A couple weeks ago, I wrote a column for McSweeney's Internet Tendency on Amish/Christian romance, "Ten Thousand Zombies in Bonnets." I wrote at some length on the models who grace the covers of these books, idly wishing that someday I might have the chance to talk to one, ask her all the questions I have.

Today is that day. Through the magic of the Internet, Claire DeBerg, actual Amish romance cover model, has graciously agreed to answer some of my questions.

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Let's start off with the question that I'm sure we're all thinking: Are you a zombie?

Wow, you really cut to the chase. I thought we’d ease into that question over the course of our conversation. Let me answer with some insights so you can come to your own conclusion: I have spent a considerable amount of my life rocking in place with bloodshot eyes, and I may or may not have had drool extending from my mouth to the floor. But usually during those hours of Ultimate Rocking Monotony I had a baby in my arms, and it was occurring at an un-sane hour of the day like 3:06 am, so there’s that.

I see what you did there.

I have also been known to describe my children as tasty little morsels though I have yet to fully test that insight. And while I’m not entirely undead, I’ve oft described myself as having an old soul since I’ve lived a lot of life already by age 35 (but that’s an interview for another time).

Given what you know now…are you absolutely sure I’m not a zombie?

I'll just go with "not entirely undead." Okay, so, Amish romance cover modeling. Here's you on the cover of Beverly Lewis's The Prodigal. How did you get the chance to actually model for this book? Do you have an agent or know someone involved in the cover shoot? Is there like some sort of special classified section that lists job opportunities like this?

I am a model for a variety of different segments of our society: those who indulge in Amish romance novels, for instance, and those that want to, say, buy a tent at Target…or buy a lure! I was in a commercial for Rapala once.

But I digress.

I hadn’t honestly thought of doing modeling, especially after my friend in high school once snorted and said: “Models get paid to make other people feel bad.” Turns out that’s not true, but what is true is you get to choose what you consume in the media and then you even get to choose how to feel about it (gasp!). If you choose to give models the power to make you feel bad, well, then, good luck with that. While there are women who are super tall and super skinny they are not the majority of models…those women are the runway models and they’re incredibly fierce and awesome at what they do.

In fact, the vastly tall, terribly skinny profile is precisely what places like Target and Best Buy (the two largest retailers in Minneapolis) are not looking for in models. They want people who look normal…like the segment of the population they want to reach with their advertising...the people they want to buy their products (which is the overwhelming majority of the population). Not to say that those long and lean giants don’t buy towels at Target and TVs at Best Buy, but do those retailers want their ads to look like New York’s Fashion Week? No way. They want normal moms, nice dads. Ho-hum. So I guess what I’m saying is: I’m pretty normal looking. I’m not emaciated, and I’m not over 5 feet 9 inches (I’m 5 foot 8½ inches [but who’s measuring, right?]).

Let me pause briefly to thank you for using double parentheticals ([]). It's like the dependent clause version of Inception. Okay, continue.

So when an agent approached me from a modeling and talent agency (actually she came up to me on the dance floor at a wedding while I was possibly channeling a bit too much Elaine Benes), I considered her offer for a week or so and eventually decided, “Well, this could be fun.” And it has been fun because I’m not competing with anyone. I am reminded of the distinction between competing in a cross country race in high school because I had to and then years later just going out for a run around a lake…because I wanted to. The feeling of joy in the choice is incomparable. With modeling I’m at the run around a lake stage—I do it because I can and because it is fun and because I want to (plus the fringe benefits are pretty fantastic).

I’m 35, and I have some seriously delicious plans and dreams that don’t include wearing blankets of makeup and getting fitted for a shoot with clothes I’d never buy. Because I keep the opportunity to model fun, it remains a wonderful way to learn about the industry from a different view. Plus I can earn extra money (and yes, it pays very well but I’m too polite to talk dollar signs). I will say, though, that each of my family members has landed modeling gigs (my husband for Medtronic, my daughter for Tony’s Pizza, my son for Huggies) and we’re beautiful and we’re normal.

The singular reason I was approached was because the agent felt I looked the part that production houses are currently seeking: ethnically ambiguous. Am I Latina? Am I Greek? Am I Native? Am I Caucasian? Am I Middle Eastern? Am I Italian? Am I Brazilian? What’s your guess?

Didn't we cover this with the "not entirely undead" ethnic designation above? Although, I'm assuming that's not quite what they were going for.

Well, turns out it doesn’t really matter what ethnicity I actually am (I’m Cherokee) because it is a boon that I can’t be pegged by any one group. So I am accepted by nearly all groups.

Maybe for this Amish book cover the question posed to my agency was: Does she look Pennsylvania Dutch? When my agent sent me an email to see about my interest in modeling for this book cover, I knew she’d sent the same email to all her talent that fit her profile needs. She sought a woman, in her mid-30s, dark hair, dark eyes….AND the model needed to appear as the aged character from previous books in the series. In my agent's long list of talent she could narrow her email to a handful of potential models.

I let her know that yes, I could make the shoot dates work so then she sent me requests for very specific headshot poses as per the publisher:

• Facing camera, non-smiling
• Side profile, non-smiling
• Side profile, hair up
• Front, hair down

So apparently these pictures got me the job (thanks to my dear, sweet husband, Darren, who happens to be a really excellent photographer).

So explain what the process of actually shooting this was like. How long did it take? How many people were involved? How often did the photographer tell you to "look more wistful?" Did they put you in Amish shoes and socks, or just clothing from the waist up? How uncomfortable was your neck at the end of it?

This was a very interesting shoot. It took place in the photographer’s studio, which is located in his quite beautiful, spacious home, in the suburbs of Minneapolis. I was the only one on camera…there was no other talent there so I wasn’t able to swoon in reality to the hunky Amish chap in the background of the final cover.

So it was me, the photographer, the hair/makeup/wardrobe assistant, and the publisher hanging out on set. The assistant was very perfumey and adorable and when she wasn’t texting she was snapping her gum and explaining how she pretty much knows how to “do” authentic Amish hair because according to her rough calculations she has done the hair for “a million of these covers.” I went into the bathroom to get changed into my plain clothes and taped all over the mirror were several pictures of Amish women stuck there as inspiration. Since Amish people regard photographic images of themselves as sin given the 2nd commandment, all the pictures are of Amish women shot from very, very far away.

I put on my dress (backwards, at first…turns out the small buttons go in the front, not the back) and my little v-shaped coverlet, which goes over the chest like a chevron. I was actually wearing mukluks for the first few shots (I live in Minnesota, Jordan, mukluks are the winter uniform) but then the crew wanted me to do some slow turning and spinning so I ended up barefoot by the end of the shoot.

I love dressing up—and more specifically I like playing dress-up in costume-ish kinds of clothing over dressing up in fancy garb which is why this particular job was appealing to me. One idiosyncrasy about me is I do so love fashion, but I so do not love shopping. I’d rather eat my own hands than “go shopping” (as though shopping were a recreational sport). You’d think online shopping was my personal savior…alas, the types of clothing I like to wear can’t be discovered online. When I do find myself perusing the rack at my local consignment shop I specifically look for items that hang funny on the hanger or don’t look right on the hanger or have buttons in awkward places or a ridiculously scooped, open-backed situation or have zippers where no zippers need be. I like individual pieces of clothing and then bringing several pieces together to create some outrageous outfit that I can safely assume will not be on anyone else I might meet.

This is why I loved this Amish book cover shoot so much: because I was in costume. Most of the modeling jobs I land, wardrobe sends an email with a list of your own clothes to bring to set—but this was fun because it was character work and I gravitate to this kind of guise.

Anyway, before the camera shutter went haywire, the publisher caught me up on the premise of the novel…Leah, the main character and the woman I would represent, is raising her sisters after their mother has died and is faced with myriad challenges with her sisters: a stillborn baby, a young widow, a wayward youth, lots of family secrets, and barely time to think of falling in love herself. He asked for my deepest concerns in my personal life to emerge in how I held my body and let my face be the stoic yet hopeful answer showing tentative resolve.

Hold on, quick recap. He wanted, in one single expression: specific, multi-layered grief, loneliness, deep concern, stoicism, hope, and tentative resolve.

Did it come across? I’ve never had his kind of intense direction on a set previously. After two hours of turning and craning my neck and holding still, and drawing my brows down or smiling ever so slightly and 800-some-odd pictures later, they got their shot, and it was a wrap. No seriously, 800 pictures.

Ok, so here's the part where I ask a bunch of questions about the bonnet. Is it a real Amish-style bonnet? How long did it take them to get the bonnet situated perfectly on your head? What was it made out of? Was it comfortable? Did they have a specific place for the tassels to fall, or did that just happen naturally? Did it make you feel elegant and/or classy? Because I feel like if I was a woman that's how it would make me feel. Is it weird that I just said that?

I was given a (surprisingly) long back-story about the bonnet I was to wear before I was even allowed to see the stash of bonnets. And by stash, I mean the very carefully stored pristine Amish bonnets—each in their own special container (which may or may not have been temperature-controlled) so there is no chance of crushing these delicate, starched head coverings. The photographer for this shoot does lots and lots of Amish romance novel book covers and has been summoned for so many that he is a premier source of authentic bonnets and Amish plain clothes for Hollywood studios.

The week my shoot was scheduled he just received a bonnet back that he’d rented out to a movie set shooting a film in California. It was returned completely crushed, bent and not even in its original container. I think I saw a tear emerge when he showed it to me, but I can’t be sure. He was very distraught because authentic Amish bonnets are not easy to come by and they can be expensive. I actually never touched the bonnet that was pinned to my head. The photographer took it out of the container and the assistant pinned it to my hair.

I know it sounds like this photographer was on the verge of needing some serious group therapy about those bonnets but the truth is I respected his knowledge and care for this seemingly small yet hugely significant moniker of Amish faith communities. Somebody besides Amish women has to care about these things, and I’m glad he does.

Would you do another cover?

I would…and indeed I have! The next book cover I did was a connection Valerie [Valerie Weaver-Zercher; see below] had as she works for a Mennonite publishing house that was having a book cover shot in Minneapolis. This book, however, was of an Amish woman from the mid- to late 1800s. There was much discussion about the type of bonnet I would don, and we ended up taking several shots with lots of different props (a basket of dried meadow flowers, a falling apart Bible, a shawl wrapped in my arms) as well as two different head coverings. This time around it wasn’t as tense because it was a totally different creative company doing the shoot so there were no bonnets in special boxes (and the dress wasn’t Amish-made) but…it was still fun so for me it was perfect. That book should be coming out in 2015.

So as an actual Amish Romance cover model, what did you think of my column?

Honestly I thought it was bright and relatively spot-on, tongue-in-cheek though some parts were. Amish romance novels are hugely popular (hence your wall reference). I learned so much more about the phenom of the plain woman romance when I got to know Valerie Weaver-Zercher, author of The Thrill of the Chaste: The Allure of Amish Romance Novels and appreciated her Wall Street Journal article “Why Amish Romance Novels Are Hot,” where she describes what keeps those books flying off the shelf. The top three most popular authors have sold over 23 million of these books, combined.

And, you’ll be happy to know there is a series of Amish Vampire books—your quest is over, Jordan! Sleep well…or sleep worried, I guess, that those nice plain pious women are creatures of the night…will they pray for you or suck your blood?

Either way, I think I would probably try to interview them first. So what do you do when you're not modeling for romance covers? (aka 99.9999% of your life?) Where do you live? What's your day job like? Do you have a family or pets or people you talk to at Subway a lot?

When I’m not an unfamous model in the Twin Cities, I am an editor of the magazine Timbrel a publication from the organization for which I work, Mennonite Women USA. I also run a successful freelance commercial writing business, Tasty Text, and write blogs, website content, e-newsletters, white papers, brochure copy, Facebook posts, and really any number of text communication needing a serious virtual refreshment.

I live in Minneapolis in a 50s-style modern house in a neighborhood I call The United Nations because of the diversity of all the families living here. We’re just a few miles from hopping on the 60-some miles of bike trails in this urban wonderland and a new co-op is opening next spring three blocks from our house, so I’m twitterpated.

I have two humans (2 and 12), and I’m surprisingly thrilled with the ten-year space between their births (see Zombie question above for more insight) because I really get to know their sweet souls in a singular way, and I’m in love with them. Gloria is a classical guitarist and rock climber. She takes the city bus to 7th grade at her Montessori school in St. Paul so obviously she rules. Harold is this charming flaxen-haired boy with an affinity for memorization and airplanes. He has very good diction and careful enunciation, which thrills his Montessori guides and tickles us to no end. We attend Emmanuel Mennonite Church in Minneapolis where I lead singing in the worship band. (That’s right…a band. We’ve been known to rock...)

After running 7 marathons (including Boston!) I am on the prowl to find a sport that offers the same requirements for stamina and mental prowess that marathons demand. I’m open to suggestions in this realm. Other than being committed to the written word, my husband and I love making our own things (tables, toys) and watching good cinema. We super enjoy not being on Facebook and some shared hobbies are loving up our littles and going on bicycle adventures around the lakes. We would rather spend money on ridiculously good food and powerful experiences than material things any day. I eat heaps and heaps of peanut butter, and I’m a closet ballerina.

I noticed in some of your emails that you also write fiction. What kind of stuff do you write?

I used to say, “I’m writing a novel, therefore my house is immaculate,” but I’ve just completed my Novel Marathon Training, and my full manuscript is complete (huzzah!). So I’m shopping it to agents this fall. My novel takes place in Southern Turkey at the base of Mount Olympos in a remote fishing village. I was inspired when I visited Turkey and fell into a helpless love affair with the Mediterranean Sea and a sweet old couple who made my breakfast each morning when I was a guest at their home. I guess I didn’t want to leave, so my novel is the next best way for me stay without actually staying. The story is a tragedy and definitely a testament to love. It is injected with beautiful, aching, lovely and terrifying magical realism. I worry about my characters and love them desperately and am shocked by the horrible and wonderful things they do and thoughts they hide. I was just sharing with a friend that writing my novel, for me, is an opportunity to work out the conversations I know I’ll never have in real life.

My latest personal writing project is…wait for it…an Amish romance story. I know, I know. Truthfully I’d rather have my name on a cover than my mug, but what can I say?

Well, I can't say that I will read it, but I can say that I will go to Barnes and Noble and stare at the cover for a long time when it comes out.

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You can read more about Claire at her website, clairedeberg.com.

My newest McSweeney's column is now live, where I talk a little bit about one particular bookshelf at Barnes and Noble. Here's a little preview:

I think about this shelf a lot. Sometimes I just stand in the store and wonder who all of these women are. There must be some special contingent of them out there, some unique modeling subgroup that continually dons turn of the century clothing and stares wistfully off into the distance. I wish I could talk to one. I have so many questions.2 Surely there are not enough of these books made for the models to earn a living off of them. So what else do they do, when they are between covers? Do they also sell lace gloves, or let their hair down occasionally for a Land’s End catalog? Do they have an ongoing, bitter rivalry with the milk-skinned, red-lipped army of brunettes that leer out of the vampire romance novels two shelves over? Do the two groups have crazy brawls at modeling conventions, Anchorman-style, aiming only at legs and torsos to avoid damaging each other’s faces? Or are they, perhaps, actually the same group of women, just done up in different colors?

Read the rest at McSweeney's Internet Tendency.

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If you're still waiting for the sequel to The Towers, don't worry. I'm diligently working on it in between baseball games.

My latest McSweeney's column is now up, with thoughts on Donald Sterling, Parks & Recreation, and loving your enemy. Here's an excerpt:

I won't repeat everything Sterling said here; you can look up the full tape online if you really care to hear the whole mess. Most of the responses to the tape have been of two varieties: those who condemn Sterling for being a horrible person and those who condemn him for being a horrible person while carefully wondering aloud whether illegally taped comments should serve as evidence for forcing a person to sell property. That second one is a vaguely interesting question, probably good for a discussion in a college civics class. But I'd like to talk about Sterling in a different way, as an enemy of humanity, as a villain.

And to do that, I have to talk about Ron Swanson, Leslie Knope, and Parks and Recreation.

You can read the rest of it on McSweeneys Internet Tendency.

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For those of you wondering why it's been a month or two between updates, I started a new job and some other things. Hopefully updates will come more frequently as I adjust to the new schedule.

Book review in one tweet

A short introduction into monks, their lives, and most importantly, their love of God.

Favorite quote

Law is love which binds and obliges…These words embrace not only the letter but also the spirit, and indicate that St. Stephen realized the rule was not merely an external standard to which one's actions had to conform, but a life which, if it was lived, would transform the monk from within.

Review

About a year and a half ago, a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to go with him on a monastic retreat to the Abbey of Gethsemani, the long time home of Thomas Merton. The retreat was fairly unstructured: a couple of talks by the guestmaster, three simple meals, prayer services seven times a day (starting at 3:00 AM), all of which were entirely optional. The monks charged nothing, and simply allowed us to pay whatever it was we felt like we should. There was really only one thing required, one rule that you had to follow.

And that was silence.

The silence was what made the Abbey so different, the experience so unique. For three days, the only time you opened your mouth was in prayer. It was one of the best experiences of my spiritual life, and it was that memory of silence that attracted me to The Silent Life, a book about monastic ideals and practices from the man who once lived and wrote at Gethsemani.

And I was largely pleased with what I read. Merton is often not the best stylist. His prose tends to be more practical than poetic, and he is more concerned with explaining than convincing. This is not a work of apologetics, not a book that will attempt to convince you to join a holy order, or even become a Christian if you are not one already. Rather, it is a fairly succinct and basic primer on what the monastic life is, how that life is lived within different orders, and the philosophy that informs all of them.

Bored yet?

Some readers likely will be. Actually, who am I kidding, most readers likely will be. But if you stick with the book long enough, you'll find that every once in a while Merton will write something that will blow you away with its depth of thought. There were a number of pages that I read over and over again, not because they were unclear, but because there was so much of importance that was being said, so many implications for my own life that sprang from his thinking, that I wanted to make sure I noticed and understood all of them.

The life of a monk is and always has been antithetical to the rest of the world. Which is a fancy way of saying that monks are weird. They sing weird music, they wear weird clothes, they live in weird places. They live alone, and yet their guest house is always full. And most of all, they are silent. They say what needs to be said, and as little else as possible.

The Silent Life embodies those values as well as explaining them. It says what it needs to say, it says it plainly, and then it shuts up, and gets out of the way between you and God.

Nerd rating

6 wizard staffs (out of 10)

This is a book for religious nerds, people who are fascinated with deep spiritual thinking of all types, and people who have ever wondered what being a monk is actually about. It's not Merton's best work, but it's fairly short, and worth grabbing if you're lucky enough to have a copy at your library.

Non-nerd rating

5 cold, frosty beers (out of 10)

Normally I'd probably rate this as three or four beers, but I think there's enough here that applies to everyone to keep non-nerds interested. The spiritual thinking of the monks is pretty insightful, and easy enough for anyone to understand. Just don't worry about which particular church father said what, or which order of what monks was known for praise and which for writing, and you'll enjoy it just fine.

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All book reviews are posted first on my Goodreads page, for those of you who are a part of that particular electronic social club. They all trickle over to this blog eventually.

My newest McSweeney's column, "Christian Rock Radio and a Basketful of Baby Unicorns," is out today. A little preview is below:

There are three kinds of CAC songs:

Song 1 – Christ is awesome and powerful. Praise Him! These songs usually rhyme “grace” with “face.”

Song 2 – Same as Song 1, except the song is directed to “the Lord,” instead of Christ. Also, one of the four choruses is sung by a choir of children. These songs usually rhyme “grace” with “face.”

Song 3 – My daily life is hectic and sort of miserable, and I often fall short of my religious ideals. These songs usually rhyme “grace” with “face.”

You can read the whole thing on the McSweeney's website.

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Though I generally disable comments on this website (due to spamming and the ever present Internet cloud of hate), I do like to hear from people who read the column, so feel free to drop me a line using one of the electronic relationship buttons on the right.

My newest McSweeney's column is out today. It's mostly a review of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, though as always I manage to get off topic fairly quickly, touching a bit on Christian fiction and a bit more on "D-Box" movie theater seats. Here's a preview:

For some reason, my wife and I decided to go to the midnight premiere of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug.

Actually, let me rephrase that.

For some reason, my wife decided to go with me to the midnight premiere of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug. I’m not sure why. I went because Tolkien basically taught me to love reading as a kid, because I wanted to write a column on the movie, and because I have the ability to sleep in as late as I want. None of those reasons applied to my wife, however, so she was either going because she was starved for a date or because she… well, actually, that’s the only reason that makes any sense.

You can read the whole thing over at McSweeney's.

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Special Note! - If you want a first edition of The Towers, complete with all original 35 typos, make sure you order one within the next 48 hours. Otherwise you will get the far inferior, typo-free version that I am sending in soon.

My newest column for McSweeney's is up today, about the moral implications of the recent wave of Art TV. You can read the whole column on McSweeney's. Here's a preview

I finally did something yesterday I had never done before: I intentionally watched a reality television show. The key word in that previous sentence is “intentionally.” I have, of course, seen reality TV before, a lot of it. But it has always been against my will. My wife would turn on an episode of The Biggest Loser every once in a while, or The Bachelor every twice in a while, or Say Yes to the Dress every marathon in a while, and I would sit in the same room and read and pretend not to be distracted but actually secretly watch the show because I like spending time with my wife and because I really, really like it when Randy asks the brides if-they-are-saying-yes-to-the-dress.

I felt like I could have written another 5000 words on this one, hence the footnotes you'll see at the bottom of the column.

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Jordan Jeffers is currently rewatching the Cardinals 2011 World Series DVD in an effort to remove the horrible display the Cards put on last night from his memory. It is totally working.

My new column for McSweeney's, "Speaking for All Christians Exactly Like Me," debuts today on the Tendency. This one is about Ms. Miley Cyrus, Wrecking Ball, and the Biblical story of Amnon and Tamar. Here's a little preview:

As I sat there, the boom box started playing “Blurred Lines,” and the three frisbee men immediately stopped their game and began twerking in celebration. One of them was actually pretty good. Like, suspiciously good. Like, I have a sneaking feeling that he watched the VMAs and immediately began twerk two-a-days, practicing for this exact moment, and a dozen or so other moments in the years to come, at weddings and clubs and house parties, knowing he would get himself a cheap laugh at Ms. Cyrus’s expense. Well, mission accomplished, Twerking Guy.

Mission accomplished.

You can read the whole column at the McSweeney's Internet Tendency website. Comments are not allowed on the Tendency, so if you have something nice to say, you can do it on this page.

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Jordan Jeffers is currently learning how to twirl baton. This is not a joke, just something funny that's actually happening. Feel free to give him electronic encouragement via the little Facebook and Twitter buttons below. It means more to him than you might think.

Book review in one tweet

75 frantic pages from a mind that can't stop thinking, and a heart that can't stop breaking.

Favorite quote

Do I hope that if feeling disguises itself as thought I shall feel less? Aren't all these notes the senseless writhings of a man who won't accept the fact that there is nothing we can do with suffering accept to suffer it? Who still thinks there is some device (if only he could find it) which will make pain not to be pain. It doesn't really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist's chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on.

Review

There's this word in philosophy: "theodicy." I learned it during my intro to philosophy course in college. Roll it out to impress your friends. It's basically a kind of philosophical defense of God, a logical argument for the existence of pain in the world, an answer to the question, "Why do bad things happen to good people?"

I hate theodicies. Hate 'em. You know how much I hate 'em because I've slipped into an old-timey dialect.

It's not that the people who write them have the wrong intentions, or even necessarily that they aren't convincing (because some of them are pretty convincing). I hate 'em because any attempt to explain the existence of pain is ultimately hollow. The problem of pain is not a philosophical problem. It's a personal one. It doesn't matter if the geniuses can reason pain out or not, what matters is what you do when the pain comes. Whether you hold onto hope, faith, and love, or whether you let the storm sweep you over the side.

That's why I chose to review A Grief Observed rather than Lewis's own theodicy, The Problem of Pain. Because in this little book, we get to see the greatest popular philosopher of the modern era in pain, living through the death of his wife, Joy Davidman, and all the heartbreak that follows from it. (FYI: He originally wrote the book under the pseudonym N.W. Clerk, hence the cover image above. Apparently he really liked abbreviating the first two initials of author names.)

His response is to turn again to his philosophy, to spiral round and round the same old questions. But even when he finds what seem like good answers, the answers don't help him where it really matters. The answers don't "make the pain not to be pain." Basically I'm saying that I really liked this book because it helps me prove a point, which is pretty much why most of us enjoy non-fiction books.

And beyond those larger questions of God and pain, Lewis has a fascinating take on the nature of memory, and his fear of losing the "reality" of his wife, the hard corners and rough edges, the way she would surprise him and disagree with him, the way her presence made it impossible for him to fit her into box of his choosing. This appreciation for reality is refreshing in a philosopher, and I don't think it's a coincidence that it comes in this, his least philosophical book.

Nerd rating

8 wizard staffs (out of 10)

If you're a true Lewis fan, spend the thirteen bucks and get the current HarperCollins edition. It's a beautiful looking book, with old timey pages that are different widths, so it's super annoying when you're trying to flip through it. It'll look good on the shelf though, or on the bus when you're reading it.

Non-nerd rating

8 cold, frosty beers (out of ten)

One of the few books with the same rating for nerds and non-nerds alike. Grief and pain are universal human experiences, and Lewis's style is (as usual) clear and accessible. I'd suggest borrowing it if possible, or getting a used version somewhere. Thirteen bucks is a little steep for 75 pages.

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If you really want to read a theodicy, Jordan Jeffers recommends the Book of Job. You can give him electronic encouragement via the little Facebook and Twitter buttons below. It means more to him than you might think.