Literary critics have long argued that novels are inherently anti-religious. They believe that novels, with their many voices and styles, necessarily challenge the certainty of a worldview with a divinely authored text at its core. In the book The Broken Estate James Wood said, “it was not just science but perhaps the novel itself which helped to kill Jesus’ divinity, when it gave us a new sense of the real.”

This view is overly simplistic (pdf), Justin Neuman writes for Culture magazine. According to Neuman, too many people assume a sharp divide with religion on one side and debate, questioning, and literary freedom on the other. This marginalizes many aspects of religion that encourage the pursuit of knowledge and freedom. It also misses the potential that both novels and religion have to change people’s worldviews for the better.

Source: Culture

Image by (michelle), licensed under Creative Commons.

Being a music fan and a writer, I am very particular about the music I listen to while writing, and am careful to note which artists and albums are most conducive to a good writing session. (This way, if I get blocked or my prose is lackluster, I can always blame it on the background music.)

It appears I’m not alone; many writers give ample consideration to the relationship between music and their own work, and their musings on the subject are gathered by Largehearted Boy, which stands out from the overpopulated music blogosphere with its thoughtful prose, guest columnists, and mp3 downloads. My favorite department at Largehearted Boy is Book Notes, wherein authors “create and discuss a music playlist that is in some way relevant to their recently published books.”

Book Notes includes some big names, like Bret Easton Ellis and Chuck Klosterman, who have always made a point of incorporating pop music into their writing. But the roster is dominated by relatively obscure authors and poets (David Breskin, Christina Henriquez, Ander Monson) whose musical tastes are all over the map, from mainstream (The Eagles, Radiohead) to avant-garde (Arvo Part).

There’s also Note Books, which inverts the formula by having indie-rockers write about some of their favorite books. This list includes famously erudite artists like the Mountain Goats’ John Darnielle, the Jayhawks’ Mark Olson, and John Vanderslice.

(Thanks, Minnesota Reads.)

Image by el monstrito, licensed by Creative Commons.

The oddest book title of the year is You Want Closure In Your Relationship, Start With Your Legs (Simon and Schuster), according to a recent contest from the British magazine the Bookseller. Runners up included I Was Tortured By the Pygmy Love Queen (Nazca Plains Corporation) and Cheese Problems Solved (Woodhead Publishing).

(Thanks, BBC News.)

  —Bennett Gordon

The American Book Review has made their list of the 100 best last lines from novels available online (pdf). The judges—a group of critics, reviewers, writers, and readers—picked their favorite closers from a list of some 400 nominees. Only last lines from novels, novellas, and short story collections that “unfold like a novel” were eligible.  

The most popular last lines generally came from widely acclaimed books. In an essay accompanying the list, which first appeared in the Jan.-Feb. 2008 issue of the nonprofit literary journal, James Phalen explains, “because the power and effect of these lines depend so much on what has preceded them, it makes sense that our judgments of those lines are influenced by our judgments of what has preceded them.”

Top honors go to Samuel Beckett in The Unnamable—the final 11 words of a nine-page sentence.

“…you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.”

Which last line do you think should have won? Post a comment below, or go chat in the Great Writing Salon.

—Sarah Pumroy