Favorite Things
New Favorite, by Alison Krauss and Union Station
Reviewed by Rick Saenz

One reason bluegrass and old-time music is aesthetically superior to mainstream pop is that the bar for lyrics is set much higher—the song can't simply reflect on an emotional state, it must tell a story. What's more, it must the story in very few words, and those words must be simple and unadorned. With such severe restrictions, it takes artistry to say something profound, and when that happens the contrast between the simple context and the deep thought can take your breath away.

A good example is the song "The Old Home Place" by Rodney Dillard and Mitch Jayne, which tells the story of a farm boy who falls in love with a city girl, takes a job in town, is defeated by city life, and returns to find that his home is gone. Here's the chorus:

What have they done to the old home place?
Why did they tear it down?
And why did I leave the plow in the field
To look for a job in the town?

This is not just the complaint of one foolish young man. It is the cry of a prodigal agrarian culture—duped into trading its birthright for a steady paycheck, chewed up and spit out by an industrial economy, heartbroken to find no father waiting to celebrate its return home.

Another good example is the song this issue takes its title from, "The Boy Who Wouldn't Hoe Corn." There are many versions of this song (more often called "The Lazy Farmer Boy"), but the version on New Favorite is especially friendly to ears that are new to bluegrass; the dramatic arrangement and energetic performance clues the listener in that the tale being told has some depth to it.

If you are unfamiliar with bluegrass but are interested in exploring, New Favorite can help you get a start. Alison Krauss's voice is so appealing that it sometimes overshadows the skill and thought that goes into her singing. The members of her band are all world-class musicians, and she gives them room to shine. About half the songs on New Favorite qualify as bluegrass, the rest as bluegrass-informed pop songs.

Alison Krauss had done much to introduce bluegrass music to a wider audience. After distinguishing herself as a traditionalist, she began incorporating elements of pop and country music, slowly and cautiously enough to end up with a hybrid that expands the boundaries of bluegrass without selling out. This expansion is not a uniformly good thing. Many of the songs on New Favorite venture awfully far into pop love song territory, and even though the stories are artfully told, the amoral sensibility lessens their value. If you find it hard to avoid identifying with the narrator of a song, you may want to steer clear of this one. But it's a good skill to develop, and the pop songs on New Favorite are good enough to make the practice rewarding.

Very Good Sir
The Most of P.G. Wodehouse
Reviewed by R.C. Sproul Jr.

I'm like most Reformed men in that upon entering a home for the first time I rarely look at the furniture. I don't even notice the "color palate." Instead I look for the books. I want to know not only what my hosts own, but more important, what they have read. Like a pack of sniffing dogs, this is how we size each other up. Having the complete set of John Owen might make you top dog, but only if each volume is well worn. At our house we have bookshelves in nine different rooms. But the best go on the bookshelf in the living room, where my guests are most apt to see them. There you will find books that have not only influenced the generation in which they were written, but continue to influence generation after generation. You will find Edwards, Augustine, Warfield, Hodge, Hodge, Calvin and Luther, reading each of whom, with the exception of Luther, has been an exceedingly profitable exercise. Luther is profitable as well, but reading him is fun, not work. I'm sorry to admit that profit to effort ratios are an important part of my own decision making on what I read.

There are, of course, different kinds of profit as well. The same God who tells us to buy string drink, or whatever we would like (Deuteronomy 12: 26), it would seem, would allow for an occasional light read, just because we like it. Living on chocolate cake is bad stewardship. Refusing to ever eat cake is, well, bad stewardship. Reading low-brow lit all the time is bad stewardship. Refusing to ever read such is bad stewardship. If you are looking for reading with a enjoyment to effort ratio that is through the roof, look no further than The Most of Wodehouse, by P.G. Wodehouse.

My dear wife gave me this fat paperback volume a few years ago on the occasion of some celebration. I have been celebrating that occasion ever since. Wodehouse is just flat funny. I can't say that I have discerned his worldview. I'm quite certain he won't help you pass your ordination trials. But I can say that each time I read him, I am at ease, that I rejoice before the Lord. This particular volume has to commend it the breadth of its coverage. There are, as one might expect, several excellent Bertie Wooster and Jeeves short stories. But we also meet the enchanting Mr. Mulliner down at the pub telling his stories. We are given P.G.'s peculiar slant on the game of golf. In short, we meet more characters than we could ever remember, and none that we could ever forget. This book will broaden your horizons, while narrowing your cares. Get to work, earn some money, and go and buy this book. Wait on pins and needles for it to arrive, and then, and only then, relax, read, and enjoy. Rest assured, no matter how smart we become, no matter how zealous our hearts, we Reformed folk will never make manifest the kingdom until we learn to laugh, and to laugh heartily. Think of this book as homework to that end.