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Best book you read in 2009?

I had the chance to read so much good crap this year that I found it hard to choose just one book. So here are my top three, in no particular order…


The White Tiger | Aravind Adiga

I found this book randomly searching the B&N site for fiction novels about India, as I’ve taken particular interest in the country over the past few years and wanted to learn more. (Poring over a Wikipedia page or a dusty tome of South Asian history probably would have done the trick, but this seemed more fun.) I think Aravind Adiga has unearthed a gold mine of meaningful perspectives and insights here. Balram, the main character who straddles the fence between the country’s dual worlds of destitution and privilege, can almost been seen, I think, as a personification of modern India. The complexity of his moral dilemmas make it impossible to jump to hasty conclusions about India’s societal problems, or what could be done to solve them. The emergence of a “New India” as portrayed in the book — the perpetual construction of American-style shopping malls in Delhi and the explosive growth of the outsourced IT support industry in Bangalore — invites concerned skepticism about such “advancements” and the non-monetary costs that might be associated with them. Ambivalence is everywhere in this book, even in Balram’s character. You can’t decide whether you’re rooting for him or not, as he simultaneously inhabits the roles of both whistle-blower and eager participant in India’s notoriously corrupt systems.

Amazon review:

A brutal view of India’s class struggles is cunningly presented in Adiga’s debut about a racist, homicidal chauffeur. Balram Halwai is from the Darkness, born where India’s downtrodden and unlucky are destined to rot. Balram manages to escape his village and move to Delhi after being hired as a driver for a rich landlord. Telling his story in retrospect, the novel is a piecemeal correspondence from Balram to the premier of China, who is expected to visit India and whom Balram believes could learn a lesson or two about India’s entrepreneurial underbelly. Adiga’s existential and crude prose animates the battle between India’s wealthy and poor as Balram suffers degrading treatment at the hands of his employers (or, more appropriately, masters). His personal fortunes and luck improve dramatically after he kills his boss and decamps for Bangalore. Balram is a clever and resourceful narrator with a witty and sarcastic edge that endears him to readers, even as he rails about corruption, allows himself to be defiled by his bosses, spews coarse invective and eventually profits from moral ambiguity and outright criminality. It’s the perfect antidote to lyrical India.


The Great Divorce | C. S. Lewis

Three. That, I believe, is the number of times I’ve tried to read C. S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity and failed. Each time, I’ve been deterred by Lewis’ fondness for lofty English, not to mention those sentences that go on for half a page — the ones you have to re-read three or four times before understanding. But a few months back, I glanced through the copy of The Great Divorce that Drea was reading at the time. Noting it’s brevity and apparent readability, I decided to give it a shot, and couldn’t be happier I did.

This is an allegory of the afterlife, as the narrator travels (by bus of all things) through Hell and Heaven. Lewis uses some captivating imagery — a Grey Town whose inhabitants live a bored half-existence, and the High Countries (tourists welcome) where the textures are so real and the light so brilliant that most visitors don’t stay long on account of the acclimatization process. Probably the greatest argument Lewis makes throughout is the notion that our daily choices and struggles have more bearing on the afterlife than we realize. As important (if not more) as getting theology correct is how we treat others and respond to life’s everyday situations, as these behaviors indicate the heart’s deeper condition and the way we view God.

Amazon review:

The Great Divorce is C.S. Lewis’s Divine Comedy: the narrator bears strong resemblance to Lewis (by way of Dante); his Virgil is the fantasy writer George MacDonald; and upon boarding a bus in a nondescript neighborhood, the narrator is taken to Heaven and Hell. The book’s primary message is presented with almost oblique tidiness — “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.'” However, the narrator’s descriptions of sin and temptation will hit quite close to home for many readers. Lewis has a genius for describing the intricacies of vanity and self-deception, and this book is tremendously persistent in forcing its reader to consider the ultimate consequences of everyday pettiness.


A Million Miles in a Thousand Years | Donald Miller

I’ve been a Miller fan since Blue Like Jazz, but this book has become my favorite of his. His evolution as a person and author are evident, as endearing honesty and quality storytelling abound; you know it’s going to be a great read within the first five pages. The witty, nonchalant feel of his other books is still present, but in a better way. He’s cohesive and organized in his exploration of “life as story”, and somehow makes the whole thing a lot of fun to read.

Amazon review:

Miller, the accidental memoirist who struck gold with the likable ramble Blue Like Jazz, writes about the challenges inherent in getting unstuck creatively and spiritually. After Jazz sold more than a million copies but his other books didn’t follow suit, he had a classic case of writer’s block. Two movie producers contacted him about creating a film out of his life, but Miller’s initial enthusiasm was dampened when they concluded that his real life needed doctoring lest it be too directionless for the screen. Real stories, he learned, require characters who suffer and overcome. In desultory fashion, Miller sets out to change his own life — to be the kind of guy who seeks out his father, chases the girl and undertakes a quest. Along the way, he comes to understand God as a master storyteller who doesn’t quite control where his characters are going. An unexpected bonus of this book is Miller’s insights into the writing process. Readers who loved Blue Like Jazz will find here a somewhat more mature Miller, still funny as hell but more concerned about making a difference in the world than in merely commenting on it.


So those are my favorites. How about you?


Filed under: Books, , , , , ,

Book review: “Religion Saves”

I first heard of Mark Driscoll in Donald Miller’s book Blue Like Jazz. (Miller playfully referred to him as “Mark the Cussing Pastor”.) While I hear he’s toned his language down a bit, Driscoll is still a famously outspoken and controversial pastor and author. His church, Mars Hill, is a “theologically conservative and culturally liberal” congregation in Seattle. Driscoll also co-founded the Acts 29 Network, a church-planting group.

When I heard through our blog friend Kate McDonald that LitFuse Publicity Group was doing a “blog tour” of Driscoll’s new book Religion Saves: And Nine Other Misconceptions, I decided to hop on board. I love reading and exchanging thoughts on books, and I figured this would be a fun way to share my thoughts, and to find out a little more about Driscoll.

Religion Saves is essentially a series of loosely related sermons in written format. Driscoll tackles nine of the most frequent questions asked by Christians today — ranging from predestination to birth control to the emerging church — and devotes one chapter of the book to answering (or at least providing insights to) each question. While he ties the nine questions together with the theme of the misconception that “religion saves”, the chapters obviously cover a wide range of topics and could easily be read independently of one another.

Before we dig in, I have to say that I had a hard time writing this review. To begin with, the book’s configuration as a series of mini-expositions on various topics makes it difficult to discuss as a whole. (As such, I’ll attempt to reflect briefly on each chapter.) Secondly, I have mixed opinions of Driscoll and his views; I found much to heartily agree with and much to humbly disagree with in this book. And thirdly, I don’t claim expertise on any of these topics, so I share my thoughts with that disclaimer.


Question 9: Birth control. Extremely helpful as an introduction to the different kinds of birth control, and their implications for the Christian belief in human life’s sanctity. I think Driscoll employs unflinching directness and gracious tolerance where each is appropriate.

Question 8: Humor. Easily (and fittingly) the funniest chapter in the book. Driscoll is a master of understatement and witty sarcasm, as evidenced by his indiscriminate jabs. (Nobody is exempt; he makes fun of liberal environmentalists, redneck NASCAR fans, goody two-shoed homeschoolers, and guys with bad breath.) He also draws interesting insights on humor in the Bible, and its place in the Christian life and even the pulpit. I agree with Driscoll in that given our common state as sinners, we all need to take ourselves less seriously and learn to laugh at each other’s (and our own) shortcomings.

Question 7: Predestination. Essentially a defense of Calvinist/Reformed theology, with surprising generosity toward Arminians. A useful introduction, but I still remain unconvinced of either “side” of this issue as an essential Christian doctrine. I believe both in God’s foreknowledge of who will be saved, and in our free will in either accepting or rejecting Him. I only consider this a contradiction in the sense that the coexistence of predestination and free will is too large and complex an idea for me to get my mind around. The presence of both entities in Scripture and in my personal experience makes possible my faith that God’s design is cosmically perfect in its inclusion of both, however imperfect my understanding of it makes it seem.

Question 6: Grace. Driscoll presents this as the most difficult Christian doctrine for him to accept. (I’m the same way; the idea of a perfect God extending grace to a people who are chronically ungrateful for it is beyond me.) It’s a beautiful discussion of the word “grace” itself, as Driscoll highlights the multitude of different types of grace that God sends our way. If we ever erroneously perceive grace only as God’s initial forgiveness of our sin, Driscoll helps us to see that this is only one of many heaps of undeserved blessings for every stage of life and faith.

Question 5: Sexual Sin. A hard look at the perversion of sex that characterizes our culture. While he doesn’t mince words about the sinfulness of some of our practices, Driscoll spends considerable time on the psychology, and even spirituality, of sex. He sheds light on the root problem of sin that causes sexaul perversion, as opposed to reverting to the near-hysterical rebuking and callous judgement typical of many Christian leaders when discussing sexual sin. There are worthwhile insights to be found here, ones I hadn’t previously considered.

Question 4: Faith and Works. In addressing the delicate interplay of faith, works, and salvation, Driscoll echoes J. I. Packer’s discussion of the doctrine of regeneration — that is, we are saved not by good works, but for good works. In this light, it makes even more sense that you can’t have one without the other.

Question 3: Dating. I’m married, so pshh, I don’t need to read this. (Teachable heart fail.) I actually learned a lot from this chapter. The history Driscoll provides on dating/courtship over the last hundred years is helpful. When we hear grievances against the dating practices of “these young people nowadays”, it’s usually from older folks who wish things could be like they uesd to. Driscoll’s relative youth might remove suspicion of generational arrogance as he implores his fellow young people to date wisely. He’s old-fashioned on this topic, and I’m with him. (Yes, the male should pursue the female. Yes, he should be clear in stating his intentions to her.) He also mentions the opposite dangers of legalism and free license in the context of dating, which is helpful as well.

Question 2: The Emerging Church. This was the chapter I was most intrigued to read. Turns out it’s one of the most helpful conservative perspectives on the emerging church I’ve come across. Namely, it’s even-handed and fair — dispensing praise and deep concern where each is due. Because of Driscoll’s previous involvement with emergent leaders like Doug Pagitt and Brian McLaren in the 1990’s, we can infer that he has enough personal experience to draw informed conclusions. His commentary is well-researched and organized, and especially helpful in its differentiation between missional/house churches and emerging churches.

Question 1: The Regulative Principle. I had no idea what the regulative principle was until I read this chapter. Turns out its about worship — specifically, Driscoll says, about “how we should worship the God of the Bible”. He introduces us to two prevailing schools of thought regarding Christian worship: the “green light” normative principle (“worship services must include all the elements that Scripture commands and may include others so long as Scripture does not prohibit them”) and the “red light” regulative principle (“worship services must include all the elements that Scripture commands or that are a good and necessary implication of a biblical text, but nothing more”), and discusses the strengths and weaknesses of each. He tells us a little about how his church, Mars Hill, worships — specifically their urban location, missional philosophy, inclusion of technology and social media in their services, and value placed on faithfulness to Scripture. He closes the chapter with a plea for unity in this area, recognizing that whichever of the camps you’re in is less important than doing what the Bible says, and not doing what it prohibits.


Driscoll’s style and general point of view are unique, hard to categorize, and will probably offend just about everybody at some point or another. Conservative evangelicals won’t like his cynical jabs at Christian subculture; progressives and emergents won’t like his traditional Calvinist leanings or inerrant view of Scripture. He writes provocatively and to-the-point, which is refreshing in a sense; there are no trite, churchy clichés to be found here. His tone could be percieved as flippant or self-righteous if not for his frequent admission of his own sin. This is also refreshing, and lends legitimacy-bolstering sincerity to many of his arguments.

My main gripe about this book is its general ambience. We’re all familiar with the comparison of human brain types: left vs. right, objective vs. subjective, rational vs. creative. I would assert that engaging both types is useful and beneficial to Christian faith, and particularly Christian instruction. After all, what good is knowing doctrine without allowing yourself to be moved by it? Conversely, what good is the emotional awareness of a Higher Being without knowing anything about Him? Thinking about Religion Saves in this context makes me realize it is a very left-brained book. It’s full of propositions and assertions to be accepted or rejected. The goal seems to be to educate and persuade, not necessarily to stir or inspire. If both left- and right-brained approaches are worthwhile, the latter is noticeably and regrettably absent. While I think Driscoll makes some good points, I can’t say that this book was a particularly enjoyable read. I just didn’t find his writing style particularly engaging; at times it felt a bit like reading a textbook.

Admittedly, I may be asking the unreasonable; I’m not exactly sure what a right-brained approach to this book would look like, given its stated intent to address specific questions in an organized and systematic way. It is what it is. Your satisfaction with the things you learn or experience in this book will depend on your expectations. If you’re looking for a page-turner or something to appreciate for its literary value, this wouldn’t be my first choice. But I think anyone wishing simply to learn more about these specific topics will find this book helpful.

* Be sure to read other people’s reactions to Religion Saves on the blog tour at LitFuse!

Filed under: Books, Current issues, Faith, Funny, ,

Book review: “Three Cups of Tea”

I finally picked up Three Cups of Tea after hearing such great things about it from family and friends. This is the true story of Greg Mortenson, an American mountaineer who stumbles into a remote Himalayan village after a failed attempt to climb K2. Grateful for the kindness and hospitality of the villagers of tiny Korphe, Pakistan, and moved by the poverty and lack of education available there, Mortenson promises to return to Korphe and build them a school.

The book recounts Mortenson’s quest to build the school — his return to the States, striving to raise funds, living out of his car, learning about Pakistani culture, networking with people who share his vision. Without any prospective investors in his school, he sends dozens of individually type-written letters requesting funding from famous people he thinks might be interested — Tom Brokaw, Oprah Winfrey, etc.

After finally finding an investor, silicon transistor pioneer Jean Hoerni (who suppplements his $12,000 donation with a personal instruction to Mortenson: “Don’t screw up”), Mortenson gets the go-ahead to start work on the school. Returning to Pakistan, he hits a few roadblocks: the near-impossibility of transporting building materials through the perilous terrain around Korphe, the high costs of sturdy materials that will withstand Himalayan winters, the opposition from conservative Muslims to the idea of educating girls. But with the grant money from Hoerni and the help of his Pakistani cohorts, and after many detours along the way, Mortenson reaches his goal of building the Korphe school.

And the rest is history.

Just as intriguing as Mortenson’s transition from mountaineer to humanitarian is the perspective this book provides into the Islamic world. While Mortenson has his share of encounters with the anti-American extremism that plagues the area, he finds much to value in the peaceful Muslims he interacts with. Mortenson sees that despite their poverty and relative “backwardness” to American ways, the villagers have much to teach him about the importance of community and a simple life. Most of the villagers, in turn, see in Mortenson a defection from America’s reputation for arrogance and disrespect toward Muslims. The knee-jerk stereotypes (i.e. all Muslims are jihadists; all Americans are culturally illiterate demagogues) are beautifully deserted.

After 9/11, Mortenson’s school-building quest takes on new meaning. From his perspective as a American intimately familiar with Pakistan, we’re granted a unique vantage point on the war on terror, and the vital long-term role that education can play. It’s brilliant, really. Mortenson observes how much terrorist organizations recruit the uneducated rural poor of Pakistan and Afghanistan, building radical madrassas and brainwashing the kids to become terrorists. Mortenson “competes” with the madrassas by building schools where the kids can get a quality, well-balanced education. He believes in fighting terrorism not with reactive (or preemptive) violence, but with pursuing education and literacy, particularly for girls, as he’s often quoted:

“You can drop bombs, hand out condoms, build roads or put in electricity, but unless the girls are educated, a society won’t change.”

Three Cups of Tea is co-authored by Dalid Oliver Relin and Mortenson himself, with Relin as the ghostwriter through which we see Mortenson’s emotions and personal experiences. This being the first such biographical/autobiographical hybrid book I’ve read, my biggest complaint would be that the writing feels cumbersome and incohesive at times, particuarly when we’re whisked back and forth from objective history-telling to Mortenson’s emotions.

Literary awkwardness aside, I thought this book was fantastic — compelling story, faraway places, adventures of every kind, true tales of goodness. The fact that Mortenson (who’s been nominated for this year’s Nobel Peace Prize) is able to promote peace in such a hostile place is remarkable. No doubt he put himself in unnecessary danger at times and dealt with personal weaknesses along the way, but his story is classic heroism — a climber’s endurance coupled with unrelenting compassion.

I loved this book; I’m actually kind of sad to be done with it. (That’s how you know a book is good.) Here’s hoping you go buy it right now.

Now, I said — do it!

Filed under: Books, Current issues, ,

I’m back, suckas!

First things first: my bad. It’s been almost three weeks since I last posted. I know nobody’s suffering from my unintentional blogging hiatus, but I try to post something at least once or twice a week for my own sake, to keep the old brain working. I feel like a big collective “you suck” from the blogosphere is warranted.

But enough about how much I suck; let’s talk about how the past few days have un-sucked. There’s something about a three-day weekend that makes you feel like you haven’t worked in months. It’s freaking great. This was one such weekend. We were planning to meet up with Tom and Renata in old town Annapolis on Friday, but we all decided it would be too crowded, so we fooled around at the Annapolis Mall, seeing how far we could launch Hayden and Jack down the concourse in their strollers. (This was right before the mall closed and there weren’t many people around.)

As we strolled through the children’s section at Borders, we came across this book about the Obamas’ new dog. It was released April 23, nine days after Bo arrived at the White House. Among other things, it (fictitiously) recounts little Bo stealing the President’s letter-opener and being there for Michelle Obama’s organic garden opening. This crap happened like, yesterday! Then again, I guess it doesn’t take a lot of time or effort to write a children’s book (as Strong Bad would attest).

On Saturday, Drea and I ventured down to National Harbor and enjoyed walking the waterfront shops and sitting on the docks. It’s a huge place — condos, retail, hotel and convention center, and apparently a Disney resort and children’s museum coming soon. We ate Potbelly subs for lunch (so good) and checked out the American Market. It’s a charming place to walk around, and we want to come back with a few friends and take the water taxi over to Alexandria.

I played a wedding Saturday afternoon before we headed to my parents’ house to hang out with my uncle and cousin who were visiting from Houston. A fabulous barbeque dinner was followed up by our family’s new favorite game of “loaded questions”, where everyone in the group writes their answers to a certain question and one person has to guess who gave the answers. It gets pretty fun.

We went to church on Sunday and afterwards headed to Jason and Shannon’s to swim in the pool and eat Jason’s dual masterpieces — salsa and Texas style barbeque. A few of us ended up staying late, talking with Jason and Shannon around their kitchen table until after midnight. It was one of those luminous moments that reminds you how real everything is. Life is real, struggles are real, God’s redemption is real. Our friends are freaking awesome.

Late last week, I decided on a whim to reread Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. I read it about six years ago when it first came out, and it definitely encouraged/convicted me in different ways the second time through; I guess life has changed a bit since 2003. I think Don’s words are incredibly beautiful and true, and I’m immensely looking forward to his new book due out in the fall.

So yeah, it’s been a good weekend. Hope yours was likewise. More to come soon!

Filed under: Blogging, Books, Faith, Slice of life, , ,

Rethinking foreign missions

The other night I was reading through my old journal from a few years ago, specifically the entries from a missions trip my sister and I went on. In the summer of ’05, we joined a group of college kids on a trip to Southeast Asia to share Christ and teach English to middle schoolers.

Reading those pages brought back a flood of memories of the weird juxtapositions that defined that trip for me. Being so far from home had me alternating between barely-contained excitement and acute homesickness. The landscape was simultaneously beautiful and ugly; from a single vantage point you could see a lush green mountainside and a stream of sewage running down the street. Being surrounded by a language I didn’t understand was exhilarating at times and unbelievably frustrating at others. Most significant though, was the juxtaposition I saw in the local followers of Christ: unshakable joy in hard circumstances.

Seeing Christianity lived out in such a different (read: difficult and dangerous) context had an effect on me. How humbling it was to realize how easy I had it, that I didn’t have to worry about the government breaking into my house and arresting me, or doing worse, for being a Christian. That I didn’t have to live in constant fear for my family’s safety, that I had everything I needed (and then some) to live a comfortable life. And yet, despite their hardships, those Asian believers probably had the most sincere faith and love for Jesus that I’ve ever seen. I took stock of their simple joy and contentment in knowing Jesus, realizing then I had more to learn from them than I had to teach. Truth be told, I think that trip benefited me more than the people we came to serve.

But isn’t the point of going on a missions trip to help those in need, not learn something for yourself?

About a year after the trip, I read a book by K.P. Yohannan, the founder of a wonderful organization called Gospel for Asia, in which he discusses how the foreign mission field has changed over the past half-century. His book is essentially a defense of the native missionary movement, stating that since the Gospel has now been planted by Westerners in many of the world’s most remote cultures, the time has come to mobilize native missionaries to spread the Gospel to their own people. He recounts the effectiveness that natives in his home country of India have in reaching their people, compared with short term Western missionaries who aren’t familiar with the language or culture.

Upon reading this, a lot of things about my trip became clear. I kept remembering a particular day when we read a condensed “Creation to the Cross” story to our class of 7th graders with the help of a native Christian woman. As she translated the story into the local language, I noticed that she had a connection with the kids that I didn’t have. She spoke their dialect, ate their food, knew what music they liked, shared their life experiences. After reading K.P.’s book, it all began to make sense.

It seems that there’s an emerging shift in the way Western Christians are thinking about short term missions, which is really exciting to me. I came across a thought-provoking article the other day (by way of another great article) that resonated with what I had experienced in Asia: that short term missions trips usually benefit those who go more than the people already there, and that we North American Christians have much to learn from our brothers and sisters in the third world.

Rather than regurgitate the ideas presented in those two articles, I’ll wrap things up with an excerpt from one, in hopes that if you’re a Christian with a heart for foreign missions, you’ll read them both. It’ll be worth it, I promise!

I believe North American Christians need to start taking seriously our responsibility to the  people of the third world – and visiting another country can be an appropriate place to begin. But we need to ask each other: What is the purpose of the trip? Are we going through the motions of helping the poor so we can congratulate ourselves afterwards? Or are we seeking to understand the lives of third world people – to recognize and support their strengths and to try to understand the problems they face and our role in them? Are we ethnocentrically treating the people of the third world as tragic objects to be rescued – or as equals to walk with and learn from?

– Jo Ann Van Engen, “Short Term Missions: Are They Worth the Cost?”

Filed under: Books, Current issues, Faith, Travel,

Some stuff worth checking out

So, I’ve come across some good…stuff (better word?)…recently.

Frozen River. One of my dad’s coworkers recommended this indie thriller about a Ray, a destitute mom struggling to support herself and two sons in upstate New York. After her gambling-addicted husband takes off with their savings, she tries to make ends meet by smuggling illegal immigrants across the Canadian border. While full of suspense, the plot is very believable, taking a grim look at people living in dire situations.

W. Drea and I rented this one last night – Oliver Stone’s semi-satirical but understanding account of the life and times of George W. Bush. I have to wonder how the Bush family and administration feel about having their likeness impersonated before their eyes. It’s a little weird to watch a biographical film about people who are still living, and events that like, just happened. But in any case, Josh Brolin and Richard Dreyfuss are dead ringers for Bush and Cheney, almost on par with Tina Fey’s Sarah Palin. In fact, most of the major roles are pretty well-acted (except Condoleezza Rice, who was portrayed as more annoying and far less intelligent than I think she is). For all the opinions circulating about Bush, he is an interesting public figure, and definitely one worth making a movie about. If the film’s portrayal of his approval-hungry relationship with his dad is accurate at all, some of Bush’s shortcomings can be empathized with. Of course, it’s hard to tell how much creative liberty was taken, but the movie is entertaining and intriguing in any case.

Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey. A memoir of his time as a ranger at Arches National Park, this book covers everything from floating down canyon rivers to dead body removal to the social scene in remote Moab, Utah. It was published in 1968, about the time interstates and dams and RV’s began changing the landscape of the American West. Interspersed with his personal accounts are harsh criticisms of the Park Service, excessive tourism, and the general domesticating of American wildernesss. Particularly poignant was his eulogistic account of exploring Glen Canyon, which is now underwater thanks to a dam. Abbey was eccentric, a radical environmentalist for sure, but this “nature narrative” is a fascinating read filled with sarcastic humor and interesting insights.

Prospekt’s March by Coldplay, the EP of extra material from the Viva la Vida sessions that’s every bit good as the album itself! Every track on here is solid, except maybe the version of “Lost” with Jay-Z, which I think is only okay. To think that Coldplay left these gems off the album! With Viva la Vida clocking in at only 10 tracks, I think they should have just included them. In any case, Prospekt’s March is $6 on iTunes and worth every penny!

Filed under: Books, Movies, Music, , ,