Musing on Frederick Buechner

 

This book was a gift. A friend and seminarian read my novel and was moved to send me copy of Telling the Truth along with a thoughtful note.

I don’t read much theology but have always liked the idea that gifted writers can alter the landscape and freshen up a cliché or two. When the book arrived, I jumped in and took two parts of a day to read the tiny book.

I going to pass the book along to some friends. Buechner is simply original, very comfortable with small words and big thoughts. If he were a thing, he would be a razor blade capable of fine cuts and deep wounds. If he were a circus performer, he would walk the highwire.

Telling the Truth is a literary discourse on the sad happy paradox of the gospel. Buechner offers a glimpse of something just out of reach; a hazy intrigued of a God here but not. He is at home in the wilderness of not knowing and finds inspiration in tears and laughter.

There is a lot of juice in the 98 pages of this trilogy of tragedy, comedy and fairy tale. Inspirational fodder for weary preachers and pieces of the human puzzle for the literary set

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