I’m moving my LOST commentary over to The Hog’s Head, for the simple reason that the pub has literally 100 times the traffic the Perilous Realm has.

My initial, late-night response to last night’s episode can be found here.

In the first 10 minutes of Episode 1 of Season 6, I tweeted the phrase “parallel universes!” That stuck in my mind, especially with the free will set-up from just a few moments before in the re-cap. If free will can trump fate, then alternate universes seemed a possibility.

But a friend (hi, Jon) suggested to me today that they weren’t parallel universes at all, but two plot lines in two different times that would somehow weave together to make a cohesive story. Yes. Yes, I think that’s probably true.

Some people out there in Lost-land have undoubtedly already come up with intricate theories, as well as arguments against this idea. But to me, the key phrase is Dogen’s statement to Jack that he was “brought” to the island, with the implication that there’s some kind of divine reason behind it. If Jack and co. were always supposed to be brought to the island, then their landing safely in LA is not going to prevent that. And this is exactly why in the new 2004, in which they land in LA, Ethan is not on the island, but in a hospital – the one Claire ends up in. It’s not some alternative universe where Ethan never became part of the Others or made it to the island. Ethan is doing exactly what the “island” would have him do given the circumstances.

This story is ultimately about Jack and his family. Which means it’s about Claire and her baby as well. This is why we had a big pregnant pause (haha) in Claire’s story line, why she’s emerged as the new Rousseau, and why the fate of Aaron is going to be key.

Details? I don’t have the mental energy to work out many at present. But let’s consider that our heroes are in two different times right now: 2004 (in LA) and 2007 (on the island). The 2004 crew is going to end up on that island. But the question is when? And by “when,” I don’t mean “How soon?” but “What year?” Will they go back to ‘77 and somehow alter what happened? Will we discover that the bomb didn’t really blow, but in that moment, what really happened was that the ‘04 crew went down and turned that magical wheel of island-moving time-travel, sending the other ‘77 crew ahead to ‘07 – all of which means that the hatch was built and later blown up by – what? the first ‘04 crew that really crashed? That doesn’t make sense. Or does some chain of events in the new scheme of things prevent Desmond from actually ever getting to the numbers in time, which is why Oceanic 815 didn’t come down in the new timeline?

Or does Juliet’s “it worked” mean that the bomb most definitely blew? And if it did, why do we have the Locke-blown hatch?

I think I need to do some reading on what makes for good and consistent fictional theories of time travel.

So far, Season 6 of LOST has not disappointed. I want to focus primarily on the redemption stories in the series as we follow the characters through the rest of the adventure.

The parallel universes has confirmed one thing: These characters were “lost” whether or not they ever landed on an island. They are, first and foremost, spiritually lost. In this episode, we had Kate helping Claire with her pregnancy (like on the island), and Ethan stabbing Claire with needles to care for her during pregnancy (like on the island).

The quest for redemption in each character’s life is at the heart of this 6th season. Here are the glimpses of being “lost” and “found” from episode 3:

Kate: This was primarily a Kate episode, and we get three key insights: (1) Even without the island, Kate’s good-heartedness is evident as she risks recapture to help Claire. (2) On the island, Kate seeks Claire to bring her back to Aaron, and this is her primary reason for returning. (3) Her search for redemption through relationship with Sawyer continues to be futile, and will likely always be so.

Jack: The “shepherd” wrestles with some much-needed self-doubt, and in the midst of it, makes one of his most important decisions yet: risking his life to protect his friend by swallowing the poison pill. (Note that he proclaims, “I don’t trust myself. How am I supposed to trust you?” right before swallowing the pill. This is true humility leading to self-sacrifice.) This opens up a big lost/found redemption plotline, which I’ll explore below.

Sawyer: His discovering the capacity to love has put him on the brink: He’ll either discover that his time with Juliet was better than not finding love at all, or he’ll become cynical and jaded. Bet on the former, but the tension of the latter has been introduced: “I think some of us are meant to be alone.”

Sayid: After coming back to life mysteriously, he is “tested” by torture and found to be infected by an all-consuming darkness (if those in the temple are right). This is the most important newly-introduced topic.

It’s important, because we’ve got a tension set up now. Sayid has been taken over by this darkness, and once it reaches his heart, he will be fully claimed by the darkness (which we must assume is in some way related to Smokey – or now, Smocke). We’re told the same thing happened to Claire, and then we meet Claire, who has quite obviously taken the place of Rousseau.

If the Others are correct in their religion, we should now assume that “Christian Shepherd” is a manifestation of Smocke, and Claire was lured by him into following and being consumed by the darkness. Sayid will supposedly following. Sawyer introduces the legalist’s cynicism early on in reacting to Sayid’s resurrection: “He’s an Iraqi torturer who kills kids; of course he deserves another chance.” The grace needed for redemption is lacking there, and it appears the temple religion follows Sawyer’s belief in “justice.” Sayid is condemned, because he should be condemned.

But since the re-cap show last week so heavily leaned toward free will being able to trump the tyranny of “fate” via Juliet’s sacrificial death, look for the religion of the temple to be exposed as an oppressive hoax (whether its followers know it or not), or perhaps an organization that has lost the way of Jacob (the importance of free will), for Claire and Sayid both to rise above and defeat this inner darkness, and for Jack to lead the way by further acts of self-sacrifice. Claire’s being consumed by darkness is the key here. We might be ready and willing to accept that an Iraqi torturer would deserve to be consumed by darkness and claimed by evil, but we wouldn’t think the same about Claire.

Best line of the episode: “Dude, you’re not a zombie, are you?” ~ Hurley. He always gets the best lines.

Ultimately, I don’t think there’s any practical way we can undo the historical, cultural and economic situation we’re thrown into. Emphasis on practical: if one wanted to be like the Amish, that option is always there. But there’s got to be a defensible middle ground between complete refusal (the Amish option) and complete, uncritical acceptance….We could come up with a long list of ways aspects of modernity make it easier to live anti-modern lives. The only people who have no internal conflict over all this are those who have completely refused it (the Amish and their fellow travelers), and those who have completely embraced it. I submit that there are a lot of us in the uneasy middle, who have to do the best we can trying to negotiate modernity with our guilty consciences, balancing ourselves between not letting an awareness of the difficulty of our position prevent us from saying No when No needs saying, but also allowing that difficulty to keep us humble about making sweeping judgments of the compromises others make.

~ Rod Dreher

Knowing about my love for character development and layers of meaning in story, friends of mine urged me for a long time to watch LOST. One friend in particular said it was right up my alley. If I had my own alley, yes – this indeed would be up it.

Tricia and I spent this last summer watching all 5 seasons of LOST, and Season 6 starts tonight. Too many demands have kept me from diving into the layers of meaning in LOST, but I intend to begin doing so, because I think they’re there. Jeff Jensen of EW.com began writing about the series back in Season 2, and I plan to start with his materials. His stuff on the parent-child set-up of LOST is definitely worth your time.

Look for LOST posts in the coming week. I’ll be watching tonight’s episode with Tricia, but I might try to tweet a bit as well.

While there are areas I differ with John Gardner, and I’m still trying to thoughtfully digest his debate-provoking book, On Moral Fiction, I can resonate with this sentiment from early on in the work:

The language of critics, and of artists of the kind who pay attention to the critics, has become exceedingly odd: not talk about feelings or intellectual affirmations — not talk about moving and supporting twists of plot or wonderful characters and ideas — but sentences full of large words like hermaneutic (sic), heuristic, structuralism, formalism, or opaque language, and full of fine distinctions — for instance those between modernist and postmodernist — that would make even an intelligent cow suspicious. Though more difficult than ever before to read, criticism has become trivial.

The iconological criticism of S.T. Coleridge, Ruskin, MacDonald, Tolkien, Lewis, L’Engle has gone exactly the way of all belief about supernatural and religious thought: keep it private, or else. More than that, this way of approaching literature has been so sidelined that it’s about as noticed as the water boy (i.e., not at all). Instead of transformative story, a book is that thing over there, and the words are those objects to be dissected and laid against our enlightened views of science and justice, and separated from anything sacramental that might point to a reality greater than our five senses can perceive.

Christians are as guilty, and the practice of reading and responding to story on a spiritual level has been lost, and trite systems of belief have won the day. As such, the Christian faith in America has lost much of its depth and ability to think and relate to other human beings. Great literature trains us in morality; it teaches us to love and receive love. Current criticism teaches us to criticize.

In the university, “This text is oppressive because…” is the basic operating thesis of the approach to literature. In the church, “This text is dangerous/Satanic/should be avoided by Christians because…” is the approach. Both miss the symbols pointing to the greater reality.

• Paradise Lost, by John Milton
• The Enchanted Castle, by Edith Nesbit
• Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll
• Till We Have Faces, by C.S. Lewis
• The Invisible Man, by H.G. Wells
• Dracula, by Bram Stoker
• The Time Machine, by H.G. Wells
• The Little White Horse, by Elizabeth Goudge
• Electrophysiology Testing, by Richard N. Fogoros
• Handbook of Cardiac Electrophysiology, by Murgatroyd, et al
• The Only EKG Book You’ll Ever Need, by Malcolm S. Thaler
• Dracula, by Bram Stoker (again; audiobook)
• The Singer, by Calvin Miller
• Hog’s Head Conversations
• Coraline, by Neil Gaiman
• Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley
• On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, by Andrew Peterson
• North! Or Be Eaten, by Andrew Peterson
• Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens
• The Nuts and Bolts of Cardiac Pacing
• The Nuts and Bolts of ICDs
• The Nuts and Bolts of Cardiac Resynchronization Therapy
• Captain Blood, by Raphael Sabatini
• The Castle Otranto, by Horace Walpole
• The Fiddler’s Gun, by A.S. Peterson
• The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman
• Stardust, by Neil Gaiman
• The Prodigal God, by Tim Keller
• The Man who Was Thursday (re-read), by G.K. Chesterton
• American Gods, by Neil Gaiman
• Between Noon and Three, by Robert Farrar Capon
• The Chimes, by Charles Dickens
• Letters from Father Christmas, by J.R.R. Tolkien
• The Chronicles of Prydian, Book 1: The Book of Three, by Lloyd Alexander
• The Farthest Shore, by Ursula K. Le Guin

“…the Christian story is precisely the story of one grand miracle, the Christian assertion being that what is beyond all space and time, what is uncreated, eternal, came into nature, into human nature, descended into His own universe, and rose again, bringing nature up with Him. It is precisely one great miracle. If you take that away there is nothing specifically Christian left.” (C.S. Lewis, “The Grand Miracle,” God in the Dock)