Mark Humphreys, Songs at the Moon (Trough Records, 1999)

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Right from the start, Humphreys draws in the listener and kicks this album into high gear with a lively, spirited effort that refuses to let up easily.

One of the good things about this album is that Mark Humphreys is backed up by a competent and rather talented group of people, and their accompaniment enhances his vocal talents considerably. Humphreys’ talents clearly lie in his song-writing, vocal, and guitar skills, the same skills which have served him well for the better part of two decades in the music industry, both on his own, and as part of the Los Angeles rock band, Motel Six (which broke up in 1986 for personal reasons.)

For this release, his fourth solo album, Humphreys gathered some old friends, and sat down to make some music in the form of a house concert. We’re treated to the talented stylings of Randy Wolchek on piano, Albe Bonacci on drums and percussion, Tim Cupps on the bass guitar, Andrew Lorand on assorted guitars and bouzouki (ten points to anyone who can identify one of those!) and John-Michael Kaye on vocals and lead and rhythm acoustic guitars.

These are good musicians, and they work well together, clearly blending as a whole. As a result, the music benefits from their unity, as it does from the energy and enthusiasm of the live audience in front of which this album was recorded. This isn’t one of those projects that takes place in a studio vacuum. This is live, energetic, and fueled by the reactions of the audience. There are points when you can almost feel the fire burning and know that these people had fun. And that fact alone more than makes up for any failings or the lack of technical excellence one might find buried between the songs.

I’ll be blunt. This is really good stuff. Humphrey’s songs range from the lively (“Amazing Days”) and the strangely familiar (“Michael”), to the touchingly romantic (“The Easiest Thing”). The energy is strong, the tunes catchy and toe-tapping. Assorted guitars, drums, piano, and vocals all blend into one talented whole, producing what was, to me, a very pleasant collection.

If I have any complaint, it’s that the first third of the album, mostly made up of more lively songs with romantic overtones, gives way to more slow-paced, mellow ballads. Is this a bad thing? Not in the least. It’s only my personal tastes that object to the style. However, after several songs of a quieter, slower bent, the energy levels slowly increase, until we’re once again tapping our toes and going with the flow. The last song, entitled “Rainbow,” is as powerful and energetic as anything and provides a perfect ending to the album.

Songs at the Moon is described as a spiritual bridge between phases of Mark Humphrey’s life, between the person he was once and and the person he is now. These spiritual — and sentimental — themes are evident throughout the album, especially in songs such as “Lord We Shall Remember,” and the afore-mentioned “Michael” which is an adaptation of “Michael Row the Boat Ashore.”

Overall, this album comes across as a touching, caring collection, and it’s obvious that Humphreys and his friends work well together. They say they had a blast recording it, and I had a blast listening to it. While undoubtedly this won’t be to everyone’s tastes, it did manage to win over this previously-ignorant reviewer. If you’re feeling adventurous or in the mood for something new and pleasant, this one is definitely worth taking a gamble on.

For those interested in more about the artist and his personal history, not to mention ordering info and tour dates, you only have to look as far as his Web site.

Bill Bourne, Sally's Dream (Ragged Pup Records, 1998)

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Bill Bourne has been recording music for roughly fifteen years, sometimes collaborating with such artists as the Tannahill Weavers and Hookahman. He has recorded several duet albums with both Shannon Johnson and Alan Macleod as well as a previous solo album Farmer, Philanthropist, and Musician.

Sally’s Dream, the his latest solo offering, is an interesting album, to say the least. My feelings on it were strangely mixed, and thus, I was forced to divide my review into two segments, each focusing on a different aspect of Bourne’s efforts.

My introduction to this album came with the brief description of Bourne as “gravelly-voiced.” This unusual label was enough to catch my interest and to encourage me to give this one a shot. Unfortunately, I have to say that “gravelly-voiced” is not exactly a compliment. Rather, it’s a polite way to say that someone sounds like he’s chewing on gravel. Harsh? Perhaps. But Bill Bourne’s strength doesn’t lie in his singing or in his voice. The first few times I listened to this CD, I found myself flinching at odd times, when he’d hit just the wrong note or launch into vocals without warning. Enthusiasm and technical skill couldn’t quite make up for the almost abrasive qualities of his vocal efforts. Keep in mind, however, that this is just my opinion, and those with better ears than mine may detect hidden qualities. But on the surface, if there was a way to tune out Bourne’s singing and to keep the instrumental portion of the album, I would have.

This isn’t to say it’s always bad — or completely unbearable. I just had trouble listening to him for extended periods. Admittedly, in some songs, he tones it down to a point where you can detect that technical skill. He knows what he’s doing, but he has some way to go before he perfects it.

This leads us to Bourne’s real strength: his instrumental abilities. The liner notes credit Bourne with guitar, harmonica, fiddle, and stomp, and he manages to do all of them credit. I thoroughly enjoyed the instrumentals on his songs, and some of the guitar portions were a pure joy to experience. This is where he shines, and I could have listened to Bourne playing the guitar quite easily. It’s lively, enthusiastic, and talented.

Bourne’s songs are an interesting mix of country, bluegrass, traditional, and “other.” Everytime I thought I had him pinned down to one genre, he’d switch sideways to another, as if to keep the audience on its toes. He’s credited with writing all of the songs save three, several traditional arrangements (“Worried Man Blues” and “Old Hag/Go From My Window”) and one by Mississippi John Hurt (“Louis Collins”).

Of the songs Bourne himself has written and arranged, they range from the modern ballad (“The 20th Century Requiem”) to the humorous (“The Wild Watusi”), from the wistfully romantic (“Seven Angels”) to the quietly beautiful (“Summer At The Circus”). Unfortunately, I honestly can’t say that any truly stood out for me. While good in their own ways, and technically competent, none truly disappointed or satisfied. On the whole, they averaged out at “good” without quite tickling my fancy.

In short, I’d have to say that Sally’s Dream is a fine album. If you’re a fan of Bill Bourne, this is one to pick up for your collection. If you like guitar, harmonica, and country/bluegrass/ traditional, this one might be worth a look. However, this probably won’t be the album to convert a non-believer. I will add that Bourne grew on me somewhat after repeated listenings, but never really overcame my initial reactions.

Tom Lewis, Mixed Cargo (Borealis Recording Company, 1999)

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Draw yourself a pint, settle back on your wooden stool, and get ready to sing along with this inspired, if not entirely lively, collection of sea shanties, ballads, and choruses.

You want this reviewer’s honest, snap judgement? This CD gave me a headache within five minutes, and it didn’t improve much after that. Tom Lewis has a lovely, deep voice, and I can easily picture him belting forth old favorites in a crowded tavern while the tide rolls in somewhere off in the Pacific Northwest. I can also picture a tavern full of drunken sailors all joining in. Unfortunately, when they did that, I’d be down the block and gaining speed. Need I mention that this isn’t my usual bag, baby?

To be fair, though, it’s a great effort. As I’ve said, Tom Lewis has a rich voice, and he certainly knows his stuff. Once I overcome my initial dislike of the material and concentrated on the positive aspects, I found it growing on me little by little. I fear I’ll never be a fan of this type of music, but my experience hasn’t traumatized me so far.

Let’s assume you are a fan, and you’re fond of a capella sea shanties and grown men accompanied by harmonicas and accordions. This CD boasts an interesting assortment of “shanties, sea songs, choruses, traditional, humour, ballads, landlubber’s songs, and Tom’s songs,” if the cover art is to be believed. The sources range from traditional and Rudyard Kipling to Tom Lewis himself. For the most part, they’re treated as a solo effort by Mr. Lewis, either a capella, or with the aforementioned musical accompaniment. That, I believe, is both the CD’s greatest strength as well as its biggest failing. There are places where a few more voices might have smoothed the effort and made it more palatable to the ears… but on the flip side, we get the full effect of Lewis’s talented vocal ability and his love of the medium.

One song that does stand out, even for me, is the one entitled “Showers,” words and music by Tom Lewis, a humorous ditty about why no one showers on a submarine.

All in all, I found this to be a mixed effort. On the one hand, it’s well put-together, and the technical aspects are high quality. It gets an A for effort. On the other hand, it fails to be anything other than a very nice collection of shanties. Unless you’re already a fan of the artist or the material, it’s even odds as to whether this is the collection that’ll win you over. It didn’t succeed with me. The next time they pull out the accordion and ukelele, I’ll be heading for dry land.

Merlin’s Kin: World Tales of the Heroic Magician, by Josepha Sherman, (August House, 1998)

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Merlin’s Kin is a clever, well-researched exploration into the theme of the heroic magician that can be found in every culture around the world. Josepha Sherman, well known for her previous folklore collections, Once Upon A Galaxy, and Trickster Tales, has put together another excellent volume with this release. Her retellings of thirty different tales, collected from a wide variety of sources, are light and casual, making it easy for the casual reader to gain an overview of the material, and keeping it accessible to all. It’s the perfect introductory resource for the heroic magician theme.

The only requirements placed upon the stories were that the main character possess some form of magic, and be willing to use said powers for good, rather than evil. Thus, we’re treated to diverse heroes, ranging from Cornwall’s Lord of Pengerswick, to England’s Friar Roger Bacon, to Israel’s King Solomon. Other tales touch on the heroic magician in Native American culture, African legends, and Asian folklore.

As a pure reference book, it’s somewhat shallow, and shouldn’t be taken as the end-all be-all of any one myth. As a folklore book, it’s an excellent introduction to the topic, and a thoroughly enjoyable read. The writing style is easy and fluid, evocative of oral narratives, and is simple enough that younger readers can appreciate it. For those who find their appetites whetted, and want more, a comprehensive bibliography lists dozens of other sources, while a section in the back provides commentary on each story, and a listing of folk motifs evidenced within. Overall, this book is highly recommended, as are any books by the author.

Merlin and the Dragons, by Jane Yolen and Li Ming (Cobblehill Books, 1995)

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There’s a phrase I reserve for rare treasures like this book. “Oooooooooo, PRETTY!” Anyone who knows me knows to just back away, and give me whatever it is I want, when they hear that particular phrase. It means trouble. It means that I’ve found something so niftykeen or goshwow (real words, I assure you) that I must have. Ask my wife. She can tell you how that phrase is the harbinger for any number of things now in my possession: stuffed paisley Cthulhu dolls…a lava lamp… an eighteen-inch-tall kitsune figure… or anything by Brian Froud.

Enter Merlin and the Dragons, a book by Jane Yolen and Li Ming. When that one arrived in the mail, it was “Ooooooooo PRETTY!” and off I went to add it to my collection of treasures.

Let me clarify. Jane Yolen is the author. You’d probably have to look for the book under her name. Li Ming is the artist. And his work is fully half the reason that this is a treasure worth savoring. Now, if you’ve been poking around this site for long, and have no idea who Jane Yolen is, shame on you. Trust me, we can educate you.

Jane Yolen is an extraordinarily talented author and folklorist who’s written, literally, hundreds of books in a variety of fields, and she’s best known for her children’s books, one of which, Owl Moon, won the Caldecott Medal. It’s hard to look in any young adult section of a bookstore and not find at least some of her work. Quite simply, she’s one of the preeminent authors in her field.

Li Ming, at the time of this book’s release, was almost unknown. Before immigrating to the United States in 1993, he spent several years working as an artist at the Shanghai Animation Film Studio, in his native China. The cover bio says that this was his first book. I hope it’s not his last.

Now that we’ve gotten past the obligatory bios and statistics, we can get down to business. Why is this book so beautiful? Because it’s art. Pure art. The story itself is simple: A young King Arthur, having only recently achieved the throne of England after some sophisticated sword-and-stone shenanigans, turns to Merlin, plagued by doubt. And Merlin tells the young king a story.

A story about a young Welsh boy named Emrys. Fatherless, lonely, and full of imagination and dreams. A unique child in his own right, son of a princess, grandson of a king, and destined for something greater. A boy who, armed with the teachings of an old wise man, and his own dreams, achieved fame and notoriety just for predicting an eclipse. “Demon-spawn,” they called him.

This is a story about that boy, Emrys. And the evil High King of England, a man named Vortigern. And a tower that refused to be built. And the magicians who said that only the blood of a demon-spawned child would allow the tower to be built and remain standing. And about the secret that truly lay under the tower, a secret which Emrys’ dreams had warned him of.

Trust me, there’s more. The dragons of the title, the fate of a king, the fulfillment of a prophecy, and the creation of a legacy. But it’s an old story, really. Legend, in fact. You might recognize it as being part of the Arthurian Mythos. And we can all guess who Emrys grows up to become … can’t we?

I’m not telling. It may be an old story, but it’s still new to someone. And I do hate to spoil the surprise. So let’s move on.

What can I say? Yolen knows how to tell a story. This is the perfect bedtime story. With a certain economy of words, highly descriptive narration, and believable characters that still manage to evoke the legends that they’re derived from, the story is a masterpiece in the telling. It sings in the reading, and a full-out vocal rendition of this story is a treat. Read this one when you or your kids are old enough to appreciate what it’s like to want to find your place in the world, and to savor it when you do.

The art, however, is the true selling point of this volume. Every page is lavishly illustrated (ever notice how often those two words are used together?) with full-color paintings that depict the story as it progresses. And when I say art, I mean that any one of these pages would easily make a perfect painting or print or poster on its own. The detail is exquisite, right down to the scales on the dragons, their fiery breath, the eyes of a young king, and the feathers on an owl. Arthur is innocent and childlike, Vortigern exudes a strange paternal quality despite his evil nature, Merlin wreathes himself in wisdom and mystique, young Emrys has a dreamlike, ethereal feel, and the dragons are purely majestic.

This is why this book earns an “Ooooooo PRETTY!” from me. Because there are children’s books … and then there are books for all ages that just happen to be marketed for children. This is the latter. You can leave this on your coffeetable, or next to your child’s bed, and be equally proud either way.You’ll probably have to look for this one in the children’s section, or ask for it. It’s oversized, and may not be the easiest one in the world to find.

Maiden, Mother, Crone: The Myth and Reality of the Triple Goddess, by D.J. Conway (Llewellyn Publications, 1994)

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To put things in perspective, Christianity and its worship of a dominant male figure has been in existence less than two thousand years. In contrast, the female trinity of the maiden, the mother, and the crone is stated to have been worshipped for between twenty and thirty thousand years, easily ten times the age of Christianity, and only relatively dominated by a patriarchial belief system. Compared to a person’s lifespan, two thousand years is a frighteningly long time. It’s no wonder that the triple goddess has gone overlooked and underrepresented, remembered by a miniscule portion of humanity.

D.J. Conway’s book, Maiden, Mother, Crone: The Myth and Reality of the Triple Goddess, explores the myth and reality of the triple goddess, going into history and function, and offering numerous ways to bring the triple goddess figure back into prominence in a person’s belief system. It’s a whole-hearted, enthusiastic look at the female side of things, and a joyful exploration of the feminine aspect of belief. Well-researched and accessible to the common reader, this book is valuable both as a reference source and as a supplement to one’s religious practices.

After an introductory section that goes into light detail about the three faces of the goddess figure and its history, the book proceeds to explore each aspect of the trinity individually, looking at the goddess as maiden, as mother and as crone in turn. An added bonus is that each of these sections includes a chapter listing and retelling some of the appropriate goddess myths collected from all over the world. Religious belief systems represented include the Greeks, Romans, Welsh, Irish, Norse, Chinese and Native Americans, among others. The list is an extensive one, proving that the goddess in any or all of her three aspects can be found in just about any early religion.

A further section goes into detail on “Other Sacred Threes and Multiples,” studying other multiple female figures in religion. Examples include such groups as the Fates, the Muses, the Valkyries and just about any other group of females you can think of. About the only requirement is that they be divine or semi-divine, appear in groups of three or more, and all be female.

Finally, Maiden, Mother, Crone goes on to examine the importance of the triple goddess today, and its potential to restore the balance between male and female in belief systems. An extensive appendix lists numerous meditations and rituals for use in this fashion, offering the curious or serious practitioner a variety of methods with which to invoke the goddess from within and without. Additional endnotes and bibliography exist as a jumping off point if this source leaves you looking for more of any particular myth or tradition.

I approached this book with an open mind and a researcher’s interest, fascinated more by its treatment of mythology and the female figure in myth, and less so by its use as a guide to spirituality and belief. However, after reading Maiden, Mother, Crone, I come away impressed by the care taken to present the material in a way that even the most casual of readers might understand and learn from it.

For anyone interested in exploring the female aspect of spirituality and religion, you can’t go wrong in looking at this book. As a reference volume, it’s functional and well worth the time spent flipping through it, although individual tastes and needs may vary.

Julie Adams and the Rhino Boys, I Don't Mind Walking (Gadfly Records, 1999)

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I just don’t get tired of this one. Everytime I listen, I find something else new and interesting buried within its tracks. I Don’t Mind Walking is a masterful blend of well… everything. Julie Adams is a musical chameleon, who, along with her partners in crime, the Rhino Boys, delivers one surprise after another. Every time I try to nail down Julie’s style, it changes in the very next song. If I were going to write up a recipe for this album, I’d have to say that it was one part jazz, two parts country, several parts personal style, a little rock, and a whole lot of talent.

For those not in the know, Julie Adams is known best for her tenure on “Mountain Stage,” a nationally-syndicated radio show produced in West Virginia that specializes in reinterpreting, recreating, and redefining a wide variety of music from all genres. Like her first album, Live, I Don’t Mind Walking is an exhibition album, taking some of Ms. Adams’ best work and putting it together on one CD. And if the show is even a fraction as good as the album, then I urge you to seek out both.

Her voice is to die for. That’s all I have to say about it. It’s downright impressive just how easily she can switch from a country tempo to a jazz beat to a soulful croon, and make it sound completely natural. Julie Adams is the sort of vocalist who can write her own ticket in any style or manner she likes. Whether she’s hitting the high notes or going low to sing that song just for the listener, she’s never out of place and never manages to hit a bad note.

Thankfully, she’s backed up by a group of musicians that do her singing justice. The Rhino Boys, as they’re billed on the title,consist of Steve Hill (guitars), Ammed Solomon (drums), John Kessler (bass), and occasional visitors, such as Doug Payne and David Porter. Together, they quite simply make music. Good music.

Listen to the trumpet in the background of the so-called”folk-funk” track, “Little Bit,” and groove to the energetic rhythms of Solomon on hand drum, and Adams belting out a blues-funk melody. Now close your eyes and imagine this song being performed in a jazz club. The only thing missing will be the cigarette smoke.

Snap your fingers, tap your toes, and rock along with the gang in the opening track, “I’m On Wheels,” a powerful anthem to seeking your fortune rather than letting it pass you by any longer. This song gleefully sets the pace and introduction for the album and is what originally captured my interest.

Slow down just a little, relax, and let “Everthing Falls Through” wash over you with its somber atmosphere and warning against running out of choices before you run out of dreams.

The title track, “I Don’t Mind Walking,” is a beautiful, profound description of just what one person’s willing to do for love. Play this one for someone you love, if you ever run out of words for the moment. Bring candlelight.

I could go on, but the best way to experience this album is to listen to it. Julie Adams mixes pop, jazz, folk, country, and a host of less well-defined traditions to create an ecletic blend that never disappoints. If you like this one, don’t forget she has another album, and appears regularly on “Mountain Stage.”

Pete Ham, Golder's Green (Rykodisc, 1999)

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My first thought upon hearing the first track on this CD was “My goodness, the Beatles are alive and well, and living in my CD player.”

Once I got past that bit of early morning whimsy, I realized that this was nothing like the Beatles. Well, mostly. Sort of a cross between the feel-good innocent days of the Fab Four and the more wistful days of Simon and Garfunkel.

It sounds like an odd combination, but I assure you, it’s all true. Would I lie to you? (Crossed fingers behind back, along with Richard Nixon mask.)

Let me back up a little. What we have here is the latest album by Pete Ham, best known for his work with the bands The Iveys and Badfinger. This is a remarkable accomplishment, largely because Pete Ham has been dead for a good twenty years. In this day and age, not even death can stop the truly talented, or very determined. Just ask L. Ron Hubbard.

On a serious note, Golder’s Green is a collection of demos and other songs recorded between 1965 and 1975, all written or co-written by Ham during his career as a musician and songwriter. Twenty tracks in all, rescued from the vaults in which they’d been stored all these many years. Some have been updated for the new era, but most are presented in their original form, like a time capsule.

These songs represent the length and breadth of Ham’s talent and abilities. Whether it’s “power pop” ballads reminiscent of the Beatles, slower tunes more evocative of Simon and Garfunkel, or songs that are uniquely his, Ham manages to deliver a fascinating range of music. This album is nothing less than a trip down memory lane, visiting to era when music was magical and you made it or not on the power of performance, rather than the validity of music videos.

To give you an idea of just how varied the songs really are, the liner offers comparisons to the Beatles (“Ob-La-Di,” “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer,” “Can You Take Me Back?”), solo McCartney, Stevie Wonder (from his Talking Book period), the Kinks, and Emmit Rhodes. His influences include jazz, rock, country and western, and rhythm and blues, along with classical. And it shows.

The liner notes speak excellently for the music, offering up descriptions of the song, comparisons to other related music, and the details regarding the origin of each song. In fact, half of the value of this CD should be for the liner notes, as a reference and a quick dip into the pool, so to speak. My words just can’t do justice to the songs contained within. All I can do is point out the songs that particularly catch my attention.

The opening song, “Makes Me Feel Good,” is an attention-catching, toe-tapping pop song in pure Beatles form and the perfect opener to the mix. “Whiskey Man” contains some soulful lyrics and masterful harmonica riffs, as well as a quiet warning against the power of hard drink and sorrow. “Richard” is an adventurous, happy-go-lucky guitar-powered ode to … er … a man’s best friend. And I’m not talking about women or dogs. Trust me on this one. It’s lively, catchy, and unrepentantly bawdy in a sophisticated subtlety that seems to be a lost art form these days. “Midnight Caller” evokes the Beatles once again, but this time to deliver a quietly moving homage to former Badfinger friend and booking agent turned call girl, Sue Wing. It’s a touching, sentimental tune, full of emotion and wistfulness.

All in all, this is a great album. The majority of the songs are “feel good” tunes, and very few of them ring out of tune. It’s not the best CD you’ll ever run across, but it’s certainly able to stand tall under its own merits. Pete Ham truly was a talented musician, and this is as competent and comprehensive a representation of his abilities as any.

Music from that era isn’t really my usual interest. I prefer my rock a bit louder and a lot more energetic. However, I can definitely say that Golder’s Green is an album worth having, if you want something to fill a slot and represent the time period in your collection. Of course, your mileage may vary. If the Beatles give you a headache, this probably would also. And just be warned that the liner notes, while very well-written and explanatory, are also shamelessly pro-Ham, and heavily biased in his favor. If you want impartial opinions regarding Pete Ham, this isn’t the place to start.

That said, I’ll finish by saying that I enjoyed this album. Now if I can only get the lyrics to “Richard” out of my head…

Faith and Meaning In The Southern Uplands, by Loyal Jones (University of Illinois Press, 1999)

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When I first recieved this book, I was looking forward to reading it as I would any book — sit back with a cold drink and a comfy chair and devour the material within. Unfortunately, once I started, I was disappointed — not, mind you, because this is a bad book, but because it’s that good. This isn’t a book to be devoured; it’s a book to be studied. I was disappointed because it isn’t the easy layman’s read I’d expected. It is more complex, and intelligent, and that is perhaps the only disappointment I found in Faith and Meaning.

This is a thoroughly-researched, well-written scholarly look at the religious beliefs and attitudes of the Southern Uplands, a conglomerate of the Appalachian, Ozark and Piedmont regions of the eastern United States. Examining these beliefs and practicies from all sides, Faith and Meaning goes into great detail and is liberally sprinkled with anecdotes and first-hand reports and quotes from the people who actually live there. While the focus is on the Appalachian area, with which Loyal Jones has most been associated, the author does branch out at times to other areas.

This is neither an easy book to read, nor something one delves into casually. Faith and Meaning is intelligent, deep, complex, and sophisticated, treating the subject matter with the utmost respect and fascination. It spares no effort in exploring the multitudinous ways in which Christianity can be found in the Uplands, seeking to put understanding and faces to all of the different forms of Christian rebelief found in those areas. Not only that, but social issues are met head-on, like racial integration, the role of women in religion and social justice. Every aspect of faith is covered here, from faith to God to the devil to what lies in wait for us in the hereafter.

Chapters deal more specifically with the hows and whys and wheres. One focuses on prayer, song, the testimony of the people, and the songs of Zion. Another looks at the role of salvation. An entire chapter is devoted to preaching, and the Word. The first chapter addresses the “human condition.” A section of photographs give us a more personal look at the wide variety of churches (including one with a spectacular rendition of the Ten Commandments on a hillside), and a Kentucky baptism.

Finally, Jones finishes off with a thorough bibliographic essay, a listing of source material for interviews, recordings and notes, and a complete index.

This is a book to be studied, and learned from. Approach Faith and Meaning with a genuine desire to learn about the material within, or with a scholarly intent. It’s not for the casual reader and would leave those with short attention spans lacking, but as a textbook and a reference book, it certainly earns its keep. Just be warned that it’s not for the easily bored. I’m planning to recommend this book to my Sociology of Religion professor, since he’d most likely find it more of use than I would. Loyal Jones does an excellent job with the material, but falls slightly short on making it user-friendly. Check this one out before you commit to buying it.

Empire of the Ants, by Bernard Werber (translated by Margaret Rocques) (Bantam Books, 1998)

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As advanced a civilization as we are, we are not alone on this world. There are other races living alongside us, possessing language, and culture, and purposes that we can barely begin to comprehend. No, this isn’t the X-Files, nor the beginning of a Charles de Lint story. This is Empire of the Ants, a brilliant, dizzying journey into a world so far removed and beneath our perception that until now, we’ve barely scratched its surface.

Richard Adams paved the way with his tale of rabbits and adventure, Watership Down. Tad Williams did the same for cats with Tailchaser’s Song. But it took a French author, Bernard Werber, to attack the insect world with a truly mind-boggling saga that ensures you’ll never look at those little picnic-raiders the same way again.

The timing of the book’s release and its subject matter suggest inspiration by a pair of similiarly themed movies of late: Antz and A Bug’s Life. However, the fact that this book was first published in French in 1991 lays a reassurance. If anything, the movies drew from Empire of the Ants and still didn’t do it justice.

Imagine a world where you’re identified by a number. The 327th male laid since the start of autumn. The 103,683rd soldier. The 56th female. A world where your family numbers in the millions, where greenflies are raised like insectile cattle and hibernation is a gamble against death. Where 64 cities, encompassing millions, even billions of ants, form the Russet Federation, and death can come unexpectedly at any time. To describe the complexity of the ant civilization, or the myriad threats that stand against them at any given time — anything from slaver ants to termites to woodpeckers! — would give away far too much of the book. But I can share this: not all is right with the world.

Two plotlines run intertwined throughout the book. One is the increasingly bizarre mystery surrounding a human home, and the tunnel that leads down, past the basement, into the depths of the earth. Over the course of the book, the mystery deepens as more people vanish into that tunnel and never return. The other plotline focuses on the ants, especially the three named above, as they unweave the secret of the dwarf ants, and fall deeper and deeper into a conspiracy which reaches to all levels of the ant civilization. Yes, even ants have conspiracies, and one might call the 327th male and the 56th female the Mulder and Scully of the ant world. But that’s too easy a distinction.

Coupled with the twin plotlines are the observations and notes from Edmund Wells’ Encyclopedia of Relative and Absolute Knowledge, the legacy of a character who dies before the story even begins, and unknowingly helps kick off great changes for family and ants alike. And as the story barrels to a conclusion, empires will rise and fall, and the future will be met head-on.

I have to get personal now. I couldn’t put this book down once I started reading it, and I ended up devouring it in less than a day, working around a dentist appointment and class and catching a page at a time at stoplights on the way home. It’s simply that compelling a read. It starts off at a good pace, and proceeds from start to finish with barely a lapse in storytelling or excitement. Werber’s language (as translated by Margaret Rocques) is brilliant and compelling, and the mark of a true storyteller. A scientific journalist by trade, who claims fifteen years worth of study on ants, Werber shows off his expertise in this book without ever managing to fade into dull lecture. Instead, he makes ants sound beautiful, insects attractive, and the world they inhabit believable and astonishing.

This is one of those books that I have to recommend. You can call it fantasy, or science fiction, or fiction, but don’t dismiss it for being hard to categorize. It’s as much a classic as Tailchaser’s Song or Watership Down, and if the author can follow this book up with another even half as good, we’re in for a treat. Read this book. You won’t regret it.