As the landscape of American life becomes more thoroughly secular and biblically illiterate, I do believe that dynamic, spiritually healthy, and theologically strong churches are essential in the ongoing process of the Gospel's spread. These can be churches that have existed for some time, groups that have been revitalized and re-watered, or new church plants (although I believe there are ways church plants can ensure the healthiest growth, and a team approach is the top strategy). But the bottom line is that these churches will require clergy and leaders.
To that end, American evangelicalism (which I admit is a term that needs heavy scrutiny) has been training its ministers in several ways. Some churches and networks--Acts29, to wit, before and after the Mark Driscoll implosion--don't necessarily place a premium on seminary training and opt for a more individualized process of discipleship. That can work as long as "discipleship" doesn't mean a pastor saying "read this John Piper book and make sure you mow my lawn". However, many churches and denominations over the years have insisted on their clergy not only being well-educated, but having completed seminary training.
It is this seminary training that seems to be at a crossroads, in my opinion. This is evident in a couple of ways. For one, the amount of credit hours now to receive a Master of Divinity degree (the professional graduate program for many denominational requirements) is significantly less than when I completed my M. Div. from Covenant Seminary years ago, with 102 credits in 1996. Now, for example:
Azusa Pacific: 74 credits
Fuller: 80 credits (semester equivalent)
Midwestern Baptist: 81 credits
Phoenix: 88 credits
Union (Richmond): 81 credits
And there are others. Some, like Covenant (99), Gordon-Conwell (96), and Westminster (an eye-popping 111) are holding strong in classroom requirements. But the lessening of hours seems to be the rule, not the exception.
Another trend is toward more online education. It is this crossroads that I think will have even greater impact on the church. First, let me say I have tremendous sympathy for those who would find it difficult to uproot one's family and move to Boston or St. Louis or Pasadena (well, Pomona, now) at great financial cost, taking on a burden of debt, etc. Online education is cheaper, more efficient and streamlined, and can be offered more widely than the traditional classroom format. It is, as Fuller Seminary president Mark Labberton notes, "an increasingly challenging and disrupted higher education landscape". Covenant Seminary--my M.Div. alma mater--has introduced a new hybrid format for its M.Div. program, in which two-thirds of the degree requirements can be done online with only six visits to St. Louis needed for on-campus intensive courses.
I get that. Some people don't have the time or money. I get why undergraduate schools that resist the online flood in favor of a residential-only experience--like Covenant College in Lookout Mountain, Georgia, or Benedictine College in Atchison, Kansas--do so with great difficulty. But I can't help but think that the Scots (Covenant) and Ravens (Benedictine) are on to something here that translates with a lot of power to the seminary level.
Ministry in the name of Christ is a calling that deserves and demands face time. The Gospel proceeds and flows through the connections of relationships and the slog of personal living in spiritual community, and when you take that "residential" capacity out of the system, or mostly out of the system, I fear for what we're left with.
If we have a future inhabited with pastors trained mostly/primarily online, insulated from the life-on-life rubs and bumps of everyday life, then American evangelicalism (again, whatever that means) is headed for a serious reckoning. This shift in education--however seemingly pragmatically necessary--is going to serve to undercut the mission of the pastorate by undercutting the incarnational quality of pastors. Learning on screen is not the same as learning in community. Online education can help you with sermon preparation; it doesn't prepare you for difficult ruling elders or vestry members. You can view a lecture on church history online, but you cannot have the impact of that professor praying with you when you are overwhelmed by the stress of work and academics.
Ministry by nature is residential and incarnational. Christ did not accomplish his ministry at arm's length or from a great distance. Certainly, those of us called to ministry, who represent Christ to those whom we serve, should imitate Christ in this way.
Alas, I fear we will be getting very different pastors and leaders for a very different church in a very different future. And that's not necessarily a good thing.
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
Wedding Homilies and Dividing Questions
I'm wading in a little late--if three days after the fact in our rapidly paced media cycles means late--on what has played out of the nave in St. George's Chapel at Windsor Castle. The royal nuptials between Prince Harry and Meghan Markle have dazzled the planet, and rightly so, as royal weddings have captured the fancy of people worldwide for some time. I remember stumbling out into the Davis family room one early morning in July 1981 and saw my mother watching Charles and Diana tie the knot at St. Paul's Cathedral.
My post is not to critique whether Harry and Meghan are a good match. That's not my call. In fact, I had no beef with the service at all. Appropriate it was to have it at Windsor. Entirely fine it was to include variety, including the choral arrangement of "Stand By Me" (although I'd have preferred a more hymnodic medley, but then again, it's not my wedding). In fact, my most stringent complaint about the wedding was that it wasn't just held on the weekend (in contrast to many royal weddings being held during the week), but that it was held on the weekend of the FA Cup final at Wembley Stadium. But the wedding was at least energetic, in marked contrast to Manchester United's performance against trophy-lifters Chelsea FC and ManU manager Jose Mourinho's flaccid tactical coaching decisions.
What I found interesting was Michael Curry and his sermon at the royal wedding. Curry is the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church in the United States. A number of my friends have been gushing praise over his homily; a number of my tribe have also been spending time on social media criticizing his words.
I don't want to lean to either pole...not because I fear commitment, but due to the fact I think dividing the question brings some helpful thoughts to the surface.
One thing I liked was that the service, and Curry's presence itself, showed the mosaic of how God calls people from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation. Curry is the first Black individual to hold the position of ECUSA Presiding Bishop. Meghan Markle, the new Duchess of Sussex (her post-wedding title), is bi-racial. The diverse makeup of the Kingdom Choir added to the mix. All this is cause to rejoice in a Gospel in which God is certainly not monochromatic.
As someone who believes in the power of preaching, I knew Curry would bring passion and energy to the pulpit, and boy, did he deliver. I watched the sermon and there is no doubt Curry packs a punch. What he says in verbiage is swollen with emotion. This is a man who believes that one's logos must be matched by full and proper pathos.
And Curry knew he was at a wedding service. There was no political protest in his speech, no social badgering. He spoke to everyone, but especially to the royal couple. And he spoke of love in all its dynamic elements. And to Curry, love can move mountains. This is a quality and disposition that can effect change. The sermon put him in alignment with the words of other such as the Apostle Paul, Dr. Martin Luther King, and others.
So can we leave it there? I don't think so. Here are my concerns:
(1) Curry spoke at a wedding, an event where admittedly you don't have much time to make your point, so you can't draw out implications of every idea in the beefiest fashion. I get that. But the idea of love--much like in Joseph Fletcher's Situation Ethics--ran through the sermon like a greased pig at a Kansas county fair. The emotive component of Curry's sermon was fine as long as one was willing to live with it. My issue is--and maybe this reveals I simply live within a Francis Schaeffer-like skin that wants concepts defined clearly--Curry didn't draw bright lines here. Years ago, Foreigner sang "I Want to Know What Love Is". Questions abounded here. What kind of love? And where is the source of this love? And what makes that love so dynamic? And why should we place our trust in its dynamism? Yes, I know Curry had limited time. But these are questions that need answers.
I also wondered why Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, invited Curry. This is not an issue of Curry himself (although I'll ask questions of that nature in a bit), but the fact that the Episcopal Church that Curry leads--months ago--was sanctioned by the Anglican Communion in a provincial gathering at Canterbury, specifically regarding the ECUSA's plunge into affirming rites for same-sex marriage. One wonders why--at the very least in the name of hierarchical symbolic appearance--Welby extended Curry this invitation when the ECUSA is under sanctions. Just a question.
In addition, one could also ask why Curry preached at a service of heterosexual marriage when his own views on marriage conflict with the official views of ninety percent of the Anglican world. Curry has his hands on the leadership wheel of his own faith tribe with views on same-sex marriage (and transgenderism) that conflicts with everything that is specifically declared in Holy Scripture, especially the recorded words of Jesus Christ and the Apostle Paul. I don't say this out of hatred for gays, lesbians, or transgendered folks. And if you need to reserve judgment on that previous sentence, you'll just have to get to know me.
But what to do about this? Curry said some great things, some true things, with a great deal of passion. Some things were murky, and yes, I do believe that a fog in the pulpit becomes a mist in the pews. Therein lies the opportunity! If someone was inspired by the wedding sermon, or if someone has questions about it, ask why. "What," you may ask your friend or acquaintance, "do you find likable about what he said? And why?" If they are inspired about the idea of love, ask "Why do you think he made a big deal about it?" Ask, "Does love change everything? What if it doesn't? What does it need to sustain itself?"
Maybe those are just starter questions and you need to go deeper. But more questions and ideas will come. Maybe the greatest gift Curry has given people of Christian faith is an opportunity to have deeper conversations with their friends about matters of ultimate concern and eternal significance. Don't worry about if you'll get through or make full impact in one chat. Just get some conversations going and see where they lead.
If that's the case, no matter what you think about last Saturday's sermon at Windsor, you might find that Michael Curry equipped you for more beyond just a homily.
My post is not to critique whether Harry and Meghan are a good match. That's not my call. In fact, I had no beef with the service at all. Appropriate it was to have it at Windsor. Entirely fine it was to include variety, including the choral arrangement of "Stand By Me" (although I'd have preferred a more hymnodic medley, but then again, it's not my wedding). In fact, my most stringent complaint about the wedding was that it wasn't just held on the weekend (in contrast to many royal weddings being held during the week), but that it was held on the weekend of the FA Cup final at Wembley Stadium. But the wedding was at least energetic, in marked contrast to Manchester United's performance against trophy-lifters Chelsea FC and ManU manager Jose Mourinho's flaccid tactical coaching decisions.
What I found interesting was Michael Curry and his sermon at the royal wedding. Curry is the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church in the United States. A number of my friends have been gushing praise over his homily; a number of my tribe have also been spending time on social media criticizing his words.
I don't want to lean to either pole...not because I fear commitment, but due to the fact I think dividing the question brings some helpful thoughts to the surface.
One thing I liked was that the service, and Curry's presence itself, showed the mosaic of how God calls people from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation. Curry is the first Black individual to hold the position of ECUSA Presiding Bishop. Meghan Markle, the new Duchess of Sussex (her post-wedding title), is bi-racial. The diverse makeup of the Kingdom Choir added to the mix. All this is cause to rejoice in a Gospel in which God is certainly not monochromatic.
As someone who believes in the power of preaching, I knew Curry would bring passion and energy to the pulpit, and boy, did he deliver. I watched the sermon and there is no doubt Curry packs a punch. What he says in verbiage is swollen with emotion. This is a man who believes that one's logos must be matched by full and proper pathos.
And Curry knew he was at a wedding service. There was no political protest in his speech, no social badgering. He spoke to everyone, but especially to the royal couple. And he spoke of love in all its dynamic elements. And to Curry, love can move mountains. This is a quality and disposition that can effect change. The sermon put him in alignment with the words of other such as the Apostle Paul, Dr. Martin Luther King, and others.
So can we leave it there? I don't think so. Here are my concerns:
(1) Curry spoke at a wedding, an event where admittedly you don't have much time to make your point, so you can't draw out implications of every idea in the beefiest fashion. I get that. But the idea of love--much like in Joseph Fletcher's Situation Ethics--ran through the sermon like a greased pig at a Kansas county fair. The emotive component of Curry's sermon was fine as long as one was willing to live with it. My issue is--and maybe this reveals I simply live within a Francis Schaeffer-like skin that wants concepts defined clearly--Curry didn't draw bright lines here. Years ago, Foreigner sang "I Want to Know What Love Is". Questions abounded here. What kind of love? And where is the source of this love? And what makes that love so dynamic? And why should we place our trust in its dynamism? Yes, I know Curry had limited time. But these are questions that need answers.
I also wondered why Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, invited Curry. This is not an issue of Curry himself (although I'll ask questions of that nature in a bit), but the fact that the Episcopal Church that Curry leads--months ago--was sanctioned by the Anglican Communion in a provincial gathering at Canterbury, specifically regarding the ECUSA's plunge into affirming rites for same-sex marriage. One wonders why--at the very least in the name of hierarchical symbolic appearance--Welby extended Curry this invitation when the ECUSA is under sanctions. Just a question.
In addition, one could also ask why Curry preached at a service of heterosexual marriage when his own views on marriage conflict with the official views of ninety percent of the Anglican world. Curry has his hands on the leadership wheel of his own faith tribe with views on same-sex marriage (and transgenderism) that conflicts with everything that is specifically declared in Holy Scripture, especially the recorded words of Jesus Christ and the Apostle Paul. I don't say this out of hatred for gays, lesbians, or transgendered folks. And if you need to reserve judgment on that previous sentence, you'll just have to get to know me.
But what to do about this? Curry said some great things, some true things, with a great deal of passion. Some things were murky, and yes, I do believe that a fog in the pulpit becomes a mist in the pews. Therein lies the opportunity! If someone was inspired by the wedding sermon, or if someone has questions about it, ask why. "What," you may ask your friend or acquaintance, "do you find likable about what he said? And why?" If they are inspired about the idea of love, ask "Why do you think he made a big deal about it?" Ask, "Does love change everything? What if it doesn't? What does it need to sustain itself?"
Maybe those are just starter questions and you need to go deeper. But more questions and ideas will come. Maybe the greatest gift Curry has given people of Christian faith is an opportunity to have deeper conversations with their friends about matters of ultimate concern and eternal significance. Don't worry about if you'll get through or make full impact in one chat. Just get some conversations going and see where they lead.
If that's the case, no matter what you think about last Saturday's sermon at Windsor, you might find that Michael Curry equipped you for more beyond just a homily.
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
Royal Writings
One of the great things about being published is getting to know other authors with books through the same publisher. The incomparable Glynn Young, whose books I've reviewed before, is one such refreshing soul. His trifecta of novels featuring the British priest-turned-monarch Michael Kent is a continuing story of faith, courage, and grace.
Recently, our St. Louis NBC affiliate--in anticipation of the Prince Harry-Meghan Markle nuptials this weekend--interviewed Glynn about writing, his novels, and the weekend wedding. Glynn said they did a great job of squeezing a one-hour interview into ninety-eight seconds.
You can watch the interview here. Well done, Glynn! Very proud of you.
Recently, our St. Louis NBC affiliate--in anticipation of the Prince Harry-Meghan Markle nuptials this weekend--interviewed Glynn about writing, his novels, and the weekend wedding. Glynn said they did a great job of squeezing a one-hour interview into ninety-eight seconds.
You can watch the interview here. Well done, Glynn! Very proud of you.
Tuesday, May 8, 2018
New Roads: The Ideal School Day
Getting a B in Chemistry is okay. Earning a C-plus in Western Civ is fine. Blanking out on a French quiz is perfectly normal.
Not everybody does something perfectly. I am a teacher and I can lose track of the number of times kids go neurotic over their perceived "failures" (which amounts to something like an 85 on their math quiz).
Now I don't know how to get kids to stop the blitheringly facepalm-worthy moments of perceived hopelessness that they absolutely can't carry into adulthood (which at this rate might end up being some point in their mid-30s). But I'd wager slowing down the high school day is a start. How? I'll tell you.
Yes, it's that simple. I'll. Tell. You. Do I consider this idea important? Let me offer this: I am delaying doing my evening reading in Stephen Neill's Anglicanism and D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones' Preaching and Preachers to do this.
Start the school day at 7:55. If you are at a religious school, begin with a brief meditation on Scripture. If at a public school, read a poem or something. Focus your students and get them to see there's more to life than their immediate worries. Five minutes of this. It's critical.
First period goes from 8:00-8:45. Five minute passing period and second class kicks off at 8:50, lasting until 9:40.
Third period, you say? Not a chance.
9:40 begins mid-morning break. Supervise it, okay (school insurance companies don't need to worry), but give students an official recess. Yes, call it recess. With pride. Advertise that in your PR materials! Let students walk or jog around the track in the football stadium. Watch some guys play a game of half-court basketball (and join in with them!). If there's snow on the ground, what say a snowball fight? Grab a mid-morning snack with the kids who are going through hard times. Use the break to confront that bully and let him or her know they can be better. Above all, this time needs to revive kids and energize them.
That means your third and fourth period slots (10:10-10:55 and 11:00-11:45, respectively) will be a lot more productive in teaching and learning than if you load students from period to period in packed, dreary herds.
Lunch. Thirty-five minutes. I will not negotiate a minute less. Students get to stop things twenty minutes in and do school announcements. Go crazy, folks, go crazy.
Bell rings at 12:20 to signal students to fifth period at 12:25, and sixth period begins at 1:15. At 2:00, all things stop for a rotating block of fifteen minutes, depending on the day, in which students "look outward".
Monday: Write a thank-you note to an adult who has influenced you profoundly.
Tuesday: Drop everything and read a book. A real book.
Wednesday: Write a letter urging change. To your state representative. To a political prisoner or persecuted Christian to encourage them.
Thursday: Draw or color something. Anything. Post it in the classroom. Let kids bring their guitars and keyboards in and play some tunes. Awaken the spirit!
Friday: Drop everything and read again. Yes, again.
Seventh period from 2:20-3:05, and that's your day.
Your energetic, yet unhurried, day.
It has to be both. Energetic. Unhurried.
Until we get to trying stuff like that, all the cattle-prodding we do of tomorrow's leaders won't nudge the passion and skills meter to make much of a difference. Let's make the daily schedule a catalyst for intellectual and spiritual intoxication.
I'll talk about the homework hassle next time, but for now, on this time usage issue, I simply ask: Who's with me?
Not everybody does something perfectly. I am a teacher and I can lose track of the number of times kids go neurotic over their perceived "failures" (which amounts to something like an 85 on their math quiz).
Now I don't know how to get kids to stop the blitheringly facepalm-worthy moments of perceived hopelessness that they absolutely can't carry into adulthood (which at this rate might end up being some point in their mid-30s). But I'd wager slowing down the high school day is a start. How? I'll tell you.
Yes, it's that simple. I'll. Tell. You. Do I consider this idea important? Let me offer this: I am delaying doing my evening reading in Stephen Neill's Anglicanism and D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones' Preaching and Preachers to do this.
Start the school day at 7:55. If you are at a religious school, begin with a brief meditation on Scripture. If at a public school, read a poem or something. Focus your students and get them to see there's more to life than their immediate worries. Five minutes of this. It's critical.
First period goes from 8:00-8:45. Five minute passing period and second class kicks off at 8:50, lasting until 9:40.
Third period, you say? Not a chance.
9:40 begins mid-morning break. Supervise it, okay (school insurance companies don't need to worry), but give students an official recess. Yes, call it recess. With pride. Advertise that in your PR materials! Let students walk or jog around the track in the football stadium. Watch some guys play a game of half-court basketball (and join in with them!). If there's snow on the ground, what say a snowball fight? Grab a mid-morning snack with the kids who are going through hard times. Use the break to confront that bully and let him or her know they can be better. Above all, this time needs to revive kids and energize them.
That means your third and fourth period slots (10:10-10:55 and 11:00-11:45, respectively) will be a lot more productive in teaching and learning than if you load students from period to period in packed, dreary herds.
Lunch. Thirty-five minutes. I will not negotiate a minute less. Students get to stop things twenty minutes in and do school announcements. Go crazy, folks, go crazy.
Bell rings at 12:20 to signal students to fifth period at 12:25, and sixth period begins at 1:15. At 2:00, all things stop for a rotating block of fifteen minutes, depending on the day, in which students "look outward".
Monday: Write a thank-you note to an adult who has influenced you profoundly.
Tuesday: Drop everything and read a book. A real book.
Wednesday: Write a letter urging change. To your state representative. To a political prisoner or persecuted Christian to encourage them.
Thursday: Draw or color something. Anything. Post it in the classroom. Let kids bring their guitars and keyboards in and play some tunes. Awaken the spirit!
Friday: Drop everything and read again. Yes, again.
Seventh period from 2:20-3:05, and that's your day.
Your energetic, yet unhurried, day.
It has to be both. Energetic. Unhurried.
Until we get to trying stuff like that, all the cattle-prodding we do of tomorrow's leaders won't nudge the passion and skills meter to make much of a difference. Let's make the daily schedule a catalyst for intellectual and spiritual intoxication.
I'll talk about the homework hassle next time, but for now, on this time usage issue, I simply ask: Who's with me?
Sunday, May 6, 2018
The Siren Call Back to the Troubles
No matter what, I can't stay away from Belfast.
Detective Sean Duffy returns in Adrian McKinty's I Hear the Sirens in the Street and the gumshoe manages to claw into and out of more adversity. Already somewhat out of place as a Catholic copper in the largely Protestant town of Carrickfergus (home of the NIFL's Carrick Rangers), Duffy knows he is in for a head-scratcher of a case when the torso of an American shows up in a suitcase. The deceased Bill O'Rourke (odd frisson for this reader, as I know a Bill O'Rourke from my high school days) seemed to be an average American tourist in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the more Duffy digs for the facts, the more unsettling news he unearths. O'Rourke turns out to have been an IRS man who formerly served in the US military. For what purpose, then, was he savagely chopped into suitcase bait?
Duffy's investigation takes him through a labyrinth of old-school landowners and police procedure. Set against the backdrop of the Falklands Crisis for the UK, Duffy also encounters John DeLorean, who has built a factory in the Belfast area to give it a much-needed shot in the economic veins. McKinty expertly weaves Duffy's fictional steps around and through the actual events taking place on the Northern Ireland and world stage, as he did in his first installment of the Troubles Trilogy, The Cold Cold Ground.
Unfortunately for Duffy, his case takes him into the proverbial Slough of Despond. Another unseen agent gives him the tip that opens the case, but he is officially taken off the matter. Pushing back against his superiors, Duffy chances a trip to America to discover more about why O'Rourke assumed room temperature so brutally, only to be met with a near brutal end himself, courtesy of the FBI. Upon returning home, Duffy risks his life and confronts the guilty, barely surviving the shootout. It is enough for Duffy to remain alive, but the ensuing disciplinary hearing will have readers wondering in what capacity Duffy will return for the final book of the Troubles Trilogy.
[There were some typesetting issues in the story, but that could have just been the particular copy I got from the library. These matters don't interfere with the story's flow.]
Once again, McKinty earns well-deserved praise for another smashing entry in the Duffy story. Although the tale ranges widely, I never believed events or details were wasted rabbit trails. M.C. Beaton this is not. Also, this is no cozy mystery. The noir experience is thick but not overbearing, and Duffy's language and libido are set against the backdrop of the rage of Belfast in the early Eighties. A clean story would seem too incongruous to readers, who should be able to navigate the details as long as they know what to expect. As for me, I love diving into the world of Belfast at any point. All I tend to get from there are Twitter updates from the Belfast Telegraph and nailbiting news regarding my favorite NIFL Premiership squad, Crusaders FC.
McKinty has already told me he believes the third book of the Troubles Trilogy, In the Morning I'll Be Gone, is the best of this trifecta. If it approaches anything like these first two, then get out the crayons and color me tickled pink.
Detective Sean Duffy returns in Adrian McKinty's I Hear the Sirens in the Street and the gumshoe manages to claw into and out of more adversity. Already somewhat out of place as a Catholic copper in the largely Protestant town of Carrickfergus (home of the NIFL's Carrick Rangers), Duffy knows he is in for a head-scratcher of a case when the torso of an American shows up in a suitcase. The deceased Bill O'Rourke (odd frisson for this reader, as I know a Bill O'Rourke from my high school days) seemed to be an average American tourist in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the more Duffy digs for the facts, the more unsettling news he unearths. O'Rourke turns out to have been an IRS man who formerly served in the US military. For what purpose, then, was he savagely chopped into suitcase bait?
Duffy's investigation takes him through a labyrinth of old-school landowners and police procedure. Set against the backdrop of the Falklands Crisis for the UK, Duffy also encounters John DeLorean, who has built a factory in the Belfast area to give it a much-needed shot in the economic veins. McKinty expertly weaves Duffy's fictional steps around and through the actual events taking place on the Northern Ireland and world stage, as he did in his first installment of the Troubles Trilogy, The Cold Cold Ground.
Unfortunately for Duffy, his case takes him into the proverbial Slough of Despond. Another unseen agent gives him the tip that opens the case, but he is officially taken off the matter. Pushing back against his superiors, Duffy chances a trip to America to discover more about why O'Rourke assumed room temperature so brutally, only to be met with a near brutal end himself, courtesy of the FBI. Upon returning home, Duffy risks his life and confronts the guilty, barely surviving the shootout. It is enough for Duffy to remain alive, but the ensuing disciplinary hearing will have readers wondering in what capacity Duffy will return for the final book of the Troubles Trilogy.
[There were some typesetting issues in the story, but that could have just been the particular copy I got from the library. These matters don't interfere with the story's flow.]
Once again, McKinty earns well-deserved praise for another smashing entry in the Duffy story. Although the tale ranges widely, I never believed events or details were wasted rabbit trails. M.C. Beaton this is not. Also, this is no cozy mystery. The noir experience is thick but not overbearing, and Duffy's language and libido are set against the backdrop of the rage of Belfast in the early Eighties. A clean story would seem too incongruous to readers, who should be able to navigate the details as long as they know what to expect. As for me, I love diving into the world of Belfast at any point. All I tend to get from there are Twitter updates from the Belfast Telegraph and nailbiting news regarding my favorite NIFL Premiership squad, Crusaders FC.
McKinty has already told me he believes the third book of the Troubles Trilogy, In the Morning I'll Be Gone, is the best of this trifecta. If it approaches anything like these first two, then get out the crayons and color me tickled pink.
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