Orthodoxy

By G. K. Chesterton

Catholic-ometer: 4.5 of 5

Enjoyability: 3.5 of 5

I've given most books by G.K. Chesterton high marks in the past, because I like his wit, and frankly, his orthodoxy.  I was also impressed by his sharp understanding of the errors in the thinking of the time in which he lived, and his talent for humor and rhetoric, and especially his admiration of Saint Thomas Aquinas, who single-handedly saved me from a ten-year run of agnosticism.

Nevertheless, sometimes, his prose gets decidedly purple; more so than is good for it.  I just don't complain about it because he uses the prose to outline some very clear and provable truth.

Orthodoxy, though considered by many to be Chesterton's magnum opus, is, in fact, one of my least favorite of his books, and the main reason is that he demonstrates so clearly that it is prejudices and preferences; not reason, on which his view of the world rests.

I'm sorry to have to say this, because we share so much in common, but in the early parts of the book, Chesterton begins saying that he is assuming that he's speaking to people who want the world to be dramatic and romantic, rather than a system.  He starts talking about lessons that he learned from classic fairy tales, and about the joys in monotony that babies seem to experience, and none of this has anything to do with logic or reason.  If I could ask Chesterton about these passages, I would put it in this way.

"Suppose that you met a person who had never heard any of the old fairy tales, never heard a poem or a song, and discovered joy, only in those rare instances in which he was victorious over something.  How would you defend your world view to this person?  What frame of reference would you use?  What frame of reference would you -be able- to use?"

I fear things have gotten much worse since Chesterton's time, in that children no longer hear the instructive fairy tales, and no longer have much experience of the world outside their doors.  Because of this, the process of "letting fresh air in," as Chesterton puts it; letting it into their thoughts is not so simple as reminding them of their childhood.  Their childhood, very often, did not contain any recognition of the things that make life worth living.

However, as the book progresses, Chesterton extends this problem, making aesthetic claims as though they were truth claims.

In chapter 4, he claims that we should be grateful for snow being white, because it could have been black, and for roses being red because they could have been blue.  The problem is, I don't see any reason to agree with him on this, simply because my aesthetics differ from his.  Aesthetics are not objective statements, but expressions of how certain stimuli make one feel.  If white snow and red roses make him happy, then good for him, but this is not a statement of fact, nor is it constant for everyone.  I, for example, love red roses, but would -prefer- black snow to white.  I just dislike the color white.  It provokes unpleasant emotions in me.  So what?  That proves nothing, and for the most part, it effects none of the choices I make, simply because I choose not to let it.

In the same chapter, he seems to praise monotony, or at least, to claim that it's better, since small babies seem to enjoy it so much.  Then, he criticizes naturalism for being monotonous.  Clearly there's a problem with this.  I'd say monotony is the least of naturalism's problems, of which there are many.

Chapter 4, paragraph 31; Chesterton claims that people choose which emotions to have.  This is false.  People choose which emotions to -express,- but the emotions which you have are completely beyond your control.

He then goes -far- off topic, defending "smallness" as being inherently more lovable and romantic than "bigness," and again, using only personal sentiments as his evidence.  Needless to say, I was unconvinced, and even somewhat angered, as it seems, to me, totally irrelevant to the subject of the book, and unlikely to provoke the reaction that he wishes.  The fact that I personally find smallness repulsive, and bigness enchanting is a side issue, though it is, in fact, one of my primary reasons for being willing to listen to the gospel message of dying to this life in pursuit of the next; the pearl of great price is not worth pursuing because of its smallness.

Chesterton uses the last few paragraphs of chapter 4 to try to outline why the need to practice economics is a fun and romantic need, by comparing it to Robinson Crusoe being marooned on an island with only a few items surviving the shipwreck.  However, there are several reasons why this comparison fails.

1. Sure, economics can be part of an adventure, but only when there seems to be some chance of losing, or of winning.  Crusoe had the chance to do either, and that's what makes his experiences an "adventure."

2. Simply because something -can- be fun, it doesn't follow that it -will- be.  I doubt that Crusoe thought it was very much fun being shipwrecked, regardless of how much we may enjoy reading about his escapades from a safe, warm armchair, which brings me to the next reason.

3. There is a difference between fantasy and reality.  We may have great fun watching a movie about a boxer who's badly injured in a fight, and has to work his way back to the top, but that doesn't mean that it would be fun to -be- badly injured, or that bad injuries are somehow good because of this.

4. Even if something -is- fun, it doesn't follow that it's in any way related to drama or romance, or even to risk.  If you can appreciate having small tools at your disposal for large tasks, you can also appreciate having large tools for even larger tasks.

5. None of this is relevent.  It's all subjective aesthetics, which we don't all share, and since that's the whole message in this case, if you don't already share his aesthetics, you won't get his message.

Chapter 5 opens with a cursory glance at the concepts of pessimism and optimism, which, unfortunately, he gets completely wrong.  He remarks that he thinks optimists are people who think everything is good except pessimists, and pessimists are people who think everything is bad except themselves.  Again; problems.

1. Many optimists (and pessimists) think that pessimists are good.

2. Many pessimists -loath- themselves.

3. Pessimism and optimism, even as abstractions, are not about whether you think things are good or bad.  Rather, they're about how often you -dwell on- the things that you think are good, versus the ones you think are bad.  A man may recognize that his neighbors never talk to him, except to scorn, that his government is run by a tyrant, than the businesses that surround him are all using their money for evil purposes, and that he himself is friendless, relationless, childless and destitute, and yet, still be an optimist, because he comforts himself by reminding himself of the things that -are not- horrible, even if those things are mere dreams.

4. Pessimism and optimism are not real people-types.  They're abstractions invented by psychologists to try to keep track of trends in psychology.  It would be a mistake to assume that any human being is a -pure- optimist or a -pure- pessimist.

5. Again, what does this have to do with philosophy?  Nothing, as far as I can tell.

Next comes the point where Chesterton begins to speak as though we have some obligation to be loyal to the universe, by our very nature.  This sounds suspiciously like "My universe, right or wrong," which he seems to admit later, strangely.  Then, in Chapter 5, Paragraph 6, he launches a broadside attack against pessimists, claiming them to be "candid friends."  This is clearly not always true, since often, pessimists will be very candid about -not- being your friend, especially when you criticize them for being pessimists.

He becomes more and more derogatory towards pessimists as the chapter continues, calling them traitors to the universe and the like.  It's just garbage by this point.  None of this has anything to do with sanity or philosophy.  He's just coming down on his least favorite type of personality.  For example, he claims that pessimists don't love the things they chastise.  I know for fact this is not true of all pessimists.  Frankly, I expected better.

Next, Chesterton defines the difference between "good" and "bad" optimism; that bad optimism leads to laziness and complacence, while good optimism leads to eager action.  It's an important point to make, and I'm glad he made it, but in a way, it also serves to further outline his mistakes regarding pessimism.  After all, if optimism can motivate a person well or badly, why can't pessimism do the same?  Why is it only optimism which has a "good" version, while all pessimists are lumped into the same pile?

However, midway through chapter 6 (paragraph 16,) Chesterton begins defending the faith again, and the book picks up!  He includes several brilliant examples of accusations thrown at the church, and how they contradict one another, as well as a fantastic interpretation of the "lion will lay down with the lamb" passage in paragraph 27, which seems to imply that there's room for more than one type of personality in Christianity, in defiance of his previous remarks.

However, it doesn't last, and by the end of chapter 7, he's singing the praises of levity again, and trying to claim that the saints would back him up (I can think of at least a dozen of the great saints of the Church who were as serious-minded as IRS agents.)  If he wants to claim that the faith has plenty of room for those who don't take themselves too seriously, I would say that claim is true, but the way he's talking, it almost sounds as though serious individuals have little or no place in the kingdom of God.  I hope I don't need to explain why that's false.

Nevertheless, Chapter 8 opens up, and once again, we're back to strong critiques of anti-Christian arguments, then in Chapter 9, arguments for why doubt is unjustified in the case of belief in God.  These chapters are -really good.-

I guess my conclusion with regard to the book is a sort of "halfway" conclusion.  It gets points just for being orthodox, but I have to say that I think the book meandered somewhat between legitimate defenses of the faith, and irrelevant aesthetics, with which I very much disagree.  Statements of aesthetics and outlook (positive vs. negative) are not matters of faith or morals, and don't really matter when it comes to believing in God, or being a Christian.  As long as you take it in that context, I can't imagine this book's "low points" doing you any harm, and I do recommend the other half of it, because, as I said, the "high points" are -very- high.

Saint Thomas Aquinas

By G. K. Chesterton

Catholic-ometer: 5 of 5

Enjoyability: 4 of 5

No, this book does not contain the writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas.  It's merely a biography of him, written by none other than G. K. Chesterton; one of the finest writers whose work I've ever had the pleasure of reading.

Not too many distinct facts are actually known about Saint Thomas Aquinas, apart from his philosophy and theology; the teachings that he wrote and the things he believed and taught.  Actual facts and legends about his life are few and far between, as Chesterton himself remarks, and while he faithfully reports them, they're hardly enough to fill a whole book.

Because of this, Chesterton fills the remainder of the book with observations on the scholarly opposition, history and political atmosphere of the time period, which Thomas Aquinas dealt with.  He talks about the problems that he had to deal with and the issues that he resolved, and finally, how his masterworks of logic were forgotten and why.

Inevitably, Chesterton's personality and writing style intrude into the tale, as the tale itself is hardly told in a normal, narrative format.  Chesterton was a sharp-witted man with a brilliant sense of humor.

However, I didn't enjoy this book as much as I might have, for two reasons, and regrettably, both have to do with the -way- in which it's written.

First, while Chesterton's wit is clear in the text, I'm afraid that I found many of his jokes to be less -funny- and more -ironic observations.-  This is a minor issue at most, though, and my other problem with the book is more intrusive by far.

My second problem is that Chesterton just doesn't talk like a historian.  He talks like he's describing the history of this saint to a bunch of his friends at a club; peppering it with analogies, comparisons and amusing anecdotes, and while, in discussion, I have no difficulty with this, it does make it a little harder to keep track of the point of the chapter, or of the paragraph, or to remember where Saint Thomas Aquinas was when we last left our hero.  I just found it a little distracting.

Now, that's not to say it ruined the book for me.  I certainly enjoyed it, and I agree with most of the points that Chesterton made; even in his comparisons.  Frankly, I've never read a Chesterton book that I didn't, in some respects, enjoy (except for some of his fiction.)  I -especially- like this book's accuracy and faithfulness to church teaching.  Still, it wasn't without its problems.  If you're not easily distracted, and you want to learn about this great doctor of the Church, then by all means, pick this book up.  It's a fine book, and very enjoyable.  In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you enjoyed it even more than I did.

Heretics

By G. K. Chesterton

Catholic-ometer: 5 of 5

Enjoyability: 5 of 5

I've had less time to read recently, due to my new job not being on a bus route, but I did still manage to squeeze in "Heretics" over the last month or so, and I have to say, I was very impressed.  It's somewhat dated, to a degree, since the people discussed by Chesterton in the book are dead now, but I'd say it's one of the most entertaining works by him that I've read; making several essential points along the way.

In this book, Chesterton addresses the works of such men as Rudyard Kipling, Whistler, George Bernard Shaw and H. G. Wells.  Even if you're not very familiar with the works of these men, Chesterton's humor and wit in explaining the problems with them provide both an explanation of who they were and where they went wrong, and also quite a number of good jokes and humorous comparisons, which makes you want to keep reading.

I don't recall that many instances in this book that upset me, which is telling by itself, but I do remember a few of the best points that Chesterton made in this work.

To start with, when talking about Wells, he addressed the issue of scientific humility; which can be identified by the fact that those who possess it imagine grand things, recognizing themselves to be small.  Adventuring, he said, is for the unadventurous.  I admit, there's probably a lot of truth to that.  The more adventurous a protagonist is, the harder it is to get excited about his adventure, or to be impressed by it, which may be part of the reason why the fiction of (for example) Tolkien and Lewis was so magnificent, and remains so popular to this day.

Later in the book, he replies to the notion that "there are many different moralities all over the world, all different from each other" by making a comparison.

He said "suppose you were to say 'camels are different all over the world, some have six legs, some are green, some have scales, some are triangular, etc...  They're so different!'  Well, why do you call them all camels in the first place?  How do you know a camel when you see one?"

The point, clearly, is that just because we -call- something a morality, doesn't mean that it -is- a morality, nor should we refer to everything as "morality" which we do.  I love this stuff.

After making many good points, similar to these, Chesterton ends the book by responding to the "Art for Art's Sake" crowd, by pointing out that no really good art ever exists for its own sake.  They wanted to remove all dogmas from art.  He pointed out that the only really good and popular artists were the dogmatic ones, whether their dogmas were right or not.

I have almost nothing to add to this book.  Chesterton's writings were so exceptionally good, and advocated such exceptional good sense, that they didn't become popular among the public as a whole, but I think he's one of the finest authors I've ever read, and this book is one of his finest works.

What's Wrong With the World

By G. K. Chesterton

Catholic-ometer: 5 of 5

Enjoyability: 5 of 5

I've enjoyed every book by Chesterton that I've ever read.  He's a very clever, insightful and humorous writer, but this one was especially good.  In it, Chesterton addresses many big problems in the world of his time (and even more so, the world of today,) and comes to some very jarring conclusions about them.

As with every writer worth reading, Chesterton utterly challenges the false assumptions that the world bases its whole system of belief on; even assumptions about things like public education, voting and soap, and also like with every writer worth reading, he backs up his claims with logical analogies and evidence, which help to support his views.  I wouldn't dream of robbing you of the delight of reading these things for yourself, of course, so here's your chance to stop reading this review.  I'll spend the rest of it talking about some of the points he made.

Chesterton's first several points in this book are to point out that man has gone wrong in quite a number of ways, and made quite a number of false assumptions to prevent himself from going right again.  People make the mistake of thinking that the societies of the past failed because they were flawed in some way that we aren't.  People make choices on the basis of what they -dislike,- rather than on the basis of what's better.  People make the mistake of regarding the past with fear and distrust in general, and of assuming that only the future can offer them anything worth having; that there was nothing about the past that's worth restoring.  All of these assumptions are purely destructive, since they block a person off to an avenue of good ideas and good solutions, which would otherwise be available to them.

People make the mistake of prizing optimism over success; a happy outlook over a happy life.  They make the mistake of allowing whole groups of people, making opposite mistakes, to guide them in one false direction or another, never once suspecting that both might be wrong in certain ways, or if they suspect, unable to really do anything about it.  The early parts of the book are a real eye-opener.

Chesterton then challenges imperialism and the way wicked public changes are spread; through claiming that it's necessary.  Never once, he says, are these evil changes enacted because people really want them enacted.  They're enacted because people are convinced that they're needed, whether they're wanted or not.  However, Chesterton's point is pretty clear; they are, in truth, not needed at all; certainly not among everyday people who are just trying to live their lives and put food on the table.  Every major radical political agenda of a left-leaning slant in the modern world can be put neatly in this category.

Next, Chesterton turns his guns on feminism.  This is probably the most controversial part of the book, which may explain why I loved it so much.  Basically, he points out that men are not women, nor are women men, and that they have different natural inclinations and ways of thinking, which makes men better at some things, and women at others.  Like all the best people who address this issue, he doesn't get distracted by the feminist lines about "equality."  Indeed, women are equal to men, in their innate worth, their human rights, etc, but this does not make them the same as men, nor should it need to.  Men and women can compliment one another within society, each having a different role, and neither needing to infringe on the other.  It's not necessary, or helpful, to just mix everyone into the same pot, like we do in modern society.

Perhaps the most controversial part of this section is in Chesterton's dismissal of women's suffrage, which he defends, not by repudiating women, as feminists might have one believe, but by repudiating votes.  In a sense, I agree with him.  Voting is a grave responsibility with many dark aspects to it, and there are distinct drawbacks to it, as a system of government.  For one thing, in a monarchy, or some other such society, even if an evil tyrant takes over, you don't need to look suspiciously at most of your fellow citizens.  It probably wasn't their fault.  Not so in a democracy.  In a democracy, when an evil tyrant takes over (and it always happens eventually, as it now has to America,) you have to wake up the next morning and go to work, knowing full well that over half of your fellow citizens are either voting in ignorance, are negligent of their duties, or are evil themselves.

Then too, if an evil tyrant wants to seize power over a democracy, he can't just march his army in and take command.  He has to go through the long, slow process of gradually corrupting the hearts and/or dulling the minds of over half its citizens, so that they become evil or ignorant enough to accept him.  When all is said and done, I think that more souls are lost under an evil democracy than under and evil dictatorship.  By no means am I saying that democracies are inferior to monarchies, or anything like that.  What I am saying is that voting is not the clean and guiltless process we often make it out to be.  These aren't the points that Chesterton brings up against voting, but it's what I got to thinking about as a result of this book.

The next group of big issues dealt with in this book are education; specifically, public education of children, and how it rises from another false assumption; that because rich people allow their children to be taught by someone else, so should everyone else.  In short, that not only -can- parents escape from the task of teaching their children, but they -should.-  He explains why this is utter nonsense; what great benefits the child gains in learning from their own parents, and others who share their way of life, instead of suffering under the "merciful gifts" of the richer classes.

I should point out that with the state of public schools in America today (basically a form of child abuse,) these objections are even -more- poignant and -more- important.  In fact, really, all the objections in this book stand out much clearer and more correct than ever, but none more so than his last big observation on the world.

The problem is that man is viewing his society/social constructs as immutable, and his neighbor as flexible, when it should be the other way around.  People are trying to shape man to fit into a vision of society, rather than forming their vision of society around man.  This is what's really wrong with the world, according to G. K. Chesterton.

I couldn't agree with him more.

The Christian Imagination

By Thomas C. Peters

Catholic-ometer: 5 of 5

Enjoyability: 5 of 5

The secondary title; "G.K. Chesterton on the Arts" describes this small book a bit better than the main one.  It's really a book all about G.K. Chesterton; that giant of Christian evangelism, who I've so recently had the pleasure of reading some of the work of, and I really can't say anything against this work.  It's about Chesterton's views, art, Christianity, and it's done without any of the "spin" that so many modern authors and essay-writers are fond of using.

I honestly can't think of anything worth complaining about here.  That about half of it is quotes by Chesterton?  Well, yes, but I've given five points to actual quote books before, and this one explains the context sufficiently to make the quotes, if anything, even more meaningful.  Should I complain about the somewhat ostentatious title?  With few exceptions, I don't like to do that, unless the title is truly misleading, since most authors don't get to decide the title of their book.  Should I complain about the essay-like way it was written in?  The almost hero-worship-like way that Chesterton's views are enshrined herein?  No, I can't do that.  In Mister Peters' place, I'd do it the same way.  Should I complain that it's not original enough?  I'd never do that, for one of the reasons listed in chapter 3.

The fact of the matter is, this is a great book for Catholics, all about imagination, wonder and fun, and their place in the life of a Catholic, and all taken from quotes by one of the finest defenders of the faith in the last 200 years.  Chesterton is a delight, as always, and made no secret of his defense of imagination and fun.

This book goes over Chesterton's views on fiction, on critics and proper reviews, on songs, poems and art, and on good humor, then gives a brief biography of Chesterton, containing some information, which I was unaware of, like the name of his wife.  In this entire book, there's only one thing that I disagree with (the notion that people don't want to hear the bad points of an artistic work before they buy it,) which is pretty darn impressive.

I find that Chesterton's best points here are his insistence on the importance of childlike joy and wonder in appreciating the arts, and his strong defense of fun, imaginative expression, regardless of the critical reaction it might receive.  Of course, like all defenses of fun and wonder, it's simultaneously an attack on scientism, which is two birds with one stone, as far as I'm concerned.  However, if you wanted me to tell you the best quotes in the novel, I'd be here all day.  Believe me when I say that you're better off just picking this book up and reading it yourself; especially if you've been fooled by the media's lies about the Catholic Church being the enemy of free expression.  This little book puts all that into perspective, and could serve as a nice, little Chesterton introduction as well.  I just hope you have as much fun with it as I did.

The Everlasting Man

By G. K. Chesterton

Catholic-ometer: 5 of 5

Enjoyability: 5 of 5

I haven't read many Chesterton books, but hopefully, I'll get the chance to read more of his work in the future.  He's witty, clever, a brilliant logical thinker, and very faithful to the church.

In this book, Chesterton approaches the topic of comparative religions, and what an enormous load of bunk it is.  From the very beginning, he defines, in very simple, logical and understandable terms, why modern man's view of himself and his history is at best, incomplete.  He gradually goes over every major moment in human history, and what each tells us about the nature of human beings as they were, and as they are now.

The things that Chesterton manages to debunk with this approach are many and varied.  The notion of evolution, in terms of applying it to human beings, the belief in the "cave man," the "missing link" and others, but he doesn't stop there.

Next, Chesterton establishes the mentality natural to human beings; a normal belief in a supreme, invisible being, who judges by standards of plain right and wrong.  This vein, he claims, runs through even the most barbaric of polytheisms, even when its practitioners are trying to avoid considering it.  It's hard, in fact, to argue with a simple, good sense approach like this, since most polytheisms seem to treat their "gods" more as very powerful superheroes/villains than as the sources of any real moral standard.

Furthermore, he establishes that on the world stage today, only Christianity, and those religions that were designed to mimic its success have really been serious religions at all, in both senses of the word.  What are those senses, you ask?

The first is the mythological; the imaginative.  A belief in supernatural things, greater than ourselves.  The second is the philosophical; a logical and well-reasoned view of the world, which covers all the important facts of life.  In ancient times, philosophers and priests didn't get along.  They didn't fight each other, but no one seriously considered combining philosophy and worship.  However, for a religion to be logical and true, and also be fulfilling to human nature, it had to be both.  Christianity, he indirectly says, is that religion; more specifically, the Catholic Church.

Now, this book does contain some words which, in our modern times, would be considered offensive, but it's important to take this book in the spirit of the age it was made in, when these words were commonplace, and not even really considered rude.  For this reason, I will not remove any points from it for this.

I enjoyed this book a lot, and am pleasantly surprised that it managed to get published.  It certainly would never make it through any of our contemporary, mainstream publishers, for the very reason that I even enjoyed it at all; it implies, quite strongly, that Catholicism is absolutely correct, and all other religions are less correct.  For this reason alone, I don't think I can reccomend it enough.

Chesterton also doesn't waste space on any of these pages.  When he isn't telling jokes or making funny comparisons, he's considering modern or ancient religions from an interesting and original perspective; always in a way that will confound people who want all religions to be the same, and make faithful Catholics chuckle a bit.  This is not a comprehensive book of human history from a Catholic perspective, nor is it a serious, scientific document, but it is well-informed logic and philosophy, presented in a very clever and amusing way, and that's all I need to say about it.

The Tripods Attack

By John Mcnichol

Catholic-ometer: 4.5 of 5

Enjoyability: 4 of 5

A novel this time; a sort of restructuring of victorian culture and literature; combining old victorian characters and authors in a sort of new steampunk/gaslamp setting.

Since I enjoyed this book, let me start by getting my complaints out of the way.  This book is not children's fiction.  It's based on, and in, the fictions written for adults in the victorian era, such as Frankenstein, Sherlock Holmes, Father Brown and War of the Worlds.  This might be a strange and difficult world for those unfamiliar with victorian-era stories to venture into, and it really should have provided a literary guide, explaining where it got all its characters and concepts from; if only to be polite to the original authors of those pieces.

This is, in essence, a piece of victorian-style fanfiction, re-imagining both the characters and the authors of classic victorian literature into a different kind of world; one driven by steam and run by secret conspiracies.  I've seen other reviewers say that this method doesn't work unless the portrayals are spot on, regardless of the changes, and...  I agree, sort of.  It would be better to say that the story can no longer use its celebrity elements as a crutch to stand on, since it warps them so unrecognizably into something else.  This means that the question of the actual quality of the story comes up.  Is it a good story, in and of itself?

In this respect, one could do a lot worse.  The main characters are H.G. Wells (pretty much a dead-on portrayal, from what I can tell,) G.K. Chesterton (seeming very similar to his real personality, but very different in shape and appearance,) Father Brown (a character written about by Chesterton, who seems to be basically accurately portrayed,) and "the doctor," who young Chesterton eventually refers to as "a snake."

The plot is as much a conspiracy thriller as an alien invasion story, though it certainly does have elements of both, and I'm afraid that it moves a bit slowly at first.  I would say that the first quarter of the book is gobbled up by Chesterton getting an assignment, meeting Wells, getting on a train, talking on the train, trying to save someone's life on the train, trying to stop the train from crashing, etc, with nary a sign of the tripods.  This section, to its credit, is kept interesting, because the dialogue and events are indeed involving and exciting ones, but through it all, one wonders; when will the tripods attack?

Well, it happens fairly quickly.  One of the martian machines from H.G. Wells' classic "The War of the Worlds" tips over the train and starts abducting people.  In this respect, the book does not take it easy in the slightest.  It's very vivid in its depictions of the war and carnage wreaked by the martians on the poor earthlings (in fact, I would say, it's a bit more gruesomely-delivered than even Wells himself probably dared,) and this won me over at first.  Then the doctor leads the group into a secret passage, and Chesterton gets lost in a cave, and begins to whine and whine, like the biggest weakling who ever lived.

This section is easily the story's weakest point, and it goes on for the better part of a chapter.  After that, there's martian-fighting, and finding out about the doctor's secret organization, and their connection to Chesterton himself, as well as the fate of Chesterton and Father Brown, all of which was, I thought, just a little disrespectful to the characters and people depicted, but at least it was entertaining and even a bit encouraging.

When all is said and done, there are only a few questions left to ask.  Is this book Catholic enough?  Well, it comes at you from a Catholic perspective, so yes; it is.  I only gave it a half point down because the real Chesterton wasn't involved with secret agents, and I honestly think it would have been a more interesting story if there'd been nothing special about him at first.

Is the book entertaining enough?  Well, there are dull or grating spots here or there, and the book's premise, as I said, takes a while to get underway, but I would say yes; it's sufficiently entertaining, and on the whole, is written rather well.

Is the book propaganda?  I wouldn't say so.  It just approaches fiction from a religious perspective (finally) instead of the tired, old, secularist one, which, in my view, has done more than enough damage to the world of fiction already.

Will this book convince people to become Catholic?  Probably not.  Still, it might encourage folks to read more of Chesterton's real work, and few people made the Catholic position seem as logical as it is, quite like G.K. Chesterton.  That was his real shining accomplishment; not fighting martians or secret agents.

I won't harp on any of these points, because none of them really upset or stunned me that much.  It's the elements of fiction stories, shown through the lens of Catholic Church teaching, and that's certainly rare enough that it deserves some support.