Radio’s To the Best of Our Knowledge has an interesting show on Shakespeare, modern poetry, and language here. Of note, Arthur Phillips talks about imitating Shakespeare by writing in a Shakespearean style. He says he didn’t think Shakespeare was thought to be the greatest English playwright during his lifetime or even many years afterward. He said he may have been thought to be about as good as another playwright whose work we’ve lost entirely.
Auralia's Colors, by Jeffrey Overstreet
Phil has already reviewed Auralia’s Colors for the blog. But I have read it at last, on his recommendation, and feel compelled to add my word of appreciation for a fine, fine creative work, informed by Christian truth. I am tentatively prepared to declare Jeffrey Overstreet the best Christian fantasist working today (Walter Wangerin is doing other things). Possibly even better than me (!).
What are the things that irritate me about contemporary fantasy generally, and Christian fantasy in particular?
First of all, contemporary fantasists tend to use words badly. They strive for the same effects as Tolkien or Lewis, but lack the rich erudition of those scholars. Their prose is stilted and artificial, their word choices poor.
Overstreet does not suffer from this problem. He uses words deftly, as Rembrandt used brushes and paint. Every description is vivid, every image apt. It’s a delight to read his prose. I was reminded of Tolkien’s use of Old English names to evoke unconscious meanings in the reader. Overstreet doesn’t use that technique, but the whimsical names he gives to humans and beasts had a similar effect on me.
Contemporary fantasists tend to be derivative. When you read their work, you can easily detect a) which favorite writers they are trying to ape, and b) their political and social beliefs and prejudices.
Overstreet’s work is as original as a new baby. He goes his own way, telling his own story. The only thing Auralia’s Colors reminded me of was—in a general way—Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast books, but the resemblance is superficial. Where Peake portrayed a grotesque world, barely concealing the disease under its skin, Overstreet creates a world full of wonder and beauty, its potential buried under the weight of destructive ideas.
I won’t give a synopsis of the plot, except to say that it involves a country stripped of all color by law, where a miraculous young girl named Auralia, working in the wilderness, gathers and weaves together wonderful hues that remind the people of a better life and give them hope. It would have been easy to make the characters in this story black and white, but Overstreet’s creations have the stamp of real life on them—in their various ways they all think they are doing good, and they often commit their greatest sins in full assurance of righteousness.
Some readers will be tempted to allegorize Auralia’s Colors. This would be a mistake, I think. It needs to be allowed to speak on its own terms, to work secretly in our dreams.
Auralia’s Colors (the first of a series) is a book to savor; a book to break your heart. Not for young children (a little too intense), but highly recommended for anyone older.
Bookstore Shoppers
Here are some funny testimonies from bookstore employees who have suffered at the hands of the public.
1. “I’d like to return a book”
2. “Our friend is really weird.”
3. “I can’t take back this sticky book”
4. “Do you have any mohair wool?” (scroll down five items for this great call from a philistine)
The apologetic of story, part II
I do two-part posts more often than I intend. Because fairly often I get to working a line of thought out in a post, to the extent that I lose track of the original point I wanted to make.
And so it is with this topic.
The thing I was actually excited to say (in the beginning) was this.
Sometimes people react to my novels with the comment, “Well, there’s too much violence and weird stuff in them.”
I have no objection to this (OK, I have a small emotional objection, but nothing I take seriously). This person is clearly not part of my intended audience, and I wish them well in their preferred style and genre, if any.
Because I didn’t write my books for them.
My books are written–primarily–for Christians who struggle with the questions of suffering and evil, and for non-Christians who might possibly be open to considering a Christian perspective on the Great Problem.
That’s why Pastor Harry Gunderson in Wolf Time is crippled, and has lost his wife. That’s why Father Aillil in the Erling books watched his sister raped and taken into slavery, and has never been able to find her again. That’s why he struggles with his own guilt for a crime of his youth.
I don’t say this is the only legitimate moral reason for writing a novel.
But it’s mine.
Out of town this weekend, and then Norway Day at Minnehaha Park in Minneapolis on Sunday.
Oh, and check my book trailer if you haven’t yet experienced its awesomeality.
Challenges of Collaborative Writing
Journalist Bill Morris describes his bad experience with co-writing an article and how a new venture writing with scientists who can’t write may be a great opportunity.
The apologetic of story
Photo by Infrogmation
I’m not sure what set off this train of thought, though I think it was something in a rather good novel I’m reading, which I’ll review in a few days, I expect. The thesis I’d like to defend tonight is this—that Christian fiction carries out a valuable apologetic (that means an argument for the faith) function for the church, an form of apologetic that has only one superior among the weapons in our arsenal.
I’ve long held the opinion that the chief reason people leave the church nowadays is a desire to be rid of Christian morality, particularly (but not exclusively) sexual morality.
But perhaps the number two reason (I suspect) is suffering. Suffering experienced oneself, and suffering observed second-hand, or even heard about. Often even fictional suffering. Continue reading The apologetic of story
Two-ton trailer
At long last! Months in the making! Hundreds spent! A cast of a dozen or so! My book trailer for West Oversea.
Looking at it dispassionately now, I’m generally pleased. There are some rough joins that could be sanded down a little, and I might have synched the music to the action better, but my main frustrations still have to do with Windows Live Movie Maker’s inherent limitations, especially in terms of sound editing.
Still, I think I achieved something resembling what I intended.
Now it remains for you, my loyal posse, to spread it around. Make it viral.
Or at least mildly allergic.
Review of Cruciform by Jimmy Davis
Jesus calls us to take up our cross daily, and in doing so, our lives will take the shape of His cross. Jimmy Davis describes such a life in his book, Cruciform: Living the Cross-Shaped Life, possibly the best under-the-radar, Christian Living book this year. He writes, “We are shaped by the cross into the shape of the cross,” and thus are transformed to fulfill roles of seeker, shepherd, sower and steward.
I will summarize these points.
- As children of God, we seek his kingdom and his righteousness first (Matthew 6:33). We desire to act like him, to love and think like him. We look to Jesus as our example for living well.
- “In relationship to other disciples,” Davis writes, “the servant is a shepherd, one who encourages brothers and sisters in Christ, who loves and labors with them” for the kingdom (Colossians 3:12-16). There are caveats with this point, but generally speaking we love and work with each other keeping the abundant life of Christ in mind.
- To those who aren’t disciples, we sow the gospel through actions and conversation. We have compassion for the crowds, like Jesus does (Matthew 9:37), praying for them and serving them for the sake of His kingdom.
- For everything in God’s creation, we are stewards on His behalf of all the resources God has given us: “body, time, talents/gifts, money, head/heart/hands, words, work, creation” (Matthew 24:45-51).
We do this due to a focus on Christ’s life, which is essentially cross-shaped, and out of the source of our spiritual strength, which is a cross-shaped spirit. Each of these roles intermingles with the community in which they serve, a give-and-take that makes Jesus’ disciples interdependent. Davis carries these concepts through the end of the book as he describes that cross-shaped source of our spiritual lives.
Each chapter opens with a well-written, personal example of that chapter’s theme, showing how he has learned and continues to learn the principles he has written here. Perhaps the most difficult of these principles is the overcoming of sin by faith, not by effort (Galatians 3:1-5), which is the reason Davis builds his book on it. His constant refrain throughout the book sings of the grace by which we were saved being the same grace through which we obey and are made holy. Even in the worst situations (the last chapter begins with one), our Heavenly Father’s grace gives us the strength to persevere.
I look forward to living perpetually in that grace. Sometimes I think I’ve learned that lesson, and then I discover I haven’t. I want to make space in my daily routine to hear the gospel, to dwell on the Father’s love, as Davis describes it, because that cross-shaped song is where the abundant life is.
Fantasy and Experimentation
Paste has an interesting list of graphic novels this week. These history and alt-history titles look good: Defiance by Carla Jablonski and Leland Purvis, The Red Wing by Jonathan Hickman and Nick Pitarra.
In loosely related news, the U.S. Army is testing a bionic exoskeleton to help soldiers carry more farther and run at 7 mph for a long stretch. Tests have gone well, and they appear to be close to battlefield exercises. What are they calling it? Human Universal Load Carrier or HULC.
Flash Fiction: The First Time
He pitches another rock over the barley stalks.
“Is my work not vital? Of course. That’s not what he rejects. I am. What more could he…? Does he need blood?”
His brother calls from the hilltop. Cain lifts his face to him. “Blood I can get,” he mutters.
“Are you still angry?” Abel asks. “If you do well, he will accept you.”
“I know you’re right,” he replies. And favored. Cain feigns confession and waits for his brother to turn his back. The stone shatters against Abel’s skull. Cain strikes him again as thunder rolls above—what have you done?