British literary critic James Wood is hot right now. Formerly the chief critic for the London Guardian, Wood now lives in America and is a senior editor for The New Republic. He's about to publish a new book, The Irresponsible Self: Humor and the Novel (forthcoming from Farrar Straus & Giroux). An extract from the book's introduction has been published as an essay in the book section of The Guardian (April 24). In the essay, "Laughing Matters," Wood sets forth…

GETHSEMANE . . . and perfect man, with one last chance to say How much he'd rather not: "the hour might pass," "If it be possible" - and then who knew? Things might go on as they had always done, And who'd object? A wife, kids, decent trade, A quiet, slow approach to sepulcher - "If thou be willing." But how to wake them, With what words say he had reprieved himself, There'd be no sacrifice of blood and flesh To…

Witnessing an actor play C.S. Lewis on stage hardly strikes the contemporary viewer as a novel experience. For over a decade, various versions of William Nicholson's drama Shadowlands have traversed their way through different mediums, providing Lewis impersonators with unprecedented employment. Joss Ackland first played the Oxford don in the BBC teleplay (1985), followed by Nigel Hawthorn on stage in the West End and on Broadway (1989), followed by Anthony Hopkins' Oscar-nominated film portrayal (1993). Although these high-profile productions dominate…

The traction control moans when I turn onto the grey lane, covered in sleet. My car, an unexpected gift from my mother-in-law, is referred to by neighbors as "the Space Shuttle." It is one of those luxury barges with crushed velveteen multi-functional power seats, authentic plastic wood grain trim, and nine settings for the wipers. It can comfortably accommodate up to seven senior citizens. Some obsessed engineer from Detroit, who knows the model name of every car ever built but…

On the first day of kindergarten Miss Primus assigned us to sit in groups of six at quarter-scale tables in midget chairs. At my table was a girl named Robin. How strange, I thought. Is she embarrassed to have a bird's name? She didn't seem to be.But that was in the old days--last fall when we colored orange pumpkins. I colored with gentle, even pressure to prevent streaks, and I was careful to stay inside the lines. Now it is…

Having recently published a book that ponders the relationship between theology and science, I can attest to what perhaps many writers in this field feel: namely, I wish I had written my book about five or ten years earlier, before the current explosion of interest in this subject! As it is, the plethora of titles now available means that even those interested in reading more about faith and science will likely choose just one or two books, being forced to…