I did a bit of light, diverse reading this summer, going back and forth from theology to biography to classic fiction. As part of a project for The Point, I gave a running commentary of "Cyrano de Bergerac," which was an entertaining and interesting tale, but I found myself a bit shaken by the end. The story is a romantic comedy, through and through, yet it also begs many questions of the nature of true love and beauty. (My critique of the book gives away all the major plot points, so steer clear if you haven't read it or seen it performed.)

Cyrano has seemed to play the part of a noble hero through most of this story, but after Act V's denouement, it is hard to see him as more than a noble fool. He had won the heart of his beloved, yet he refused to accept it, instead allowing her to languish in mourning for a love that she hadn't even lost.

Another of my recent projects was Tony Dungy's memoir, "Quiet Strength." It is a fairly simple book, but Coach presents himself as the humble, dedicated, faithful leader that I had figured him to be. The review is at BreakPoint:

It's not about Tony Dungy.

His name and visage may occupy the cover of Quiet Strength, and it may be a memoir of his life. But Coach Dungy goes to great lengths to explain why he's neither the star nor the Author.

Still, as I watched my Indianapolis Colts ascend to a Super Bowl last season, I don't think I would have been quite as ecstatic if anyone else were standing on the sidelines. This book reminds me why.