I was puzzled by Charles Larmore’s review of Charles Taylor’s new book, A Secular Age, in the current New Republic.

The book is sprawling and often maddening, but it is very important (I’ve tried to do it justice in my own review in the forthcoming issue of First Things), and I give Larmore high marks for his accurate (if prickly) summaries of the complex argument. And I agree with his criticisms of Taylor’s prose, though I refused to make much of the matter in my own review, since this book is a kind of valediction from an exceptionally important and valuable thinker, and it seemed an inappropriate moment to dwell on such things.

But Larmore’s very hostile take on Taylor’s conclusions is . . . strange, though alas quite in line with what you expect from New Republic reviews of books having to do with religion. He really types Taylor as, at bottom, little more than a narrow and fideistic and sectarian Catholic, which is simply not the case; if anything, one wishes Taylor were not so anxious to avoid being taken for one, and that he would come down a bit more strongly on his own side.

Larmore says that this is a book written by a Catholic for Catholics, but that has it completely wrong. It is written for almost everyone else, which both its virtue and its problem. It is a remarkably generous book. But its getting such an ungenerous reception from an otherwise capable reader shows, sadly, that no matter how many concessions one makes to the cultured despisers, there are only a few of them who will really listen. That is no reason not to keep trying, of course. But it is a reason to weigh every concession carefully.

If we never mention the New Atheists again—they’re atheists! and they’re new!—I’d be just as glad. They always seem to me giddy with the fumes of a dying worldview, and there’s little in them that wasn’t said more forcefully by Robert G. Ingersoll. Haven’t we been there and done all that? And haven’t we moved on?

Ah, well. I guess not, and I find I’m nearly alone in my boredom with the new genre. All my more pugnacious friends—Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he / That every man in arms should wish to be?—are energized by the struggle. David Berlinski, for instance, has a sharp new book just out: The Devil’s Delusion.

I first got to know David when he began publishing in Commentary in the 1990s, and his science writing always struck me as sensible and smart. In this new book, he admits that he is not a strong religious believer—but, sensibly and smartly, he finds he just can’t stand the scientific and philosophical pretension in the New Atheists.

Meanwhile, Michael Novak has galleys ready for No One Sees God: The Dark Night of Atheists and Unbelievers, his new book coming out shortly. Again, it looks sensible and smart, and it relates the New Atheism to the religious experience of the “dark night of the soul.”

I would recommend either, recommend both, as the good, exciting reads they actually are—if I weren’t so determined to maintain the pose that I’m bored by the topic.

Usually architects and artists seeking immortality by creating great works of art that will outlast them. But Madeline Gins and Arawaka, a husband and wife team of architects, have created a house that is designed to give its occupants a kind of immortality. The New York Times reports:

In 45 years of working together as artists, poets and architects, they have developed an arcane philosophy of life and art, a theory they call reversible destiny. Essentially, they have made it their mission — in treatises, paintings, books and now built projects like this one — to outlaw aging and its consequences.

“It’s immoral that people have to die,” Ms. Gins explained.

And how do you keep people from the immorality of death?

In addition to the floor, which threatens to send the un-sure-footed hurtling into the sunken kitchen at the center of the house, the design features walls painted, somewhat disorientingly, in about 40 colors; multiple levels meant to induce the sensation of being in two spaces at once; windows at varying heights; oddly angled light switches and outlets; and an open flow of traffic, unhindered by interior doors or their adjunct, privacy.

All of it is meant to keep the occupants on guard. Comfort, the thinking goes, is a precursor to death; the house is meant to lead its users into a perpetually “tentative” relationship with their surroundings, and thereby keep them young.

It is all quite remarkable, as is the architects’ frank assertion that they should win the Nobel Prize for this work. Reading about their philosophy and its fruit, I was reminded that despite the bumpy floor, the multiple levels, and the bright colors, the house and its designers are still made of dust, and unto dust shall they all return. From this inevitable return, they will need a greater savior than their own genius, no matter how exotic its creations may be.

In the New York Sun today, John Merriman reviews a new book on Napoleon. It’s a nice review, but this line caught my eye: “Napoleon modestly portrayed himself as ‘the savior,’ and, although not a religious person, encouraged comparisons with Jesus Christ.”

Isn’t there something a little off about that “although”? Encouraging people to think of you as Jesus is something you can do because you’re not religious, isn’t it?

A blog has been started to investigate further the reasons for the cancellation of the popular KFUO.org radio progam Issues, Etc.. Among the bloggers is Mollie Ziegler Hemingway, whose Wall Street Journal piece located the cancellation within the context of larger denominational issues.

Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod president Gerald Kieschnick responded to Mollie’s piece. He was not amused. Nor was he very effective, as the “reasons” given for the hammer-drop have been pretty much picked apart on various Lutheran blogs.

Augsburg 1530 offers, among other things, an open letter to the synod president that you can sign.

It takes a lot to get Lutherans to shift into activist mode. We pretty much believe if you’re agitated about something, you’re probably a Baptist. And any kind of ventilation (like breathing) is frowned upon for fear of a charismatic renewal. So believe me, Issues, Etc. is going to come back in some form, somewhere. It’s just not a good idea to get Lutherans angry. Last time this happened, historians ended up calling it the Thirty Years War.*

*For the overly literal—THAT WAS A JOKE, not a call for violence. If you are so inclined, you might want to sign the petition; sign the open letter; if you’re able, support Todd Wilken and Jeff Schwarz financially—and continue to follow the Wittenberg Trail.

Update: Ya gotta love this.