A Fort Made of Books

Sunday, August 9, 2026

596. Walking on Water Hymn

I heard a sermon on this miracle of Jesus this morning, and a point that the preacher lightly brushed against in one sentence really caught hold and started to form a hymn around itself. I'm inclined to set it to a Welsh tune called Hywel, which I spotted in a Facebook post about how the "M.B.C." meter (6.7.8.7.), common in Welsh-language hymnals, is hardly ever used in English. Huh. Let's see about that.

Who are You, Lord, who walks
On storm-tossed seas, surefooted?
Take pity on my faith, which balks,
Though in Your promise rooted!

Had I dear Peter's sand
To vault the rail unthinking—
Were I indeed on solid land,
How soon I would be sinking!

Behold, O Christ, my doubts,
So swiftly, loudly thronging;
How I pass through sin's daily bouts,
You and my neighbor wronging!

But this, at least, I glean
From Peter's rush and stumble:
Your eye rests not upon the clean,
But on the poor and humble.

And this: 'tis not my faith
Which bears me through this hour—
That broken thing! Nay, but Your grace,
Your trusty word, Your power.

Oh, fix my eyes on You,
My plea for mercy hearing!
Then sure salvation I will view,
Secured through Your appearing.

Dungeon Crawler Carl

Dungeon Crawler Carl
by Matt Dinniman
Recommended Ages: 15+

Crap. Now I have to read this whole series.

I'm late to the game, but I've been aware of it happening on the periphery of whatever dull business I've been focused on since 2020. But I finally got this book before my recent vacation and read it during the scattered moments I could steal from driving, first from north-central Minnesota to south-central Missouri and back, then to the Twin Cities and the greater Great Falls, Montana area and back. And, you know, spending time with friends and family, visiting three state capitols, playing the organ at my former home church's 75th anniversary service, etc. It wasn't much time, to tell the truth. I might not have even started reading it, despite packing it in my luggage, were it not for a silly incident in which the bedframe in my Missouri guest room collapsed under me and I was too agitated afterward to go back to sleep. After that, the book filled the time available for reading about perfectly, and I left it behind in Montana for my dad to read after me. I think he'll like it. I sure did.

To pick up what this book is throwing down, you need to be at least a little aware of fantasy role-play games and first-person shooter video games. Now suppose when They Land, the aliens instantly flatten every manmade structure, killing most of the human race, then invite the survivors to "volunteer" for a reality-TV rpg/fps where they have to survive multiple levels of a worldwide dungeon, fighting monsters, collecting loot and experience points, and either dying in a way that amuses the trillions of viewers across the galaxy or surviving long enough to make it into deeper and more dangerous levels. If they survive all 18 levels, they'll win a prize worth, like, the planet. But don't get your hopes up; nobody has ever made it past, say, the 13th level.

Our hero is a Coast Guard veteran named Carl who has just broken up, by phone, with his cheating girlfriend Bea and is thinking about suing for custody of her precious show cat, Princess Donut, even if it means selling all his earthly possessions to do so. He won't have to worry about any of that for long, however. In the middle of a freezing Seattle night, he follows Donut outside when she uncharacteristically escapes from their apartment, just before WHAM!—their building, and everything else in sight, is flattened to the ground. Wearing only boxers, a leather jacket and Bea's crocs (which soon fall off), he has no choice but to enter the tantalizing warmth of the dungeon. Soon Carl and Donut are a dungeon crawling party – and she turns out to have more intelligence, strength and charisma points than he does. Together they face menacing creatures, fight boss battles, survive killer humans and begin learning the secrets to survival in a game that is at least partly about cultivating an enthusiastic social media audience.

This installment takes the pair through the first three levels of the world dungeon, and they (and we) learn a lot. They make some horrific enemies. They also form some touching friendships. They experience heartbreaking tragedy. And of course their adventure is an all-but-continuous flow of rockin' action and wise-cracking attitude. My favorite bit is the hilarious, foot-fetishist fancy the game's AI takes toward Carl, leaving him little presents with power-up "buffs" to encourage him to remain barefoot. Another favorite is when Carl and Donut get partly tricked, partly dragooned into going on an abusive panel show and Carl decides to piss the host off for all he's worth. The book also comes with a companion short story, which also seems to be the first in an ongoing series, tracking the fate of a clan of goblins Carl and Donut hoodwink along the way.

It's part dystopian commentary on what social media is doing to society, part "You're not going to break me" manifesto against the inner demons and societal madness that many of us felt surrounded by during the COVID-19 pandemic (and, significantly, this book debuted in 2020). You know, that "you don't really know what's going on, and you don't dare say what you do know because there are powers that can and will silence you" stuff that we're still feeling the effects of. It's frequently hilarious, often disturbing, totally thrilling and chilling, with some lovable characters and some creeps you'll dread meeting again. And meet them, no doubt, you will.

Matt Dinniman is the author of the litrpg duology Dominion of Blades and The Hobgoblin Riot, the "Shivered Sky" trilogy of Every Grain of Sand, In the City of Demons and The Great Devouring Darkness, and the currently eight-book "Dungeon Crawler Carl" series starting with this book. Other titles in the series are Carl's Doomsday Scenario, The Dungeon Anarchist's Cookbook, The Gate of the Feral Gods, The Butcher's Masquerade, The Eye of the Bedlam Bride, This Inevitable Ruin and A Parade of Horribles.

My visit to the Montana State Capitol

During our visit to our parents in Montana, Ryan and I dropped in on Helena for, among other things, a self-guided tour of the State Capitol. Here are some pictures from that. This brings the total number of State Capitols I've toured to five, counting Minnesota (where my grandma took me several times when I was a boy), Missouri (which I visited multiple times while living in the state, particularly during Missouri Press Association Day at the Capitol during a couple years of my early reporting career), and the three that I visited during this year's double-barreled vacation. I've also, for the record, been outside, in bare-eyeball range of, the Capitols of Nebraska, Kansas, Wisconsin and Indiana. For what it's worth.

The Centennial Bell (1889-1989), on the third-floor gallery in the central rotunda.

One of many paintings I shot pictures of in the Capitol. Eventually I stopped downloading them to add to this post.

I can't recall who this statue depicts, nor can I read the plaque at the base, but he apparently represents some Montanans who fought in the military. Behind him, of course, you might be able to make out the name "Montana" on the front of the building. It's a pity the dome was surrounded by scaffolding when I visited the place.

A wider shot of the Capitol building, from a bit farther away. The grounds were lovely and I could almost have shot a picture of a mountain within sight of it, but for the smoky haze and intervening trees through which I couldn't find a good angle.

A view from the third-floor gallery in the rotunda. I think the second-floor hallway at center leads to the governor's office.

A view from a fourth-floor gallery, as high as you can go.

Back down on the second floor, what one of those galleries looks like from below, and some of the art around it.

The governor's office. It was a Wednesday, I believe, so the open-door policy was in force, unlike at the North Dakota capitol where we happened to stop on a Saturday.

A lounge at the entrance to the House of Representatives, full of comfy benches and more art than you want to see at this time. Oddly – again, compared to the expected location of the two chambers on opposite sides of the central rotunda – both legislative chambers are in the same wing, with the Senate closer to center and the House further down, and a kind of concession stand/snack bar in between.

The House chamber itself.

The Old Supreme Court chamber, viewed from the fourth-floor gallery.

The Old Supreme Court chamber, shot through the glass of the door on the third floor, just off the rotunda on the side opposite to the Senate chamber. What else is in that wing, you ask? Pretty much government offices.

A painting depicting, I presume, the completion of an important railroad through Montana, at the top of the main staircase off the rotunda from the second to the third floor.

The floor of that main rotunda.

The central dome with some of the surrounding art.

The Senate chamber, again shot through the glass of a closed and locked door. The windows along the sides provide a view from adjacent hallways leading back toward the House of Representatives and whatnot.

The big staircase from the second-floor rotunda to the third floor.

Another one of those paintings on the third floor, this one apparently focusing on the roles of women in settling Montana.

My visit to the North Dakota State Capitol

Last Saturday, Aug. 1, my brother, Ryan (the guy in the red "Dad-Pool" cap), and I stopped in Bismarck, N.D. around lunchtime during a two-day drive to see our parents in the Great Falls, Montana area. Here in no particular order are some shots from our guided tour of the North Dakota State Capitol.

"The Hon. John Burke of North Dakota: Legislator – Governor – Supreme Court Justice – Treasurer of the United States of America"

This is the House of Representatives chamber. The Legislature meets only during odd-numbered years and the legislators have no offices except their desks in the chamber. Contrary to the expected location of the two chambers on opposite sides of the central tower, both are in the same wing, to the left as seen facing the front steps, with the House at the front (with windows) and the Senate at the rear. The House ceiling, I was told, was designed to represent the moon and the stars.

The art deco design of the Capitol prominently features this tall tower, which (except for the second-floor memorial hall and the 18th-floor observation deck) is pretty much government offices. The House chamber is at the left with the Senate behind it, facing the rear of the building.

These portraits of N.D.'s governors are on the observation deck. The tour guide pointed out one guy, "Wild Bill" Langer, who's on there twice. He was impeached and removed from office, only to be re-elected later.

This first-floor portrait gallery of the winners of N.D.'s annual "Rough Rider Award," starting with Teddy Roosevelt himself, includes such North Dakota residents as Roger Maris and Angie Dickinson.

Here's the memorial wall in the Memorial Hall, with black marble representing North Dakotans who died serving the country. And, of course, the state seal. The Art Deco decor includes a variety of types of marble and woods, many of them rare and irreplaceable today, including one room (not pictured) called the "monkey room" because a child thought the burls in the wood resembled monkeys' eyes. The tour guide pointed out a pattern resembling Garfield (the cat).

This is the Senate chamber, which the tour guide said is affectionately called "the dark side" because of its lack of windows, though the ceiling is designed to represent the sun.

On this lawn, viewed from the observation deck, 900-some people set a Guinness world record for the number of snow angels in one place. I think you can see the Missouri River in this picture, in the upper right.

Here's that Memorial Hall again, with brass-accented rotary doors (no longer used) decorated with reliefs representing North Dakota's farmers and miners. We were told North Dakota is the number one producer of canola, honey, winter wheat and sunflowers in the nation, and it also produces a lot of coal that's mined in such a way that the land is restored to its previous condition afterward. The light fixtures are designed to represent ears of wheat.

Elevator doors on the bottom two floors are also in brass, as are the pillars in the Memorial Hall. The reliefs on them include a depiction of a settler and an Indian clubbing each other(!) with their rifles.

This hallway runs between the House and Senate chambers. More of that rare, irreplaceable wood, accented with lights designed around an Egyptian motif (typical of Art Deco). The benches along the corridor are overhung by slanted canopies that I'm told serve some acoustic function, muffling the sound of conversation beneath, so you can have a relatively private conversation.