, rather than student walkouts, to right an obvious wrong. To save a soul in jeopardy, we must place our own souls in jeopardy. Life doesn’t get more consequentially Christian than that.

London-born actor Christopher Lee began his long run as the Count in 1958.

As the Catholic Van Helsing explains, “Till then we bear our Cross, as His Son did in obedience to His will. It may be that we are chosen instruments of His good pleasure, and that we ascend to His bidding as that other through stripes and shames; through doubts and fears, and all that makes the difference between God and man.”

Though rarely recognized as such, Dracula is one of the great Catholic novels in the English language. I got severe pushback on that statement from someone whose opinion I respect. He asserted that Dracula does not edify, but at best encourages a superstitious faith. But that’s only true if we start to believe in vampires. Stoker is hardly encouraging the reader to take Van Helsing’s prescriptions literally. But taken as a metaphor, the Dracula tale strips away the mundane reality that clouds our vision and serves up the existential truth of human existence: we are in a life and death (undeath) struggle of good versus evil. In this way, Bram Stoker’s Dracula serves the true purpose of horror: to scare us straight and put us on the earnest path toward heroic virtue and perhaps even holiness.

Disclaimer: Links in this column may be affiliate links. If you click on an affiliate link, the author receives a small commission on purchases for a limited time at no additional cost to you. These commissions help ensure future posts. Thank you.

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