L.B.: Heebie-jeebies

Left Behind, pp. 440-442

Buck felt more alone than ever on the flight home. He was in coach on a full plane, but he knew no one. He read several sections from the Bible Bruce had given him and had marked for him, prompting the woman next to him to ask questions. He answered in such a way that she could tell he was not in the mood for conversation.* He didn't want to be rude, but neither did he want to mislead anyone with his limited knowledge.

Why the brush-off? His dodging of this woman's questions would seem to be, from the authors' own perspective, a shirking of responsibility. I realize that Buck is not yet a fully certified convert, but he has already decided that the stuff he's reading there is the Most Important Thing. When someone asks you a direct question about the Most Important Thing, it seems cruel not to tell them what you know, even if your answers are only partial or limited (as opposed to having un-limited knowledge, which the authors seem to suggest is a possibility).

So here is this poor woman. She witnessed the Israel miracle and then The Event, and she's started putting two and two together. Now she's desperate for answers and she turns to Buck Williams. He's got Bruce's annotated Bible right there in his hands. He's just finished what amounts to a three-day seminar, complete with Bruce's "crash-course in prophecy" and one, maybe two viewings of the ICR video. He is, in other words, the perfect person to begin to answer her questions. Yet he doesn't.

The morning before he was "moved to tears" by Chloe's story, in which she said that she believed his presence in the airplane seat next to hers was a sign from God. If he believes that to be true, then surely it was also God's divine plan that he is again, just a few days later, in an airplane seat next to a woman full of questions about God. But if Buck's presence in the next seat was a sign of God's love for Chloe, his presence next to this woman would seem to be a sign that God, like Buck, doesn't care what happens to her. (What if this woman gets off the airplane, walks out of the airport and gets hit by the hypothetical bus?)

I'm also not sure what to make of the apparent warning there against evangelism by those with only "limited knowledge." Throughout the rest of the book, this is presented as a universal, unavoidable duty for every believer. But here they seem to be saying it's better left to the experts. Odd.

The frustrating thing here is that this woman's questions would likely have been very similar to the questions Buck is asking himself. She would have provided a convenient means to present Buck's inner monologue as an actual dialogue, a conversation. But instead he blows her off and goes back to sulkily asking himself rhetorical questions in what seems like the voice-over narration of a bad movie. (I really believe that Jerry Jenkins has a Post-it note stuck to the monitor of his computer reading, "Tell, don't show.")

Sleep was no easier for him that night, though he refused to allow himself to pace. ...

This is, like, totally different from the bit in the last chapter where Buck was up all night, unable to sleep as he grappled with these same questions. In that scene, Buck was pacing. Here, he's not. See? Totally different.

He was going into a meeting in the morning that he had been warned to stay away from. Bruce Barnes had sounded convinced that if Nicolae Carpathia were the Antichrist, Buck ran the danger of being mentally overcome, brainwashed, hypnotized or worse.

There is that, of course. But keep in mind that Buck is also headed to a meeting where he will be sitting alongside Jonathan Stonagal and Todd-Cothran for the first time since he'd been forced to fake his own death and travel incognito because they planted a bomb in his car. This is the same Todd-Cothran, you'll remember, who telephoned Scotland Yard to inform them that he'd be murdering one of their policemen and there was nothing they could do about it. Yet Buck doesn't seem to be the slightest bit anxious about seeing these men face to face. He had promised -- cross-my-heart, pinky-swear -- never to write anything bad about them and in exchange they had agreed not to murder him in cold blood. Buck sees no reason not to take them at their word, so he's not nervous to be meeting them face to face.

As he wearily showered and dressed in the morning, Buck concluded that he had come a long way from thinking that the religious angle was on the fringe. He had gone from bemused puzzlement at people thinking their loved ones had flown to heaven to believing that much of what was happening had been foretold in the Bible. He was no longer wondering or doubting, he told himself. There was no other explanation for the two witnesses in Jerusalem. Nor for the disappearances. ...

So he now believes the "religious angle" should be central to his article on the disappearances. He believes, in fact, that there could be "no other explanation." Yet he doesn't end up writing any of that in his article. He treats his readers just like he treated that poor woman on the plane. He has the answers, but he's not in a mood to share them.

But hold that thought, I'm getting ahead of myself.

We get another half-hearted attempt at the Stonagal-as-Antichrist red herring. This, again, seems utterly lame at this point in the book, since everyone with even half a brain already knows without a doubt that Nicolae Carpathia is the Antichrist. What kind of moron could possibly think otherwise?

Buck still leaned toward Stonagal. ...

OK, then. So our half-witted hero heads out the door:

He slung his bag over his shoulder, tempted to take the gun from his bedside table but knowing he would never get it through the metal detectors. Anyway, he sensed, that was not the kind of protection he needed. What he needed was safekeeping for his mind and for his spirit.

The "safekeeping" he refers to there is the divine protection that Bruce told him would come with his conversion. If I were him, though, I'd also be loading up like the Winchester brothers, taking salt, garlic, holy water and maybe even some chalk for pentagram-drawing, just in case.

But now we turn to something interesting. Or, rather, we turn to something that might have been interesting:

All the way to the United Nations he agonized. Do I pray? he asked himself. Do I "pray the prayer" as so many of those people said yesterday morning? Would I be doing it just to protect myself from the voodoo or the heebie-jeebies? He decided that becoming a believer could not be for the purpose of having a good luck charm. That would cheapen it. Surely God didn't work that way. ...

At first glance, this seems almost like a direct response to our criticism here of the mechanistic magic implied in the authors' idea of what constitutes salvation. Throughout the book the authors repeatedly and consistently portray "praying the prayer" as a transaction, almost like an incantation that binds God to the spellcaster's will like a djinni. Pray the prayer, get the salvation. This passage might be LaHaye & Jenkins' way of saying that they don't really mean that.** But then we read the rest of the paragraph:

... Surely God didn't work that way. And if Bruce Barnes could be believed, there was no more protection for believers now, during this period, than there was for anyone else. Huge numbers of people were going to die in the next seven years, Christian or not. The question was, then where would they be?

So the authors are saying, explicitly, that we must not say the magic words as a temporal "good luck charm." God doesn't work that way. The magic words are meant to be an eternal good luck charm, protecting our souls from the voodoo and the heebie-jeebies of the afterlife.

The authors here are treading carefully to avoid the more interesting question here, one that is suggested more strongly in the following paragraph:

There was only one reason to make the transaction, he decided -- if he truly believed he could be forgiven and become one of God's people.

What really matters to L&J is whether or not Buck "truly believes" -- whether or not he is, like Rayford, passionately sincere and sincerely passionate. My Calvinist brother calls this "Great Pumpkin" spirituality -- the idea that our sincerity, rather than God's grace, is the decisive factor. I'm very much not a Calvinist, but I agree that such Great Pumpkin spirituality makes no sense. Jesus' parables are filled with characters begging for forgiveness for the most selfish and venal reasons imaginable, yet that never matters in those stories.***

But even though Buck uses the word "forgiven" here, it hardly seems like he really thinks forgiveness is something he needs. We don't even get the half-baked sort of thing we got with Rayford, where he seemed to be repenting of his own awesomeness. Buck seems to think that God's grace works like a personal line of credit -- that it's only offered to those who can demonstrate they don't really need it. In Buck's scenario, God is willing to save those who ask unless they really need saving, because "that would cheapen it." Or something.

One can imagine a more interesting version of this story in which Buck, desperate to save his own sorry hide, was perfectly willing to beg for help in the cheapest, crassest way imaginable, and primarily for the most selfish of motives. What would come next? Would the receipt of such unmerited grace force him to change and grow? Or would he be able to maintain a selfish ingratitude ("Thanks for the eternal salvation -- sucker!")? That would of course be a very different story requiring very different authors than the ones who gave us this book.

God had become more than a force of nature or even a miracle worker to Buck, as God had been in the skies of Israel that night. It only made sense that if God made people, he would want to communicate with them, to connect with them.

Unless, of course, those people are seated next to Buck on an airplane, in which case they're S.O.L.

Buck entered the U.N. through hordes of reporters already setting up for the press conference. Limousines disgorged VIPs and crowds waited behind police barriers.

Police barriers. A red-carpet entry for a press conference by the new secretary-general. That might have worked as a satiric device meant to describe Nicolae's movie-star-like popularity, but I don't think that is what was intended. The authors seem to imagine that this is what life is like all the time for politicians and diplomats.

Buck saw Stanton Bailey in a crowd near the door. "What are you doing here?" Buck said.

"Getting autographs," Bailey says. "Omigod, did you see Richard Holbrooke? He's so dreamy!"

OK, not quite that, what the authors actually have Bailey say is this:

"Just taking advantage of my position so I can be at the press conference. Proud you're going to be in the preliminary meeting. Be sure to remember everything. Thanks for transmitting your first draft of the theory piece. I know you've got a lot to do yet, but it's a terrific start. Gonna be a winner."

This is impossible. Buck hasn't written even a rough outline of this article yet, let alone a first draft. We readers know this. We've been with him through every step of every day since the article was assigned and he hasn't written a thing. He hasn't had time.

Based on Bailey's reaction, the Rapture theory doesn't seem to be a dominant theme in Buck's first draft. This is also impossible. Apart from his coworkers, the only person Buck has interviewed so far for this article is Rayford Steele. He hasn't talked to any scientists about the possibility of an "electromagnetonuclear" incident, or to any UFO theorists or anyone else about any other possible explanations for the disappearances. So how can he have written a first draft that gives those other theories greater weight than the only theory he has researched? And if he really believes in that theory, if he really believes "there was no other explanation," then why doesn't he make that case in his article?

Like Bruce and Rayford, Buck seems far more interested in being initiated into the secret prophecy knowledge of the Tribulation Force than he is in sharing that truth with anyone else, whether it's the woman next to him on the plane, or Hattie, or the readers of Global Weekly, or even his boss and his coworkers. After all, if he shared this secret knowledge with everybody, then there'd be no one left for him to say "I told you so" to.

"Thanks," Buck said, and Bailey gave him a thumbs-up. Buck realized that if that had happened a month before, he would have had to stifle a laugh at the corny old guy and would have told his colleagues what an idiot he worked for.

We might have mentioned this before, but Buck Williams really is a douchebag.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

* This scene's inversion of the usual nightmare-seatmate dynamic also seems like the premise for a comedy sketch (NOTE: Fixed scrambled names, but it's still not really that funny):

PASSENGER 2: Say what's that you're reading? Is that the Bible?

PASSENGER 1: What? Oh. Oh, yes. It's the Bible. ... I'm sorry, I've got a lot of reading to finish here and I just wanted to ...

PASSENGER 2: Oh sure, sure. No problem. Sorry.

P1: ...

P2: Sorry, I know you're trying to read, but I couldn't help but notice your lapel pin. That little fish, that's like a Christian thing, right? Like a "born-again" thing?

P1: Yes. The fish is a Christian symbol. Yes. Now, I'm sorry, but do you mind? (gestures back at the book)

P2: Oh right, sure. Sorry.

P1: ...

P2: So how's that work, anyway? Getting "born again"?

P1: Look, really, I don't mean to be rude, but I'd really just like to sit here quietly and read until we get to ...

P2: Hey, that's cool! I didn't notice that before.

P1: Excuse me?

P2: Your T-shirt! It looks just like a Budweiser T-shirt, but I just realized it actually says, "Be Wiser" -- oh, and instead of "King of Beers" it says "King of Kings!" Cool. I guess that means Jesus, right? And that I'd be wiser if I ... Hey, wow! Are those gospel tracts in your bag? Can I have one of those?

P1: Oh for God's sake! Why do I always end up next to you people?

** LaHaye and Jenkins seem dimly aware that critics of their books exist, and they seem to have a vague sense that it would be good to respond to those critics. But they never quite do. The closest they come is passages like this one, or the earlier scene where Chloe objected that this apocalypse seemed hard to reconcile with "a God of love and order." No one responded to Chloe's objection, she just seemed eventually to drop it for no apparent reason.

*** The difficulty in those parables for my Calvinist friends arises from what happens next. The selfish servant, motivated only by a desire to save his own behind from prison, throws himself on the mercy of the king, but the king forgives him anyway. A nice Calvinist parable if it stopped there. But the story doesn't stop there. "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors," we Christians pray, and we read "with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." And sometimes I wonder if the whole Calvinist/Arminian reframing of the question isn't just a means of avoiding what that seems to entail.

Comments

[Jos]

Hmm. The comedy bit at the end seemed a bit strange. Mostly because Passenger 1 and Passenger 2 appear to switch personalities after the first awkward silence.

You might want to fix that. ;)

[MikhailBorg]

Not awake yet. I initially read "We get another half-hearted attempt at Smeagol-as-Antichrist."

Now, there's a book for you.

I still can't get over Buck's, well, "conversion". Only a little while ago, he thought Carpathia was the bee's knees, the guy who was going to Make Everything Okay. Then he talks to one cleric, a guy who can't have been much of an RTC after all since he's still here, and suddenly Carpathia's the Antichrist.

What would be really funny would be if Carpathia really was the Second Coming - perhaps incognito, perhaps unaware yet of who he truly was - and Barnes was an operative of Hades here to corrupt the Messiah's efforts through subtle manipulations and smears.

Why he'd be working through an airline pilot and the GIRAT is a little fuzzy, but then, so is the rationale for why God would be.

[SueW]

...where he seemed to be repenting of his own awesomeness.

*ROFL*

One can imagine a more interesting version of this story in which Buck, desperate to save his own sorry hide, was perfectly willing to beg for help in the cheapest, crassest way imaginable, and primarily for the most selfish of motives.

One can hardly imagine him acting any other way.

[patter]

("Thanks for the eternal salvation -- sucker!" [Coffee spray on monitor.]

Yea! LB Fri...Sat...whatever!

[Ursula L]

Fred wrote:

I'm also not sure what to make of the apparent warning there against evangelism by those with only "limited knowledge." Throughout the rest of the book, this is presented as a universal, unavoidable duty for every believer. But here they seem to be saying it's better left to the experts. Odd.

Perhaps this has to do with Buck not having said the Magic Words yet?

To L&J, the Magic Words make the believer. So even though he does believe (he seems, at this point, to actually believe The Event was the Rapture, that god was responsible for it, and that saying the Magic Words is the only way to avoid hell), not having actually said the Magic Words, he isn't qualified to evangelize. If he had said the Magic Words, he would be duty bound to evangelize, even if he knew much less about what is going on than he does now.

Also, isn't the ability/desire to evangelize seen as a gift from the Holy Spirit? No Magic Words means no Holy Spirit/grace/Divine inspiration. Therefore, he lacks the urge to share what he believes, since he doesn't "officially" believe yet.

Of course, both of these would mean that L&J are actually thinking about their writing and character motivations. And I'm not giving them the benefit of the doubt that they had a reason for something that could just be Bad Writing. But it may be an unconscious expression of their belief in Magic Words, rather than believing in believing.

[Sarah Dylan Breuer]

Indeed. LaHaye & Jenkins portray the RTCs as absolutely the most self-absorbed people on earth (and presumably in heaven, unless God and the angels are even more self-absorbed -- either way, this "heaven" sounds more like hell to me). Others -- even the Antichrist -- care, for all Buck knows at least, about peace, justice for the poor, and consoling one another after the mass disappearances. The RTCs are too busy with navel-gazing and, increasingly as the series goes on, accumulating high-priced technological gizmos that don't do anything the cheapest of MacBooks wouldn't and sneaking around to observe events that they have no interest in influencing or stopping.

[Danel]

It only made sense that if God made people, he would want to communicate with them, to connect with them.

Now, I don't understand that at all. Wouldn't it make as much sense to say that having made people, God would have no interest whatsoever in communicating with them, since he already knew what they were going to say?

[joolya]

Ah ... morning coffee, a moist brioche, and LB Monday!
I'm imagining Michael Palin as the pestering passenger and John Cleese as the reticent Christian.
Buck really is a douchebag. This book is seriously a study in douchebaggery. We've got the macho manly man man douchebag archetype, the guy who models himself on Lancelot or the Seven Samurai but is actually just a complete sociopathic narcissist. Then we've got Buck, the Nice Guy (TM) douchebag archetype, who fancies himself a modern sensitive philosopher, who is just a snivelling whiner and completely callous in his own way. Then we've got Bruce Barnes, the sweaty-palmed pastor, whose ministry extends only so far as it bolsters his own sense of importance. Nice. Human beings should learn the warning signs of these species of douchebag and then run like hell when they spot one coming down the block. (Meta-Hattie, this means you!)
Now, a decent writer can write a character who is a douchebag and drag the reader into sympathizing with him/her. When I read The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen I felt like, "Dude, these people are all assholes who deserve the misery they make for themselves." Except that since Franzen is actually a good writer, I became invested in their stories in spite of not liking them, which made it a challenging and interesting experience. Franzen didn't mean for me to like his characters. That is why L&J are no Jonathan Franzen. (Or Martin Amis. Or Vladimir Nabokov. Or ...)
So far the only man I'd like to hang out with in this book is Nicky Hills. Yeah, sure, he might do some spooky mind tricks but at least he is what he is. He's got real magical powers! And he's hot!

[aunursa]

Why the brush-off? His dodging of this woman's questions would seem to be, from the authors' own perspective, a shirking of responsibility. I realize that Buck is not yet a fully certified convert, but he has already decided that the stuff he's reading there is the Most Important Thing.

You said it -- Buck is not yet a believer. L&J don't want to portray him as the ideal believer-evangelist until he says the magic words.

What really matters to L&J is whether or not Buck "truly believes" -- whether or not he is, like Rayford, passionately sincere and sincerely passionate.

This would seem to contradict your continuing assertion that all the L&J God wants is for someone to "say the magic words."

[SueW]

Saying the magic words is what makes you instantly become sincere and passionate.

[Keith]

I don't know joolya, I've been around people like Nicky Hills and Captain Steele and the douche bag brigade and none of them are fun on a picnic. Just different flavors of lame.

Everyone who got Left Behind is a total waste of space but I think the evidence is clear that this is due to bad writing, not characterization. Had L&J written a novel with the intent to show that everyone left in the Rapture's wake were a bunch of narcissistic twits, and the talent to pull it off, it would have been awesome. Like Jeeves and Wooster with a cold slice of Becket.

Jeeves would of course be the hero, the only smart one left in a world full of upper class British twits. Maybe he had goofed off in his school days and not said The Magic Prayer and so otherwise would have been raptured but for a clerical error.

[damnedyankee]

Saying the magic words is what makes you instantly become sincere and passionate.

And then there's nothing but sincerity as far as the eye can see.

And Mega-Super Action Bonus Points for the Supernatural reference! Whee!

[Praline]

Partly, perhaps, Bucks lack of evangelical enthusiasm comes from the fact that the dominant personalities he knows - ie, of course, Rayford, but possibly Barnes as well if Barnes would actually show some spine - haven't given him permission to preach. This is all about authority: preaching is, in the scenes L&J are most interested in, a form of domineering - and Buck is a Beta male. Possibly if he'd found the woman on the plane sexually attractive, she might have interested him enough to get into a conversation, and once in the conversation he'd have an incentive to establish dominance by knowing What Was What more than she did... But mostly, I think, his desire not to 'mislead anyone' is a way of saying that he hasn't got permission to proselytize.

For a Protestant, this is odd. I can see a newly-converted Catholic being uncomfortable if someone asked him to hear their confession, because in Catholicism, only priests have the authority to do that. (A Catholic who was also good person, of course, might give their new friend a sympathetic ear, support their desire to repent and recommend they seek out a priest to do it officially, but that would involve caring about other people.) Yet Buck is definitely heading towards Protestantism and a personal relationship with the Lord. You'd think he'd be able to say, 'I'm not so sure about it either, but let's talk together and see if we can help each other along the path.'

Hierarchical instincts riddle this book, of course. But the hierarchy is of stardom rather than spiritual status: top dog is Rayford, who trumps the priest in his Godliness (an idea I doubt L&J would like to catch on in their local churches). The problem is, if you're a sufficiently minor character, you fall out of society altogether. These Christians are as caste-oriented as Imperial stereotypes ever accused India of being. Buck on the plane - in coach, poor man - is a Brahmin surrounded by untouchables; of course his only duty is to his own purity.

[Dash]

There was only one reason to make the transaction, he decided -- if he truly believed he could be forgiven and become one of God's people.

Works theology version of grace theology. And in this case, it's works theology to a T: to be saved, you have to work yourself into the appropriate level of belief in your own forgivability. (Buck seems to think tuning up for the heavenly choir means singing "me me me me me me me.") I'm not even sure what it means to believe one "can be forgiven," as opposed to believing that God can forgive one. The choice between passive and active makes a major difference in meaning.

One can imagine a more interesting version of this story in which Buck, desperate to save his own sorry hide, was perfectly willing to beg for help in the cheapest, crassest way imaginable, and primarily for the most selfish of motives. What would come next? Would the receipt of such unmerited grace force him to change and grow?

And cue the Hound of Heaven.

That would make for an interesting book--sort of the reverse of all those stories, much beloved of RTCs, in which using a ouija board or visiting a fortune teller or playing a childhood game with supernatural origins makes an opening for the devil to enter and start making major transformations.

[Dash]

the woman next to him: is it just me, or is the decision to make Buck's seatmate a woman part of what allows him to brush her off? Praline's point that it's about hierarchy suggests that possibly, had LJ given Buck a male seatmate, they would also have obliged him to take the man's questions seriously.

And, while I haven't looked back over all the LJ text, it occurs to me that for LJ "woman" is a role in a way that "man" isn't. Men are reporters, waiters, executives, etc. A woman needs merely to be described as a woman, unless she's one of the characters with a speaking role (or a sensible-shoes-wearing role).

[Hibryd]

Based on Bailey's reaction, the Rapture theory doesn't seem to be a dominant theme in Buck's first draft. This is also impossible. Apart from his coworkers, the only person Buck has interviewed so far for this article is Rayford Steele. He hasn't talked to any scientists about the possibility of an "electromagnetonuclear" incident, or to any UFO theorists or anyone else about any other possible explanations for the disappearances.

Buck is Jenkin's Mary Sue. Since Jenkins doesn't do any of that pesky, time-consuming "research" for his writing, why should Buck? I'm sure Buck could write about perfectly cromulent scientific theories without talking to one of those "scientist" guys.

[car]

What kind of moron could possibly think otherwise?
Buck still leaned toward Stonagal. ...
OK, then.

You know, I was going to post this and say it's the little things like this that make me love LB Days so. Then I got to the sketch at the end, and now I'm going to be laughing for the rest of the day. Fred Is Awesome.

[pointatinfinity]

Dash: Buck seems to think tuning up for the heavenly choir means singing "me me me me me me me."

Great phrase!

it occurs to me that for LJ "woman" is a role in a way that "man" isn't. Men are reporters, waiters, executives, etc. A woman needs merely to be described as a woman, unless she's one of the characters with a speaking role (or a sensible-shoes-wearing role).

This reminds me of Douglas Hofstadter's introduction to the 20th anniversary edition of Godel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid:

"There came a point when it dawned on me that the characters in my dialogues...were without exception males. I was shocked at my own having fallen victim to the unconscious pressures pushing against the introduction of female characters. And yet when I toyed with the idea of going back and performing a "sex-change operation" on one or more of their characters, that really rubbed me the wrong way. How come?

Well, all I could tell myself was, "Bring in females and you wind up importing the whole confusing world of sexuality into what is essentially a purely abstract discussion, and that would distract attention from my book's main purposes." That nonsensical view of mine stemmed from and echoed many tacit assumptions of western civilization at the time (and still today.) [...]

...in the marvelous but little-known Lewis Carroll dialogue from which I borrowed these delightful characters...the Tortoise turns out, if you look carefully, never to have been attributed either gender. But when I first read it, the question never entered my mind. This was clearly a he-tortoise. Otherwise, I would have known not only that it was female, but also why it was female. After all, an author only introduces a female character for some special reason, right? Whereas a male character in a "neutral" context (e.g. philosophy) needs no raison d'etre, a female does. And so, given no clue as to the Tortoise's sex, I unthinkingly and uncritically envisaged it as a male. Thus does sexism silently pervade well-meaning but susceptible brains."

(P-15, P-16, all italics original.)

[Fraser]

So why would Buck have been laughing at Stanton Bailey (had he not been enlightened at New Hope?) behind his back. Because the guy gave him a thumbs up? I reread that because it seemed so stupid--but yes, that appears to be the case (and does anyone actually say "corny" any more?).

Only what exactly would make Buck any different now? Is it because he's overflowing with Christian love for all mankind? Or because now that he's on the brink of conversion, he realizes he has to respect his elders and superiors?

[Elmo]

I've been having a problem lately. Every time I think of Buck, I think of him less as the GIRAT and more as a half-baked Reggae fan who can't stop humming, "By the Rivers of Babylon" while reading the Bible. No doubt, after he gets saved, I'll have him humming "I Can See Clearly Now".

[Tonio]

Throughout the rest of the book, this is presented as a universal, unavoidable duty for every believer. But here they seem to be saying it's better left to the experts. Odd.

It doesn't sound odd to me - if I was in Buck's place, I would worry about misleading the woman by mistake and getting God or Rayford angry at me.

[twig]

I like the idea that the (writers? authors? hacks?) have enough sense to realize that Magical Vending Machine Lord is not something that can stand up to much scrutiny - but they have no idea how to change that concept without losing control of their entire ridiculous viewpoint.

So they pretend that mentioning it is tatamount to thinking through it, and quickly move on.

I also like Buck feeling alone next to a woman who wants to have a conversation.

Buck: I'm SO ALONE.
Woman: Oh, hello.
Buck: NO ONE UNDERSTANDS MY TURMOIL.
Woman: ... Would you like to talk about it? Maybe-
Buck: ALOOOOOOOOONE.

[aunursa]

SueW: Saying the magic words is what makes you instantly become sincere and passionate.

That does make sense. IIRC, It's consistent with the conversion scenes in the sequels -- and with Irene's conversion in the prequels.

[hapax]

Tonio: if I was in Buck's place...

Hee. I know you didn't mean it that way, but that has got to be one of the funniest images ever. Tonio, even putting on the swirliest of Bizarro-world bad-writing spectacles, I can't conceive of you capable of the sheer insensitive, oblivious crassness of any of the LB "heroes."

...getting God or Rayford angry at me.

Nope, don't wanna tick off God, 'cause then he might steal your kids or send earthquakes and disease and fires from heaven and giant poisonous robo-scorpions, or even make you trip, fall down, and die!

Oh, wait....

Now Rayford, that's another story. Gosh, the thought of braving his sincere, passionate, Wrath of Steele makes Buck feel all trembly and sweaty and nervous and slightly fluttery inside....

@twig: "Each by ourselves, we're all alone."

[inge]

Dash, it occurs to me that for LJ "woman" is a role in a way that "man" isn't.

I have noticed that in some YA books I used to read as a kid... groups of kids consisting of "the Leader, the Brainy Guy, the Comic Relief and the Girl."

Hated it ever since.

[aunursa]

Tonio: It doesn't sound odd to me - if I was in Buck's place, I would worry about misleading the woman by mistake and getting God or Rayford angry at me.

He could tell her that he's learning too, and that while he'll tell her what he's learned, she should verify his answers with a local church in her area. He could offer to take her name and phone number/email address and that he would ask his pastor to contact her. If he cared about her eternal soul.

(At the beginning of Tribulation Force, Rayford is the anti-Buck. Our fearless captain proselytizes his copilot during a flight.)

[Tonio]

You mean "By the Rivers of Babylon" is also a song? I only know the title from a short story by Stephen Vincent Benét.

[Robb]

I'm imagining Michael Palin as the pestering passenger and John Cleese as the reticent Christian.

Haha - my first thought was actually Idle & Jones (in a riff off the "Wink Wink, nudge nudge" bit), but Palin as a spiritually curious twerp would be just as
funny.

*****

if I was in Buck's place, I would worry about misleading the woman by mistake and getting God or Rayford angry at me.

True 'dat! I'd sure be scared of the God that Buck has just been told about: a plan of divine retribution & violence that has only just begun is unfolding before his eyes, and at best, Buck has no idea what his place in the whole thing is. I can see why he'd to be a part of the Trib Force - a sense of belonging & welcoming from other people would be tremedously important for everyone in such times.

Of course, that's being generous to the authors & assuming that Buck's elitism isn't driving him to get to the inner core of the top 'spiritual'/social group. Otherwise, that could be made as an argument for the rise of Meta-Buck (who's only 75% the douchebag of Buck-Williams-original-recipe).

[Abelardus]

This was worth waiting for. It's as perceptive and funny as ever, Fred. But I'm glad you addressed the matter of Hagee in your previous post anyway.

[Tonio]

I can't conceive of you capable of the sheer insensitive, oblivious crassness of any of the LB "heroes."

Thanks so much. I certainly hope that is true of me.

Oh, wait....

My comment had little to do with any particular beliefs about gods. I was suggesting that with people in power, one must always walk on eggshells, because the cost of making them angry is so great. To a lesser extent, this would be true of people who would have expectations or requests of you - such people are also in power. This would describe the Rayford-Buck relationship, since Buck is the raw recruit convert.

Gosh, the thought of braving his sincere, passionate, Wrath of Steele makes Buck feel all trembly and sweaty and nervous and slightly fluttery inside....

Sound the slashfic alarm...

[McJulie]

in which using a ouija board or visiting a fortune teller or playing a childhood game with supernatural origins makes an opening for the devil to enter and start making major transformations.

You know, the RTC obsession with that sort of thing never made any sense to me when I was a kid, but these discussion threads have made me realize: they believe that you can be demonically possessed by, for example, backwards talking in Led Zeppelin that you don't even notice, because they believe that "Christian" salvation works in exactly the same way.

It seems like there should be a handy "sin name" for the error of chasing after dangers that are hidden and obscure and ignoring dangers that are right there in front of you. (Like if Buck where to actually realize, suddenly, "Oh my God! I've been a complete jerk my whole life!)

"Thanks for transmitting your first draft of the theory piece. I know you've got a lot to do yet, but it's a terrific start. Gonna be a winner."

You know, this isn't the first time we've encountered this, but it's my bug-du-jour with the bad writing: I can't believe the authors themselves don't get bored with the constant ego-stroking and lack of real conflict. It would be so easy -- so easy! to have Buck's editor be fighting with him over the religious content of the piece. It wouldn't even threaten to knock over their precious theological house of cards. So why? Why????

It's like these books were perversely written to deliberately avoid being interesting.

@twig 11:17 am: It's early yet, but I think we have a win.

[carovee]

Thanks, Twig. That little snippet just made my day.

Also, doesn't Buck have relatives? Siblings who are mourning for their lost children? If he can't be bothered to talk to them why would he talk to a stranger on a plane?

[Ygor]

"What if this woman gets off the airplane, walks out of the airport and gets hit by the hypothetical bus?"

I am not much afraid of being hit by the hypothetical bus. It's the proverbial bus that would make wormsmeat of me.

[Robb]

doesn't Buck have relatives? Siblings who are mourning for their lost children?

No, he doesn't - not as far as he's concerned, anyway. Like many of the events in this book, their lives might as well have never happened for all that it matters to the main characters.

[JayH]

hibryd: I'm sure Buck could write about perfectly cromulent scientific theories

*snort* Geez, I'm glad I haven't hit the vending machine for that Coke yet, or I'd be wiping up my desk right now.

[JayH]

aunursa: [...] and with Irene's conversion in the prequels.

Oh dear heaven, there are prequels now?

[damnedyankee]

You know, the RTC obsession with that sort of thing never made any sense to me when I was a kid, but these discussion threads have made me realize: they believe that you can be demonically possessed by, for example, backwards talking in Led Zeppelin that you don't even notice, because they believe that "Christian" salvation works in exactly the same way.

I always took the more cynical view of this, in that the people who promote that sort of nonsense found the idea of the Devil as being too remote to get people really fired up (what with him not showing up on the nightly news sticking people with his pitchfork), so they started casting about for evil that was "closer to home". So anything that they didn't understand (Dungeons and Dragons, popular music, books with interesting plots - I'm just inferring with that last one) immediately became Satan's tools and a vector for corruption.

I never heard the idea that I would get actually possessed by demons by such things until later in life. When I was a kid, the gist of things seemed to be that I would retain the impressionability of a two-year-old forever, and thus would be easily swayed into sin by ANYTHING that was not "of God".

[MikhailBorg]

in which using a ouija board [...] makes an opening for the devil to enter and start making major transformations

I will say that a ouija board led to some of the creepiest evenings of my adolescent life.

There was nothing that my friends or I could sell as evidence to the SciFi channel, mind you. But I'll never forget the experience. One can truly begin to feel that one's in communication with an otherworldy intelligence... one that isn't nice.

[eyelessgame]

I'm imagining Michael Palin as the pestering passenger and John Cleese as the reticent Christian.

I cast it exactly the same way before reading the comment thread. But then I realized the problem with it: this scene doesn't make sense with British accents, because the thing it's parodying is such an American phenomenon...

[aunursa]

JayH: Oh dear heaven, there are prequels now?

Three prequels beginning with The Rising, which alternates between Rayford at age 9 rebelling against his parents ... and the occult devil worshipping sect that plans Nicky's conception. The GIRAT is introduced in the second prequel.

[roosterfish]

I think we're onto something with Buck choosing to ignore his seatmate because she's a woman. My take is that Buck remains silent because he knows he's a beginner at all this faith stuff, and in RTC-land, all men must dominate women and show authority over them (can't have those pesky wimmenfolk gettin' IDEAS, y'know!). So Buck in this case can't show off his exemplary knowledge and authority of the Bible, because he doesn't know enough about it yet. If he got into an actual conversation with his seatmate, she'd figure out he doesn't really know what he's talking about and that he's still searching for answers, just like she is. This would be unacceptable because in RTC-land, men are superior to women and must demonstrate that superiority at all times. Buck can't do this with his seatmate because he doesn't know what he's talking about, so since he can't dazzle her with his authority and knowledge -- he brushes her off instead.

Hence this is another example of Buck's (and the authors') inherent douchebaggery. (Great word, btw -- I'm so stealing it!)

[roosterfish]

In addition to my earlier comment, I'm also wondering if that's part of the reason LaJenkins had Hattie and Chloe disappear for a half-hour (or was it an hour?) in the restaurant bathroom. They were absent the entire time that the menfolk got all emotional, so conveniently they never got to see Buck and Ray being less than in total control.

[Funky Shoes]

He didn't want to be rude, but neither did he want to mislead anyone with his limited knowledge. I read it as emphasizing mislead, meaning that Buck still has doubts / has not converted yet. He can't share the Truth until he's sure it is true.

(I really believe that Jerry Jenkins has a Post-it note stuck to the monitor of his computer reading, "Tell, don't show.") Awesome, awesome line.

[aunursa]

Also, doesn't Buck have relatives? Siblings who are mourning for their lost children?

Buck's father and brother are alive. His brother's wife and children disappeared.

From page 91: "Buck, if you get this call your father in Tucson. He and your brother are together, and I hate to tell you here, but they're having trouble reaching Jeff's wife and the kids. They should have news by the time you call. Your father was most grateful to hear that you were all right."

For insight into Buck's relationship with his family, consider this from the prequel The Regime:

Jeff: Get out here! How hard is that to understand? Do you have no priorities?
Cameron: You got a magic wand, Jeff? I'm hopelessly in debt here.
Jeff: Beg, borrow, steal, do something. Mom is dying. She's in intensive care, asking for you.
Cameron: Thanks for that guilt trip.
Jeff: I thought you ought to know. It's not pretty, Cam. You know you're her favorite, and--
Cameron: Don't start with that again, Jeff. Come on.
Jeff: I'm okay with it. I just wish you'd live up to it. Earn it. All I've done is stay here and done whatever I could for the family, for the business. And what do I get? Taken for granted. You're out there doing your own thing, finding yourself, chasing your dream, and going busted picking up some award. And who is she asking for?

[Robb]

They were absent the entire time that the menfolk got all emotional, so conveniently they never got to see Buck and Ray being less than in total control.

Hmm. . . something doesn't seem right about that sentence... let's see here:

"They were absent the entire time that the menfolk got all emotional physical, so conveniently they never got to see Buck and Ray being less than in total control of their passion."

That's better. There hasn't been enough gratuitous slashfic thus far.

[roosterfish]

Whoa, strike-outs gone wild!

(Sounds like a nudist baseball video, doesn't it?)

[Majromax]

In the name of Times New Roman I compel you!

[Majromax]

There hasn't been enough gratuitous slashfic thus far.

To hijack the thread a little bit, the RTC attitude towards male homosexuality seems almost Greek or Roman. It's not even the act so much that disgusts RTCs as the crime of being effeminate.

In times past, they'd be the ones saying that being on top is fine and expected, and being on bottom is weak, feminine, and subservient.

[Geds]

I cast it exactly the same way before reading the comment thread. But then I realized the problem with it: this scene doesn't make sense with British accents, because the thing it's parodying is such an American phenomenon...

With Buck it would have to be Hugh Laurie in full House mode. And, really, Lisa Edelsteain as Cuddy playing the inquisitive woman would work perfectly well, given what we know about L&J's general misogyny...

[Robb]

Buck it would have to be Hugh Laurie in full House mode

I sort of agree - Hugh Laurie certainly can pull off that condescending elitist jerk type, but at the same time, having Buck played by someone so distinguished would be a little off (he also feels a bit old for Buck). Perhaps someone more of a douchebag, such as... oh, I dunno - Rob Lowe.