Author Archives: Scott Parkin
Maybe it’s an artifact of my odd reading selections, but in comparing classic works with many of the more modern stories I’ve been reading lately, I’ve noticed a trend toward highly imaginative (fantastic) settings with fairly simplistic philosophical underpinnings. It’s as if authors are selling out to cool visuals at the expense of challenging questions; as if pace is a substitute for substance; as if conflict is inherently interesting and requires no consequence.
I think I disagree. In fact, I’m pretty sure of it. Continue reading
I’ve been reading books on computer screens for about two decades, starting with book-length manuscripts in a word processor, moving to PDFs and hypertext books, and even using the Kindle app on my PC to read classics. But this was my first full eBook experience for a novel on a handheld reader. And it was more jarring than I expected. Continue reading
A reader response meander by a literary luddite. I have become a fan of Dr. Steven L. Peck based on his books The Scholar of Moab and A Short Stay in Hell. Well, mostly a fan. Okay, a conflicted fan. … Continue reading
In an increasingly visual and auditory media environment it’s to our advantage to keep tabs on the written word as a precise and clear set of symbol for the underlying concepts. Continue reading
Healthy communities are in a constant state of evolution, self-definition, and fundamental transition. This interaction of old and new ideas is critical to retaining meaning and relevance, at the same time that such evolution can be painful for those invested in their current incarnations. Continue reading
I live for the moment of epiphany, that rush of synthesis where a sequence of facts connect in a new way to reveal not only how those specific elements are connected, but also a new way to consider other elements and their meanings; frameworks for general understanding. I love the cascade of insights that come from learning to perceive in a way that recasts old knowledge in new detail. Continue reading