New Reading Group: Phantastes by George MacDonald

By The Rabbit Room

What happens when a self-assured university student comes home as a “chivalric” English gentleman, ready to assume responsibility for his sisters and the family estate, but somehow wakes up the next morning as a stranger in Fairyland?

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Jumping Fences

By J Lind

Depression has been the low-hanging fruit of our family tree, along with addiction. It’s an ongoing chicken-and-egg as to what-causes-what. I experienced my first bout of major depression at the ripe age of eleven, spurred on by a scene of Bill and Ted playing Twister with Death. You read that right.

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Let it Be Awkward

By Carolyn Arends

What if it’s terribly awkward?

That was my first question when a filmmaker named The Arctic told me he wanted to conduct a video experiment with my song “To Cry for You.” His proposal was simple: “I’ll just ask people to let me film them while they listen to the song.”

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Patreon: Celebrating What Matters

By Jonny Jimison

For close to a decade now, I’ve been working on a project that is close to my heart—a series of all-ages graphic novels called the Dragon Lord Saga. It’s a story about adventure and imagination and redemption and community, and it has slapstick humor and talking animals and dragons.

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Hutchmoot Podcast & Video: Recovery, Escape, & Consolation

By The Rabbit Room

The Hutchmoot Podcast features some of our favorite sessions recorded at our annual conference which celebrates art, music, story, and faith in all their many intersections. Today, it is our pleasure to share a session led by Jonathan Rogers and Helena Sorensen called “Recovery, Escape, & Consolation: The Gifts of Fantasy” from 2020’s Hutchmoot: Homebound, in both video and audio form.

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Oasis Audio & Rabbit Room Press Join Forces

By Pete Peterson

In the past couple of years, we’ve enjoyed working with Oasis Audio to bring a number of Rabbit Room Press titles to the audiobook format. Just this year we’ve seen the releases of Henry & the Chalk Dragon (read by Rebecca Reynolds), Every Moment Holy, Vol. 1 (read by Fernando Ortega & Rebecca Reynolds), The Door on Half-Bald Hill (read by Robert Hook, Janet Devlin and Nigel Patterson), and my own stage adaptation of Frankenstein, which was nominated for an Audie Award for Best Audio Drama thanks to the great work of the Oasis team and the incredible cast of actors.

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The Month I Hated Music

By Chris Thiessen

I knew my priorities in life were out of order. I knew it was making me anxious. I knew I needed a weekend away to go and sort out myself. I didn’t know that doing so would cause me to hate one of my greatest loves, music, as a result.

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Easter Is Just Getting Started

By Andrew Peterson

[Editor’s note: This was adapted from a 2019 post.]

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To Be Patient in an Emergency

By Drew Miller

After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), “I am thirsty.” A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth.

—John 19:28-29

To be patient in an emergency is a terrible trial.

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For This Child, on the Subject of Death

By Amy Baik Lee

Here is a memory.

I am one of the early arrivals in the school pickup line on a wintry afternoon late in 2019. The tiny parking lot is bounded by a gray concrete wall built against a hill ahead, the school building to my left, and a sere upward slope of brittle grass on my right. Aside from the silhouetted movements of the other drivers, nothing moves in my monochromatic surroundings; I turn the engine off and let my mind wander.

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Bent Toward Night

By Chris Wheeler

My first poetry book was about light in dark seasons, and was in part the result of wrestling with a fascination with darkness that I’ve carried most of my life. Ironically, but not unexpectedly, my life has never been soaked in darkness. There have been dark seasons, but most of them I have experienced from the outside, or they have turned out to be not so dark as expected. I have had my bouts with depression here and there, but nothing like those of people I know and love.

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Grave 8-A

By Théa Rosenburg

I park the van at the top of Section C, and my daughter and I get out into the rain. The spongy ground slopes away from us to the road below, speckled with headstones that are, in turn, speckled with lichen. Already my daughter bends over one, wipes the drizzling rain off its surface, and reads a name aloud.

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