The Blood Red Crescent

 The Blood Red Crescent, by Henry Garnett.  Manchester, New Hampshire: Sophia Institute Press, 2007.  176 pages, Softcover, $14.95

Growing up, I always loved adventure stories about young people in turbulent historical times, embarking on all sorts of escapades, ranging from locating hidden treasure to saving the world. Mind you, I never had any patience with poorly written or lowbrow novels, which only served to mar the memory of those who lived in the past by portraying their lives as frothy, pointless mixtures of pap and soap opera. Happily, Henry Garnett’s work respects his audience. The Blood Red Crescent is a fine example of the “adventurous youth helps save the world” genre, focusing on one young man’s growth towards maturity and his participation in the battle of Lepanto.

The Blood Red Crescent takes its name from a threat that the Ottoman Sultan made during his invasions of Europe. The Sultan declared that his Islamic forces would conquer all of Europe, and that he would place a gigantic pennant above the dome of St. Peter’s, marked with a crimson moon painted with Christian blood. The central character is the teenaged Guido Callatta, who in 1570 is shaken from his world of comfortable Venetian privilege as the Turkish forces threaten his life and the lives of those he loves. Guido and his family are forced to flee, and Guido gains military experience and life advice from an eclectic assortment of individuals, both real and fictional, culminating in his participation in helping Don John of Austria triumph against the Ottomans.

Blood Red Crescent is written at a level suitable for intelligent teenage children, although certain violent scenes might require parental discussion. This is not a novel that should be read simply on its own. It needs to be put in historical context, with the far-reaching repercussions of the victory– which cannot be integrated into the context of the novel– made clear, illustrating in specific ways just how critical the victory truly was. The novel is an excellent introduction to learning more about the history of Lepanto. Read in tandem with Chesterton’s Lepanto (perhaps in the recently published edition that includes historical background), it is an entertaining and richly informative way to learn more about a critical historical event that is largely overlooked today. 

The general plot of the book focuses on Guido’s training to become a soldier and how he gains training from a variety of different sources, ranging from sailors to soldiers to cranks to the clergy. In an atmosphere where members of religious orders are commonly depicted as base caricatures, it is rather refreshing to find a book where the clergy are shown to possess perception, wisdom, and honor. It is disturbingly commonplace to see a highly Christianized Europe regarded dismissively as a repressive, backwards place. In Garnett’s novel, Christian culture is liberating, ennobling, and joyous, a society that deserves defending. 

An interesting aspect of Guido’s training is the fact that while he is being trained as a deadly archer, he is constantly coached to maintain his sense of honor and decency. He is trained to be a skillful soldier, but his mentors urge him to take no pleasure in destruction, and to always treat his enemy fairly, never forgetting his opponent’s humanity. Furthermore, Guido is also coached to consider what kind of life he should seek after the warfare ends, since after he puts away his weapons he will need to live a life that benefits his society and serves God.

The main reason why I cannot rave wholeheartedly about Garnett’s book is not because of any inherent flaws in the work, but because the good aspects of the book could conceivably have been a great deal better. In a book that caters to a youthful audience, it is important to keep the tension high and to frequently pepper the novel with humor or horror, preferably both.  Unfortunately, several stretches of the book contain precious little action, and real laughs and genuine cringes are hard to find. More time ought to have been spent describing the actual battle of Lepanto. Such a dramatic culmination to the book deserves the biggest payoff possible.

Despite the shortcomings, The Blood Red Crescent is well worth reading, especially as a book that parents and their older children can explore together. Ultimately, this book is not about a physical adventure as it is about a spiritualadventure. The battle scenes, daring rescue attempts, and tension-packed chases only provide a limited amount of the novel’s true action. The real action lies within young Guido’s mind and soul as he learns what it means to be a good, Christian man and a defender of his world.

–Chris Chan 

This review first appeared in Gilbert!

The Dean Died Over Winter Break: The First Chronicle of Brother Thomas

The Dean Died Over Winter Break: The First Chronicle of Brother Thomas, by Christopher Lansdown. CreateSpace and Silver Empire, 2018. 202 pages. Softcover, $9.99. Kindle e-book $4.99.

 

The investigator at the heart of The Dean Died Over Winter Break is a high-concept figure: a member of the F.B.I. Not the government agency, the Franciscan Brothers of Investigation. When a university dean is killed on-campus, and the official authorities are at a dead end, Brother Thomas of the F.B.I. is called in to solve the case before the undergraduates come back.

 

It’s a fun whodunit, with some intriguing characters and twists, and the crux of the investigation comes from Brother Thomas’ studies of human psychology and behavior. It’s a traditional mystery, with none of the gloom and heavy-handed darkness that mars so much of today’s detective fiction.

 

Readers with opinions and tastes like mine will enjoy the reflections on religion, philosophy, and G.K. Chesterton. Those with differing literary palates may not be so pleased.

 

In his author’s note, Lansdown writes, “I apologize that it wasn’t longer—in stories that we like, we come to care about the characters, and they have life more or less in proportion to page count. On the other hand their quality of life is defined by the quality of those pages, which in large part forms the practical limitation that keeps novels from being millions of pages long... If you wanted more, so did I, and you have my sympathy.” I certainly do want more, though not for this specific mystery.

 

The idea of an abbey filled with detectives is a great initial premise, but it leads to the fact that more backstory is needed. Like many first entries in a series, The Dead Died Over Winter Break suffers a little bit from what I call “expositionitis”– the fact that the need to provide plenty of backstory to describe the setting and characters tends to lead to choppy narratives and lots of explanation. This is often unavoidable, though much of this could have be assisted with an “Episode Zero,” an introductory narrative explaining how the order of the F.B.I. was founded, how various men joined the order, and quick mini-mysteries outlining their investigative training and the development of their reputation.

 

I hope that The Dean Died Over Winter Break is the start of a series of novels featuring Brother Thomas and his fellow investigators.

 

 

 

Lessons Learned from Star Trek, by Nicholas H. Kovacs. Lulu.com, 2018. 420 pages. Kindle e-book, $6.99.

 

This book is a fan’s tribute to the ways that a favorite science fiction franchise has influenced his life, and describing the various morals than can be derived from the various shows and movies. The affection for the topic is evident on every page, and the encyclopedic knowledge of the Star Trek universe is similarly obvious with each paragraph.

 

Kovacs explains in his Introduction how Star Trek has influenced his life in a heartfelt passage:

 

“For me personally, Star Trek has become one of my great passions in life. I remember being introduced to Star Trek by my father in the late 1980s, when I was in the second grade. At this time, I was a big fan of the “He-Man: The Masters of the Universe” cartoon series. My dad started to feel that I was getting too old for cartoons, believing I needed a hobby that was more appropriate for my age, and introduced me to the world of Star Trek. I can’t remember the title of the first Star Trek episode I ever watched, but I do remember it was from “The Original Series”. After watching a couple adventures of Captain Kirk, I began to develop a deep enjoyment of the Star Trek universe. Seeing all the cures for diseases and advanced technology in the Star Trek universe, made me want to command the USS Enterprise, and hope that one day the Star Trek universe would come true. Having since birth a genetic disability (Spinal Muscular Atrophy) that has confined me to a wheelchair, made me wish as I was growing up, to live in the fictional universe of Star Trek. I still have this wish today as an adult. In some ways, the fictional universe of Star Trek has become a reality, such as the development of voice recognition for computers. With my disability, I have found voice recognition programs for computers to be really helpful.”

 

This is a very useful book, but it is not for the novice to Star Trek, or even the casual fan. There are simply too many details about aliens, culture, and background information about decades of details connected to a major franchise to for the individual who doesn’t know the difference between a Romulan and a Vulcan to pick up the book and read it clearly. Indeed, the analytical narrative is filled with plenty of spoilers for major episodes, and therefore, the book is best for people with a similarly thorough knowledge of at least three of the Star Trek television series.  

 

Longtime fans will find much to discuss about one of their favorite franchises.  This is a labor of love, and those who care about Star Trek as much as Kovacs will be inspired by the work of a kindred spirit.

This review first appeared in Gilbert!