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Marchetta, Melina. 2008. Jellicoe Road.

Prologue:

My father took one hundred and thirty-two minutes to die. I counted. It happened on the Jellicoe Road. The prettiest road I'd ever seen, where trees made breezy canopies like a tunnel to Shangri-la. We were going to the ocean, hundreds of miles away, because I wanted to see the ocean and my father said that it was about time the four of us made that journey. I remember asking, "What's the difference between a trip and a journey?" and my father said, "Narnie, my love, when we get there, you'll understand," and that was the last thing he ever said.
We heard her almost straightaway. In the other car, wedged into ours so deep that you couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. She told us her name was Tate and then she squeezed through the glass and the steel and climbed over her own dead--just to be with Webb and me; to give us her hand so we could clutch it with all our might. And then a kid called Fitz came riding by on a stolen bike and saved our lives. Someone asked us later, "Didn't you wonder why no one came across you sooner?" Did I wonder? When you see your parents zipped up in black body bags on the Jellicoe Road like they're some kind of garbage, don't you know? Wonder dies.

Powerful, isn't it? I won't lie...Jellicoe Road is a difficult read in many different ways. But worth it? Yes! Resoundingly yes! Why is it difficult? It weaves two stories together. The stories are seemingly unconnected...at least in the beginning. And because you--the reader--don't know what is going on...it's easy to get frustrated. Easy to get confused. We've got the past--from which the prologue serves as an introduction--and the present. (In a way it reminds me of Tamar.)

The present. We've got several teens whose lives intersect--Taylor Markham, Ben Cassidy, Jonah Griggs, Chaz Santangelo, Raffaela, Jessa McKenzie--of whom Taylor is the main character. Taylor doesn't know where she fits in, "One day when I was eleven, my mother drove me out here and while I was in the toilets at the 7-Eleven on the Jellicoe Road, she drove off and left me there. It becomes one of those defining moments in your life, when your mother does that. It's not as if I don't forgive her, because I do" (20). Taylor is one of many students at Jellicoe School, a boarding school; she's the leader of her dorm or "house". (There are six houses.) And the school tradition is that there are "wars" between three sects--those that live at the boarding school (led by Taylor), the Townies (led by Chaz Santangelo), and the Cadets (led by Jonah Griggs). These wars involve territories. And these games last six weeks or so. And they're a big deal for those involved. But what at first seems like a senseless, pointless book on children playing war--tactical strategies, trapping, pranking, and such--soon turns into an emotional journey of the heart, soul, and mind.

Taylor Markham is concerned, worried, anxious about Hannah, a woman who is the closest thing she has to family, when she disappears without a word. One day she's there, the next day she's gone. And Taylor can't get a straight word out of any of the adults around at the school or in the town about Hannah's whereabouts. Taylor--though Hannah is still missing--likes to take refuge in Hannah's house. She loves to read Hannah's manuscript, for example, which is the story of five kids who live on Jellicoe Road: Tate, Narnie, Webb, Fitz, and Jude.

I don't want to spoil this one in any way. But I think this *may* help readers out a bit. I didn't catch on that the italicized portions--the stories of Tate, Webb, Narnie, Jude, Fitz, etc.--were written down stories. That Taylor was reading something Hannah had written down. I'm still not sure all of them are meant to be. But I think some of them are. And it is these stories which help Taylor to piece everything all together. (I had assumed that they were flashbacks. That they were there for the reader's benefit, but not for the characters within the book.)

This is a book that had to grow on me. It wasn't one that I knew I would love--or thought I would love--from the very first page. But by the time the story comes together, by the finale, it had me completely won over. The story is intricately told and well written. Haunting, yes. Bittersweet, definitely. But one that I think is worth reading and recommending.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

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Kephart, Beth. 2008. House of Dance.

You cannot buy a man who is dying a single meaningful thing. You can only give him back the life he loved, and wake up his memories. (98)

Rosie, our narrator, is fifteen the summer she learns her grandfather is dying of cancer. And so begins Rosie's daily journeys, he lives across town. A walk or quick bike ride away. It is then that she begins to learn his life stories, to see him in a whole new light, to rediscover what his life was all about. She begins to take inventory of his life--of his house, of his possessions. With almost everything there is a story. Some things are placed "In Trust." Other things are thrown away. Each day is an adventure. Each day is a gift.

Rosie develops a special bond with her grandfather and begins to love him or understand him in a way she hadn't before. When she stumbles into a dance studio--near his home--she decides to do something uncharacteristic for her. She decides to take dance lessons, private dance lessons. She hopes to give him a party to celebrate his life, to show him just how much she loves him. "The dance was alive. That was what I knew. The dance was something whole. The dance was hope, and hope was what I needed most of all the summer my granddad died. Hope was what I began to put In Trust, above all other things. Hope, which comes in all the brightest colors." (92)

Why did she choose dance? Ballroom dance? Her grandmother loved to dance, loved to wear red, loved to be vibrant. And her grandfather loved to watch her. Loved to listen to music--music from the Rat Pack, for example, and other legends in jazz and swing.

Rosie's life is far from perfect. There is her absentee mother that is in a relationship with a married man. A woman who cares more for her foolish love affair than taking care of her own father. It is Rosie--not her mother--that tends to him, visits him, loves and adores him. We don't see a full picture of Rosie's life. We don't see her interacting with her best friends, flirting with cute guys, going shopping, etc. We see a small slice of Rosie's life. We see a tender and intricate relationship developing between grandfather and granddaughter.

Rosie may think her greatest gift was the gift of dance, the gift of celebrating him and his life one last time, but her greatest gift was her time, was herself. Their souls touched and danced that summer as they shared each day together.

Tender story. Loving portrayal of an ugly time. Dying isn't pretty. It can tear you up and bring you down. If you let it. Rosie found a way to bring hope and courage and integrity to the situation. And you've got to love that. I loved Rosie for her strength, her courage, her love. Great character. Great book.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

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Season of Ice by Diane Les Becquets. 2008.

In the beginning there was snow.

Season of Ice is a bittersweet novel--more bitter than sweet--about a teen girl, 17 to be exact, Genesis, coming-of-age after her father's tragic accident one winter day. Genesis is a strange-to-me character. She races cars on the ice--the frozen lake near her home. And she's good at it--really good at it. Often if not always beating the men she races against. Her father disappears one day in November. He left her at her Uncle Perry's auto shop. He was going out doing an odd job--a repair job--on the lake. His truck and his boat were found--one that day, one the next--but his body was never found. The search was called to a halt when the ice came, when the lake froze over. Nothing more can be done. Not till the thaw comes. A family's grief becomes frozen in place as well.

Genesis lives with her step mom, Linda, and her half-brothers, Scott and Alex, twins, age 8. Their relationship was tense to begin with, before her father disappeared, before he was presumed dead. Now that he's gone, they're in a holding pattern. Genesis does love her brothers--very much. And they are enough to tie her to this family. But her relationship with Linda is delicate and awkward.

The book is a story (fictional of course) of how she copes with the loss of her father--the grief in all its stages. It's a story of how she reconciles her current life--with all its changes--with her past. She can't go back. Her father is gone. There is no getting that love, that innocence, that happiness back. But she does have to learn to move forward. Somehow. As impossible as that seems. It is a story of her search for acceptance and peace.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

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Smith, Jennifer E. 2008. The Comeback Season.

Opening Day at Wrigley Field isn't always April 8. It's not like Christmas or the Fourth of July, with their dependable calendar slots, the reassurance of a fixed number.

Ryan Walsh is a baseball loving teen who is still aching over the loss of her father--five years or so previous--her mother and sister may have moved on...her mother has remarried and is expecting a baby even. But Ryan can never forget her father--the man who taught her how to keep score while watching the game. The man who passed on his love for the Cubs. That the anniversary of his death should fall on Opening Day? A sign that she should skip school and go to the game.

Ryan is in many ways a girl after my own heart--"she doesn't care about makeup or jewelry, and has grown used to getting the once-over for her lack of fashion sense, an up-and-down stare reminiscent of the way her mom studies produce at the grocery store. Ryan prefers ponytails to curling irons, the soapy smell of her shampoo to the fruity ones all the other girls use. She feels most put together when wearing jeans, and she would never trade her flip-flops for a pair of heels. And mostly, she's okay with this." (27) And this telling passage as well--"Given the choice between future and past, she would always and without hesitation choose to move backward, and for years she has lingered through her life in this way, loitering and meandering, a wanderer with the most aimless of intentions." (38)

On that fateful day, April 8, Ryan meets Nick. Okay, so they've been going to the same school together. And true, she's seen him around enough to know that he's her classmate. But on this day--the two share a purpose--to catch the Cubs game. The two begin talking, chatting, and soon it looks like a beautiful friendship is born. Could it be more than friendship? Ryan certainly hopes so. There is an easiness, a rightness, about when they are together. Perhaps Nick says it best, "Sometimes I feel like talking to you is the same as talking to myself. Like you already know all there is to know, so there's no point in explaining..." (123) For Ryan to find love with Nick, she'll have to risk her heart--risk that it could be broken once more.

The Comeback Season is a bittersweet novel about life, love, hope, and redemption. You don't have to love baseball to love this novel. (Though if you do, it might mean that much more to you.) Ryan Walsh is a character that I won't soon be forgetting. I ache when she does. And her hope became my hope.

This is Jennifer E. Smith's first novel, and it is definitely recommended.

Other reviews: The Compulsive Reader, Not Acting My Age, TeenSpace Blog, Shooting Stars Mag, The Story Siren, Let(t)'er Rip, A Patchwork of Books.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

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Crane, E.M. 2008. Skin Deep.

First sentence: My name is Andrea.
Last sentence: Then it goes dark again.

Andrea Anderson is a nothing, a nobody, but she's fortunate to be an unnoticed nobody. "That's one thing about high school I've learned--even when you're unnoticed, there's usually someone else with a more painful role than loneliness. Girls who get their bras snapped in gym class, boys who endure a fist squashing their brown-bag lunches in the cafeteria. Both noticed and hated. Sometimes that's a solace, to not be one of them." (7)

She's a sophomore in high school. And her life is about to change forever.

Mrs. Menapace. That "crazy" neighbor down the street. When her neighbor is hospitalized, Andrea ends up with the "duty" (that soon becomes a pleasure) of taking care of Mrs. Menapace's dog. A young teen girl. A large and lovable dog. A woman dying of cancer. (And that's just the start of it.) All the makings for a good coming-of-age novel, right? Well, I think so at least!

The writing is really good. Descriptive yet sparse. Very stylistically pleasing.

270 pages.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

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Dobkin, Bonnie. 2008. Neptune's Children.

From the jacket flap: "A dream vacation at the Isles of Wonder theme park becomes a nightmare when biological terrorism causes the death of every adult on the Islands. Younger teens and children survive, only to face the resulting horror and the chaos of a world without authority. The figure of King Neptune, symbol of the Islands, unites them as they begin to build a society within the park, safe from outside dangers. Led by a group called the Core, made up mostly of former park workers' children, the survivors slowly organize their world. But when mysterious events bring danger, some of the Islanders begin to wonder if their home is as safe as they think and if their leaders can really be trusted. As suspicions grow and rivalries intensify, the stage is set for a war that will determine the future of everyone on the islands."

Intrigued? I know I was. The plot centers around Josh and his "family." (He's an older younger teen--13 or 14--and he's caring for his younger sister, Maggie. From the very beginning, he pairs up with another set of siblings--Zoe and Sam. Together they form a family unit.) In the first few days after IT happens, there is confusion. But within 48 hours, order and structure and authority are introduced into the theme park. Josh is one of the contributors to the sanity. The "king," the boy behind King Neptune's oddly soothing voice, is Milo. He calls all the kids together and asks the older ones--minus the babysitters--to help him. Josh is one of his volunteers, and for a while he is one of the Core, but his "family" responsibilities soon prove more important than his social ones. Through the course of a year--a little over a year--these kids survive on their own without too many glitches, but soon that changes. Little questions, little doubts, a few things that rub our characters the wrong way. Why? Why is Milo so insistent that no one ever leave the theme park? Why can't they have the freedom to leave if they want? To explore the outside world for themselves?

While some adults (and a few teens) might find this one predictable, there is much to enjoy in Neptune's Children. I found that even if I was fairly certain where everything was going, I wanted to be along for the ride, for each step in the journey. It was definitely a page-turner for me. Reminiscent of both a Star Trek episode and a Twilight Zone episode, this one was a darkly fun read.
© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

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O'Dell, Scott. 1960. Island of the Blue Dolphins.

If as a child I read Island of the Blue Dolphins, I must have blocked it from my memory. And there's a good reason for that: 1 dead father +1 dead brother +1 dead dog + countless years spent alone on an island trying to survive the elements and cope with the loneliness = 1 book I'd just as soon live without. Sometimes I try to fool myself into thinking that I'm all introspective, that I am happy with my alone time. It doesn't work for long. I need people. Not 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. But given enough "alone" time, I start to go crazy.

Island of the Blue Dolphins is about a girl, Karana, and her slightly unusual coming-of-age story. It is based on a true story. Which *should* logically make the dead father, the dead brother, the dead dog, etc. easier to accept because it is so authentic. The author's note says, "The girl Robinson Crusoe whose story I have attempted to re-create actually lived alone upon this island from 1835 to 1853, and is known to history as The Lost Woman of San Nicolas." I cannot imagine, can't fathom, the emotional, mental, and physical strain of such loneliness. To not only have to have the strength and courage and common sense to survive day after day and season after season and year after year, but to have to live with everything psychologically speaking.

The novel begins with the arrival of the Aleuts. Karana's tribe welcome halfheartedly these strangers onto their shores. These hunters are here to kill sea otters. They agree to pay for this privilege; however, there is some distrust. Her family, her community, are unsure about the trustworthiness of these men, these strangers. But what can they do? If they don't allow them to hunt, won't that be challenging them and provoking a war? If they do allow them to hunt, and they don't get what has been promised, that is a challenge or threat of war as well. But there is a small chance that they might actually be honorable. I don't know if there is a right or wrong way to go about it. What is, is.

As you might have guessed, these men are not honorable. And the community is practically slaughtered. By the time these strangers leave, the tribe is down to fifteen men--most of them old men or young boys. There are only a handful of men physically and mentally capable of leadership. Karana's father, the chief, is one of the men that died. She does witness it--from a distance I believe.

The people then decide, over the next few years or seasons, that the island has too many bad memories. That they should try to move to another island. One man goes off in search of a new home, and he later sends a ship back for the rest of the tribe.

The problem? Karana's brother misses the boat. He went back home to get his spear despite Karana having told him NOT to go because there wasn't enough time. She's safely on the boat, but her brother isn't. As they're leaving, she realizes that he is not there. She even, I believe, sees him on the shore. She jumps into the sea and swims home. The tragedy of it all? Within a few days--maybe even that same day--her brother is dead--mauled by a pack of wild dogs. So her brave attempt to be a good big sister is all in vain. Now she's alone, alone, alone.

Perhaps some people love the Robinson Crusoe of it all. I'm not one of them. I didn't like Robinson Crusoe in school--hated it in fact. And this doesn't really read like Swiss Family Robinson. For one thing, it's realistic. But another thing, it's the story of one person's isolation. Maybe the book doesn't focus on the alone-ness of it. But as a reader, it was something I couldn't escape. How do you keep your sanity when you are all alone for years and years?

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She is eventually rescued. But she is never reunited with her community, her tribe. What is perhaps sadder is that she could only communicate with others in signs. No one understood her language, and she couldn't understand other languages. So even supposedly-rescued, she remains isolated in a way. I can't imagine being unable to communicate fully and freely. To be alone in your own little world. There is something so troubling about this whole mess. People need to be heard, be understood. They need to connect.

I think there are many many people who love this book. I don't know that I can grasp the why of that love. But it's there just the same. I am not one of them. This book has a haunting sadness, a heartbreaking melancholy that I just DON'T want to experience again.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

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Schmidt, Gary D. 2008. Trouble.

Henry Smith's father told him that if you build your house far enough away from Trouble, then Trouble will never find you.

Henry is the youngest in the Smith family. His older siblings, Franklin and Louise, attend high school. Franklin is, in fact, a senior getting ready to graduate. Henry is--and always has been--following in Franklin's footsteps for better or worse. Always being compared to his older and much beloved brother. When a fellow student, a teen, a Cambodian immigrant, accidentally runs Franklin over with his car--he falls asleep behind the wheel supposedly--Henry's life changes forever.

Accident or foul play? That's what everyone (and I do mean everyone) is thinking when they hear the news. The fact that the driver in question is an immigrant makes the accident all that much more complicated. It seems this community has been waiting for the day to let out a bit of hatred towards these new folks in the community.

As Franklin's life hangs in the balance--he's lost an arm and is in a coma--the Smith family (and the whole community) begins to unravel and crumble. The Smith family is in crisis. Big-time crisis. No longer able to function, to communicate, to unite as one in this difficult time. Everyone is reacting in their own way, a way that seems strange and unnatural to the others in the family. But feels right to that person.

How Henry copes is by making a new friend, a dog named "Black Dog." He rescues this dog from the sea one day soon after the accident. This trouble-loving dog seems to be just what Henry needs, what this family needs. My favorite part of this book was any scene with Black Dog. There was an enjoyable character!

Trouble is a strange book for me. And I don't mean the book is strange in the Twilight-Zone sense. I mean I had a strange reaction to it. Perhaps you'll have a different response. Maybe. I hope. Anyway, I felt the characters were very disconnected. They had a hard time relating to one another, it's true, but I had a hard time relating to them as well--both individually and collectively. I had a hard time "knowing" or "liking" or "understanding" these characters. This could be stylistic. Meaning, Schmidt wanted the reader to feel the way Henry felt. Isolated and confused and out of sync with his family, out of sync with his world. If that is the case, then it works beautifully. It felt disjointed. I felt very removed from the characters, very removed from the plot. But as I said, this could be intentional. Or it could be just me. The reviews I've seen tend to love it. So my cool reaction could just be me.

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Essentially my 'trouble' with Trouble is that I didn't care. I didn't care that Franklin was hurt (and later died). What I saw of him, I hated. He was a jerk. He was so not worth shedding any tears over. And Henry didn't seem to "like" him much either. He had to love him because he was his brother. But I don't get the idea that Henry liked or respected him much. And Louisa certainly didn't either. The family seems well rid of him as far as I'm concerned. As far as the whole quest goes for climbing the mountain, I just DIDN'T get it at all. It just seemed stupid to me. I liked the fact that he came to a resolution, made peace, with Chay. I liked that he stood up for Chay. But the whole I-have-to-climb-this-mountain-or-else thing just didn't work for me. My feelings would have been different if they'd been less emphasis on this climbing-mountain (both physically and metaphorically.) As one of the people he encounters says your brother's death is not a good reason to want to climb a mountain.

Julie Prince's review.
Wizards Wireless' review.
Richie's review.
Sarah Miller's review.

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Swanson, Julie. 2004. GOING FOR THE RECORD. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. ISBN 0802852734.

Leah Weiczynkowski is seventeen years old. She's a soccer player who has wonderful news for her father: she's just made the Region II Under-18 Olympic Developmental Program team with an opportunity in August of making the National team. But her father has news of his own: during the week she was away at soccer camp, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer and he only has three months to live.

Leah, of course, is in a state of shock and disbelief. She doesn't want to accept the news--and does everything she can to deny it. He doesn't look that sick. Maybe the doctors were wrong. Maybe he'll be miraculously healed. Maybe they're some kind of cure or alternative treatment that will save his life. She goes to the bookstore and finds all of these self-healing, positive-thinking books and she also goes to the nutrition store and buys all these alternative type drugs. But her father will have none of it. He is past the stage of denial....he knows that whether or not he is ready to die...or whether or not his family is ready for him to die...that he really has no choice in the matter.

Leah's father signs a living will stating that he does not want any life-saving measures to be taken. He wants to die at home away from the hospital. He is in the hospice program. They have nurses come to the house regularly to care for him. They give him pain killers to ease his pain and keep him comfortable.

Leah doesn't know how to react or how to live her life with her father dying in front of her eyes. Practicing soccer three or four hours a day...driving around with friends....shopping at the mall...etc...all seem pointlessly unsignificant in the scope of things. She doesn't want to lose a moment of time with her father. But at the same time, he's urging her not to give up her dreams to sit home and watch him die. He wants her to go to soccer camp and try to make the National team--after all, hasn't that what she's been working hard for all these years? During this time she's very angry. She's angry and acting out against her friends.

She goes to camp, but with a heavy heart, a few days into camp...she's called home. Her father's failing. He is not quite ready to die yet. But this close call forces Leah out of denial. The whole family is hoping, praying, begging that he will be able to live long enough to see the birth of his first grandchild due the first week of September. All of the family--Leah's older brother Paul, and her pregnant sister Mary--come home to say goodbye. Her uncles and aunts say their goodbyes. But eventually Leah and her mom are left at home with him watching him die.

A few weeks before his close call, the father and daughter have a chat about how he is ready to die...and how he's ready to go home and be with Jesus. And although Leah's relunctant to let him go...to give him permission to go...the more pain she sees her father in...the weaker he gets...the more disoriented and disconnected he is from reality...she begins to realize the kindest thing in the world would be to let her father go...to not pray for his recovery...but pray that God would take him...that God would spare him another day of pain.

He survives several days past the birth of his grandchild...but as soon as he hears news of its birth...he begins to let go...he disconnects himself from the world...and his family. His condition starts to deteriorate quickly. It was true that he was fighting to hold on to life for the birth...and now he has no reason to keep fighting...he can just let go.

After his death, she's very depressed--naturally--and she is hesitant to enter social life. She has no interest in ever playing soccer again. She does patch things up with her friend Clay...but mainly this is a slow healing process for her.

This is one of the hardest books I've ever read. It is a very accurate, realistic, honest look at how it feels to watch someone you love very deeply die. The book had me close to tears in several places. The feelings were just so true--so honest. My grandfather died of bladder cancer and was in hospice...and reading those chapters about his last few weeks...were just so right. The author just got everything right in those scenes. Anyway, it was a powerful well written novel.

http://www.julieaswanson.com/

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Shades of "Hair!" and "Oh Calcutta"...

There were calls for the blasphemy laws to be overhauled yesterday after a group of Christian evangelists failed in an attempt to prosecute the Director-General of the BBC, Mark Thompson, for blasphemy over the show Jerry Springer – The Opera.

In a landmark decision, judges at the High Court ruled that the Theatres Act 1968 prevents any prosecution for blasphemy over public performances of plays, and the Broadcasting Act 1990 prevents any prosecution in relation to broadcasts. Human rights lawyers described the decision as “a very important point of law” that would have a widespread impact.

The judges ruled that a district judge had been entitled to find that there was no prime facie case of blasphemy against Jerry Springer – The Opera as it was not aimed at Christianity but was a parody of the chat-show genre.

Lord Justice Hughes and Mr Justice Collins said that the musical “was not and could not reasonably be regarded as aimed at, or an attack on, Christianity or what Christians held sacred”.

The case had been brought by Christian Voice, the evangelical group, which condemned the satirical show as “an offensive, spiteful, systematic mockery and wilful denigration of Christian belief”.

Stephen Green, the national director of Christian Voice, had urged the judges to allow the private prosecution of the Director-General to go ahead for permitting the show to be screened on BBC2 in 2005.

He also wanted to prosecute the show’s producer, Jonathan Thoday.

Mr Green had applied for court orders overturning the refusal of District Judge Caroline Tubbs to issue summonses at the City of Westminster Magistrates’ Court in January. Mr Green’s lawyers argued that the show “clearly crossed the blasphemy threshold”.

Mark Mullins, QC, representing Mr Green and Christian Voice, said the effect of yesterday’s ruling was that “no prosecution for blasphemy can be brought against the BBC”.

He added: “That is tantamount to saying that blasphemy is of little, if any, relevance in today’s society.”

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/stage/article3007291.ece

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By Kirsty OUP-UK

Now perhaps more than ever our society is conscious about offending religious viewpoints. In Blasphemy in the Christian World: A History, a new and timely book, David Nash traces the history of blasphemy from the Middle Ages up to the present day. Today I am thrilled to be able to bring you a piece written by Dr Nash especially for the OUP blog, focussing on Monty Python’s ‘Life of Brian’, which was accused of blasphemy and caused a huge outcry upon its release almost 30 years ago.

One of the most frequently asked questions about blasphemy is why do people do it, since it sometimes seems such a victimless crime. The Roman Emperor Tiberius suggested that if God was offended by an individual’s behaviour he was capable of exacting his own retribution, so why should man concern himself with such issues. Since medieval times, however, we have tended to automatically think that states and individuals have been progressing away from policing the opinions of others substituting religious tolerance for persecution.

The motives of blasphemers became the subject of some debate in the medieval world. Whether people were misled by the actions of devils or demons, or had spoken blasphemy when scared, or whilst drunk, it was deemed clear that an incidence of blasphemous speech had occurred as some form of accident. In the modern world things have become more complex and the motives of those who blaspheme become linked to issues of personal rights. Our modern western world has empowered freedom of expression but has equally begun in recent years to consider the rights and feelings of those who might be offended by the ideas and words of others. Thus in our modern world artists and writers have been those who have caused most lasting and high profile offence. If these people can cause offence we perhaps should ask why they are prepared to do so.

Perhaps it is most pertinent to ask this question of the film ‘Monty Python’s ‘ Life of Brian.’ This film is celebrating its thirtieth anniversary, was recently voted Britain’s best comedy film of all time by a BBC Radio Times poll, and remains the best known attempt to lampoon the history of religion in Britain and America. More importantly it could never claim that its motives were ‘serious’ in the manner that Mel Gibson could with ‘Passion of the Christ’ or Martin Scorsese could with ‘The Last Temptation of Christ’. So what did the Python team think they were doing? Did they set out to undermine and topple the leading religious ideology of the Western World?

Certainly it looked like it; the nativity scene was reworked with fiercely comic content, the Sermon on the Mount focussed upon the stupidity of those at the back who couldn’t hear properly, the crucifixion, moreover was turned into a sing-along comment on the potential miseries afflicting this life rather than paradise in the next. Taken as a whole the film seems unashamedly intent upon offending people – so were these the motives that persuaded the Monty Python team to make ‘Life of Brian’ and stir up the biggest controversy around blasphemy in the Christian World during the twentieth century? We know much about its development through television documentaries, newspaper clippings, and not least through Michael Palin’s recently published diaries. These suggest that ‘Brian’ emerged in the same way that other Python material did. Members of the team wrote separately and sometimes in teams in pursuit of situations that they primarily found funny. The initial idea was to show the life of an individual, ‘St Brian’, who was too late on the scene for all of Christ’s miracles, a situation that was clearly funny without being blasphemous. When the material was eventually put together its sum was greater than the parts and resembled the life story of an inadequate prophet, made inadequate through the shortcomings of the religion and religious people of his day. Thus the Python team began to focus upon the fact that they had produced a send–up of organised religion.

Once again their judgement of what was funny, worked well on celluloid, or adequately expressed their intentions made them cut material from the film. For example, the character of Otto, a Jewish fascist, never made the final version of the film because his presence diluted the power of other scenes. The Pythons could also censor themselves when it was required and this character would have made distribution in America potentially more difficult than it need have been.

So Monty Python wanted to make money, be funny and please its audience, and it succeeded in all of these. It was Python’s opponents who turned ‘Life of Brian’ into a threat to Christianity. It was these attitudes that made the Monty Python team, if only for a moment, become serious about what their film had done and made them strident proponents of freedom of expression. The Bishop of Southwark may have said to them that ‘Life of Brian’ would not have been made if the character of Christ had not existed. John Cleese and Michael Palin might equally have replied that ‘Brian’ would not have been made if the pretensions of people like the Bishop of Southwark had not existed.

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